#and almost sunken-eye like quality

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

I’m angry because tumblr didnt let me add more than 30 tags :(

How am i supposed to gush about this?! >.<

a deep sea danny for mermay~

i got inspired by @meowmeowmeowmeow4x's lovely fic, Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun! I don't think my depiction of danny is completely accurate to the story, but i looooved the description of his transparent skin with visible bones and organs and wanted to give it a shot!

[ozzgin]

Is it just me or can I imagine a yandere with a darling who’s immune system and possibly everything about them just screams weak and pathetic, BUT their darling is actually very strong mentally and has and will create the most fucked up, batshit crazy inventions from what used to be harmless to something that can help them escape and possibly destroy everything in its path.

But at the end of the day, they become sleepy koalas who hug whoever is near them and fall asleep :)

This could be a request or rant, whatever you can think of! I just wanted to see how different yandere writers would interpret this small imagination of mine <3

But as always, stay safe and take care! everyone needs a break some time to time~

Sorry, but the moment I read the Darling's description, I instantly thought of Dr. Finkelstein from Nightmare Before Christmas. You know, Sally's inventor. 😭 So let me quickly write this down while I'm in my Shelley vibes, because I like the idea a lot. With a little twist, if you don't mind. :)

Yandere! Monster x Inventor! Reader

A frail inventor, and their affectionate rag doll that has been carefully stitched together for the purpose of a caregiver. An artificial existence, trapped within the confines of your lonely tower. Or so you might think.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior

"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel..." [Frankenstein]

You dangle an old, rusty bell for a good minute before leaning back in your chair. The barely audible chimes are quickly swallowed by the loud, mechanical groans of the gears and engines occupying most of this room. No matter, his ears are good. You picked them yourself. And surely enough, within moments, the door to your laboratory opens and someone cautiously walks in.

A tall, slender man. Or rather, something meant to resemble a man. The skin is a clumsy patchwork of blues and grays - you're no talented seamster, sadly - gathering together the body parts in what feels like a parodic attempt at mimicking God and his image. You gaze at the creature approaching you with a tray of tea and sweets. Scarcely your best work, if you must adhere to honesty. Regardless of the quality of your labor at the time of creation, you are proud of the result. How could you not be? You know this man better than you know yourself. Every organ, every artificial nerve cord, every blemish and stitch of his body was placed according to your intentions. A masterfully detailed project that took you years to complete; not an easy feat considering the lamentable state of your health.

"Here's your deadly nightshade tea." The man places a small, porcelain cup on the desk. "Do let me know when I should take you to bed, (Y/N)." You wave your hand dismissively and stretch out your limbs. "Not yet. I am almost finished", you respond, returning to the mound of metal scraps and pipes before you. "Can I ask what you're making?" The pale creature lowers himself to your level, a curious smile plastered on his face. "It's a mechanical heart", you reveal boastfully. "Like the one I have?" You run your hand through the creature's hair affectionately. "Almost. I'm testing out a different way to build the valves, for a more efficient pumping cycle." You continue to explain the intricacies of your novel mechanism, occasionally sipping on your tea. "Who knows, you might have a sibling in the near future."

The man's smile drops in an instant, and his sunken eyes widen at your statement. "What? Am I- am I not enough?" You glance at the creature as he becomes increasingly frantic. "Don't speak nonsense. If it comes out alright, I'll upgrade your own parts as well. I'm a disciple of scientific virtue, of continuous improvement." Nonsense? Vile treachery! You might've chiseled the brain that throbs within the walls of his skull, but his mind is his alone, and you seem to lack a fundamental understanding of his feelings and thoughts. His ardent confessions of love are met with mockingly pitiful grins, in the way a parent soothes a needy child. Even now, your eyes reflect nothing more than sympathy towards his protest. A childish tantrum is what you're most likely thinking. You've no time for emotional bagatelles. He can read you like an open book.

You simply won't understand. There is no place for a stranger in the life he's crafted with his very own hands: you, and him, and the evening tea with a side of butterscotch biscuits, and the bedtime talks, and the stripped branches of the decaying tree that rap at the windows on stormy nights. You might be the Inventor, but he is not just a mere, humble servant, a rag doll to be tossed around or toyed with. As you will soon discover, after all.

You awaken in the midst of night with your temples burning from a much too familiar headache. Although it's not just the pain that has disturbed your slumber. You can hear rattles and thuds coming from the upstairs laboratory. An intruder? Oh, your creations! The sound of glass breaking and metal scraping sends you into spiraling despair. You fumble to reach the nightstand, patting the surface in search for the bell and keys. You shake the handle in a panic, unable to find anything else in the darkness.

The chaotic rustle abruptly stops, followed by descending footsteps. You hold your breath as the chamber door opens, but it's none other than your creature. "Another flare-up? Shall I bring you some medicine?" the man asks with monotonous courtesy. "What have you been doing? What's all that noise?" you demand, agitated, but upon lifting yourself off the mattress you discover your legs are numb and uncooperative. The man hurries to your bed with a worried frown, and you hear the familiar clatter of the keychain coming from one of his pockets. "Have you taken my keys? Cease this foolishness at once!" Indifferent to your reproach, he places a firm hold on your shoulders and forces you back down, tucking you in effortlessly.

"You must forgive my impertinence." he says in a pleading tone. "I do not wish to impede the works of your genius. As your partner, however, it is my duty to prevent you from making mistakes." You furrow your eyebrows at his words. "What mistakes? My invention was flawless!", you argue fervently. "Indeed it was, but not its purpose. What need have you for another being?" It is the creature's turn for a passionate speech. He stands up with a confidence you don't recognize and continues: "You should know by now that I am fit to perform any role. That of your servant, your caregiver, your lover, or anything else you may desire. You can resume your tinkering starting tomorrow, but such blasphemies to our bond as the one today will not be tolerated." He straightens his vest and reaches for the door handle. "I will prepare some tea to help you rest."

Inconceivable. Your own creation, built with your own hands...Has something escaped your attention? His dialogue is deranged, tainted by madness. "Have I done something wrong?" you mumble to yourself, deep in contemplation. "Nonsense." the creature turns to face you briefly. "It was you who created me after all. Everything is perfectly splendid."

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

☽ ◦ ◦ ◦ ✩ Cute Moments With Them (HSR) ✩ ◦ ◦ ◦ ☾

✩ March wants the very best photo of the two of you to be her lockscreen. She takes it very seriously. She mulls over what's in her camera roll in contemplation to consider what could be. You ask her to show you what photos were in the running. When she puts her phone to you, showing you some of the cuter photos you've both taken together, you take the opportunity to dart off in the other direction with her phone. She chases after you, and you take a picture of you running with her all blurry behind you. You make it her lockscreen before handing the phone back. You're laughing the whole time, while she pouts at you for taking her phone. "I'm keeping this as my lockscreen to remind you of how mean you are!"

✩ Natasha looks very stern when she spots the cut running down your leg. To the point where you're already apologising before she even says a word. She sighs with the shake of her head. "I shouldn't be surprised these days, go on sit." She works in swift movements of cleaning the blood of the cut and wrapping the wound in bandages. "There all done, I'd tell you to be careful but I'm honestly starting to wonder if you get hurt just to come see me." You laugh sheepishly at her comment, and while she should give you another stern look she merely shakes her head again but this time with a smile.

✩ "Sweetheart, you're a bit heavy handed with your pour." Gallagher doesn't let anyone behind his bar to pour their own drinks. But you're the exception, as much as Siobhan teases him about it. Sometimes he hears her laugh from around the other side, when you give him your best doe eyes and sweetest voice to let you behind the bar. He doesn't mind, you don't do it often, and most of the time you're doing it wanting to make him a drink. But you seem to be a bit too free with your measurements, sometimes one drink has even him feeling a bit buzzed. He still drinks it everytime as long as you promise to let him lean on you all the way home.

✩ Topaz has been looking all over the place for you and Numby. She wasn't overly concerned, as she thinks that if both of you are missing it's clear that you've wandered off somewhere together. She just wasn't expecting you both to come back with a bag full of treasure and Numby draped in random shiny gems you'd both found along the way. She bursts out laughing, a noise that causes Numby to jump in delight. "Hold still I need to get a photo of this!" The photo she takes on her phone is one that always makes her grin when she sees it.

