#all the low hanging fruit is mine for the taking

[humming-fly]

The best thing about coming into a fandom late is getting to make the jokes everyone else already made 3 years ago

[solbaby7]

Sweet Thing

pairing: rhysand x reader

[ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

part 4 of the shy!reader massage mini series

warnings: swearing, sexual implications, possible violence, jealousy, gambling, male egos, petnames (bc being called bunny is so cute and soft, fight me on it)

summary: Your High Lord hosts a party with a dozen hothead Illyrian soldiers where you become the main attraction

—

“Stay close,” Rhysand murmurs in your ear, a warm hand pressed at the low of your back to guide you into the large room. It’d been recently renovated; not yet decorated and you'd assumed it was turned into a makeshift meeting area, a giant table pushed in the middle with a dozen chairs wrapped around it. It was also the furthest room from your own—a little detail that Rhys quickly bristled over when you'd mentioned it earlier. “Wanted to keep my good luck charm close by tonight.”

Your cheeks warm under the words, annoyingly aware of how sensitive your body had become in response to the High Lord since that night. It haunted your every breath; his barely contained need, the throbbing cock just a few measly layers away from being everything you’d ever dreamed of and Rhysand fed off of it like ravenous wolves who'd been starved three winters over. The teasing was merciless; heated touches and sinful words of remembrance haughtily whispered in your ear when you were supposed to be concentrating.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about.” You shy out of his touch, the hunger in his voice unmistakable and creating distance is easy when the others begin to filter in. A dozen or so pristinely dressed males of all sizes briefly greet Rhysand, hands clapping at each others backs and the testosterone that filtered in was thick enough to suffocate. They were friends; guys he’d fought and bled with, people he’d known for hundreds of years all gathered for card games and expensive glasses of liquor.

You were only there to help, to look pretty and shuffle the cards and stay close to Rhys—easy enough. “I’m thinking I should’ve dressed better.”

His fingers trace over the pleated pattern of your skirt, the soft purple fabric teasing at the middle of your thigh and all he can smell is some fruit on your skin—pomegranate? pear? “You look perfect, don’t worry about all them. You’ll be collecting their money for me by the end of the night.” Rhys is touchy; shamelessly so in front of others and you notice a few of the guests beginning to take you in, their stares raking up your form, sizing you up and you can feel Azriel shift closer from beside you.

"You always did have the prettiest little things hanging off your shoulder, Rhysand." Your head slowly turns to face the drawling voice, male entitlement and an incredulous amount of confidence seeping from every pore. Handsome and wealthy, but the allure dies the moment his mouth opens. The tailored suit alone was worth three months of the average faes rent and then some. "You have to tell me where you found this one."

Rhys laughs but you can tell there's no real humor behind it, his hand raising to wrap around your waist and pull you in closer; enough for your thighs to skim on the arm rest of his chair. The body language is possessive no matter how casual it’s intended to be and you catch Cass and Az sharing a look—mentally agreeing to pounce when they deemed fit.

Like salivating lions dressed in sheep's clothing.

"Couldn’t tell you, Maverick, she just stumbled in my lap."

He's trying to hold back for the benefit of the greater good—that was the whole point of inviting them over in the first place. Even after Mor had insisted that it was the dumbest idea ever inviting a dozen ill-tempered Illyrian soldiers and filling them up with booze. "I'd love to see her stumble in mine."

Your reaction is instinctual after feeling the High Lord's shoulders tense under your fingers and in seconds your hands are gently kneading at the muscle there, a palm running soothing lines up the length of his back and manicured nails scratch wonderfully at the nape of his neck until a bit of that darkness subsided. With a hum, you gently push his hand from your waist, backing away with a pitch only audible to him, "Gonna grab you guys some drinks."

"I'll help." You don't even try denying the spymaster, more than familiar with his customs and how unbearably uncomfortable he got once you started taking care of large groups of people. Az was always the first to say thank you when you served dinner and always made sure to wait until you sat down and took the first bite before even touching his fork.

He's quiet behind you, busying his hands with polishing the glasses you'd lined up and his shadows follow you around like a clingy pet but you understand why he's there—a silent promise that he'd have your back the entire night. That you’d never be left alone.

Azriel watches you pour a six-hundred year old bottle of amber liquor one knuckle deep for every cup besides one—that one got double and a single ice cube. Just how the High Lord liked it. "It's going to be fine," You tell him softly, storing away the rest of the bottle and you don't fight the smile that pulls when he stops you from carrying anymore than three glasses—brunting the rest of the work on the shadows. "Just a few hours and it'll all be over."

Azriel only hums but there's an underlying gratefulness for not having to speak or explain and his protectiveness towards you grows at how easily you understand him—adapting to his moods with ease.

He returns to his seat, shadows wisping their thanks over the length of your calf and a sweet smile is sent Cassian's way when he presses a grateful kiss to your hand. You turn to go back to Rhys, one final drink in your hand and you can feel Maverick's eyes trailing you, undressing you, touching and lusting from afar but he might as well have been shouting it across the room from the top of his lungs. "Come sit, bunny. And shuffle the deck, will you? They think I cheat."

"We know you do." Another male chuckles over the rim of his glass, blue eyes sharp and tawny curls tickle at the sides of his ears—Cade, you learn after a few minutes of listening in silence. You sift through the deck, righting the cards and splitting them in two before shuffling once, twice, a third time before you set it before you to be split by another. “Look at the hands on this one,” Cade poorly whispers to Maverick, shoulders bumping playfully and you felt like you were being hunted, ganged up on—eaten alive by males who didn’t follow the same code as the ones you hung around. “I bet they get the job done quite nicely.”

Rhysand has no time to respond because Cass is already doing it; gold battles with blue, large hands broadcasted before him and the General looks down at them to peer like a high maintenance woman after her nail appointment. “You should look at mine,” Crimson red Siphons glow with life on his arms; all seven of them, most hidden by the dark long sleeved shirt he wore but the message got across rather quickly. “I’m sure they’ll do it much better.”

You shift in Rhys’ lap, settling into the hands splayed around your waist, the other trails ticklish lines up the length of a bare arm and you’re grateful for how quickly the conversation shifts. “What do I do now?”

The low cadence of his voice rumbles against your back, hair gently pushed off one shoulder to make room for the chin that settles there. His instructions are thorough and intended to be purely informational but the smell of his cologne, the large hands sliding down lower to rub at the sides of your thighs and you’re unbearably aware of the plush of your ass nestled right atop of him. Cards are dealed, the rest left in a pile and you slowly draw three, facing them upright and most of the rest is a bit of a blur.

Every now and then Rhys will lean closer to mumble about what was going on but mostly it was just a room full of drunk males and their money. They cursed like sailors and laughed like hyenas, a chorus of voices overlapping the other until the liquor took its course and the true personalities settled in.

At some point you stand, hands grazing the back of Rhys’ neck when you mutter something about grabbing a snack. You’re not far, maybe a few feet away, body just barely obscured by the wall that separates them and the kitchen while you pile a plate full of finger food to snack on; fruit, mini sandwiches, warm meats wrapped in flaky dough and you’re pulled away from your focus when a voice clears. “There you are,” Maverick doesn’t look shitfaced but the liquor was definitely taking its toll, his steps a little unsteady and he slurred the s’s in his words. “How about you come rub my shoulders for me, sweet thing?”

Your brows furrow, mouth opening to give a response when the males hand raises to trace the line of your collarbone, you freeze. Four fingers graze over your shoulder and slowly moves down the length of your arm. “I don’t think—“

“I’m not asking you to think, sweet thing.” Your stomach churns, discomfort evident in the way you crane away from his touch but Maverick doesn’t care—as if unreciprocated want wasn’t an issue for him. “I’m telling you to come over here and offer up some of that treatment you’ve been feeding those three,” His eyes feel like hands in the way they roam your body, catching on bare skin and practically salivating to see the rest. “Swear I’ll return the favor.”

Your heart hammers in your chest and anxiety swells—you really should’ve just stayed put, the food in your hand threatening to spill to the floor with the intensity of your shaking but Maverick feels so close and you can smell his cologne; the whiskey. “I should get back to Rhys.” It’s no more than a whisper but when you try to slink past him, a hand clamps tightly around your arm, roughly tugging you back.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

A whimper escapes and just like that the kitchen explodes with darkness; relief overtakes your form as familiar hands tug you close and the arms that tuck you in close feel right—safe. Safe enough to not notice the warm spray of wetness that splatters against the back of your legs until you hear the steady drip,drip, dripping on the floor. Your head turns but before you can look Rhysand is tucking you in tighter, full lips pressing kisses to the top of your head. “Don’t look—let’s just get you cleaned up.”

“What about the others?”

“Cassian and Azriel will handle them,” The High Lords voice isn’t nearly as calm as you remember and it’s only when you’re halfway down the hallway does he loosen his grip a bit, turning you to face him to begin his assessment. “Did he hurt you? Did he fucking touch you?”

You can’t form words, realization beginning to form when you see blood splattering your clothes but you manage to shake your head. “He just grabbed me—Rhys did you—“

“I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“It was just a second.”

“A second longer and he could’ve—“ He stops himself from saying more; too afraid to make the words reality or too pissed to have to verbalize them but Rhys lets out a deep breath when he can find no damage besides a hint of a bruise. “I should’ve taken my time.”

You don’t need to ask to know what he means.

Instead, you place a palm on his cheek in hopes to ground him, to remind the High Lord that you were safe. Violet eyes soften, silver flecks catching in the light and it takes everything in you not to buckle beneath him when he looks at you like that—like it was nothing to kill for you. “Let’s go, I’d say it’s about time you return the favor and give me a massage.”

Mischief glints in those eyes, a smirk curling at the corner of full lips. “I can’t promise I’ll remain professional.”

“That’s sort of what I’m counting on.”

[eupheme]

— yours, all yours

cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 2.3k

tags: cooper pov, jealous and possessive!reader, sort-of alternate timeline (ft. a fo4 character), cooper is an ass, partners-with-benefits, mutual yearning, light angst, intentional pushing/teasing, soft thoughts, kissing, oral sex, praise kink, biting and marking, come swallowing

a/n: @aliisa-jones left a sweet comment on mine, all mine that got stuck in my head, so this is a “what-if” situation that I whipped up today, with reader being the jealous one (with Coop & Nora on the other side)!

Cooper can’t help the little bark of a laugh when he realizes - disbelief woven into the sharp sound that spills from him.

Goddamn. His little wastelander might just be jealous.

Cooper’s always been a perceptive man. Able to read people when it mattered - a real helping hand during his time in Hollywood.

Even more so now - gun drawn and ready before they’re even figuring their own conclusion. Twisting the situation to his benefit.

So he doesn’t know why it took him so damn long this time.

Two days to notice, after they picked up that Vaultie. Made from before - like he was - on her way to New Vegas.

A pinch of curiosity had plucked at him with her addition, but nothing more. Had been a rare indulgence to have someone understand all the shit he says, unable to help the occasional age-old idioms that have still lingered inside his mind.

But something about her had set you on edge. He’d thought you’d like her. Two peas in a pod, annoying the shit out of him with idle chatter during the long hours on the road.

You had bristled. Narrowed eyes and distrusting. Wondered if that’s the way he looked, half the time.

Wasn’t until you started to move, that he really noticed. Wandering closer than he’s used to. Finding reasons to pass by him, your ass pressing snug his front. Your pretty tits pushed up against his arm, leaning close to ask him something.

Pretty eyes blinking his way, hanging onto every word.

Riling him up.

Acting like a cat in heat. As if there were pink clouds of perfume drifting off you, spelling out “mine” as they settled over his clothes.

Funny, once he’s got it figured out.

Not sure how he missed it before.

The jealousy that oozes from you. His eyes going to yours each time that frown crosses your face.

Nora is a handsome woman. He’s got eyes, after all - yhey hadn’t rotted away like the rest of him. Can appreciate where she’s come from, deep down, though he’d never say it.

But he seen lots of good-looking people throughout his time walking this earth. And even back when he was just a man, that sort of thing never swayed him.

He’d buried old Cooper Howard some two hundred years ago. A mercy - tucking his corpse away deep in the labyrinth of his soul, as the Ghoul was reborn into rot and ruin.

A place he isn’t sure how to get to anymore, but sometimes there’s still bits of him that linger. Flowers sprouting up through concrete.

Loyal, perhaps, in spite of it all. When it suits him.

Besides, it's been a while since he’s tasted fruit so sweet. Biting down until you’re gushing against his tongue. Supposed he’s not looking to ruin a good thing.

But despite all that, he decides lets it all play out. Amused at the thought.

Seeing where it goes.

Let’s himself appear at-ease, when Nora slinks closer. A cocked brow bone at the low purr of her voice as they pick through an old house - clearing it for the night.

“You mod that yourself?” Her eyes drag slowly across him, down to the holster that rests at his hip, “Didn’t take you for a handyman, cowboy.”

“Sure did,” Cooper drawls - the shotgun slung across his back held loosely in his hand, as his eye scan the old dining room. “You pick up a few new things, out here.”

