#and everything that i personally hate (like being beige)

[love44lew]

what turns them on/off

彡drivers lewis hamilton, max verstappen, charles leclerc, sebastian vettel, jenson button

彡genre hcs/scenarios

彡summary what gets their wheels spinning and what makes ‘em dnf ★

彡notes i apologize for the wait my loves i didn’t want any of these to feel rushed </3 thank you for 100 followers ❤️❤️

彡warnings sexual content

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lewis

pleasuring you lewis loves to satisfy the people he loves. getting them gifts, compliments, paying the bill for any meal, you name it. as long as his special ones are happy, hes happy. so in bed you can expect those same things to apply. he gets pleasure from pleasuring you, he loves it. he enjoys seeing you trembling, blushing and fucked out more than his own pleasure. thats why his favorite thing to do is eat you out. and by life itself, this man can EAT!! its almost like your pussy put a spell on him he gets so lost in the sauce. you physically have to push him off to make him stop and by that time your legs are already shaking. he really touches the ocean floor if you know what i mean!! and the d is fire!! and it will put you to sleep. lewis loves being your personal melatonin.

meaningless sex when lewis was single and needed some pleasure every once in a while, he would just go on raya or hit up one of the six trillion girls who wanted him. he wasn’t satisfied with living that way. lewis is a lover not a player. he’s been through a lot of stuff to make him this way and he learned this the hard way through his late twenties and early thirties. born to be a lover, forced to be a hoe !! fortunately though, he met you and looking back on it, he’s realized how much he hated the shallowness of it all. lewis craves for deep meaningful connections and just having sex with random women didn’t fill that hole in his heart. he had to relearn the true meaning of sex and how magical and special such an experience can be. you helped him rediscover this important aspect of his life and it feels great. being with you has definitely taught him quality over quantity.

max

loss of senses max needs to see you, so darkness is a no no. plus, more unnecessary risk of hurting yourselves. he loves the sound of your voice, weather its your moaning and whining as he works your body in every way you enjoy or its just you rambling about your day while running your soft fingers through his thin silky hair. max needs the stimulation of sight and sound to get himself going. “let me hear you” he’ll whisper into your ear

this may be why he loves his mirrors !! the only solution to this issue is to just fuck u in front of a mirror. most men love to do that for their own pleasure but the only thing max is looking at while fucking you in front of a mirror is the way your face twitches, contorts, and relaxes with every thrust. the way your doe eyes roll back and cross, further showing to him how good he fucks you. he picks you up by your neck forcing you to straighten your back as he whispers sweet praise into your ear. “you look so pretty like this baby” “you want me to keep doing that gorgeous?” “uhuh im fucking you good baby” your legs twitch every time his sweet voice sings into your ear telling you everything you need to hear.

charles

charles loves to see you in lace, latex, and silk. the way the latex hugs your figure so beautifully makes you almost look naked. weather its black, beige, white, or print he loves when you look all sexy just for him. silk is almost like maternal for him. as much as he loves to see your curves he also loves the look of ‘sheets after sex’ the open back with the jewelry and the flowy trim, he loves it. it simply just makes him want to imagine you bloated with your shared creation but still keeping your elegance and beauty along with it. the look of silk makes your skin glow like the sun and you simply look like a greek goddess in his eyes. the beautiful custom embroidery that revolves around your every curve when you wear lace is unmatched. he loves that it shows just enough that he can imagine what hes already seen but also covers enough that others cant. the sexy elegant vibe of lace changes your aura enough to make him want to eat you out through your thin panties. your beautiful skin covered by a thin soft custom embroidery made just for him makes his mind go wild.

waiting charles is very impatient when it comes to his pleasure. weather its the pleasure of winning or reaching tip of his climax so good that he’ll just want to fall asleep after, he’ll work hard to make sure he gets there, for you too. sure, he can do foreplay but only for a certain amount of time until he begins to bore. ‘lets get to the good stuff already’ ((sass)) charles is a gentleman, so he will make sure you finish before him. plus, he has amazing stamina, so don’t feel rushed to reach your climax, he can wait for that. sometimes he’ll slow down just to watch you overstimulate for a little bit longer, just until you start fussing before going rough and slow, just how u like it. “whats wrong mon cœr? don’t you like it slow?” “ahh you want it harder.. yeah, just like that.”