✩ "I don't think pottery is your talent." Aventurine had considered lying about the disfigured mug you had made, but you seemed very aware of how ugly it was when you showed it to him. But miracalously it still ends up serving it's purpose, as you find out several mornings later seeing him drink coffee out of it. As you stare at him puzzled that he's even drinking from the mug that he almost burst out laughing at how strange it looked. "It has it's endearing qualities. I won't have it openly out on display, ever. But it's still useable." By endearing qualities, he means the thought of you attempting to make the mug only for it to turn out like this but you don't need to know that.

✩ Jing Yuan encourages you to come visit him on slower days. Not because he's looking for a chance to slip away, well okay, that's part of it. But because he takes any chance he can to spend time with you. He hadn't intended to doze off before you'd arrived, but alas sleep had sunken its claws into him. He stirs slightly upon hearing the closing of doors and you saying his name. Curiously, he keeps his eyes shut to see what you'll do while thinking he's asleep. You call his name again, footsteps growing closer until your right by his side. He doesn't expect you to attempt to rouse him by running your fingers through his hair. But you also don't expect him to move so that he's pressing his face into your hands.

[luvh4nji]

𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐙 + 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐒/𝐎

warning: general drunkenness, reader is referred to as "girl" in san's

seonghwa ; he's so unbelievably soft for you. something about having his pretty baby so in love with him, hanging off his arm and pressing your side impossibly closer to his, even when you're not completely yourself, makes his heart swell in his chest, his stomach doing somersaults.

"be careful, love." he chastises you gently, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to his side, thumb rubbing little circles on the skin of your shoulder. "don't want you getting into trouble, yeah?" and you just swoon over him, turning in his hold so your arms snaking around his own shoulders, nuzzling into his chest. and you're too hazy to notice the soft look in his eyes and the soft blush that covers his cheeks.

hongjoong ; he seems like the type to be a little insecure in a relationship. he's so busy, he porbably doesn't feel like he gives you enough attention and it gets him down a little bit. the question of what if you find someone who treats you better? always sits in the back of his mind. but when you get all clingy and sweet with him when you get a little drunk at the studio, his worries almost seem to dissipate.

"and those are the reasons why..." you start, cutting yourself off with a hiccup, resting your head against his chest from your spot in his lap. "those are the reasons why i love you." you finish, smiling to yourself in your drunken daze. "ah, okay, i see. " he indulges, nodding and smiling down at the mess you are in his lap. he hears something that sounds like a muffled "you better" coming from you, feeling the vibrations of your voice as he runs his fingers down your back.

yunho ; he would think you're the cutest thing he's ever seen <3 he's truly the type to be completely entranced by his partner and to see you have that same reverence for him? it just makes him so, so happy. he's the type to have you close to him all night, sitting in the booth of the bar wiht his arm slung around your shoulders while you lean against him, ead on his chest, hand lifted to hold his, looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

"you feeling okay, baby?" he asks, noticing how quiet you'd gotten. and you'd just nod against his chest, sniffing a little bit from the drinks, mumbling that you're fine and that you just want to look at him, blinking slowly as you explain yourself. and he gets so red, smiling brightly and keeping you close to his chest proudly while the rest of the guys at the booth tease you relentlessly.

yeosang ; he gets so shy and flusterd, poor guy :( he's not a very touchy person, generally speaking, so when you go to him, laying your head in his lap where he was sitting on the couch in your apartment, once the sleepy affect of the beverage has sunken in, gazing up at him with big, lovestruck eyes, he can't help the soft pink that colors the shells of his ears.

"are you okay, y/n?" he asks, voice low, with that shy quality to it, as you look up at him, your hand reaching to cup his face, fingers tracing his birthmark delicately. "better than okay, sangie." you grin, running a thumb over the crest of his cheekbone. "i got so lucky-- to have someone to beautiful." you hiccup through your words, making him look up and away from your reverent expression, biting the inside of his cheek to hold in a smile.

san ; loves it. adores it even. you already knows he's absolutely a clingy drunk and he loves that you are too because it just proves to him how perfect you are for each other. he's the type to believe in soulmates and this is his sign. he just loves how you look at up at him, blinking slowly, and grabbing his hands, pressing little kisses to his knuckles and telling him how how handsome he is.

"yeah, honey? i'm the prettiest boy you've ever seen?" he asks, half-teasing, but you just nod in agreement, movements slow and lazy due to the alcohol flowing through your system. "i'm glad you think that." he says through a soft smile, reaching to ruffle your hair from you're leaning against his chest. "cause you're the prettiest girl i've ever seen. makes us a perfect match, doesn't it?"

mingi ; adores you when you get clingy. he's absolutely the type to revel in your physical nature. he loves how you excited you get to see him when he comes to pick you up from the bar after your friends had called him, asking for his assistance in getting you home. he loves how you run up to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek, telling him how much you missed these past few hours that you'd been out.

"missed me?" he asks, only half-teasing, laughing to himself when you nod against his chest, mussing your hair in the process. "i missed you, too, honey." he grins, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. "now lets get you home, yeah?" and he smiles to himself at how you cling onto his arm, grip vice-like in the car.

wooyoung ; he doesn't seem like the type to let himself be soft often. he feels like he has to be funny or flirty or abrasive at all times, but all those walls come down when he's around you, especially when your uninhibited and he knows you need his help. his voice gets so soft, touch gentle as he lets you wrap yourself around him, nuzzling into his chest, pressing sloppy kisses to the skin there.

"okay, baby," he starts when your body goes nearly limp against his. "you think it's time to go home?" and you just shake your head, hair mussing against him, before raising your gaze to meet his and mumbling something about how you'd go wherever he wanted you to. and he'd just laugh, soft and warm, wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you out of the bar. "alright, alright. let's get you home, lovey.

jongho ; although he doesn't necessarily seem like the clingiest person himself, he does seem like the type to enjoy having a clingy partner. it has something to do with him liking to be needed. it makes his chest puff up in pride and his eyes shine when you latch onto him. especially when you're all hazy and uninhibited, letting him take care of you.

"oh, really?" he grins pulling you close to him as you grapple onto his strong arms as you mumble something about how strong he is and how you adore him and everything he does for you. "you need me that much?" he asks, tone almost condescending if it wasn't him, and if you weren't inebriated. he shifts his grip around you as you nod againist his arm, staring up at him with big, sparkly eyes. the image of you so adoring of him makes his heart swell in his chest, biting his lip and trying to swallow his smile.

[artsninspo]

FORGIVELESS - VIII - I DON'T MIND COMPETITION, IT IS WHAT IT IS 📸

« previous part

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

Word Count: ~2.3K

Warning: Mentions of alcohol, adult themes, mentions of cheating & divorce.

Summary: James gets sent divorce papers. Our fav's enjoy some quality time in Mexico. The reader gets to spend some time with Rio and his family. This one's a messy, feel good and 😬 😱 update.

VIII - I DON'T MIND COMPETITION, IT IS WHAT IT IS 📸

The curtains dance in the wind caused by the slight morning breeze. It’s quiet with the exception of the resort's wildlife. This kind of peace and serenity is out of this as unreal as your gorgeous accommodations. Smiling, you take a few photographs of the view from the living room window. The glow emanating from your skin isn’t of the woman with the cheating husband. Your growing tan with golden undertones is courtesy of one man and one man only - Rio. He’d scuttled out of bed almost an hour ago now. As silent as he had been you knew from the moment he stopped being the big spoon. Last night was a fantasy. A look into a life you’d never fathomed for yourself. Rio’s level of care and attention to detail was new. So was the reciprocity. Rio’s present, he’s attentive, encouraging and a man that takes great care of the people and things he loves. You find yourself still on cloud nine, like Rio had screwed you to a point of clarity. Taking your phone from the coffee table you head out on the balcony and into the fresh air. Your inbox is full of emails from James, they run the gamut of emotions from begging to get you back, to gaslighting and finally accusing you of the very thing that was the demise of your marriage - cheating. You really shouldn't respond but you do by attaching a PDF copy of the divorce papers you filled out before getting on the plane. You head onto social media and see notifications for several missed video calls from your soon to be ex-husband’s business account. You block that too, removing all evidence of him from your page. You then take a photo of your current view, the trees dancing in the wind and post to your story. The phone rings and you tense until you see the call is coming from Rio and smile.

“Hey”

“Hey mama” his smooth voice says on the other end.

“Thanks for leaving breakfast” you say.

“No problem, Mama,” Rio responds.

“Is everything alright with your suit?” you ask.