Had to, to survive. His clothes a patchwork of black thread, holding together ripped seams. Weapons had come next, not like he hadn’t had the time to learn.

“Can I see?”

She’s reaching for him, and he lets her. His eyes flicking towards you as she slips the gun from his holster, fingers curling around the grip.

“Modified MTs255,” He explains, as she turns it over in her hand. Purposeful in the way she moves - with the slow, admiring brush and stroke of fingers, “Changed it from a side-loader to a-"

“Top-break.” She muses with a nod, her shoulder brushing his as she flicks at the lever. A smirk, as she glances his way - her eyebrow lifting this time, “How’s she handle?”

There’s a soft lilt to her voice. Easy to pick up on - especially with the way she smiles, tongue caught between the white of her teeth.

“Oh, I’d say she handles just fine.” He lets the words turn sweet, smooth as honey as they leave his tongue.

You make a frustrated sound, then. A little whine in the back of your throat that he barely catches, before you’re turning sharply on your heel. Stomping off deeper into the house, and he can’t help the smirk that curls at the edges of his lips.

“See for yourself,” He's quick to excuses himself, leaving the gun in Nora's possession. Peeling away from the Vaultie, not sparing her a second glance. If she calls after him - he doesn’t hear it.

His steps purposely slow as he follows behind you. Letting you simmer.

You don’t notice as he slips in the doorway behind you. A head cocked in interest as you wrench open old cabinets. Breath heavy, a rough hiss between your teeth as your fingers clench into fists against the counter.

“That'd get you killed.” He comments, idly, “Runnin’ off like that.”

A little gasp as you whirl. Your hand doesn’t even twitch towards your gun, and he'd not sure if that annoys him. Or if he knows you knew it was him by the low rasp of his voice.

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” You sniff, head quick to turn away. Eager to break eye contact, arms crossing tightly over your chest.

A huff of a laugh rumbles in his chest, “Now what makes you say that, sweetheart?”

You blink at him, his spurs jangling as he closes the space. Hands pressing flat on either side of your hips, a flash of teeth as he waits.

“She-,”You huff - finger pointing accusatorily, “You let her-“

Another little sound, as your frown deepens, “Her hands were all over you, and you didn’t even care!”

It’s spat out. A kitten showing her claws, sharp little teeth bared.

Cooper lets his hips press against yours. Your hands brace against his chest, torn between pushing him away and yanking him closer.

“Takes two to tango, sweetheart.” He coos, but you just frown - not understanding.

Something in his favor. An admission you won’t get. That flicker of tenderness lost in the air.

He wonders if you’d still be angry, if you knew how long he roamed the wasteland without knowing the touch of another. That it would take more than a gun-laced innuendo to truly turn his head.

“‘Sides,” Cooper husks - finger tucking beneath your chin, “What are you goin’ to do about it?”

Needling at you. A thumb against a bruise, pressing until it stings.

Your jaw grits. Eyes searching his, fingernails pricking worn leather. Before they’re sliding up - fitting against his shoulder, around the back of his neck, as you tug him to meet you.

Pressing your lips against his. It’s possessive - an arch to your body as it curves. Tits pressed to his chest as your tongue flicks against his lower lip.

A rough groan as he parts them, as you seek more. He swallows your whine as his hands roam. Across the fat of your hip, squeezing. Fitting the curve of your waist. Palming at your breast as your hips roll against his.

Needy, in the way you gasp. Little panting breath as his head tilts. As he takes control - pressing you into the counter as he licks into your mouth.

He’s stayed away, since you picked up this new stray. Put away a lot of people, or put them in the ground. Not about to let someone use you against him.

It had him pent-up, too. Desire red-hot in his belly. Stiffening with the way you rock against him - a part of him craving the touch.

Easy then, to catch your hand. To drag it down, across the leather of his bandoiler, the heavy buckle of his belt. Pressing your palm flush against the heavy curve of his cock.

Rocking into the cup of your fingers, grinfing into your touch.

“That’s all you, sweetie.” He rasps, and you moan.

Pulling back to look down, as you trace how he strains. The heel of your palm pressing against his clothed, flushed tip, as a low growl rumbles in his throat.

Unable to hide his own need, as his tongue loosens a command.

“Why don’t you show me why I keep you ‘round.”

It’s cruel to word it that way. He’s been trying to scare you away for weeks. Knowing deep down that you’re meant for better things than him. His words now are untrue, even - he knows that.

But you do too, and you don’t care - a determination in your eyes, as they reluctantly pull up to his. Still caught on the evidence of his desire.

Fingers already fitting around his buckle - tugging.

“She might hear.” You breathe, though you don’t slow. Not until you’ve popped the button. Tugged at the zipper, a hitch in your breath as you draw him out.

He had found you tucked around the corner of the kitchen, close to an old pantry. The window behind peeking out into a long backyard. Facing towards a broken-down swing set, the grass overgrown with thick brush and weeds.

The evening sun casting blue and pink shadows, spilling over your shoulders. The room set deep against the far wall of the house.

No doors to hide behind in a kitchen like that, and you’re right - the sound might just happen to travel.

He grins, all teeth.

“Ain’t that what you want, darlin’?”

You inhale a breath.

Desire swirling in your eyes as they meet his. Sinking onto your knees without a second thought, tucked between his hips and the counter.

A small kindness, in the way his coat would block you from view, if someone were to come looking. Keeping the vision of you just for himself.

He’s biting out a curse as you take him into your mouth. The tight, wet heat as he presses against your tongue, no warning before he’s nudging against your throat.

His own hands scrape against the counter - resisting the urge to buck his hips, not wanting to gag you.

“Easy, now.” Cooper husks, something for both of you.

You hum in response - knees spreading wider. A slow bob of your head as you lick against the underside of his cock.

Eyes lifting until they’re on his. Wide and wanting as your head tips - drawing back to show how he rests against your tongue, glossy with spit.

There’s a deep throb in his core. A rattling groan as you leave him completely, your fist wrapping around his cock. Steady in the way your jerk him from base to tip, as your tongue dips down to trace against his sack.

“Fuck.” It’s bitten out, “Gotta make you jealous more often, sweetheart.”

You hum at the way he sees you so clearly. A soft suck against drawn-tight skin, before your head is turning - teeth sinking into the flesh at his hipbone.

He grunts, as his fingers jerk - clamping down against your shirt. Biting into your skin as you suck on ruined skin, the redden shade of his skin blooming darker.

Bucking into the pump of your fist, as his little wastelander marks him up. Marking a hickey along the curve of the stomach, then the meat of his thigh.

He relishes the sting. Letting you explore, as long as you keep touching him. The pleasure-pain blending into bliss as you stroke him.

There’s a tightening deep in his core, a tremor to his thighs. You go easily when he thumbs at your jaw - a soft whine buzzing in you throat that he can feel all the way down his shaft, when your lips close around him.

It has his cock jerking against his tongue.

You didn’t have memories of dirty films, the lewd magazines from before. Not knowing what it means to exaggerate pleasure for his benefit.

The need etched across your face is real - a hand dropping to nudge against your core. He’ll make up for this later, when the house is bathed in darkness. Spread you out across that dining room table he spotted, tasting what he did to you. Make you come on his cock, driving his point home.

Leaving you sticky and clenching around nothing for now. Always eager to make you learn a lesson.

“You're takin’ me so fuckin’ well.” He growls, and you shiver with the praise, “So good for me, aren’t you?”

You hum around him, your answer in the bob of your head. The sound of your fist and mouth is lewd, slick and loud. His own grunts and panting breath layering in, as everything winds tight.

Unable to help the buck of his hips, now. How expertly you work him, with none of that slow exploration when you’re alone.

Eyes focused on his face, watching what you do it him. Looking for the way his head tips back, the part of his lips.

He’s close. Can feel the way everything tightens up, that mounting pressure in his belly.

“Fuck, honey.” Cooper lets the name slip free, “‘Bout to fuckin’ come. You gonna be a good girl and swallow?”

You moan again, as you work him. Letting his hands guide you to the pace he needs. Lips glossy with spit, all but drooling as he uses you.

His breath coming short and harsh, until his teeth click sharply together. A rough groan before he’s bucking into your mouth, spilling against your tongue.

Your fist works him through it. A hand cupping his sack, gently squeezing as he throbs. Those eyes fixed greedily on his, soaking in every expression that flickers across his face.

Always good for him, and you both know it.

“Show me,” He husks, and you do - a ragged gasp as you pull of him, lips parting. The hinge of your jaw opening to show the way his come pools against the dip of your tongue.

“Fuckin’ christ,” It’s enough to have him ready to go again, if he could. “Go on, then. Swallow for me. Show me you’re mine.”

There’s the gulp as you swallow. Eyes blown wide with need as he hauls you to your feet. Your hand still drifting back to tuck around him - putting him back together, as your head tips towards his.

“Yours.” You breathe - the words hoarse as they slide from your used throat, just as you close the gap between you.

Another kiss. Softer now, though just as possessive. He can taste himself on your tongue. Always liked the way the two of you meld together.

Like it’s meant to be.

And maybe, he thinks -

Maybe a little part of him is yours, too.

ahh thank you for reading! I always love a little cooper pov, it's such a fave to write!

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Heyyy,May I ask for short oneshot of Reader buying full box of fresh peaches,placing it in the fridge for later days as quick snack in between meals but sees that by end of the day it's all gobbled up by Sun Wukong? Wukong would say things like "I didn't eat them!" But his tail betrays him by hanging low with curled tip as act of shame?

Tysm and drink water! 🫵🏻

"I KNOW IT!"

The Great Sage jumped in his own foot, hearing your angry voice coming from your hiding spot.

"SO IT WASN'T MY IMPRESSION YOU THIEF!"

You liked peaches. Well, it was hard to find someone who didn't like them, but you did enjoy them. Since you wanted to clean your diet, it wasn't such a terrible change of habit, so instead of ice cream, you just needed to take one of those fruits.

Wukong was... well, he had a LOT of flaws that somehow you were always able to ignore or accept. Love was like this! Accepting after all!

But he had always respected the boundaries of food. Maybe, you thought, it was his simian nature that stopped him in this particular case.

His tendencies to take care of your skin, his way to Hugo youbt that seems more like a wrestling session, his tendencies to keep you close at night... It seems normal!

So, when you started to notice the disappearing of the fruits you preferred, you blamed yourself! Maybe you ate too much; maybe you lost them in the fridge; maybe on the way back home too!

And you could accept it all! ... If it weren't for the fact that in his kiss you could feel the savour of peach.

It wasn't like his drinks, peach flavor, or his cheaps, peach flavor; that was peach peach flavor!

You wanted to be sure, so you decided to leave a certain number, sign the number on your phone, and remember how many you ate.

A few were missing.

And so you decided to set a trap... and you waited. And you waited for almost an hour, and then you saw him.

He entered the kitchen all happy and dandy, opening the fridge, taking the peach, and biting the fruit.

You caught him.

He was there, his mouth full of pulp. His tail straight up in the hairy as an antenna, his eyes big and round like a cat. 

"Those were mine! I told you! "

"You knew I loved peaches!"

"Yes, and I wanted those for myself! I told you!"

He looked at you. His eyes fell down on the bite of the peach, then back at you, and then he bit again the fruit.

"WUKONG!"

He laughed like the Gremlin he was, finishing the fruit whole in a few bites.

"You're the worst!"

"Hehehehe, don't act so surprised! You know what you got yourself into when we started to live together."

You groaned, crossing your arms, annoyed by his antics. He threw away the seed, spitting it in the trash can. He hugges you from behind, his chin on your shoulder.

"Came on... I'll bring more!"

"And what am I supposed to eat as a snack?!"

"Well..." A huge grin appeared in his face. "I know what I want to snack on right now."

And with that, he gave you a small bite on your shoulder, a playful gesture to make you smile. That happened; you started to giggle by that.

"You're without shame..."

"And without my shirt now right now." Which... was true. Your desire to know the truth made you miss his undressed torso, abs in full display. He grasped you and threw you on his shoulder in one action, laughing on the road to your shared bedroom.

Well, you did get something sweet that day.

[ichorai]

apple pies & break-ins ; tangerine.

pairing ; tangerine x assassin!spouse!reader (gender-neutral pronouns)

synopsis ; tangerine comes back home just as you're about to leave.

words ; 1.9k

themes ; pure fluff, mild comedy, established relationship (married), assassin au

warnings / includes ; blood/injuries/weapons, slightly suggestive, tangerine has a potty mouth, lemon cameo, tangerine being clingy and sappy

main masterlist.

The entire house smelled of cinnamon, apples, and buttery pie crust. You sliced up another apple, taking care to carve out its core, before tossing it in the sugar syrup and popping the chopped pieces of fruit into the crust to bake in the oven. As soon as you bumped the door shut with your hip, the front door creaked open, followed by a familiar jangling of keys. 

You glanced up with a warm smile, glad that your husband was finally home—except it was quick to melt away when you took in his disheveled appearance. There was blood all over him, dribbling down his hairline, splattered over his neck, staining his once-pristine clothes. 