sebastian

cuddling (smirk) the bed creaks as seb adjusts himself to face your back swinging an arm over your waist and the other snaked around your neck. “good morning, der liebling” he greeted in his raspy low morning tone, planting soft kisses on your cheek and shoulder. you turned your head to catch his lips. “good morning sunshine” you teased his nickname. he rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging his lips. he kissed your nose before diving back onto your lips, his hand now squeezing and caressing your waist and hip. you scooted back, carefully grinding your rear on his front. his hand stuck on your hip while his other now holding your neck. you continued grinding your ass back on him. little moans and purrs escaping between kisses.

full attention its important that you fully engage with seb while having relations. if you seem at all uninterested in what you’re doing he simply wont have the means to do anything anymore. its important to always make sure you’re not holding back when it comes to him. he loves when your hands are anywhere they can find groping or caressing his skin as hes burried deep in your core. he needs to feel extra wanted every time. “touch me” he whispers into your ear as he slowly inserts himself. the extra sensory makes him go wild as he resists cumming after just a couple strokes. your nails lightly scratching circles into his scalp as he’s pressing your knees into the cushion below. even when hes fucking you from behind you always reach a hand over to run down his chest and abs and make eye contact as you match his thrust rhythm.

(i might add jenson in the future but im trying to get this out for you guys asap!!)

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dm for tags!! plz request more ideas ❤️

[pathologicalreid]

hello my new favorite tumblr writer 😇 i will b honest i have never requested anything before so!! bear with me. however the spencer reid brainrot is all too real SO would you be open to doing anything with a hotchner!fem!reader? bau or not for the reader! something something hotch is very hesitant about their relationship but maybe reader gets caught in the crossfire of something and hotch and prentiss see them together afterward and prentiss is like “that looks pretty real to me.” DOES THAT MAKE ANY SENSE OKAY I’M LEAVING NOW THANK YOUUUU 🫡

a father's daughter | S.R.

in which your father doesn't approve of your relationship, but who knows how he'll react when reid jumps into action after a threat against your life

who? spencer reid x hotchner!fem!bau!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, blood, stitches, hospitals, medical inaccuracy word count: 2.03k a/n: anon you are legendary. this is an incredible request and i am so honored to be your new favorite tumblr writer! i am an absolute sucker for anything hotchner!reader (or rossi!reader) so i absolutely ate this request up! (also if anyone wanted to drop a request in my inbox... it would be welcome)

Aaron Hotchner was the most professional person in the BAU, except when it came to you. You, like him, had gone to law school. You were a public defender for just a short time before being put into WITSEC, and when your mother died, you applied to the FBI Academy.

Plain and short, it was nepotism, but no one was going to argue with the man whose wife was murdered by a serial killer. Your dad wanted you in the BAU so he could keep an eye on you, and there was nothing Erin Strauss could do about it. What your father couldn’t control, was your relationship with Reid.

He could tell you that he didn’t approve, but so long as David Rossi, king of inter-bureau mingling, was around, he couldn’t actually do anything to stop you. “I’m just saying that I’ve never seen Reid be consistent with a relationship,” your dad said, having pulled you away from the team to, once again, try to warn you off of your relationship.

“He’s been pretty consistent for the last seven months,” you responded, rifling through the victims' files that were in your arms.

You started to make your way out of the empty office when your father spoke again, “And he’s too old for you.”

Stopping in your tracks, you pivoted and faced your father, “He’s three years older than I am, I’m twenty-six. That’s hardly an age gap to bat an eye at.” The two of you had always had a rocky relationship, he missed a large portion of your childhood due to this job and you always tried to not resent him for it.

Your parents’ marriage fell apart, neither of them handled it well, and you weren’t all that surprised. They had gotten married when your mom got pregnant with you because they thought that was what they were supposed to do, and when Jack couldn’t keep them together, everything fell apart.

“You have no right to lecture me on relationships, Agent Hotchner,” you snapped, staring him down. Daring him to challenge you.

He sighed, obviously trying not to lose his patience with you. “I’d just hate for you to find out you wasted your time on something that wasn’t real.”

The door behind you swung open, you spun on your heels to face Emily. “Sorry, uh, we have a location, Morgan’s coordinating with SWAT,” she said, looking between you and your father.

“Great, let’s go,” your father said, his parental demeanor falling away as his Unit Chief mask took its place.

You walked out the door to see the rest of the team, Rossi tossed you a Kevlar vest as you walked over to where Spencer was standing with the police chief, “Where are we headed?” You asked, undoing the Velcro on the vest and pulling it over your torso. The beige precinct was buzzing as agents and officers prepared to break into the UnSub’s home base. Hopefully to find his most recent victim still alive.