“Yeah but fuck Nick, man. He’s lucky I’m here” Rio mutters being sour. You snicker, turning from the view of the trees and beach on the horizon to the incredible interior of the villa. “Y/N, you're gonna make someone catch a case showing off all that ass in that little night dress” Rio adds and you turn back around eyes scanning the canopies and then the trail where you find Rio below, smiling with the phone to his ear.

“Lucky I have on clothes at all with how you left me” you remind him. The call ends and Rio heads up to the room. The way you made him feel was new to him. He’d never felt like this before, he’d never allowed himself too. Whenever he felt himself getting too comfortable he withdrew. No woman was ever worth the headache or the effort. Keeping things untethered was his forte and second nature to him. Not now. Not with you. More surprising than anything was the fact that Rio didn’t want to run. He couldn't fathom it. He didn’t want to take off without getting to know you properly. He wanted to hear your ideas and problems and provide solutions wherever he could.  He wanted to be someone dependable for you. Someone who makes you smile and keeps you happy. Unlocking the door to the room he smiles, thankful his silent feud with Nick led him to cashing out on the best suite on the resort, whereas Nick got the best view. Closing the door behind him Rio takes a few steps into the sunken living area to meet you on the balcony.

“Next time don't leave without saying goodbye” you mutter as he hugs you from behind placing kisses on your cheeks and neck.

“I just thought you needed your rest, you know I wore you out last night” Rio teases.

“Shut-up” you giggle holding his arms around you. The two of you stand there in silence looking out into the trees and then the faint view of the ocean in the distance. “Rio?” you ask after a moment of comfortable silence in his arms.

“Mhhm?” he questions, you feel the vibration as he pecks your cheek again..

“I really want to manage my expectations, after last night i’m ….” you pause and Rio pulls away you turn to face him and he looks to you suddenly guarded and all business. “I don’t really have any experience with ‘casual'. I guess what I'm saying is this feels intimate, it feels like more … if it's not you have to let me know so I can reel it in.” you confess. Brown eyes and an unreadable expression hold your gaze before a smirk plays at his lips.

“Before last night I wasn't going anywhere, after last night it was solidified. I only have experience with casual so youre gonna have to be patient with me babygirl and speak up whenever you feel a way or have questions” Rio responds level headed and cool as always. Your smile is genuine and he comes in for another kiss.

“So when we go back?” you ask.

“You can stay with me, my place is big enough for the two of us. If you want your own place that’s cool too but I’ma need a key” Rio says.

“That's fast” you remark.

“I work late mama, and I don't want to wake you up to get the door and let me in. If I have a key I can come in, shower and slide into bed with you; no issues” Rio says, already making plans to suit his growing appetite for your presence and touch.

“I”m afraid I’ll stop being a good time to you. I sent James divorce papers this morning. One of his friends' wives saw us at the airport yesterday. James knows and I can't imagine he’ll make it easy on me” you explain only to watch Rio’s demeanour harden. His mood change is eerie and his entire aura is intimidating. You’d step back if it wasn't for the railing at your back.

“James playing with what’s mine is not in his best interest” Rio’s words are as unplanned as the claim he’s laid on you. “He’s done mama, he’s a bitch and depending on his next moves it’s not looking too good. I haven't forgotten about him getting rough with you” Rio says in bad humour. “I don't want you afraid of anyone breathing alright, anyone messes with you and you tell me. I’ll take care of it” he asserts.

“What if it's you?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood.

“Tell my Granny, she’ll kick my ass” he smirks. “Now go get ready, there’ll be a lot of pictures” Rio smiles patting your butt as he leads you back into the room to start wedding prep.

The entire day feels like something out of your wildest dreams. There's been no major communication between the two of you, and still Rio has managed to make you feel important. His family has made you feel included and the happiness of the day's celebration is contagious. It’s hard to imagine how you've survived so long getting so little from a man who had promised to love you forever. You dance with Rio’s family and his Granny for what feels like hours laughing and smiling with them as Rio watches from his table. It’s clear to see that mister serious doesn’t dance. But the vibe of the reception venue is eerily familiar to that of his clubs. Needing to catch your breath you acquire a bottle of water and head over to him. He sends you a lazy smile draping his arm around you.

“Are you drunk or just a dancing machine?” he asks now, taking a few appetisers and placing them on a plate in front of you. It seemed like there was an infinite amount of food.

“Maybe a little tipsy” you confess taking a taquito. His family members had convinced you to take a few tequila shots and you'd obliged against your constitution. As a non drinker you’re already feeling it.

“Mhm” Rio smiles amused by how well you fit in.

“Tell me this if you can't stand your cousin, why did you help with the reception?” you ask. Rio is taken back and does a poor job of trying to hide the amusement in his eyes.

“I don't know what youre talking about,” he mumbles.

“Rio, all your venues are like this and you were gone too long for a suit fitting this morning” you confess looking up at him.

“It was an opportunity to partner with a hotel chain, very profitable for me. It doesn't have shit to do with Nick” he says with nonchalance. It’s a testament to his character and a green flag.

“Ok” you smirk not pushing him.

“It was for Marisol,” he smiles, breaking character.

“Can I get a picture?” the photographer says and Rio leans in. You do too, smiling before the blinding flash. “Gorgeous” the photographer smiles at you.

“Not too much” Rio asserts and you laugh as the photographer prints two polaroids from a belt on his hip.

“My bad man,” he smiles, walking away. You look at the photo and it's clear how well you and Rio fit. He’s not smiling in the picture, he's looking at you like he's a starving animal and you're his favourite meal. You crane your neck back and his lips find yours without instruction. It’s scary how in sync you are. Scary how comfortable this feels.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Sure, let me say goodbye” you sit upright.

“Mama, tonight we’re Irish,” he says, standing ready to leave.

“Don't do the Irish like that, just say you're rude” you smile taking his hand.

“My family is rude for hogging you all night knowing you're too polite to walk away.” he mumbles, making his escape with you in tow.

“Y/N, we never got a picture and I didnt get your socials” one of his cousins shouts coming over with the photographer. Turning you pose with the gorgeous girl, thanking the photographer as you exchange phones and contact information.

“Rio, how’d you snag her with your mean ass” she says sticking her tongue out at him.

“None of your business and I'll remember that the next time your SA calls from Chanel” Rio remarks, matching her energy. His cousin smiles giving you another hug.

“No he wont, he’s a big softie. But we should hang out once you're back home Y/N.” she says dismissing Rio.

You nod liking the idea of new friendship, “Sounds good.”

“Can I share your info with the others?” She asks and you nod. “And if he acts up, call me.” she says with a pointed finger and big energy. She reminds you of the rapper Lola Brooke. Looking at the contact information you see her name is Tia.

“I don’t think that’ll happen. Rio’s good to me” you smile.

“Open ended invitation” she shrugs.

“Goodnight Tia” Rio groans, turning you around.

“Love you” She laughs as you both walk away. Rio chuckles, shaking his head. He hadn't realised how good it felt to see you happy and unguarded. To see you smiling and laughing with the familial relation he reserved his love for was something else. They’d never been rude to anyone he brought around but they’d never taken to anyone like they'd taken to you. All he’d heard for the entirety of the day was that you were a keeper. It was like playing a broken record. He had no intentions of letting you go but his family talking to you was further confirmation. He checks his phone while in the shower to make sure things are running smoothly on the business front and goes onto social media to see Tia’s highlight reel of the day. He taps through seeing you in multiple shots and the last is a photo of the polaroid. Captioned: stop asking guys; she's taken by my cousin, you don’t want those problems. Smiling, Rio clicks on the tag, hitting follow himself.

Feeling right about you and the night he takes a polaroid out of his pocket, snapping a photo of it, tagging you and posting it to his story. 

Getting out of the shower you lotion your skin doing your night routine before checking your phone. You have several follow requests to accept, and do so quickly before checking your DM’s. You shake your head at a few attempts to get your attention from men and find a few from Tia. You repost two to your story and the bathroom door opens to Rio with a towel hanging low on his waist.

“Don’t look at me like that, I made plans for us tomorrow and you like to sleep in” he warns. Smiling, you roll your eyes heading to the bedroom. You put on another babydoll set and finish going through your socials when you find one from Rio. His handle is mysterious just like him, the page is mostly about business, reviews and write ups for his clubs, very few photographs of him. You check his story and see a photo of the two of you with you tagged along with a black heart. Your smile burns your cheeks as you hit the screen reposting it onto your own story. He’s quicker than you were and comes out of the shower in shorts, carrying a carafe of water with him. He has no idea what he’s in for with the mix of tequila and romantic gestures coursing through your body. Pulling back the plush sheets you straddle him and he smiles knowing he can't say no to you. You feel his manhood begin rising to attention and lean forward lowering to slowly kiss him. The kisses are so perfect, so slow and sensual that no further foreplay is required.