Despite his haggard state, he sent you a tired beam, his mustache twitching with the smile. 

“‘Ello, love,” he greeted, making his way to you behind the kitchen counter. “Close your mouth, darlin’, you’ll catch flies.” With a cheeky smirk, he slotted a finger beneath your chin, effectively snapping your lips shut. He mildly winced when he noticed he accidentally left a faint print of sticky blood on your jaw, but wisely decided not to tell you.

You fixed him with an unimpressed stare. “Jesus, Tan. Is that your blood?”

“Not sure, honestly. It’s coming from all over—some of it’s bound to be mine. Don’t worry about me, love. I’m fuckin’ peachy. Speaking of, it smells really good in here. You bakin’ something for me, darling? I’m flattered,” he hummed, leaning forward to kiss you. 

Before he could, you ducked away from him, pushing his face to the side with a wrinkled nose. “Ugh, go shower first, you’re getting blood everywhere! To be honest, I would’ve felt better knowing it was yours.”

“Ouch,” he murmured, though his grin still lingered by the corner of his mouth. “You wound me, sweetheart.”

Relenting, you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his unsuspecting lips. “There. You happy?”

“Very. Thanks, love.” He sent you a playful wink before slinking off to the bathroom, whistling a peppy tune under his breath on the way. You rolled your eyes and smiled to yourself, before turning to clean up the mess of flour and sugar and apple cores you’d made on the kitchen counter.

When your husband finally slunk out of the bathroom, a thick white towel hanging low around his waist and another ruffling at his damp curls, he made his way back into the kitchen.

“Put on some clothes, Tan,” you scoffed when he pressed against you from behind, sprinkling a bit of cinnamon sugar on the apple pie you had just taken out of the oven. 

“Hm, you don’t like me like this?” he queried, verging on a whine since you weren’t paying him the least bit of attention. “Naked and at your disposal?”

Amused, you finally turned around in his arms, trapped between him and the counter. The blue of his eyes were hooded and lustful, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. You, however, smiled sweetly at him. “You’re not naked.”

“Well, that can easily be remedied—”

Before he could reach down to undo the towel around his waist, you stopped him with your hands gripping both his wrists, quirking your brows. “As much as I’d love to, I have to call in for a job soon. I’m running late already. I was baking the pie for you in case you got back while I was gone.”

“Another job?” asked Tangerine, clearly upset at the turn of events. “Can’t you call off? I’m sure they can send another bloody assassin to do their dirty work.”

You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, before gently pushing him away so you could head off to your shared bedroom and get changed. To none of your surprise, your husband trailed along behind you like a sullen puppy. “It’s a lot of money, baby. Don’t think I could afford to keep skipping jobs just to laze around with you.”

With a disappointed grumble, Tangerine wrapped his arms around you from behind again, squeezing tightly and kissing down your neck. “How long will this one take?”

“I’ll be back tonight,” you reassured him. “Tomorrow at the very latest.”

“Alright,” he acquiesced, though not without a loud sigh. He sat down on the bed, watching as you shirked off your flour-covered shirt in favor of a dark button-up. “You remember how we first met?”

Of course you did. You remembered it as if it was yesterday. You crossed your arms, stepping in between his legs by the edge of the bed. Both of his hands went to your waist, fingers curling over your back and absentmindedly tracing loose shapes on your sides. 

Looking up at you, he spoke between pressing soft kisses along your abdomen, over the black shirt you had donned, “I was on a mission with Lemon in Madrid… and we were in a tight situation. Bullets flying everywhere, my leg fucked up, and my gun jammed. Then, whaddya know, the most beautiful fuckin’ person I’ve ever laid my eyes upon comes flying through one o’ the windows. Took out three people with one knife, and took out another four with a bloody crossbow. You looked at me, covered in blood, and asked if I was alright. I told you that you were fucking gorgeous—and then you fell in love with me, right on the spot, and the rest is history.”

You burst out into a fit of laughter. “Hm, that’s not how I remember it. Need I remind you that I shoved you to the side because you kept getting in my way, asking if I’d like to have dinner with you? Gods, Tan, you were a pain in my ass. And your brother was laughing at you.”

“Cunt,” he grumbled at the mention of his brother. “Well, even if you didn’t fall in love with me right then and there—I did. I knew I had to be yours from the moment I saw you.”

You lowered yourself to a crouch, cupping his face and caught his lips in a feverish kiss. When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against his. “Are you telling me this because you want me to stay?”

A sheepish grin tugged at the corner of Tangerine’s lips. “Is it working?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’. You pulled away, slinging a packed bag over your shoulder and heading out the bedroom. “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby. Love you.”

“Wait! You said you’d come back tonight!”

True to your word, you had returned home at midnight, stumbling through the door tired and weary. Thankfully, you weren’t too banged up, just a scratch on your shoulder from the graze of a bullet that you managed to patch yourself before coming back. You were greeted with Tangerine dozing on the couch, a shitty reality show glowing on the television screen, with the half-eaten apple pie on the coffee table in front. He startled awake when you flicked his cheek with a smile.

“Hey, sleepy,” you said, dipping down to kiss his forehead, sauntering towards your bedroom to get changed.

As expected, your husband scurried off the couch to follow after you, gathering you into his arms and kissing you deeply. “I missed you,” he murmured, accent thick and lilting.

“Come on, I wanna get to sleep,” you said, tugging him to the bed with a muffled yawn.

In no time, he was curled up behind you, his large arm thrown over your waist and hand splayed out over your stomach. His nose was buried into the back of your head, unable to wipe the pleased smile off of his features.

It was relatively easy to drift to sleep, given how exhausted the two of you already were.

Not even three hours later, with the two of you already deep in slumber, there came a loud crashing from the front of the house. Someone was breaking in.

Immediately, you sat up in the bed, slipping out from beneath Tangerine’s heavy arms and the blanket. The cold air kissed your bare skin, sending a shiver spidering up your spine. You reached beneath your pillow to brandish a small emergency dagger you kept between the mattress and the headboard. Your husband also startled awake at the loud sound, eyes tired yet wide, grappling for a gun he kept beneath the bed.

“Stay in here,” he whispered, striding forward to the bedroom door, left slightly ajar.

“Like hell I am,” you quietly gruffed back, hot on his heels.

Knowing that there was no stopping you, Tangerine blew out a breath and the both of you crept closer, light on your feet. With no warning, Tan shouldered the door open and stepped out in one fluid motion, lining the gun up with the intruder.

A second later, he immediately lowered the weapon with a long string of exasperated curses. You peered over his shoulder, tense muscles loosening upon seeing Tangerine’s brother, Lemon, frozen in front of the broken window. His lips were twisted into a grimace and his eyes were as wide as saucers. There were shards of glass glimmering in his dark hair.

“What the fuck, man?” your husband erupted, immediately clicking the safety back on his gun and shoving it into the waistband of his sweats. “Are you daft? The fuck did you break my window for?”

“I was looking for you! Never heard a peep from you two after your missions. I just assumed the worst!” he exclaimed. For a moment, Lemon’s dark eyes flickered to you. “Hi, Y/N. Look lovely, by the way.”

You crossed your arms, more amused than anything. “Hey, Lemon.” 

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ call us, then? Bloody fucking idiot! Going down and breaking my window like that,” he angrily muttered, stomping forward to inspect the damage. “You’re paying for this, you twat.”

Rearing back, Lemon snarled, “Oi! I did call you! Didn’t answer your phones, the neither of you. I thought something happened! Forgive me for worrying about my brother and my in-law!”

“The fuck you mean, I would get the fucking notification if you called me!” Tangerine hissed back, pressing the heels of his palms into his sleepy eyes. After a second, he reached down into his pocket, fishing out his phone. He pressed the power button once, then twice. A third time for good measure. “Well, fuck me. It’s dead.”

You hid a smile behind your palm. You married a complete, hot-headed idiot. With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you wiggled your fingers farewell and swiftly turned, yawning as you dragged yourself back into the room. “I’m going back to bed. You two behave yourselves.”

Both of them grunted goodbyes at your departure, before immediately carrying on with their arguments.

“Why didn’t you just call Y/N?”

A long pause. Lemon's eye twitched. “Didn’t think of that, to be honest with you… What are you, a fucking halfwit? Of course I called Y/N!”

"Oh, right, yeah, Y/N does put their phone on DND before bed. Right."

"Right."

Frowning, Tangerine barked out, “Still, you’re a fuckin’ idiot, you know that? I could’ve shot you!”

“Alright, alright, calm your tits. D’you mind if I crash on your couch for the night?”

“What, are you bloody mental?” Another pause. “Alright, fine. Just take your shoes off. Don’t want you tracking mud all over the place.”

Half an hour later, Tangerine crawled back into bed, settling himself behind you. You had fallen asleep already, but shifted with a pleasant hum when he pressed a ticklish kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder. 

“Love you,” he whispered, tugging you closer to his chest. You drowsily murmured something incoherent in response, and Tangerine contentedly drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

[aurorialwolf]

REDACTED CHARACTERS AS CARS (based on the cars faces mostly, some on vibes)

To clarify this is NOT what I think they would drive, it is the car that I think they are!! (my apologies if this has already been done in the same way before, im sure ive seen another one of these but this is my take on it!) (all pictures DO NOT belong to me!) David - 2024 Honda Odyssey (it looks so serious and ready for duty)

Asher - Neon green Giulia Quadrifolgio (the green is based on a fic i read, also i think this one is him bc it looks like its trying not to laugh)

Milo - BMW M4 Coupe Individual Fire Orange, very specifically (it gives short and feisty vibes)

Sam - No I will not apologize

Vincent - 1990 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme Coupe (yes the one from the useless facts video, vincent is that car idc)

Porter - Something like this or something more low-key bc hes a smooth dude idk

Alexis - White Sedan (trust me. look this car up and tell me it doesnt look like. alexis vibes)

Gavin - This godless beast /lh

Caelum - This thing. Also he would drive this one so this is an exception to my earlier statement

Vega - Armoured car (idk what brand it might be under there)

Damien - whatever this is (he would NOT drive this but it gives the fiery and intense vibes that he does)

Huxley - 2024 Jeep Wrangler (low hanging fruit, I know)

Lasko - 1972 Ferrari (it looks so shy)

Kody - Chrysler Grand Caravan (VERY different from the Dodge Grand Caravan, rest in peace) (god i hate the chrysler grand caravan)

ILL MAKE MORE OF THESE IF YALL FOUND IT FUNNY! kudos to anyone else who made this kind of post before me, it wasnt inspired by anyone (literally the last car giving kody vibes is what inspired this whole thing jdkfghskjdh) but i know it had to have been done before and i think it was a moot of mine but i cant remember sowwy :(

[charlessmiths-wife]

NSFW ALPHABET: BELA DIMITRESCU

because someone (me) is down bad. NSFW content ahead, I do hope to do one of these for all the sisters.

X FEM READER.

MINORS/ AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

Aftercare with Bela is always so sweet, but I definitely think it gets sweeter the longer she's with you and the more your relationship grows simply because she gets more comfortable. She progresses from simply seeing aftercare as something which 'must be done' to genuinely enjoying it and undertanding why it's such a necessity.

She likes to be cuddled close to you after sex whilst you both talk about what just happened, and whether or not you both enjoyed it, all while whispering praises and "I love you's" back and forth to each other. It makes her feel so loved and appreciated - like her thoughts and feelings matter to someone, something which she's always felt a bit insecure about.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partners)

On herself? Whilst I see Bela as the most insecure of all three sisters (with Daniela falling close behind and Cassandra also having her own fair share of insecurities) I do think Bela likes her waist and hips. They're both very mobile, and that helps her when it comes to moving, hunting, running... and... other things.

On you? ... not to seem cliche, but she loves your face. Especially your smile. It makes her feel comforted, and I see her as being the kind of person who would look for their partners smile when they felt overwhelmed. Sure - this probably isn't the most sexual answer - but I definitely think it's true that Bela would appreciate your smile above all else that she loved about you.

(this is also probably a low hanging fruit bc...yk...vampires... but all three sisters appreciate their partners necks bc... yk... vampires!!)

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I'm a disgusting person)

When she's about to cum, sometimes she'll beg. It's probably one of the only times she ever will beg during sex - and I even risk to say she would enjoy it if you made her beg for it and vice versa. She's also a squirter. That is all.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

EVERYTHING feels like a dirty secret to Bela for a while 😭😭 once she finally gets more comfortable with you, she's a lot more open. I'd say her biggest dirty secret is probably that she’s into choking. Giving and receiving.

(that… and the fact she quite enjoys bottoming. which isn’t rlly a dirty secret by any metric but for little miss Bela “I must be in control at all times” Dimitrescu (affectionate) … it is

E = Experienced

I'd say she's maybe had between 3 - 5 sexual partners, most of whom have likely been one night ventures for her.

She drains bodies of blood, that doesn’t necessarily mine she has to fuck ‘em too

F= Favourite position

Hmm… this is a tricky one. I think she likes any position - BUT her one condition is she has to be able to see your face. So, by that metric, any form of sex where she’s taking you from behind or vice versa isn’t as enjoyable to her. she wants to be able to look at you when she makes you cum AND vice versa

G = Goofy (is she serious or not in the moment)

Serious during, not so much goofy but certainly melty after. Blushing and hiding away in your shoulder, a smile on her face. This will always be the typical routine - no matter how many times you have sex, Bela will always be just as giddy afterwards.

H = Hair (does the carpet match the drapes?)

I reckon the carpet matches, yeah. Even in the instances she does shave, I’d say it’s usually only a trim OR she shaves it leaving a landing strip. (Self indulgence there perhaps bc Bela w a landing strip would be sooooo dhsjejwjsbs)

I = Intimacy (How is she during the moment, romantic aspect)

Bela is a romantic, but it will take a while to show during sex. Of course, trusting you enough to have sex with you in itself is a great intimate display for her - but during the actual act (at the start) Bela is largely silent, with her only show of romance being the kisses she gives you and the aftercare. However, soon enough - she’ll feel comfortable enough to grow more romantic. And when I tell you, the romance levels will amp. Up.

She’ll whisper ‘I love yous’ in your ear every few minutes. Kiss every single inch of your skin. Praise you, shower affection down upon you… the full works.

And she WILL grow to expect the same in return. As she should.

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcannon)

So, for a long time - I don’t believe Bela masturbated. She would’ve seen it as something ‘dirty’ and to be avoided. However, with time, and much work towards her relationship with sexual pleasure - she grew to enjoy it, regarding it as a way to release stress, take some time to herself and, most importantly - feel good.

I also STRONGLY believe she’d be into the concept of mutual masturbation. She believes it’s a good way for a couple to discover more about what they both like. Just saying.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

-> Choking (giving and receiving)

-> Praise (giving and receiving)

-> Dominance (both the act of dominating and being dominated)

-> Blood (she’s VERRRYYYY careful with this one, she would never want to hurt you - but if AND ONLY IF you were willing she would rather enjoying drinking SMALL AMOUNTS of blood from you during sex. She sees it as an immensely intimate act)

I also think she’s really into noise, she LOVES hearing you. it gets her so turned on to hear how much you’re enjoying yourself.

(Also… dry humping.)

L = Location (her favourite place to do the do)

Typically, you guys have sex in her bedroom, therefore her bed is the most common place. However! The bath is her absolute favourite of all time.

Add on a couple of candles, some wine by the side of the tub AND some good warm water? Yeah, can’t be beaten for her.

M = Motivation (what turns her on/gets her going)

Bela’s sex drive often fluctuates. When it’s high, the sight of you ALONE is enough to make her want to jump your bones.

I reckon the easiest way to get her in the mood would probably be teasing. Especially if it had been ongoing throughout the day - it can get her so riled up.

I have a specific head cannon of you teasing Bela throughout some important ball thrown at the castle - and her getting so frustrated she had to pull you away to her room and having her way with you. Not giving a damn about when she returned.

This was out of character for Bela, given how much she cares about her own, formal appearance. So that’s how you KNOW your teasing has a profound effect on her.

N = NO

Hmm.. y’know, I think there’s a few things Bela wouldn’t be too into

I don’t think she’d be crazy about the idea of inflicting pain. She’s a deadly, vampiric monster to her maidens… but when it comes to her partner she NEVER wants them to see her like that. Nor does she ever want to hurt them.

O = Oral

Is a fan. Loves both giving and receiving.

Giving wise - this woman is SKILLED. she listens to what you tell her feels good, pays attention to your reactions, and can go at it for however long it takes. PLUS you just know that woman’s tongue and mouth know what they’re DOING - she eats it like it’s her last ever meal TRUST

Receiving? She can’t stay still. The second your tongue is on her she’s letting out a sigh, before wrapping her hands in your hair and squirming. She’ll let out breathy moans, and I genuinely believe this is the way she finds it easiest to cum.

P = Pace (fast and rough/slow and sensual?)

TYPICALLY slow and sensual. But it’s possible for her to be faster, she typically speeds up anyways once one of you guys gets closer to cumming, but occasionally if you’ve both been desperate all day she’ll take a much faster pace throughout in general.

She’s never rough though - and she doesn’t deem it as respectful OR loving to be more rough. The same goes for if you attempted to be rougher with her.

Q = Quickie

Quickie? What is that? Nope. Never heard of in Bela’s books.

She’s only ever done it once or twice, when you guys were both desperate. And she doesn’t enjoy it as much, especially because she feels as though the aftercare following is never as good as usual.

She isn’t a fan, to say the least.

R = Risk (is she up to experiment/ take risks?)

It depends.

Trying out something new in bed? So long as you guys are both consenting and willing to try, sure!

But in terms of risk with things like location, etc - no.

Bela’s worst fear is being caught by her mother, sisters, the help - so no matter what, she needs privacy when having sex with you. That privacy isn’t something she’s willing to risk.

S = Stamina (how many rounds/how long do they last for)

Oh she takes her time.

Sex with Bela can be an hours long ordeal. Of course there’ll be some minor breaks in between but my point still stands - the girls got stamina.

How long she lasts though… that depends.

Sometimes Bela can last a while before cumming, other times it takes her maybe ten minutes tops. With the quickest being five minutes.

She gets embarrassed if she comes quickly, but you don’t mind at all, you just kiss her cheek and tell her how pretty she looked. You almost take it as a compliment.

Nonetheless, even after she cums - she still takes her time…

T = Toy (Do they own/ use toys? On them or their partner?)

Own? Yeah I’d say some. Not many, because I do think she spent so many years with a bad relationship surrounding sex - but once she becomes more comfortable she definitely starts owning some. She’ll use them on either herself or a partner.

She does own a strap on. The switch in her wants to both use it on you and have you use it.

(Imagine how good she’d look with a strap on though… okay bye that’s all hrksfds)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

I think it depends!

Bela is a massive switch in my mind, and when she’s dominating she’s more of a soft dom - so typically she’s not too much of a tease… however, sometimes she definitely enjoys toying around a little bit.

A favourite of hers is lightly holding a vibrator against your clit on the lowest setting and letting you squirm a bit, making you beg for more.

V = Volume (How loud is she?)

oh Bela can be LOUD.

she doesn’t even realise it either, she’s just too caught up in how good it feels.

she gets quite embarrassed after, even a tad scared in case someone heard, but with plenty of reassurance from you (and forehead kisses) she’s fine.

(however, once she was so loud you had to cover her mouth with your hand during the act… yeah Bela melted. almost came on the spot. doing that is a sure fire way to turn her on.)

W = Wild card (a random hc of your choice)

Hmm… here’s a few.

Bela is really into face sitting, both doing it and having her partner do it to her. And she’s not one for hovering, oh no no - it’s called face sitting for a reason. You will sit.

I also think she enjoys just… making out. A foreplay fave of hers is to start off slowly, making out and grinding with you (maybe even some dry humping) before getting to the main act.

Also… (this woman def doesn’t have a phone but, let’s just suspend reality for a sec) send Bela nudes and she will lose. Her. Mind. She thinks you’re beyond beautiful, truly , and seeing you like that just drives her wild.

X = X ray (what’s going on in her pants)

As before, I’m pushing the Bela with a landing strip agenda. I reckon Bela typically wears lacey black underwear, nothing too daring…

She does own lingerie though, and she loves showing you.

I actually think the most risky thing Bela’s ever done is turn up to your chambers one day, and give you a ‘try on haul’ of the new clothes she bought. the clothes in question were mostly lingerie. safe to say she was in your room for most of that night.

Y= Yearning (how high is her sex drive?)

Bela’s sex drive isn’t insanely high.. I reckon on average she can go between 1-3 times a week. Never usually more than 4 tops. Typically twice a week at an estimate.

Z = Zzz (how quick does she fall asleep after?)

Sleepy angel lmao, Bela can be out like a light quite quickly after I reckon. Which is rare, because in general I imagine Bela actually doesn’t sleep well.

But she’s so calm after being intimate with you, she just can’t help but feel her eyes slowly drooping. So whilst she rests her head on your chest in the aftermath and whispers soft “I love you’s” as you guys chat in the aftermath… don’t be surprised when she eventually stops responding. She’s fallen asleep x

Take it as a compliment, though, it shows how at peace she feels with you.

[meadowtwins]

Tips for broke witches with a budget of 10$/€:

As someone who started with their craft when they were younger, living in a poor household with little to not money for me available, I know how how it is with a budget so low, that being a "true witch" seems impossible.

Well, I just need to remind you all that for practicing witchcraft, you do NOT NEED everything expensive. In fact you only need so little. Sure, the whole witch aesthetic with all the decorations, the cauldrons etc. looks lovely and most of us would really like to achieve that level of perfectionism, but Witchcraft is much more than that. It is a predominately Pagan practice. Nature is one of the biggest, if not the biggest aspect in it. Sometimes you just aren't really knowledgeable about all the options you're available to.

Tip 1: Nature walks:

As mentioned above, Nature is a big aspect. Almost every ingredient and spell componement is seen outside. Take a walk, go into the woods, get off path, you'll find herbs, fruits, flowers, all kinds of decorations. You can find sticks, bind them in any shape and hang them onto your wall. You can cut off (with Natures permission!) Ivy wreaths and hang them up. Pinecones, pineneedles, treebarks, hazelnuts, feathers, wheats all kinds of grass, everything is out there! Take a look on the ground and maybe you'd be lucky to find a few gemstones (yes, they're just out there!) or if animal bones are something for you even that!

Tip 2: Grimoire/Book of Shadows:

Your witchy journal does NOT have to be that expensive leather bound, old journal that the old antique shop sells for 60 dollars because it has a "magical aura". Yes, how can someone pass on that aesthetic, but your book isn't magick by itself. YOU first put the energy into it and make it something magical to you. Without your journaling and time you've spent, it is JUST a book! Therefore a simple notebook that costs like 1.50 max works completely fine! Mine is a notebook if found in my drawer that has a rainbow reflecting surface, trust me, the aesthetic is the thing you should be least concerned about.

Tip 3: Divination Board:

Self-made is always the cheapest option! Again, like your Grimoire, the board isn't the one with with the magical attributes. It's all you! My first divination board was made out of cardboard paper. You have all the options open, it can just be paper or you could even print one out. The material does not devalue the magical properties.

Tip 4: Pendulum:

A pendulum itself is cheaper than you think, look in the right places and you'll see. But if that is too much you can always make one yourself. You have to keep in mind that the item doesn't come with the magic! You're the one making if something magical. Find a pretty stone on the ground (with luck a gemstone!), tie it to a string and wear it as necklace. There you have it!

Tip 5: Cauldron:

A fire bowl, a normal bowl, a plastic bowl etc.! You can use anything. It depends however on what you do with it. Make sure not to use fire irresponsibly if you plan on burning something in it. Keep a window open and don't burn something in a not substitutional material. There's a reason a fire bowl is differencated from a normal bowl.

Tip 6: Gold, Bronze, Silver etc.

This goes for jewelry, tableware, bowls etc. For example in spells/rituals or offerings to a deity. A plate to put your offerings on or to set the spell on. Look into your cupboards! A glass bowl is a popular one to use since it's neutral in it's symbolic and easy to clean. If you'd prefer something golden or any other other material, ask a grandparent or maybe even parent. They usually have some sort of old tableware that is golden or bronze or anything else. If asked (and you're a closet witch!) tell them it's for decoration or putting a candle on it. The same goes for jewerly. Grandparents (or aunts!) usually have old necklaces and earrings they don't need anymore. Or even brooches with imagery you can connect to a deity maybe.

Tip 7: Tarot Cards:

It depends if you believe in the rule that says you cannot buy yourself a tarot deck. I do! Therefore what I did, was make my own one. It took lots of days but in the end I had a full deck! It's lots of work so if you don't want all that from the start, make yourself only the major arcana. Again it can be made out of cardboard, paper etc. The material really doesn't matter. If you're not familiar with the rule, it says your first tarot deck has to be gifted to you, found, or made by yourself. Infact in my case, all three happened to me!

In conclusion, Nature has ALL kinds of componements. You can find so many things all around you if you just look close enough!

But don't forget, cleansing is important! If you take items off the ground out and about, cleanse them off any negative energy before putting them into your household. If anything you need to know I haven't mentioned, just ask.

Happy witching!

[archived-daydreams]

— Move your body, darling.

Summary: You’ve started working out, and your boyfriend encourages you.

Characters: Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, Kaeya, Arataki Itto x gender neutral reader.

Word count: 3.2k.

Tags: fluff, slight crack, suggestive (allusions at doing the deed in Kaeya’s but nothing ex.plicit), soft and supportive boyfriends.

Author’s note: A little something for my dearest @bunny-rambles <3 I hope you like it, love !

Reblog to support your favorite authors ! It helps more than likes.

SCARAMOUCHE

Pretends he doesn’t care, letting slip some comments about how “foolish humans are to believe they can get stronger like that”.