Tomorrow will have to wait, tonight you take care of your man.

Authors Note: Thank you all so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and things being a lot lighter for Rio and the reader. How are we liking the developing relationship. What was your favourite part and what do you think happens next?

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TAGS: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads

[mintartem]

I really love your Poseidon!!! ❤️❤️

Also, angst time! What if the 600 strikes happened when Poseidon is pregnant? + plus point if Ody doesnt even know about it :")

No not miscarriage! I can’t handle that! <- just joking I love angst.

The timeline won’t match up. To make this make sense, this is completely different from the whole Posiren shenanigans. It’s a whole story of its own.

I think that would break Poseidon. Imagine failing to avenge your blinded son, who by the way is still angry at you until you kill the mortal who blinded him, being beaten by a mortal despite being one of the big three, and now losing the children that you are carrying that you promised to protect.

Poseidon’s storm wouldn’t be raging. It’s more akin to weeping clouds than an angry hurricane. The fish caught by fishermen appear unhealthy, sickly, and they dont even catch a lot of fish. The salty sea breeze has a faint hint of the smell of tears. The waves crashed and raged against each other leaving fishermen and other traveling ships going off course, stranded at sea, or worse, sunken.

Many prayed to the sea god to end this catastrophe. Offerings of the finest quality were given and the best live stock were sacrificed. None were enough. It’s almost similar to when Demeter lost her child for the first time.

Deep in the sea, there is a palace made of gold, with pearls and other stones that can only be found within the ocean, sat on his throne is the god of the sea. His face appears blank. His trident, normally at his side, was thrown far across the other side of the room. One of his hands is clutching his flat stomach. His eyes shows extreme sadness. And yet the Earth-shaker did not weep, for his domain did it for him.

And then cut to Odysseus.

Odysseus stood at the courtyard of his palace, glaring at the sea. He watched the waves clash savagely against each other, completely different from its normally graceful dance.

“What is it this time Poseidon?” He screamed to the horizon. “You won! I may have won our fight on the rock, but you still won the war! I’ve become ruthless, just like you wanted, just like you taught me!”

Tears prickled at the corner of the king’s eyes. He just got home! He finally got reunited with his family and kingdom. Things were looking up! Why did such a catastrophe have to happen now?

“No need to yell. Us gods can hear even a mortal’s faintest whispers if we so choose.”

Odysseus quickly turn his head around, almost making him dizzy. There stood, hovered, Hermes. “Hello, old friend��� said the messenger with a sad smile.

“Hermes?”

The god laughed, not in the same way they met the first nor the second time. This laughed sounds fake, hiding the sadness visible in the messenger’s eyes.

“You have beaten him, yes. And he may have won. But at a cost.” The god of travels started. “For you, it’s your humanity, your mercy. But for the god of the sea…” Hermes trailed off. The immortal looked at the sea for a moment. When Hermes looked back at Odysseus, Odysseus felt his breath hitched when the God of Travels’ irises were gone, reminding Odysseus that Hermes is still a god despite being on friendly terms with him.

“For the god of the sea he lost his unborn children that, may I add, you put in him.”

Odysseus froze. His hands felt cold yet sweaty. His heart rate increased, beating wildly against his chest. He killed unborn children? Killing an infant is one thing, but killing the unborn? Odysseus felt his stomach churn. A wave of Nausea passed over him.

“The gods have sent me to give you a message.” Hermes’ loud echoing voice took Odysseus away from his thoughts. “You shall travel to the deepest parts of the sea, seek out Poseidon, and undo the chaos that has begun. These orders are from Zeus himself.”

This is more of a concept that I may draw because the whole Posiren Pregnancy saga is intended to be comedic and unserious. But damn, this has a lot of potential!

How the babies are formed? Let’s just chalk it up to: at some point during his time in Ogygia, Odysseus dreamt of meeting Poseidon and then fucking him, not realising that it is the god himself that he was fucking (in Ody’s defense, it is in a dream).

Why did the babies died? Demi-gods turning out to be immortal seems to be a rare occurrence, not 50/50 (like I thought it was at first.) Achilles isn’t immortal (in some versions he is but because of Thetis’ attempt to change Achilles’ fate.) Not only that but also, Ody did used Poseidon’s own divine weapon against him.

[soscarlett1twas]

Closing Shift

↳ Andrew does his final rounds of the museum ↳ 322 words

The museum was set to close soon. If the dwindling crowds weren’t evidence enough, the tiredness that clung to the back of Andrew’s eyes beckoned him to return home, his internal clock striking the final hour.

He wondered what Darling was up to. Would they be finishing up a manuscript? Maybe they could cook something together… he pulled back his sleeve and checked the time. No, it’s likely they’d want to order in. Something low effort.

Andrew turned into another corridor, a smile playing at his lips as the few people lingered around one exhibit. He caught another glass case just beside him, and drifted to a stop, looking inside.

Admittedly, it was hard to keep himself attentive when the museum enchanted him. His eyes traced the exhibit.

The exhaust crept to him again, pounding in his head.

Andrew took off his glasses and massaged his eyelids, scrunching his eyes in an attempt to ward it off. When he looked up, the reflective case caught him.

Andrew laughed in that awkward, huff-of-breath way. It wasn’t often he got a good look at himself. His hair was longer than he imagined, and his eyes had an almost sunken quality to them. God, he really was tired.

Andrew slipped back on his glasses and glanced once more at the case, his eyes lingering for just a moment longer, studying himself.

And there were two of him.

Andrew squinted, sure he was seeing double. But there the figure was — himself, standing behind, well, himself.

Andrew barely had a thought as he turned around.

And he short circuited before he could have another.

He drew in a sharp breath, the only sound which permeated the space between them. That and the fleeting chatter of other patrons, nothing but bygone whispers to him as his heartbeat pounded in his ear.

No. It was not himself in the reflection.

Another beat passed.

“Hey,” the other muttered softly.

“Hey.”

[eternalflowershipping]

The Inevitable

🌹 An end and beginning ; when the king sneaks away from the palace in the dead of night, Nerine is the only one to see him. (Another case of me getting hit with inspiration and just writing something... I didn't do Any edits so be nice 🙇🏽‍♀️ 780~ words. CW for blood/death/murder.)

When you leave me alone in this old palace of yours / it starts to get to me. I take to walking. What a woman does is open doors / and it is not a question of locking or unlocking.

Joanna Newsom, Go Long.

The moon clung high above the skies, cloud-misted on a starry night. From her tower, she watched it idly. She always found it to be such a pretty sight ; it was a shame the moon felt no fondness for her in turn. Otherwise, she would have been granted the same powers-- the same connection to it her mother and sisters had.

Still, she could not help herself. With the world around her slowly tearing itself apart, she needed some sense of peace. The sound of rustling startled her. At first she thought the wind, but when he cast her gaze downwards she saw something moving amongst the trees. For someone to be out at this time, they must have been just as restless as herself… or otherwise ill-intentioned. She watched what seemed to be the shadow of a person for what felt like hours. Their body dragged itself like a corpse trying to find a fitting grave. She wondered for a moment if it was truly something undead.

The clouds drifted past the lingering moon. Nerine gasped at what she saw. A face she knew well, sunken and ash-coloured.  Kalos’ own king, with a sickly-coloured gauze covering his arms and throat. Carrying what appeared to be a small coffin, his footsteps continued with a renewed sense of urgency. He stumbled, bogged down by the weight of stone in his arms, but did not falter.

Nerine inhaled. A desire to call-out to him overwhelmed her, but the words would not form. She thought to go down to him, to see what it was he needed, but she could not bring herself to move. She watched him. Until he vanished from her sight, she watched him. It was only then that she was able to pry herself away from the window. Her mind scattered, she began to dig through her own possessions. A white veil, a dagger engraved with an image of a crescent moon. Whatever she could find, she grabbed. She paused when she came across a gift the king had given her some years ago; a key shaped into the image of a butterfly. Beautiful, but functionless. The lock it connected to was non-existent. With a deep sigh, she packed it away with the rest of her items, and ran.