In reality, he’s probably one of the most (if not the most) supportive of this bunch.

Need anything afterwards? He’ll bring it to you, no matter how much he grumbles. And no, don’t try to stop him, because “you are clearly not in the right conditions to do it yourself”. His words not mine, by the way.

Did you drink enough water? Or fruit juice? Or something cold after your work out? You better, he “threatens”, but honestly, he’s happy to prepare it for you (even if he pouts like a grumpy cat).

The afternoon sun is scorching as you keep count of the times you’ve folded and unfolded your legs.

Up, and down, up and down, and up, and down again. Pause. Repeat.

You can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but the idea of getting into shape and strengthening your body crossed your mind a few days ago.

Was it to be able to beat your boyfriend for once in sparring?

That would be unrealistic, thinking on it, considering how he went to godhood and back, and was reborn from his own fall from grace.

Pehaps it was to actually prove to him, that no, not all humans are so ephemeral and frail as he deems them to be.

Yes, that definitely makes more sense.

And maybe, somewhere inside of you, you just want to be a little stronger, because as attractive as Scaramouche looks obliterating enemies, you know how heavy your hypothetic hurt and loss hang over him.

So, with that thought spurring you on, you get back to your workout, some of the energy you’re expending slightly recovered with this re-discovered motivation.

Unaware to you, a pair of vibrant violet eyes have been watching you for a while. The smile painted on his porcelain-like features speaking the words his eyes conceal behind the curtain of dusk that is his hair.

Leaning against the wall and with arms crossed over his chest, the wanderer decides he can indulge for a little longer in the sight of you.

That is, until a familiar child-like voice interrupts him.

“Oh, so they are the one you cherish!”

His cheeks dye in the color of Zaytun peaches at that statement, his figure leaning off the wall in a flurry.

“Shhh, Lesser Lord Kusanali, please not now!” He whisper-shouts.

Nahida gives him a closed eyed smile, as if she hadn’t completely gotten through his practiced haughty facade.

Then, her inquisitive viridian eyes flit to you and to the ex-harbinger again.

“You know, it’s okay to show them your support. They’ll appreciate it, I’m sure!” She encourages him. “It’s the same as when you cultivate flowers.” She gestures with her small hands. “No colorful petal can truly bloom without love, in the same way no fruit will ripen without sun or water.”

And Scaramouche isn’t sure if it’s because of his mentor’s wise words, or because you look like you’re about to pass out from dehydration; but next thing he knows, he’s walking towards you with a bottle of Harra fruit juice in hand.

“When will you learn to take care?” Your wanderer scolds, at the same time his cheeks mirror the warm rays of the low sun in the horizon.

ALBEDO

Oh, he’s smooth. Like, he doesn’t even have to try to make you flustered.

And the best thing is, sometimes (when he wants to, that is) he looks innocent while at it, because he truly cares and means well.

Rest assured, once you either tell him you want to exercise or he finds out, the chief alchemist is getting his hands on every fitness book he can find.

Albedo will come up with a full training program tailored to your needs and goals in a matter of a few hours.

He’s very supportive and reassuring but please, don’t let him get ideas for his experiments, unless you want to receive (affectionate or not so affectionate) complaints from a certain blond traveler, namely, his frequent test subject.

“Fascinating,” Your lover muses, a huge manual on physiology of the human body held in between his hands. “According to this study, Dragonspine reunites all the ideal conditions to make your training more demanding, which will result in it being all the more effective…”

You can’t help but let out a giggle at how immersed into this Albedo seems to be. Sure, you did mention to him you’d like to do some physical conditioning to perform more efficiently in combat, but you didn’t intend to be subjected to a rigorous training program.

“Bedo, dear.” You begin, sitting across from him. “You don’t need to plan such a complicated schedule.” Your hand finds his over the table.

His skin is cold to the touch, yet it is not an unpleasant sensation. It always reminded you of the morning dew over the Cecilias at Snarsnatch Cliff.

Rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand you continue. “I just want to exercise a little bit more than what my usual commissions require, nothing too harsh.” You finish, softly, a tender smile etched on those lips that have warmed Albedo’s cold nights many a time.

“I know that, dearest.” He says, his fingers slotting in between yours. They always fitted perfectly, as if your hands entwined were the last two puzzles pieces containing the mysteries of this world the Chalk Prince yearns to solve.

“But, the cold climate and altitude here will make your daily commissions feel like a walk in the park.” He continues, his free hand dangerously traveling to your waist and down, and down, until it stops at the small of your back. “Wouldn’t you agree, my love?” Albedo questions, that devious smirk you can’t resist appearing on his face like fresh pink strokes of watercolor.

“Oh?” You return his grin, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, playing with the tips of his icy blond hair. “Is that really it?” You tease, your fingertips grazing the star shaped mark on his neck. “Or is my prince eager to spend more time with me?”

“I won’t lie to you.” The alchemist answers, those cerulean eyes of his gleaming mischievously, akin to late stars in the dawn, before leaning in to close the distance between your lips.

You guess this might as well count as a workout session, with how wildly your heart is beating.

XIAO

Sweet baby Xiao, who is probably going to need more reassurance than you.

Why are you suddenly putting your body through such efforts? Are you going to leave him? Is he no longer useful enough to protect you?

Please, please, let him know it has nothing to do with it. Xiao’s gone through so much both physical and emotional pain, he doesn’t understand why you would willingly exhaust yourself like this.

You’ll probably have to sit him down and patiently explain how some moderate exercise can help you feel more energized and less tired on your day to day activities.

Once he understands, however, he’s very, very supportive!

Will always keep an eye on you, making sure you don’t overexert or stay out too late practicing; carries you back to Wangshuu Inn if you overdid it and is always nearby keeping any monsters at bay.

“Working out?” The adeptus repeats, a frown creasing his forehead, his lips forming an all too adorable pout. “Are you in danger? Is anyone after you?” Xiao asks, his golden orbs widening, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“No, Xiao, it’s nothing like that, my love.” You reassure him, one of your hands reaching out to cup his cheek. “I just want to get stronger, you know? So that I can be better in battle and feel more energized.

Battle. As much as Xiao knows you can hold your own in a fight and trusts your skill, the yaksha doesn’t like the sound of that word, even less coming from your lips.

You shouldn’t have to worry about battles or fights, he vowed to protect you; he deems himself no more than a tool to keep you safe, the weapon that slays any unfortunate who dares harm you.

Do you not need him anymore? Is the question that lingers on his mind and that he can’t bring himself to ask.

Used to your yaksha’s mannerisms, however, you can sense his discomfort.

For someone who claims to deal in bloodbath and death, you’ve come to learn Xiao is about one of the most sensitive and gentle people you could meet.

“Xiao? Does this idea upset you?” You try, taking one of his hands in both of yours, removing his glove to reveal scarred yet tender skin, and sharp claws that hold you with the softness of qingxin and glaze lily petals.

“Maybe…” the conqueror of demons nods, his gaze cast downwards. “Do you…” he hesitates, the prospect of you confirming his deepest fears more painful than the karma he shoulders. “Do you… not need my protection anymore?” He finally manages to ask.

“Oh, Xiao…” With care, you hold his face in both your palms, guiding his sunlit honey eyes back to yours. “Of course I need you. I love you, Xiao.” You whisper, your tone delicate, as if any disturbance or too loud syllable could pop and shatter the little bubble encasing the both of you. “Me exercising and practicing more will not mean I’ll ever stop loving and needing you, baby.” You plant the most tender kiss he’s ever felt on the diamond shaped mark on his temple.

And even though still concerned for your safety and wellbeing, the vigilant yaksha’s heart has been soothed by the floral breeze of your affections tonight.

From that day onwards, it wasn’t rare to see a certain adeptus scanning Guili Plains more exhaustively than usual, especially when a dedicated fighter found themselves mastering the art of their weapon.

CHILDE

Flirty and competitive little shit (affectionate) but he’s actually helpful.

Will take any chance he can get to one up on you. Don’t hold it against him, though, he’s just childish (pun intended), and loves your pouty expressions a little too much.

Finds it so attractive when your breath is labored, yet you still keep going. That sight alone, truly ignites something in him, his usually dull ocean eyes reflecting a myriad of iridescent lights in all the shades that compose you; he feels the need to kiss you and become the cause you’re breathless and… (I’ll stop here before we enter spicy territory, but you get it).

Very caring. Ajax is not new to taking care of people, he has a big family, after all. And as much as he is quite the reckless adrenaline junkie, he doesn’t want you doing anything extreme or pushing yourself to your limits (he pushes you to the limit enough as it is, in all aspects ;).

You think Ajax’s insanity is starting to rub on you.

Sure, you’d like to get more fit and strong, but did you really have to grab your boyfriend’s bow for your first practice?

You sigh, your shoulders already sore from drawing the big bow again and again.

But as they say, no pain, no gain.

At least you are grateful for Polar Star’s soft and supple handle, it keeps your hands (mostly) free from blistering.

You ready yourself, a look of pure concentration on your eyes, set on the target. You aim for the bull’s eye, drawing your elbow backwards, in a way that you hope resembles how Childe does it in battle.

You can picture the arrow’s trajectory, its tip infused in the vibrant hue of your vision, a perfect arch cutting through the skies above in a parable of elemental energy set for a single pinpoint destination.

You take a deep breath.

In, and out.

Then…

An all too familiar (and quite obnoxious, right now) chuckle makes your focus dissipate, akin to ocean waves lapping at the shore, dragging sandy architecture and paintings into lightless depths.

“And just what,” You begin, turning around, deep frown creasing your eyebrows. “Do you find so funny, Tartaglia?” You point the index finger not holding his bow at his chest. “Care to tell me?” You spat, wisps of venomous smoke stoked by your fiery annoyance tainting the edges of your voice.

Childe stands there, looking at you like the idiot in love he is, dumb dopey smile plastered on his unfairly kissable lips.

“Sorry, you’re so cute, sweetheart.” He manages in between chuckles.

You want to smack him over the head with his own bow, but you contain yourself: you really don’t want his weapon to get damaged, after all.

Instead, you settle for punching him on the arm, with less malice than your pout suggests.

“Do you want to see how cute I’ll look after i shoot an arrow through that empty head of yours, Childe?” You retort, arms crossed over your chest.

“Heh, I’d like to see you try, darling. Don’t you think I can’t dodge.”

At his answer, you throw your hands into the air, exasperated.

And, even though Ajax loves teasing you and sparring with you, he doesn’t really like making you angry, especially when you’re trying hard.

“But instead of that,” the harbinger starts, taking the bow from your hands. “How about I help you? You know, weapons are really personal things, what works for me, might not work well for you or another person.”

He likes how your eyes sparkle at his suggestion, your undivided attention prompting the ginger to continue.

“It’s true we can master any kind of weapon, but you need the right one for you, no matter which type you choose.”

The warrior’s calloused fingertips brush a strand of hair away from your face.

“So, how about finding the right bow for you? Sound good?”

“Fine…” You breathe, completely lost in the way the last rays of sunshine catch in the deep lakes of his gaze. It is not a sight you get to witness often, and you treasure it immensely.

“Alright!” Your boyfriend nods, picking you up, bridal style, relishing in your squeals and giggles as you both walk into the sunset.

KAEYA

Flirty little shit number 2, except instead of being helpful, he ends up distracting you more than anything.

He makes up for it in support, though. Granted, he teases you a lot, but he’s also your number one cheerleader.

Very touchy and affectionate, will not pass up any chance to leave a kiss here and there, or hold onto your waist.

Loves joining you in your workout sessions and matching outfits with you.

Very vocal, Kaeya compliments you a lot and always has words of encouragement to offer, no matter how completely exhausted or weak you feel.

You swear this is unfair.

He is being unfair.

He knows all too well what he’s doing and he must have had this planned from the moment he offered to help you with your sit-ups session.

“How about I hold your legs in place, my darling?” The cavalry captain suggested in an all too enticing and sultry tone. “Won’t that way be easier for you?”

And of course, you had to go and agree.

Like the fool for him that you are.

So now, you have to have his tempting lips practically shoved in your face every single time you do a sit-up.

You reap what you sow, as the saying goes, you chide yourself internally.

But oh, he’s so not helping at all. Pouting like that every time he keeps count, icy eyes half lidded, the frozen galaxies in them beckoning you closer to his presence.

“And fifty!” Kaeya finally exclaims, when you do the last one of the planned exercises for today. “You did great, my sweet.” The cavalry captain smiles, innocently, as if he wasn’t the main reason your face feels like it’s on fire right now.

“Why, thanks.” You reply, rather bluntly, uncapping the water bottle he just handed to you. At least you are grateful he had the decency to cool it with his vision beforehand. Throwing your head back, you take a long sip. Then:

“You volunteered to help and yet, you’re aware you didn’t make this easy in the slightest, aren’t you?” You accuse.

“My, whatever could you mean, hm?” Your boyfriend taunts, two slender fingers holding your chin in between them. “Or is my precious partner in need of some affection?”