Uncertain of where he could have gone, Nerine traveled in the same direction she watched AZ walk off into. Distantly, she thought she heard a scream. Her feet carried her into Kalos’ own army camp. In the dead of night, even warriors would grow tired, and rest. But the camp was so quiet, so perfectly still, it seemed almost unnatural. She tugged her long veil, pulling it closer in the hope of staying warm, and continued onwards.

When she encountered him again, he did not seem to notice her. His unkempt hair gave him a monstrous quality as he hunched over in exhaustion.  A morbid crimson colour dripped from his robes, from his cloak. He held the small coffin protectively; it was all he had that was not completely soaked in blood. Nerine shuddered with a gasp. Her eyes wandered until she saw what must have been the army captain’s sleeping quarters. She dared not look any closer; she did not need to. Red dyed even the entrance of the tent.

“I’m sorry…” the king’s voice drew her attention away from the bloody scene. She watched as he pressed his forehead to the coffin. Despite the hoarseness of his voice, his words came out steadily. “I’m sorry. You would not wish this for me…”

“I could not allow him to go unpunished after what he did to you. If it is for your sake, I am willing to do anything. And I know you feel the same towards me.” A soft smile upon his lips, he hugged the coffin closer;  in that moment, he looked much like a child with his favourite toy. “We will be together again soon. I promise. So please… wait for me, Floette.”

He stood, though his body swayed in the process.  Nerine reached out towards him, but could not bring herself to bridge the gap between them. No amount of honeyed words would soothe the grief that boiled within him, that drove him to commit such terrible violence.

AZ paused as if he sensed something before him. His head jerked around, scanning for anyone, anything that may have followed him, but he was met only with total darkness. He remained still, his brow knit in concern. Eventually, he shook his head, and continued onwards. Enshrouded in the black of night, Nerine followed right behind him.

[snowlikeash]

The rooms were simple and sumptuous at once; everything was of the finest quality, the draped colors muted to browns and yellows and deep greens. High pile carpet allowed bare feet to sink into it as if into fresh loam. It was a comforting place with a comforting smell, incense clinging to the curtains. At this hour, moonlight drenched the room with white-blue light. Here was Ra's al Ghul's public study, where his finest pupils were allowed to approach him.

Bruce leaned against the door, feeling unstrung. He was too tired to mind his posture. All he remembered to do was lower his eyes.

"Ustadh," he said, voice crackling like his throat was raw. It was. He had been weeping.

From a sunken section of the floor, Ra's observed his guest. His eyes, a clear glass-green, were questioning at first, then softened.

"Mahzun," he said, sadly, leaning back in the divan he was sitting in. "Come to me."

Shoving himself off the doorframe, Bruce slunk forward like a wounded dog. He collapsed on his knees in front of Ra's, his forehead bowed deeply, almost touching Ra's knees.

A ringed hand rested on Bruce's head, then pushed through his hair, a soothing motion.

"Habibi," said Ra's, with a gentle voice. "I am sorry. I had to be sure."

Bruce flinched. It hurt to know this man, that he trusted, that he believed in, would inflict harm on him like this.

[iouinotes]

Drunken Love | Five Hargreeves (Part 1)

SPOILER FOR THE THIRD SEASON

summary: Five gets drunk at Luther and Sloane's wedding. He seems to need someone to take care of him (even if he doesn't want to admit it).

pairing: Five Hargreeves x female!reader

word count: 673 words

warnings: just fluff

author’s note: I'm sorry if there are any spelling mistakes...enjoyyy

part 2 is uploaded here!

Secretly, I've been watching him all night. Always hidden in the shadows, from his attentive gaze, which becomes more and more glassy the more alcohol flows through his veins. It is strange to see him in this state. Him, this stubborn man, always walking upright, trapped in the body of a 16 year old.

Whose mind is so sharp, body and soul so out of balance, and whose abilities never cease to amaze me. Like his appearance, that certain stern manner, he always has a goal in mind, always a mission to complete. And I am always by his side. Together we are all the time, but I still feel alone. Because he's so focused on saving humanity to not notice what's right in front of him. Me. I'm so in love with him that it's hard for me to look at him.

And yet I can't take my eyes off him. Because I'm worried, his figure swaying around the room, the glass full of champagne in his hand, the liquid spilling over the rim until it's brought to his lips. And then the entire glass is empty in one gulp, each time it is refilled. It has been for several hours.

I have tried to talk to him, but no chance. He is too absorbed in his hopelessness to notice my concern. Everyone in this room is painfully aware that the end of the world is near. But everyone deals with this realization differently, the only ones who appear to be carefree are Luther and Sloane. The married couple who smiles so happily at each other.

Looking at each other with the kind of infatuation Five looks at me in my fondest dreams. I shake my head, banishing the images that plague me when I realize that this will never come true.

And then in the next moment I see him drop his glass, still half full, and lean on the table. His eyes are narrowed, his figure sunken. And no one but me seems to notice this sadness that emanates from him. Diego and Lila are busy with their son, Ben as always with himself, Allison is talking to Viktor and I am hidden in the farthest dark corner. A sad sight.

But even though my common sense tells me that Five doesn't want me near him, my feet automatically move in his direction. I can no longer leave him to his own devices. He doesn't seem to notice me as I kneel in front of him, his gaze looking right through me, almost as always. It makes my heart ache, ironically, I am just as familiar with it. "Let's go to your hotel room, shall we? I'll help you up."

His mouth moves, his brow furrows, but not a word he says is clearly understood. "N-no, no help. Alone." His head hangs, his eyes blink, his mouth twitches in disdain. "Unfair, your face. Hate it." My eyebrows raise, my chest goes numb, my heart becomes empty. ,,Come on, you've had enough for today." My arms reach around him, trying to help him up.

"Let go, I can do it." Despite his dislike, he doesn't push me away. "I know you can do anything you set your mind to. That's a quality of yours that I admire so much." I answer him in a whisper, his face contorts slightly.

"Don't talk, your voice is- I don't want to hear it." His words are harsh and I back away from him a little. He has always been unkind to me, but now that he's throwing his hatred at me so barefaced, it's even worse to be in love with him. So I just nod. With a heavy breath, I help him get up. I put my arm around his shoulder, make it clear to Allison, who is looking in my direction, that I will take care of him.

And she understands without words, knows even without my confirmation that I will always take care of him.

No matter how much he loathes me.

[deconstructthesoup]

Just for fun, I'm gonna show off my human designs for the Vessels and break them down... but I can't draw for shit, so, like the Slay the Professor Voices, this is gonna be in Picrew format.

Enjoy!

So, I've said this before, but when I make Beast a human, I always feel like the only way I can still capture her vibes is to make her a kid, or at least a preteen---a younger sister or a daughter of one of the other Vessels, usually Witch. She reads to me as that feral, weird little girl who digs holes with her fingernails on the playground, bites other kids, and almost always has a scraped knee or tiny cut on her face from horsing around that needs a fun Band-Aid to cover it, and her design's meant to reflect that. Beast strikes me as the kind of girl who'd just wear the same neutral colors with some green every day, and the kitty-ear hat is her most prized possession. This is the kind of kid who'd get labeled a "problem child" until she finally gets tested for ADHD.

Witch gives off grungy alternative vibes to me, and everything she does with her appearance is very deliberate---she doesn't have a skincare routine, but she always takes care of her piercings; she dyes her hair red herself and in the bathroom sink, but she always gets a good-quality and cruelty-free dye; she dresses almost exclusively in ripped jeans, flannels/overshirts, and T-shirts/tank-tops, but they're always somehow matching perfectly and look like actual outfits rather than just... well, what she threw on. To me, Witch is the person who gives off as much "I don't care" vibes as possible, while caring immensely in her own weird way.

Weirdly enough, Prisoner's human design was actually difficult, and that might have something to do with the fact that... well, she is the most human out of all of the Vessels, decapitation nonwithstanding. To that end, I wound up giving her a very academic-leaning style, which I think fits with her cynicism and default to the logical approach. She gets glasses, she gets a sweater vest, she gets Mary Janes... Prisoner's always trying to look presentable.

Damsel, meanwhile, was almost too easy---maximum pink, maximum ruffles, maximum princess vibes. There's no choice for Damsel other than being as adorable and as high-femme as possible, and... well, I'm pretty damn sure that comes across. It also helps her contrast well with Prisoner, since they're almost always twin sisters in my AUs.

I had two rules for Adversary: make her hella sporty, and make her hella butch. This is a girl who actually uses her gym membership, and she is almost always in workout gear of some kind. She's gotta be tough, she's gotta be badass, and she's gotta be hot. (I love butch Adversary so much, you don't understand)

Tower... well, she was pretty simple. Power suit, perfect jewelry and heels, pantyhose, professionally-styled hair, definitely enjoys wine. I struggle to write her because on one hand, I don't want to make her an egotistical monster, but on the other hand... well, it's difficult to make her human and likeable without going too out of character. At best, she's more akin to a mean girl than anything else, and at worst, she's Karen-level. (Sorry, gorgeous.)

For Nightmare, I had two words: "cute" and "goth." Nightmare is totally the kind of girl who would dress up like a spooky doll for funzies, so she's got frills like Damsel, but a bit more understated---and, also, leaning way more heavily into black-and-grey than any other color. And yes, she has tattoos and vitiligo, because it just... works for her. She still absolutely slathers intentionally exaggerated makeup on her face, though.

For Spectre, I also wanted to go in a goth-adjacent direction, but I wanted her to be way more witchy and whimsical, creating a pastel-whimsigoth vibe that I think really suits her. While skull makeup was an option for this Picrew, I was already way too attached to the idea of giving Spectre round glasses in place of her... well, sunken eyes, and it turned out pretty nice. Also, if you're wondering about all the purple---don't ask me why I associate that color with her. It just fits.

Razor is always gonna be a punk-slash-metalhead to me, because that means I get the excuse to give her plenty of piercings, plenty of studded bracelets, and---not pictured in this Picrew---a gazillion chain wallets (the eagle-eyed among you will even notice that she's got metal in her hair, which was very much intentional). And as it's the most obvious with Razor, this might also be a good time to mention that, yes, I didn't want to make all of the Vessels white, because a) that's boring, and b) if Shifty's meant to represent the entirety of change and transformation among humanity, it stands to reason that if her Vessels became human, they wouldn't all be skinny blonde girls. I'm gonna get off my soapbox now.

And lastly, Stranger was... well, both hard, and surprisingly easy. I knew I wanted to make them plus-sized, I knew I wanted to give them vitiligo, and I knew that I wanted their "base" outfit to be as pattern-clashing, color-clashing, hurt-your-eyes busy as possible. However, that did mean that I ran out of colors to include preeeeetty quickly, which is actually something that can happen when you're trying to squeeze in every color at once. Still, though, the end result was quite cute, and I think it definitely captures their vibe. (Not pictured: their masc outfit with suspenders and a tie, their alt outfit with a black cowboy hat and old-fashioned jester makeup, their femme outfit with a big ol' hoop skirt and matching parasol, and their "no-effort" outfit with a slouchy sweatshirt and matching pants.)

[engie-ivy]

(I'm on holiday visiting ancient Roman sites, so about time to post a fic for @wolfstarmicrofic 's Greek & Roman Mythology theme! Unfortunately, that I would be able to keep it short is also a myth...)

4th: Conquest

2263 words

For a simple farm-boy like Remus to end up with the legendarily handsome Prince Sirius of the House of Black of the city of Grimmauld, nothing less than devine intervention would be needed. Luckily for Remus, the gods like nothing more than to meddle in the affairs of mortals...

The Myth of Remus and Sirius

‘Please goddess, answer my call, please goddess, hear my plea.’ Remus repeats the words in his head over and over again, while sitting on his knees on the cold marble of the temple.

Suddenly, he hears a rustling of fabric, and the soft sound of gentle footsteps on the floor. He opens his eyes and lift his head, and despite expecting it, he’s still taken aback by the imposing sight in front of him.

A tall woman, taller than any other woman, taller than any man, taller than any mortal. Flowing silk fabrics draped across her body, but still revealing enough of her ivory skin and soft curves. Hair falling to her waist like woven threads of gold, framing a face with eyes the colour of the ocean and full, pink lips. The most beautiful woman in the world.

Aphrodite, the goddess of love.

“You called upon me?” She asks in a sweet voice as she strides across the marble stones of her own temple to stop in front of Remus.

Remus bows his head again, his forehead almost pressed against the marble. “Yes, my goddess. You must- I mean, I humbly ask you to, no, beg you to please undo the gift you have given me.”

When he dares to look up, Aphrodite has pressed her lips into a thin line. “You were given a gift by an Olympian, and you reject it?”

Remus hands tremble. Insulting one of the gods has never ended well for any mortal, and this might very well mean his death. Or worse.

A week ago, an old woman showed up at the house where Remus and his parents live as simple farmers. She had eyes sunken into her wrinkled face, warts in her neck and on her hands, dirty fingernails and hair like cobwebs. Remus had made her a hot bath, cooked her a meal, and let her sleep in his own bed. The next morning, she revealed herself to be the goddess Aphrodite in disguise, wandering through the mortal world to test the people’s xenia, their hospitality. And for Remus’ great show of hospitality, she had promised to reward him with a gift.

“It’s not that I am ungrateful, my goddess. It was a great honour to receive an Olympian on my doorstep,” Remus carries on, knowing that he can’t back down now. “You were great and good to bestow such a gift upon me,-”

“I know it is what you desired!” Aphrodite interrupts. “I could hear it in your thoughts and see it own your face.” She lifts her chin and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Do you think I do not know my own field of expertise?”

Remus vehemently shakes his head. “No, no, no. You were right. It is what I desired. Just... not like this.”

Remus comes from a family of simple farmers, but they are not without a claim to fame. With the bee hives and flower fields behind their simple farm house, the Lupins known across the land to produce the highest quality of honey. So much so, that generations ago, King Phineas Black made them the personal supplier of the royal family of the city of Grimmauld. Befriended kings and queens, rich noblemen, travelling heroes, all are hoping to be gifted a jar of Grimmauld’s famous honey when visiting the city.

Each week, Remus’ father would ride his carriage to Grimmauld to personally offer their finest selection to King Orion and Queen Walburga. And when Lyall got to old to make the weekly trip, Remus took over from his father.

His first time in the palace, Remus kneeled in front of the throne with his tray filled with jars of honey, when soft footsteps approached. Someone reached out and took a jar from the tray. “So, for honey to be the best it must have the exact same shade of gold as your eyes,” a rich voice spoke.

When Remus looked up, his breath caught. A young man wearing a perfectly fitted, silk toga was holding one of the honey jars and smiling down at Remus with a soft, warm smile. He was slender, with a narrow waist and a face that seemed to be carved out of marble, with delicate features from an uncanny perfection, but the bright liveliness in his silver-grey eyes showed that he was very much not a statue. His ivory skin and light eyes contrasted beautifully with his long, raven black hair, which was now held back by silver pins embroidered with small, delicate diamonds that perfectly matched the colour of his eyes.

Remus immediately knew he was gone for. He also knew he was far from the first man, nor would he be the last, to be captivated by Prince Sirius of the House of Black.

Prince Sirius is widely known to be the most beautiful man in the world. Stories are told about his beauty far and wide, and none of those stories have been exaggerated. Besides kings, queens, princes and princesses pursuing him, even the gods desire him. Apollo has come down from mount Olympus several times to watch the man or even strike up a brief conversation with him, and it is said that even the highest god Zeus has let his eye fall on Sirius, and everyone knows that when the gods want something, they do not patiently wait for it, or bother with permission for that matter. Therefore, it is assumed that Prince Sirius will very soon be the next conquest of one of the gods.

His parents are practically salivating at the thought. After all, when young Ganymede was abducted by Zeus, his parents received divine compensation, the prized horses gifted to King Tros by the highest god himself being admired and envied all over the world, and Sirius is surely as beautiful as Ganymede, maybe even more so. And even if the gods will eventually lose interest in their son, there are still incredibly rich kings who will gladly offer a large portion of their wealth to have Prince Sirius with his legendary beauty at their side. Besides, King Orion and Queen Walburga have a second son for their succession, so that they’re free to exploit Sirius for his beauty.

Every time Remus visited the city, Sirius made time to talk to him, and when Remus found out he was not only beautiful, but also clever and witty and good-hearted, he had completely fallen for the young prince. Completely fallen, while knowing it was completely hopeless.

Until just days after meeting the goddess Aphrodite, Remus heard a frantic knocking. He opened the door and did a double take. The young man’s hair was not neatly styled as usual, instead pulled up in a messy bun with strands falling over his eyes, and his fine clothes looked slightly dishevelled, but unmistakably, Prince Sirius was standing before him.