“Oh you…” You whisper, the warmth in your heart overpowering how unnerved your knight makes you feel sometimes.

“Yes, my love?” That look of feigned innocence again.

You huff, defeated. But the smile tugging at the corner of your lips makes it quite obvious you are, indeed, very much needy for his touches and kisses.

Let’s just say, from the instant Kaeya’s hands found your hips up until the moment you’d find yourself laying down in his idyllic embrace, you got an extra work out session.

ARATAKI ITTO

Very supportive, but for the love of the archons, don’t ever let him join you.

Seriously, Itto is all heart and good intentions, but sometimes he doesn’t realize his own strength.

What to him feels like just some stretches, it might be for you the equivalent of running a marathon with a 10 kilogram heavy backpack on.

Practically worships you and the ground you walk on, though. He’s your biggest hype-man.

The trembling on your arms intensifies as you reach the end of your training session.

You hope Katheryne doesn’t have any too difficult commissions for you in store tomorrow: right now, you doubt you’ll be able to hold your weapon steadily.

You are proud of yourself for reaching your goal today, a gentle, albeit tired, smile making it to your sweaty features as you finish with some meditation and stretches.

The inazuman coast is so serene at this time of day, with the sun dipping behind the horizon, beams of purple and crimson striping the dusk sky.

A sigh escapes your lips, for this peace is always short lived. You wouldn’t have it any other way, however, you love your loud and boisterous oni too much for that.

A few more instants of tranquility pass, the late sunshine fading into luminous constellations riding in the faraway horizon, the crescent moon smiling down at two figures approaching your location.

“Boss! Please! Be quieter, now! It’s late and you can’t disturb the citizens at this hour.”

A knowing smile mimics that of the milky crescent lighting up the indigo infinity above you. You really admire your friend Shinobu’s patience.

“But Shinobu! [Y/n] will be so proud of me when I tell them about how the One and Oni Itto was proclaimed supreme king of the Great All-around Arataki Onikabuto and TCG Championship!”

The girl pinches the bridge of her nose, having had enough of her boss’s antics.

As soon as he spots you, Itto starts waving his big hands energetically, calling your name repeatedly, to Shinobu’s chagrin.

“Itto!” You run to his side, weakly hugging his broad torso. “Why don’t you tell me about today as we walk back home?” You propose, talking in a low voice.

His eyes sparkle excitedly. Sometimes, he reminds you of an adorable puppy; for someone over six feet tall, your oni boyfriend really is sweet.

“But… can I ask you to carry me, please?” You look away, slightly flustered. “Push ups are still a little hard for me.”

That night, the deputy leader of the Arataki Gang had a relaxed night, as she watched the retreating figures of an oni and his lover animatedly recounting the day’s many events.

[lesbianrobin]

which showtunes do u guys think each 911 character would Destroy... i'm not talking ranges okay i'm talking pure emotion. pure vibes. performance power. here are my picks:

maddie: "she used to be mine" is low-hanging fruit and reductive but. i mean she'd kill. ANYWAY i think she would also slay "back to the palace" which is an earlier version of "on the steps of the palace" from into the woods which might be too much of a deep cut but i don't care. also she and chim would make me cry with "wedding song" from hadestown. ALSO "so much better" from legally blonde.

chimney: perhaps bringing starkid into this is embarrassing but i don't care. chim could fucking Own "show stoppin number" from the guy who didn't like musicals. like he would be So good. also chim could do "candy store" from heathers. maddie and hen are his heather mac and heather duke. like i just fully believe that he could commit the necessary energy. also i think chim could do any like romantic lead

buck: "maybe this time" from cabaret. like come on he'd bring down the house. also "my unfortunate erection" from the 25th annual putnam county spelling bee. he has the necessary pathetic vibe and general shamelessness regarding his penis. also "the schmuel song" from the last five years. ALSO "michael in the bathroom" from be more chill he would sing that song and cry about it whenever eddie was too busy to hang out with him.

eddie: he could not perform "maybe this time" from cabaret because he would break down in tears and be unable to sing. he Could own "not the boy next door" from the boy from oz. obviously. "god, i hate shakespeare" from something rotten! he just has the necessary haterism in his soul. "spooky mormon hell dream" from the book of mormon. i will refrain from assigning him anything from spring awakening because frankly i think if eddie diaz knew about that show it would upset him So profoundly and he would never recover.

bobby: "we both reached for the gun" from chicago. 10000%. also bobby and michael would deliver the greatest performance of "i love my dead gay son" from heathers of all time. "if i can't love her" from beauty and the beast.

athena: "anything goes" from anything goes. she just has that power idk. probably low-hanging fruit but "get down" from six. also i think she and bobby would slay "it takes two" from into the woods.

hen: "don't rain on my parade" from funny girl 100%. DON'T tell her not to live just sit and putter!!! also is it cheating to say she and karen could slay "take me or leave me" because it feels like cheating but they Literally could. also i think karen would slay "when he sees me" from waitress. sorry i'm letting karen overtake hen's bit but they're married what's hen's is karen's.

also the 118 could collectively slay "there! right there!" from legally blonde. also "what a game" from ragtime (eddie as father and buck as edgar. in my own personal opinion. because chim and bobby have Got to be baseball hooligans.) also eddie would fucking kill "ladies' choice" from hairspray but that's a movie thing so idk if it counts. but he'd kill.

[lemotmo]

You have already answered similar questions so feel free not to post. I just thought I would share 😊

Q. Where is the Promotional stuff?! What is going on? I need answers. Every show now has a trailer but 911. Is he coming back or not? I need to know something other than Tim is still obsessed with Ryan, haha.

A. Lol, the man is very transparent about his Ryan/Eddie love. He always has been. They're clearly hiding something. I think it was pretty much confirmed that The Rookie was the show something got spoiled for, I don't watch it so I have no clue how big of a spoiler it was. But obviously 911 took the opportunity to button everything up on their end. They clearly don't want something spoiled about the 3 episode event. I think we can pretty safely say there is no kind of AU happening. What we saw was most likely the television show Bobby is consulting on. For all the SPN ptsd's out there freaking out in my ask box, this is an entirely different show. It's not the same thing. However , it would make sense, and in fact be hilarious, if the characters on the show mirrored the real 118. There will be nothing wrong with doing that. We are talking about a Ryan Murphy show. I would be more surprised if they didn't do that.

I think if they drop a trailer it will be during the Family Fued episode. Double the PR in one sitting. They are doing things completely differently this time around. So it's hard to predict. I would imagine we'll get interviews the week leading up to the premier at least. We know Ryan has some sitting out there, and so far they're following the same pattern with Ryan/Eddie that they followed with Oliver/Buck last off-season. Everything else is different. But I would imagine the week leading up to the premier will be pretty PR heavy. Unless they want to hold everything until after the premier. If they're hiding something big we may have to wait. I'm going to address Tommy one more time and one more time only. He is not important enough to feature in anything that is currently taking place. He was made much more important by both fandoms than he ever was going to be to the show. Period. He was never going to be a main. He was never going to be main adjacent. He was a guest star with less than 30 total minutes of screen time. If we get a trailer and he isn't in the trailer I don't think he's returning. The previous seasons love interests have almost always featured in the trailer in some capacity so if they exclude him from that I think it's safe to assume he was let go. The only reason I'm hesitant to say he was fired is because they pinned his Instagram comment. I don't see them pinning a comment from a fired employee. However given everything we have learned about how control heavy Disney is I don't see how he kept his job following the cameo garbage. He clearly broke Disney protocol. So I genuinely don't know. He is very low hanging fruit by Disney standards though so it is what it is. If he shows up for a scene or two or an episode or two it doesn't really matter. He's not going to play any significant role one way or the other. And there is no need to keep talking in circles about it. We have 20 days to go. I'm looking forward to the FF episode and the stuff we will be getting once the season starts (hello Eddie in a church talking to the priest). We'll see what if anything juicy the FF episode provides and we will go from there. 💗

Thank you Nonny! I'm definitely posting this one, because people have been asking for Ali's opinion on the lack of promotion for Tommy, which is about the same opinion as mine, only more eloquently explained. 😉

So I'm not adding any of my opinions on this one, since all of you already know exactly what I think about most of this. :)

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[clariannahoney]

Tempted by the Bad Boy's Kiss

The bass thumped through the walls of the dimly lit club, vibrating in sync with the pounding of my heart. The air was thick with sweat and perfume, a heady mix that made it hard to think straight. I should have been dancing, lost in the rhythm, but all I could do was watch him from across the room. He stood by the bar, his back to me, one hand gripping a bottle of whiskey as if it were an extension of his arm. His dark hair fell into his eyes, which were hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses, even though it was night.

Joohoney. The name rolled off my tongue like a forbidden fruit, sweet and dangerous. He wasn’t just any bad boy; he was the kind of guy who made you forget why you shouldn’t want him. And I wanted him. God, how I wanted him.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the scent of his cologne—something woodsy and intoxicating—lingered in the air, pulling me closer. I couldn’t resist. I never could. With every step I took toward him, the music seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of my own pulse echoing in my ears.

He turned just as I reached him, his lips curling into a smirk that sent shivers down my spine. “Well, well, look who decided to show up,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, like he’d just woken up from a nap. But there was nothing sleepy about the way his eyes roamed over me, taking in every inch of my body with a hunger that made my knees weak.

“Couldn’t stay away,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. The truth was out there now, hanging between us like a threadbare curtain, ready to be torn down.

He leaned in closer, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. “Good,” he murmured, his breath warm against my cheek. “Because I can’t either.”

Before I could respond, his hand was on my waist, pulling me flush against him. My arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair. His lips found mine, and everything else—the noise, the lights, the people—faded away. All that existed was him and I, locked in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.

His tongue slid against mine, coaxing a moan from deep within my throat. I pressed myself closer, needing more, wanting to crawl inside him and lose myself in the darkness that always seemed to follow him. His hands roamed down my back, slipping under the hem of my shirt to graze the bare skin beneath. The touch was electric, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through my veins.

“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered against my lips, his voice thick with desire. I nodded, unable to form words, my mind too clouded with lust to think clearly.

He grabbed my hand and led me through the crowd, his grip firm and unyielding. We didn’t stop until we reached the parking lot, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat of the club. Joohoney pulled me into the shadows, where the streetlights couldn’t reach, and pushed me up against the side of his car.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, his voice rough and urgent. His eyes bore into mine, searching for something—anything—that would give him permission to keep going.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “I want this,” I breathed, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

His lips crashed down on mine again, harder this time, as if he was afraid I might change my mind. His hands were everywhere—in my hair, on my hips, sliding up my shirt to cup my breasts. I gasped into his mouth, the sensation overwhelming, but not enough. I needed more.

I tugged at the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. He pulled back just long enough to yank it over his head, revealing a chest covered in tattoos that seemed to tell a story of their own. My fingers traced the lines, feeling the muscles beneath tense and relax with each stroke.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he growled, his voice strained. He grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head against the car door. The position left me vulnerable, but instead of feeling scared, I felt alive. Every nerve ending was on fire, begging for release.

His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down my neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin just below my ear. I arched my back, pressing myself against him, seeking relief from the tension building inside me. His teeth scraped gently against my collarbone, and I cried out, the sound mingling with the distant hum of the city.

“Please,” I begged, my voice trembling. “Please, Joohoney.”

He looked up at me, his eyes dark with need. “What do you want, baby?” he asked, his voice a low purr.

I hesitated, the words stuck in my throat. It was one thing to want him, to crave the rush of adrenaline that came with being near him, but to say it out loud… That was different. That made it real.

But then his lips were on mine again, silencing any doubts I had. His tongue swept into my mouth, tasting me, owning me. I melted into him, my body responding without thought, without hesitation.

“I want you,” I finally managed to say, the words breaking free like a dam bursting. “I want you so bad.”

His eyes darkened even further, if that was possible, and he released my wrists, letting his hands roam freely over my body. He cupped my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples, already hard and aching for his touch. I moaned, arching into his hands, desperate for more.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “So perfect.”

His words sent a thrill through me, making my heart race even faster. I needed him. Now. I reached down, fumbling with the button of his jeans, desperate to feel him, to have him inside me.

He groaned, his hips bucking forward as my fingers brushed against the bulge in his pants. “Not yet, baby,” he rasped, capturing my hands in his. “Let me take care of you first.”

Before I could protest, his mouth was on my breast, sucking hard through the fabric of my bra. I cried out, the sensation so intense it almost hurt. He switched sides, lavishing the same attention on my other breast, and I could feel the pressure building inside me, threatening to explode.

“Joohoney, please,” I whimpered, my body trembling with need. “I can’t wait anymore.”

He lifted his head, his eyes locking onto mine. “Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice raw with desire.

“I want you inside me,” I gasped, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Now. Please, Joohoney. Now.”

He didn’t waste any time. With one swift motion, he lifted me onto the hood of the car, spreading my legs wide. His hands were everywhere—on my thighs, my hips, my waist—pulling me closer, aligning himself with my core.

And then he was inside me, filling me completely. I cried out, the sensation both painful and perfect. He paused, giving me a moment to adjust, his forehead resting against mine.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice strained.

I nodded, my eyes squeezed shut, fighting back tears of pleasure. “Yes,” I whispered. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He started moving, slowly at first, testing my limits, but soon the tempo increased, his thrusts becoming deeper, harder. I clung to him, my nails digging into his shoulders, my body straining to keep up with the intensity of his movements.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his voice ragged. “So tight. So wet.”

His words sent another wave of pleasure crashing over me, and I could feel myself getting closer, the pressure building inside me, ready to burst.

“Joohoney, I’m gonna—” I gasped, my voice breaking.

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, his thrusts becoming even more frantic. “Let go.”

And I did. I let go, the orgasm hitting me like a tidal wave, sweeping me away in its wake. I screamed his name, my body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

He followed soon after, his thrusts becoming erratic as he spilled inside me, his groan of release mingling with my cries of ecstasy. For a moment, we were frozen in time, our bodies joined together in a perfect symphony of passion.

Then, slowly, he pulled out, collapsing next to me on the hood of the car. We lay there, panting, our bodies slick with sweat, our hearts still racing.

“That was…” I trailed off, unsure how to put the experience into words.

“Incredible,” he finished for me, his voice soft. He turned to face me, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite place. “You’re incredible.”

I smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his face. “No, you are.”

He caught my hand, kissing my palm gently. “We’re incredible together.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, he leaned in, capturing my lips in a slow, lingering kiss. It was different from before, softer, sweeter, as if he was savoring the moment.

When he pulled back, his eyes were serious. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice low.

I knew what he meant. The consequences, the risks, the reality of what we were doing. But in that moment, with his lips still tingling against mine, all I could think was…

“Later,” I whispered, my voice breathless. “Just… later.”

He nodded, understanding. “Later,” he agreed, his voice full of promise.

And then his lips were on mine again, sealing the deal, and I knew that no matter what happened, no matter how many times we fought or how many reasons we had to stay apart…

In the end, it was always going to be Him & I.

[loneamaryllis]

Merry Christmas @racfoam ! Here's a small gift for you!

A scene from a Harrymort AU where Harrie sold herself to Voldemort in exchange for peace.

"Look up."

The words were whispered in her ear, a sinuous demand that wound its barbed coils tight around her throat. She complied, helpless against the command, her eyes flicking up.

There, hanging from the ceiling, was a bouquet of mistletoe. Vibrant green leaves, white fruits dotted around the bulk of the plant, and a red ribbon.

Fuck.

Harrie tried to run.

Large hands clamped down on her shoulders, pinning her in place.

"You know what that means," Voldemort said, with a softness that belied the steel strength of his grip.

"No."

It didn't mean anything, because he couldn't force her into it. That was one of the few safeguards of the contract binding her to him. She had to obey most of his orders, but she was free to ignore anything regarding physical intimacy. He couldn't make her kiss him.

"It's tradition, Harrie."

"I'll make a new tradition. Stand under the mistletoe, punch you in your noseless face."

He chuckled, and the sound trailed down her spine like a ribbon of smooth silk.

"Still so fierce. You've been mine for six months now, and you haven't lost your fire."

She gnawed into her lower lip, unable to deny it. She was his. She had signed that contract and given herself to him, and in exchange, he had halted his attempts at taking over wizarding Britain. He no longer threatened Muggles and Muggle-borns. There was peace—at the cost of her freedom.

"One kiss," he said, leaning down until his lips brushed the shell of her ear. "Just... one kiss."

She swallowed past the heavy lump in her throat. Something was churning in her stomach. Disgust, that was disgust—disgust when she pictured his snake-like face, the pale skin, the slits he had for nostrils, and those unnatural red eyes that always pierced right through her.

Yes, disgust only, she told herself, resolutely ignoring the low, cramping pull in her belly.

People were watching.

This was a party, after all—a Yule celebration—and there were guests from both sides. Death Eaters mingled with members of the Order of the Phoenix, while a few international guests were present as well. The orchestra was playing, and people were talking and mingling around the buffet, half of them oblivious to the mistletoe situation. The other half was looking at her and Voldemort.

The Malfoys were watching, all three of them, identical gray eyes on her. Snape was watching, from halfway across the room, a glass of Champagne in his hand as he stared at her, gaunt features set in a blank mask. Her friends—Ron, Hermione, Ginny—were watching, and they looked furious, but there was nothing they could do. Coming to her rescue would violate the terms of the contract, and Harrie had made it clear to them that—

—that she'd chosen this. That it was worth it. That she wanted it.

Another pulse of heat tugged at her core.

The bastard was keeping the soul bond wide open, wielding it as a weapon against her. His desire flowed toward her like a torrent, the water accumulating fast. Her mental wall wobbled.

He wanted a kiss? Fine. He would get a kiss.

Turning around, she grabbed him by the lapels of his stupid suit, tugged him down, and smashed her lips to his.

A solar flare of desire erupted between them. Voldemort let out a predatory growl and opened his mouth, his forked tongue flicking out. Harrie growled back.

Then she bit him.

Her incisors sank into his thin bottom lip, and the bitter flavor of his blood burst onto her tongue. She huffed in triumph, drawing back. He didn't let her move away. His hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers knotting in her hair, and he pressed their mouths together with ravenous greed, his tongue plunging between her lips.

Blood.

Blood and fire—she was burning, burning for him.

A final lick of that prehensile tongue against her own, and he let her go.

She hurriedly stepped back, her heart racing. Glaring at him, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her face felt too hot, her knickers too damp.

"What a delightful surprise," he said, with a sly grin. "My lioness has claws."

"That's all you'll get out of me."

His crimson eyes flared like a sunset. He lifted a finger to his mouth and casually ran it across his lips, before licking the blood with a swipe of tongue that was frankly obscene.

"That is all I wanted for now, Harrie."

She turned her back on him and lied to herself, twice. She pretended she wasn't running away.

And she pretended she hadn't liked that kiss.

[batsplat]

do you have a favorite bit of motogp gossip that you either want to know is it’s true, or you just enjoy as a stand alone piece, no need for further investigation?

one of those where I initially stared at and like. lost all motogp knowledge in my brain. and then stuff did come back to me. this is all very much low hanging fruit and I'll add to it when I remember more interesting/quirky ones. BUT here are some things I want to know:

y'know how casey randomly suggests in his autobiography that valentino was sabotaged in the 2006 title decider? so, personally, I don't really buy this, because 'why' and also 'casey girl you are SO paranoid' - though, sure, if given the option I'd like to double check if valentino had a dud tyre (completely plausible) and also if somebody really deliberately gave him one (?? casey idk about this one). but what I'm REALLY curious about is... there's a change in his autobiography?? like I've seen this book excerpt float around online and the text is different from what's in my book!! mine's from the paperback version so I assume there may have been some edits for that, so that would make it the newer version... but like. this is a real editorial change. check this out:

version posted on the internet, from the hard cover edition???

version in my book, first paragraph is the same

But as soon as the lights went out Valentino was in trouble. I was one of six riders to pass him on the first lap and if you watch the footage you can see how much he is struggling to even keep up with us. His rear and front tyres were just not working together and on lap five the front inexplicably folded and he went down, right behind me. I couldn't help but wonder how he could be having such problems with his tyres. Could he really have been stitched up? It seemed so improbable, but I remember watching that race back in the motorhome that evening and thinking, Welcome to my world, mate.

this isn't 'gossip' because I haven't found anyone else who has spotted this, but like? that's a substantive change? if my one really is the newer one? ...?

let's set aside the fascinating insight you get into casey's knotty and at times bizarre valentino rossi complex with him adding the line "welcome to my world, mate" (oh my god. please just take him to dinner. I will crowd fund this I literally just need to be able to listen in. casey come on CALL him I NEED you to do the dinner thing, YOU suggested it not me). like we're not going to even touch that. but if my version really is the updated one, then he's kinda softened his stance, no?? "convinced he was stitched up" to "could he really have been stitched up"

what happened?? who wanted this change? casey? an editor? did dorna give casey a call? did some poor bloke from pr have to politely ask whether casey could please not state in his autobiography that the most popular rider ever had had a title stolen from him by the establishment?

(casey was talking about valentino's stolen tenth BEFORE it was popular. he did it even before valentino did, bless)

"there are a lot of commercial interests in the sport" also didn't make the jump to the 'new version', mind you. did Big America get to casey

come on you guys have to admit this is an odd change?? does nobody else thing this is weird??

okay fine moving on

Did Valentino Literally Curse Sete

(like. not literally as in did he curse curse sete, literally as in did he say it)

(though if he did literally literally curse curse sete, I suppose I'd also like to know that bit)

the commentators in 2003 brno say so and I'm inclined to believe them, but I need to double check whether sete and valentino really were partying on ibiza together right after that very painful valentino loss at the sachsenring. such a fascinating little detail, that's not something post-2004 valentino does I reckon

I mean, look, obviously a bunch of things from that time period I want to have fact checked. including valentino's friend hearing sete say in late 2003 that valentino wasn't going to be smiling so much after joining yamaha. classic bit of gossip, did it actually happen though

I've referenced this a few times before, but y'know how valentino said that marc's manager alzamora told him after sepang 2015 that marc had been angry at valentino for killing his title charge? I just want. to know. if this conversation actually happened. I don't think valentino would pluck a lie like that out of thin air, especially something so specific about somebody on marc's team, and he has known alzamora for decades but like. maybe almazora just said something valentino misinterpreted? I just find this such a bonkers thing from alzamora if it's true that I would like it confirmed for my own sanity, you know?

yeah look I would like to know if marc really did get casey kicked out of honda, obviously I've discussed this before and it's very he said she said but yeah it'd be fun to know the truth

this is literally peak gossip because I can't find a source for it but I swear a journalist did say it: the rumour is that marc blocked joan mir from joining honda in 2019. like, I'm only including this because I was explicitly asked for gossip as I just cannot find where it was said... but it is something that is. out there. and... again, just curious. like I buy it, but also it could be bullshit!

on a similar note, did he ever make clear to honda he didn't want either vinales or rinsy on his team circa 2016? was it just a vibe in the paddock or was this an actual demand from marc?

speaking of!! the whole thing about alzamora basically rigging the moto3 teammate situation between rinsy and alex marquez to ensure the latter won the title that year. what was that all about, how far did they go there

switching to valentino now. this doesn't quite fit the remit of the question because it IS something I've investigated. and my conclusion is basically a big *shrug*

did valentino block casey from joining yamaha in either 2005 or 2006, and did he attempt to block jorge?

there are completely contradictory sources on the timeline here that do make me feel like there's a chance yamaha was just fucking with casey at the very least in 2006 and valentino had fuck all to do with it, which a recent interview from casey did actually hint at too... he made it sound like maybe yamaha was just using him to try to drive down the price of another rider (which would then presumably be jorge)

I just want to know! and the thing is, it was a matter of open paddock discussion that valentino blocked casey (jorge explicitly references it in in 2007), but something doesn't quite add up between what jorge, casey, colin edwards, articles from the time and lin jarvis have said on the subject! my current pet theory is that valentino blocked casey in 2005 from joining the satellite yamaha team in 2006 (weirdly casey doesn't really imply valentino was responsible for this one in his autobiography, but whatever) but NOT in 2006 (casey does imply valentino was responsible here, you see my problem). and yamaha was fucking around with all four of valentino, casey, jorge and edwards in late 2006/2007. but. yeah. I have unanswered questions

the entire 'alex marquez blocked from yamaha' situation.... again. something is off there. you know the story from late last year about how he was blocked in 2019 from joining the petronas team in 2021? this completely threw me, because there was an entirely different story about this YEARS back in 2018!! I initially assumed the two stories were about the same event, but it can't have been! one's him being blocked in 2019 for 2021, one's him being blocked in 2018 for 2019

from the descriptions of both there's also no confusing them. the 2018 story has to be about the 2018 contract cycle because that's quite literally when it was published, and the 2023 story has to be about the 2019 contract cycle because it explicitly references the space fabio would create by moving to the factory team for 2021, which obviously wouldn't make sense before fabio's actual rookie season. like they have to be about different stories

and in that same 2018 story, marc said that back in 2016 lin jarvis told him no marquez would be joining yamaha:

again, this was in 2018!!

plus, he did say back in 2016 that he'd spoken to jarvis, which kinda backs up this is a conversation that did happen and marc isn't just misremembering the timeline/lying (the notion of marc joining yamaha in 2017 is fantastic, what an absolutely horrendous idea):

now what marc says in 2018 about his conversation with lin jarvis is very similar to petronas yamaha boss razali saying in 2023 that he'd been told by yamaha no marquez was allowed at yamaha. suggests that this is a thing that did happen!!

but again... razali was told that in 2019... after marc had already been told the same thing three years before that, and the exact same deal had already been blocked one year earlier... does nobody else think this is weird?? like, I'm not saying yamaha hq covered themselves in glory here, but is it not a little strange the satellite yamaha squad had basically almost signed a contract with the younger marquez again without checking in with yamaha, just ONE YEAR after this same contract had already been blocked???