Before Remus could do more than gasp, Sirius spoke. “Remus, please forgive me my intrusion, but I cannot bear to deny my feelings any longer. I long to be with you! I do not want riches, or titles, or crowns, or even a life among the gods. I just want you! My heart has chosen you, and I refuse to listen to my fears instead of my heart any longer.”

Sirius let himself fall into Remus’ arms, and for a moment, Remus’ heart leapt with joy, but then it was like an ice-cold hand had closed its grip around it as Remus realised what had happened.

Aphrodite’s ‘gift’.

She had given Remus what he desired, but she had not realised Remus did not want to have what he desired if it had to be like this.

Remus told Sirius he was tired and needed to rest. He convinced him to get some sleep, and promised they’d have a conversation in the morning when his mind would be clear.

As soon as Sirius was asleep in Remus’ bed, Remus had rushed to the temple of Aphrodite.

Aphrodite purses her lips and crosses her arms beneath her breasts. “How do you mean ‘not like this’?”

“Not if he didn’t get to choose,” Remus explains pleadingly. “Not if he was used as a tool to do me a favour.”

Aphrodite elegantly arches an eyebrow. “I present you with the most handsome man in the world, a rich, young prince, yours for the taking, and you would refuse?”

Remus only nods.

“Why?”

“Because I love him,” Remus simply states. “I would never want to strip him of his free will, or place my happiness above his.”

Aphrodite stares at him for a moment, and Remus wonders if he has insulted her, if these are his last moments before she changes him into a tree or an insect, or simply burns him to ashes.

But then a small smile appears on the goddess’ face. “For so long, I’ve dealt with people confusing attraction, desire or advantages with love, and it’s a balm to my soul to see pure love, like their is between you and Sirius.”

“I... I don’t understand.”

“You have misunderstood the nature of my gift, my sweet Remus. Allow me to explain.” Aphrodite is smiling indulgently at him now. “You must know that King Orion and Queen Walburga were hoping their son’s beauty would bring them opportunity, and that him having eyes for a simple farm-boy was unacceptable to them. They had threatened that an ill fate would befall you if Sirius were to seek your affections. I have made it clear to them that an even more ill fate would befall them if you or your family would suffer any harm, and you know you must never underestimate just how... inventive us Olympians can be when we really want to punish mortals.”

Remus had not thought such a beautiful face could wear such a dark look, and he shudders, images of Prometheus chained while waiting for the eagles to come eat his liver, Tantalus desperately reaching for the fruits and the water just outside his reach, Sisyphus fruitlessly rolling his stone up to hill coming to mind.

“Also,” Aphrodite continues, her face back to its normal expression. “I made it clear to both Zeus and Apollo to let the boy be. They will listen, because they know better than to cross me.” A pleased little smile. “Those two won’t risk having to live the rest of their immortal lives without ever experiencing a mortal’s love.”

“That’s... wonderful,” Remus says, struggling to find words. “And I am much obliged to you for your kindness. But I still don’t understand. How come Sirius...”

“Regarding Prince Sirius,” Aphrodite says, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “My work there consisted of telling him he had nothing to fear from his family or scorned gods anymore. And that’s it.”

“But... But...”

Aphrodite now laughs out loud. “He loved you already, Remus. He was afraid that his parents with their greed or gods unable to handle rejection would harm you if he were to act on those feelings. The moment I made clear he needn’t worry about them anymore, he came to you.”

Remus lets out a breath. “I.. I can hardly believe it.” He laughs shakily, happiness starting to blossom in his chest. “Did you know from the start my feelings were reciprocated?”

“Is there anything concerning love that I do not know?” Then the goddess shrugs. “It may not have entirely been a coincidence I showed up in disguise on your doorstep. Perhaps I had seen the way you and Prince Sirius looked at each other, and I was looking for an excuse to meddle.”

“Thank you,” Remus manages to say. “Thank you, great goddess. I can never repay you for such a gift.”

Aphrodite looks at him with a twinkle in her eyes. “Just continue to prove to me pure love exists, so I can look upon you whenever I need that belief reinforced.”

When Remus returns home, Sirius is sitting on his doorstep with his knees tucked against his chest, worrying his lips between his teeth. The moment he sees Remus approach, he pushes up to his feet and brushes the dirt from his tunic. “I have completely misread the situation, haven’t I?”

“No, Sirius,” Remus says. “No, you haven’t.”

Sirius shakes his head. “I poured my heart out to you. You told me to go to sleep and disappeared.”

“By Zeus, Sirius, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Sirius gives him a sad smile. “It’s okay. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have assumed. I just thought... When you looked at me I thought I saw...”

“What you saw was there!” Remus exclaims. “Sirius, I will explain. Only some days ago, I somehow gained the favour of the goddess Aphrodite, and she promised me a reward of some sort. So when you showed up here, I thought she had looked into my heart and seen only you, and that the feelings of which you spoke weren’t your own, but a spell she had cast on you in order to please me. That you weren’t here of your own choosing.”

Sirius blinks at him, and then shakes his head, stepping forward and placing his hand gently on Remus’ cheek. Remus briefly wonders if he’s dreaming, but Sirius looks so beautiful, Remus wouldn’t have been able to dream up such a vision.

“Remus,” Sirius speaks. “Let me reassure you. I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

[mothiepillie]

Mimic n Viper! Finally I drew him with his colors!

Edit: cuz I realized I put the wrong song

I really don't know if I should keep the pink for his eyes? Are they eyes? Or glasses? I dunno..

I thought about giving him red ones but it still looked a lil iffy to me. Viper is supposed to be an AU Prowl of mine which I'll explain a bit below the cut.

I really like how this came out tbh but the quality is ass. I'm getting better at the TFA style with Mimic it's just that I have trouble with the eyes because almost every character has sunken looking eyes directly below the helm and a big ass face.

In the AU, after Mimic became queen, she was bored and sick of having no servant or a second in command of her own (Starscream was obviously not the top pick iykyk). Mimic wanted to challenge herself and wanted to be more accepted with the Decepticons since most of them don't give a shit nor listen to her half the time. She wanted to prove that should could be as good as any other decepticon by converting an Autobot that would be incredibly hard to convince and manipulate.

Mimic weeded out the Autobots one by one with their backgrounds and what makes them tick. In her words:

"Ratchet would be too much of a hassle... He's too stubborn and loud. He'd give me more headaches than 'Yes, Ma'ams'.."

"Bumblebee is too damn cute! I can't break such a little thing like that although he'd never listen to me when I need the job done correctly and quick enough. However... he'd be fun to mess with and be too easy to turn against the others. I might go after him in the future....might."

"Bulkhead?? Oh please...I can't stand the bumbling dumbass. I already got one big bruiser and Lugnut is enough for me. He's too soft for my taste. That I admire him for."

"Optimus on the other hand... he would've been fun to play with don't get me wrong but his moral compass is too strong for my tactics. As much as I'd love to see the look on my lovely Megatron's face if I managed to convert the Prime, I'd be put in stasis cuffs quicker than Blurr's ramblings.."

"Oh Prowl...My dearest Prowl. Now he was perfect. Albeit, not the most obedient towards Optimus or anyone, I knew if I gave him more freedom to do his own thing, I wouldn't even have to ask him to do much. He's efficient, cunning, and surprisingly strong for a string bean. I've been watching him from the shadows for so long before I decided to strike. The reason that sold it for me when I picked him was when he had that little partnership with Lockdown for a short time. The way he hunted, how determined he was to get the job done and get the satisfaction from it made me admire him. I made damn well sure none of the autobots knew who I was or of my existence since the day I got my new body; it made it so much easier to tease him. He was so cute when he was angry...."

"I've never been more guilty in my life for the things I've done to him, but I'm in too deep and he needs me..."

- Mimic

For nights, Mimic would street race other racers and deliberately cause them to crash to get the Autobots attention. She knew Prowl would go out of his way to figure it out on his own and ditch the others to chase her. So she played the cat and mouse game with Prowl; and she was the mouse. And when he'd get too close, she'd ditch him in the alleyways or abandoned areas and disappear into the night without a trace, leaving him in the dust. This frustrated him no matter how hard he tries tracking her down. She switched between a motorcycle and a car, just to keep him on edge. The others didn't believe him when they said there was someone watching him, nor did they believe him when he mentioned how they could shift from motorcycle to car and that the only triple changer on earth was Blitzwing.