again this isn't actually gossip because I'm apparently the only person going ?? about this but I'll say it: ??

kinda been annoying me since december last year, like I know it doesn't matter but I'm just curious about it! why's nobody else talking about the 2018 story!

idk my best guess here is that petronas yamaha was faffing about and playing weird games with the factory team, that the deal was never as likely to happen as they made it sound to the marquez camp. zero proof, that's me spreading rumours yeah... time to create some of my own unfounded gossip

(also of course I'm curious if valentino did have any actual involvement in this. like if lin jarvis was telling marc this in the year of our lord 2016, I'm assuming valentino didn't have to explicitly say to jarvis that 'inviting marc to the team for 2017' wasn't exactly high on his christmas wish list. it is interesting that marc frames it as jarvis making this about. like. all the marquez's way back in 2016, and again, would this really have been on valentino's radar at the time? that feels a bit...? alex marquez was thirteenth in that moto2 season? would certainly be very... thorough for valentino to already have had that particular talk with jarvis)

(mind u there's a fun moment in a 2019 presser where valentino is sitting between the two marquez brothers and the younger marquez is being asked about his contract situation, the implication being he'd had a motogp deal and no longer had a motogp deal. and he's answering and marc's doing his freak stare and valentino is Right There sitting between them... I <3 mess)

man did valentino actually ever fucking block anyone from joining his manufacturer #notmygoat. I still think he didn't know about jorge until the deal was basically done, had nothing to do with the younger marquez, at most blocked casey the one time but then yamaha wasn't actually seriously intending on signing casey in 2006 and was just using it as a play in their jorge negotiations, which.... idk. bit disappointing if true icl. I hope he blocked someone, I'll say it

(also. okay. I don't want to sound awful here because I do have a lot of sympathy for baby!casey but. ignoring the morality for a second, I do LOVE the idea that valentino blocked casey from getting a satellite yamaha seat fresh off his 250cc runner up season because it would conclusively prove valentino did ABSOLUTELY rate casey!! like he didn't even want casey to come close to being his teammate!! not even a sniff at his data!!) (genuinely this is the rumour I'm choosing to believe, I know there's a chance valentino didn't successfully block anyone and was just a complete flop but I want the 2005 one to be true. it really adds something to the rivalry idk... like ugh valentino saw how dangerous casey was proper early when much of the paddock wasn't yet convinced... cute)

moving on

there was a rumour in 2015 that valentino approached dani after aragon to complain about how sturdy his defence was, like moaning about denying him points and shit. now, there's exactly one article about this in marca that is the sole origin point for the rumour, and it says that valentino also interrupted a honda party after phillip island to complain to marc. this does not match up at all with anything either marc or valentino have said since then - and would mean you have to believe that marc wasn't actually blindsided by that presser... also feels a bit unlikely we would have heard NOTHING from any other source if vale was really gatecrashing a honda party

of course, neither dani nor valentino have spoken about this supposed post-aragon 2015 meeting either, not even when dani was kinda accusing valentino of hypocrisy during sepang 2015, but I suppose you could say maybe dani's just not the type of guy to bring it up again. however.... I do reckon occam's razor kinda applies here and if one of these stories is bullshit then they probably both are, plus it's not like marca is exactly a neutral source. still would love to be certain!! instinctively I don't really think that's valentino's style at all, but of course it'd be intriguing if the story were true because it'd be a sign of how 2015 kinda messed with him. but I still feel 2015 is more about him falling back on past tools he'd mostly discarded - rather than, like, acting wildly out of character, which again... well, this brings us back to how that kind of behaviour isn't really valentino's style. basically, I don't buy it, but that's kinda why I am so curious about it? because I feel like it would be really interesting and quirky if he had actually done that. does this make any sense

speaking of, again this doesn't really count because I did kinda investigate it last year.... but you know when valentino in that podcast referenced a conversation with marc around the time of sepang 2015, where marc stared blankly at him? I have a hunch about when that conversation happened, want to know if it's right. this also isn't really 'gossip' because this is a conversation I'm having with myself but

y'know when bez was injured on the ranch late-ish last year? a bunch of journalists pointed out how hush hush they were about what actually happened to bez - like they repeatedly drew attention to that because god knows THEY love some gossip lol. which probably means nothing, but I'm curious what the journalists' theory here is, like do they think it was an embarrassing injury?? OR. look. I suppose the conspiracy theory would be that pecco caused it (obviously accidentally!!) and everyone at the ranch knew it'd be a terrible look if they admitted that because of the whole title fight situation. call me casey stoner because those dots are not real and definitely have not been connected

okay, you know how there were rumours in the spanish tabloids bez said some real ugly stuff to marc at valencia last year, and bez didn't directly address it but freaked a little and did a sort of blanket denial that he'd said anything that bad? I don't actually think he did tbh, but again. would just like to check!

while we're already on bez, there was one report that the switch to aprilia was partly motivated by marc to factory ducati. again, not entirely sure I buy that this would factor into his thinking beyond the obvious 'this means the route to that factory ducati seat looks even more closed than it already did' angle'.... it's very much down my list of priorities but I'd quickly confirm/deny it if given the chance yeah

that's all for now lol

[7grandmel]

Rip of the week: 29/07/2024

W.E. Are Number One?

Season 8 Featured on: The Joke-Explainer 7000™'s Highest Quality Rips: Sunrise

Ripped by Birdator

Tentative rip name: V.NR. One Was Four?

As SiIvaGunner grows, its bound to tackle more and more out-there and experimental ideas, to continue to raise the bar of quality higher than the season prior did. You'll see this be done through rips of less prominent games, such as with Last Freight-train Night and Owner of a Mahjong Board, or through rips incorporating long-though-dead jokes in all-new ways like with Satin PantE's - and, of course, the outright madness of rips like my rip :). Yet on the opposite side of that coin lies the other method of evolution, of refinement. In other words, to simply do that which has been done before on a level never before thought possible. Yep: With W.E. Are Number One?, it's once again time to cover a "Surprised this hadn't been done yet!" rip.

If you follow the channel on any sort of level, it's likely that you've seen responses such as the one quoted floating about in the SiIvaGunner comments sections. They're of course not meant to be taken as demeaning or insulting, but rather that they identify the rip as using a concept so brilliant and simple that you'd think it would've been done back in the channel's early years, the "lowest hanging fruit" concepts, if you will. For as much as I love the earliest years of SiIvaGunner, many of its rips were indeed simply taking the expected concept and...doing it. That is of course what gave us all-time legendary rips like Athletic Doctor, Mt. Dedede (extended) and many more, but even within Season 1 you could see the team noticing this pattern of people expecting what the rip was going to be way ahead of time and thus worked to find ways to subvert expectations. Yet, as we'd find out many times over across the channel's life, through events like The Disappearance of Super Mario and Your Best Nightmario, sometimes the greatest form of subversion is to simply accomplish the set-out goal to a degree so far above the viewer's expectations, to where they'll have no choice to be amazed.

Indeed, the Touhou series is bursting at the seams with music that has completely infiltrated all corners of VGM culture. Even as a non-fan myself it's been impossible to ignore the franchise's impact on online circles, and how it led to incredible rips like Imperial Touwer and Beautiful Dreamer - and even as a non-fan, every time I see U.N. Owen Was Her? in my recommendations, I'm desperately compelled to relisten to it just one more time. By that same token, We Are Number One endures as perhaps the most timeless and eternally-quality meme source on SiIvaGunner: This post will mark the 7th time I've covered a rip that's just a WANO rearrangement, succeeding the likes of Robbie's Rotten Mine, Chillin' Like A Villain, and so many more. To take a popular song from internet culture, or a popular source frequently used on SiIva, and rearrange it with We Are Number One's legendary meme-ska instrumentation - it is, again, like low-hanging fruit, not necessarily anything bad, but exactly something you'd expect to see done at some point. With W.E. Are Number One?, the task put upon ripper Birdator was thus to find a way to make this concept interesting.

Yet really, after you get past the initial shock of "two pieces of music I recognize, what an easy joke!" - that hook is already present from the word go. Compared to so many other sources on the channel and so many other pieces of viral online music, U.N. Owen Was Her? is a DEVIOUSLY layered track, a steady 4/4 time signature and percussion, yet with a lead melody that feels as if it's ping-ponging between hyperactivity, tension-building and full-on drama, like three different stages of an argument that the track somehow back and fourth between. How do you translate such a seemingly complex song into instrumentation as, in some ways, one-note as that of We Are Number One? Simple - you get creative within your limitations. For example, one of my favorite uses of the source in question is within Ska Cha Cha (Rotten Mix), where the funky vocal-sample driven sound of Hideki Naganuma's music is recreated through excellent sampling of Robbie Rotten's "HA-HA-HA"'s and other such vocal mannerisms. W.E. Are Number One? takes a page right out of this book and, for large parts of its runtime, ignores the We Are Number One lyrics, delegating them to a specific section of the song and instead relying on use of the saxophone, percussion, and - of course - the aforementioned voice clips throughout large sections of the track. Even without those lyrics, it is unmistakeably WANO, however, down to the absolutely insane touch of having the instrumentation add flourishes completely unrelated to U.N. Owen Was Her?, but instead calling back specifically to We Are Number One's saxophone melody. Althewhile using WANO's own percussion as the backing, WANO's vocals playing to the rhythm of WANO itself but playing alongside sections arranging the original Touhou music...

It comes together in a package that's so polished and well-rounded, to where I almost struggle to find the words to describe it. Birdator achieved making one of those rips that some deep-in-the-trenches losers like myself have been subconsciously dreaming of in their minds for years, and pulled it off so effortlessly that it feels as if that dream was just posted right onto the SiIvaGunner channel. Hearing the We Are Number One saxophone play shit as insane as the opening riff of U.N. Owen Was Her? is a magical experience, yet the rip continues to just go with the flow from there, never content in just being a novelty or single fun gimmick like a number of rips of the channel's early days did. With W.E. Are Number One?, Birdator pushed beyond what I thought would be possible for a rip of this concept - and shows, yet again, that one can never truly know what to expect from SiIvaGunner's dastardly rippers. Even when you get the expected, you can never be safe.

[thewiscryptid]

starkid's nerdy prudes must die : pt 1

sentence meme / nsft themes / adjust pronouns or wording as needed ~

- I'm comin' for you! - How the hell did this happen? - It's hell on earth, you know. - I was deep in a Twitter fight about a problematic puppy. - I got left behind this morning. The bus driver's a fucking asshole. - Man, I hate that nerdy prude. - I don't need this kind of attention. I want to be invisible. - Bow ties are HIGH - CLASS! - This outfit is a tapestry of my trauma. It is designed to provoke as little teasing as possible. - My titties are tenderized - I didn't know you were funny. I like funny guys. - Who are you running from? - You better leave your hopes behind. - He's a literal monster. A damn literal monster. - There's a difference between an attempt and impact. - She's, like, a total two bagger. - Now listen to me, you stuttering prick-- - You're breaking my balls. Just one little date. - I know that behind closed doors, repressed chicks are the biggest freaks. - I am only one man's girl. And his name is Jesus Christ. - Forbidden fruit, dickhole! It's always the sweetest. - This is politics. Learn to multitask. - Next time you're going to cheat, do it like ___ and don't get caught. - I'd like to have an intelligent coversation with you. So, in other words, shut up. - I'll be careful with it. I'll carefully smash it with this hammer. - How am I supposed to study without listening to Spotify?! - Ready to make like Newton and put this in motion? - You don't even need to try with me. I just want someone to touch me. Anyone. PLEASE. - I'm such a loser, telemarketers hang up on me. - Someone's willing to tolerate your presence for any entire evening. This may never happen again. - I did not consent to this rendez-voos! - I'm your God. Now on your knees, bitch. - I only believe in one ghost-- the Holy Spirit that resides in all of our hearts. - Will you pass the butt-stuff? The butter. Butter. Will you pass the butter? - I'm fine. I just have butterflies in my tummy and they're flying real low today. - Everyone's got their secrets and this one's mine. I love... Jesus! - You got my judgement all muddy and cloudy. - Damn these wandering hands! Damn these sinful loins! - Money isn't everything. Looks are. - These toilets aren’t even in stalls? You just watch each other pee!? - You should see the other guy. I think he bruised his knuckles on my face. - That’s some cool kid privilege right there. - Bathing isn’t safe for me right now. - We’ll fight sin with sin. - I’m just doing the bare minimum here. That’s really sad. - You kinda look like that homeless guy from downtown. - You’re fuckin’ useless, ___! - If you’re gonna surprise me, do it al-fucking-ready. I gotta take a piss! - Float over here, ghost! I'm going to kick your fucking ass! - You can’t fight me. I’m an ethereal being, so... - It’s working for me. He’s sooo violent~! - I told you this place wasn’t structurally sound! He just fell, like, three stories! - Like that's going to fly in court-- HE WAS 'SMOTE'!