Mimic being Mimic, followed him back to the Autobot base where she waited until nightfall to stir up even more chaos while the others slept. She imitated Prowl's form, down to his voice and mannerisms... almost. She broke plenty of things, using the shuriken blades to tear up the entire place, making sure she was quiet and any cameras (if there were) caught her in the act. She left almost the entire place trashed. Bumblebee's console and TV were destroyed, Ratchet's medical equipment busted up, anything that looked breakable, she made sure it was damaged in the slightest.

She left the place a mess, leaving once more without a trace just for the others to wake up in the morning to the disaster and have Prowl take the blame. With the others confronting him, he was in disbelief that they were so quick to blame him. Granted, he was complaining nonstop about a stalker of some kind for days and the others were obviously sick of it. Prowl lashed out, hitting the breaking point of feeling betrayed by the others over their lack of empathy for him. Optimus tried to intervene but it only made Prowl strike him in retaliation, he never thought he'd do that but it didn't make him feel better nor worse. He left on his own, he couldn't take it anymore and left the Autobots behind to cool off and think rationally but he was too pissed to even look back.

That's when Mimic finally showed herself to him. She followed him to a forest, watching him from the trees as he fumed. She made herself known, revealing herself to him in her original form. Mimic did her best to make herself look less of a threat to him despite obviously being a decepticon. Prowl was immediately stunned to even see her, he couldn't believe she was real and right in front of him. He wanted to choke her out right there for the things she's done but her words were getting to him. Mimic did feel guilty for all the things she's done, but it was all for a good reason. She pointed out all the little things about him, about how the others reacted, his power and ambition to do things his own way. Prowl had no idea if he should feel flattered or creeped out that she knew so much but under it all he seethed in hatred and resentment. And her points were making him put the pieces together.

Mimic made lies and also spoke the truth, even praised him at the same time. She made him promises that she'd be the only one he could count on and trust. She promised him freedom and a choice to serve her as her right hand man. And without a second thought, he accepted.

When she brought him back to be rebranded, just like the constructicons. The change was a lot more than Mimic expected. Mimic thought his transformation had to do with the betrayal and deceit he felt towards the Autobots. Now with his new serpentine looks, Prowl was renamed to Viper, which he took proudly.

Prowl, now Viper, was very insecure of his face. His fangs were his main insecurity. It was bad enough they could produce venom that could put a cybertronian into stasis lock. But he vowed to rarely ever use it and stuck with just his instincts and skills alone to get his job done. Viper always wore a mask to hide his face, or his shame as he'd call it. Did he feel shame and regret for what he's become? Yes, very much so. But he can't go back, he was too far gone. Even Mimic regrets doing what she did but she doesn't even know if it was a selfish act anymore to gain respect from her decepticon brethren. Or maybe she did it because she wanted to see how depraved she could truly be and how far she could take it. Mimic made sure Viper was cherished, satisfied and comfortable with everything she could give him. She practically coddled him behind closed doors to boost his confidence in being a decepticon and just for being himself. Mimic felt incredibly guilty for all that she had done to Viper before he became what he is now and she felt obligated to promise that she'd never leave him behind nor doubt him in anything he does. She protects him the best she can, she makes him feel right at home. Although she feels no carnal or romantic feelings towards him, she treats him like a close friend other than an underling. Mimic gives him the space and freedom that he needs, allowing him to go all out on missions, even on solo missions if he wanted to.

That's pretty much what I got. I dunno if I should even call it a au? I really dunno what to call it but I spent too long writing this and I'm super tired 😭 anyways, feel free to cringe because I have no clue what I'm doing anymore with this whole Viper thing lmao. I'll post another pic of them later today imma crash. Deuces! 💕

[slitherinfest]

Wind Tunnels by @mrmxlemons

10,433 | WIP | E | Tom Riddle | Voldemort/Ron Weasley

“What do you have to offer Lord Voldemort that he does not already have, Ronald Weasley?” Voldemort drawls, unimpressed. The red eyes glow in a tunnel of nothing, red as an eclipse. More metallic and bright than a blood moon. Ron can’t tell what he sees in them beyond the black slits and the hooded, sunken gaze. He feels like he is being pierced, pinned into place. His shoulder burns with the intensity of which he holds the locket, clutched so tightly under his white knuckles Ron almost fears it will break even if he knows it's impossible. This close he can see the individual lines of Voldemort’s face stretched over high cheekbones and a long, sharp jaw. The coldness of the room highlights the iridescent and bluish quality to his scales, catching in the light like gems. In that moment Ron wishes he feels anger, tries to grapple it back and grit his teeth in rage to do something. Anything. Voldemort is here, and Ron can do something, even if it’s just trying. But that’s not who he is anymore. He hasn’t felt that way about Voldemort in a very long time. “Take it,” Ron whispers, voice low and wet as he thrusts out his fist and pushes the locket into Voldemort’s wand hand.

[leejenowrld]

Would you share some visuals/images of jenos very huge apartment? 🤣

i’m sorry for how this took to respond to

jeno’s apartment is a seamless blend of opulence and functionality, where every detail reflects his personality—meticulous, powerful, and commanding attention without ever trying too hard. the first thing that catches your eye is the sprawling basketball court at the center of his home, surrounded by walls of glass that open out to an unbroken view of the sunset over the ocean. the lines of the court glow faintly under warm led lights embedded into the polished flooring, giving the space an ethereal quality as night falls.

above, the glass-paneled ceiling stretches across the court, allowing natural light to pour in during the day while soft, golden lighting creates an almost celestial atmosphere at night. two levels of the apartment encircle the court—a sprawling, modern kitchen with sleek marble countertops and industrial finishes on one side, and a cozy, sunken living area on the other, lined with plush, oversized couches that practically beg you to sink into them.

to the left of the court, a passageway leads to his private pool room, a sanctuary of luxury with an infinity pool reflecting a ceiling mural of a star-filled sky. waterfalls cascade gently along one side, adding a serene soundtrack to the space. floor-to-ceiling windows frame the pool, offering the same panoramic ocean view, though this room feels quieter, almost sacred, as if meant for unwinding after a day of chaos.

his bedroom is darker, moodier—a retreat that contrasts the openness of the rest of the apartment. black, textured walls are accented by warm, dim lights, while a sunken jacuzzi sits near a wall of glass that overlooks the city skyline. the bed is massive, its sharp, clean lines softened by the layers of lush bedding and blankets, the kind of space that feels indulgent without being ostentatious.

and then, tucked away near the living room, is a private cinema. rows of modular, deep-gray seats are arranged like a luxury theater, the ceiling lit with tiny led stars that mimic the night sky. the walls are lined with soundproofing material, ensuring complete immersion into whatever world you choose to escape into for the night.

the entire apartment feels like a contradiction—open yet intimate, polished yet warm. it’s a space designed for dominance but touched by small, quiet moments of softness, just like jeno himself. every inch of it is curated, purposeful, and entirely unforgettable.

[chaoticstanley]

(Click for higher quality)

uh.... yeah, I'm into Starkid now.

Didn't really see that coming tbh. I've always liked their stuff, but it was more casual viewing. But with their Hatchetfield stories, yeah, that's what really sucked me in. And the fandom brain rot hit very quickly after finishing Nerdy Prudes Must Die. So, I made an OC. It's cringe and self indulgent, but I love him so much.

He's basically an anti-christ type, born into the Church of the Starry Children and his development was overseered by the Lords in Black. He has a very small amount of their powers in him, but he's still pretty strong and magical. He's always tired because he has constant night terrors. His sharp teeth are there in any form which has raised some eyebrows from normal people. His monster form has characteristics from each Lord in Black. He has Wiggly's tentacle hands, two mouths from Nibbly, Tinky's horns and legs, extra eyes from Blinky, and Pokey gave him a voice that can hypnotize people. His normal eyes also become sunken-in holes like the ones on Pokey's mask.

But his human eyes are grey and lifeless, almost like a dead fish. Sort of represents how he's not really his own person at the end of the day. Again, I'll get into more of that later. I stick with he/him just cause it's easier to write out, but he doesn't really care about gender and pronouns. Most people assume he's a guy so he just goes with it, but he also doesn't care to correct others if they call him a girl too. His attitude is very much, "eh, whatever" when it comes to that. He's sort of clueless when it comes to social interactions with humans, but he's not hostile. He's just kinda vibing until its time to end the world.

That's all for now. I'll write more about him when I have time between school and work. Oof.