Reid reached over and adjusted the strap of your vest, making sure it was evenly tightened over your shoulders. “Garcia found a warehouse on the other side of town. It’s being rented out under an anagram of the first victim’s name,” he said, gently squeezing your arm before dropping his hands back to his side.

Nodding, you followed the rest of the team out the metal doors of the precinct and into the black SUVs. “Your UnSub’s name is Jonas Watts, he used a different name to rent the space but the account he uses to pay for it is under his name,” Garcia’s voice rang through the speaker as she told you about the perpetrator. “He checks every UnSub box we have, raised by a single father after his mother left, and… oh, multiple arrests for assault.”

You looked up to the driver’s seat, your dad was white-knuckling the steering wheel, entirely focused on driving as you listened to Garcia reciting the UnSub’s rap sheet.

When you arrived at the warehouse SWAT was already there and Morgan started organizing the tactical assault. Drawing your weapon, you nodded at your teammate when he instructed you to go around the back with himself and your father. Allowing Morgan to kick the door down, the three of you held your firearms up and began clearing the warehouse.

Further away, you heard Emily and Spencer clearing the front. “Clear, moving up,” you called into your radio as you approached the stairs, stepping on them carefully so they didn’t creak. On the landing, you looked at a trail of blood on the ground. “There’s a blood trail in the upper west wing,” you whispered.

“Move up, little Hotch, I’m right behind you,” Morgan responded.

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, one that you had begged him to stop using, you moved forward, keeping your firearm aimed right in front of you. Turning into the room that the blood trail led to, you immediately ducked when you saw a knife coming for you. Keeping your gun aimed, you faced down the UnSub, “Jonas Watts, FBI!” You announced yourself, scanning the room for the girl he took last night.

Watts shook his head, “You’re not supposed to be here! You can’t be here!” He shouted in distress.

“Where’s the girl, Jonas? Where did you take Isobel?” You asked him, not seeing her in the room the two of you were in. There was another entrance on the left of him.

He stepped toward you, and you cocked your gun, “I don’t have her now. I lost her, she’s lost,” he said, there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Unnerved, you decided to take a leap of faith, “Jonas, where’s your partner?” A partner hadn’t been part of the profile, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. The crimes were too complex, it didn’t match up with something as simple as using an anagram of a victim’s name for the warehouse rental.

Morgan filed in behind you, aiming his gun at Jonas, same as you. “Time’s running out, Jonas. If you tell us about your partner we can help you,” he said, slowly inching toward Watts.

“It’s too late,” Jonas wailed.

Someone knocked into you from behind, causing you to stumble forward before you were pulled to your feet. One arm was locked around your torso, and another was holding a knife to your throat. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll cut her fucking throat!” The unnamed man said from behind you, he was almost impossibly tall, easily overpowering you.

You didn’t dare move, not with that knife to your throat, one false move and you’d bleed out. Morgan shouted for him to let you go, but he just pressed the knife tighter to your neck, splitting the skin.

Shutting your eyes, you tried not to cry, fearing the damage it would do to your throat.

Your captor held you tightly to him, using your body to block Morgan from shooting. Something warm trickled down your collarbone, and you weren’t sure if it was blood or tears.

For a moment, you thought you could swing your foot back into his knee, but the fear of having your carotid cut outweighed your bravery.

Ever since you were a kid, you thought death would be quiet. Something you slipped into like sleep, but your death was loud, and it left your ears ringing.

The afterlife was the weirdest place you’ve ever been, someone was calling your name, and you heard your rights being read. Although, why you would need your Miranda Rights in the afterlife you had no idea.

“Angel, please open your eyes,” someone said.

Confused, you opened your eyes and saw familiar eyes staring down at you. Golden and bleary. Spencer, Spencer was here. You tried to sit up, but he held you down, keeping a hand on your throat.

Morgan was shouting for medical, saying there was an agent down. You turned your head to see the still unidentified UnSub on the ground, shot through the temple. Using his free hand to turn your chin, “Don’t look,” Spencer whispered. “You’re okay, I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, angel.”

If you weren’t still coming down from an adrenaline high, you might’ve smiled at the irony of the nickname. Being called ‘angel’ after having your neck cut felt like tempting fate.

Where was your dad? Of everyone here, you expected him to be here, barking orders at people.

As if summoned by your thoughts, your dad appeared, nearly hauling an EMT behind him, “Help her,” he said.

Yeah, that absolutely tracked.

The EMT’s packed your wound and assured everyone that your carotid had not been slit, against your protests, the ambulance brought you to the hospital for stitches. Emily had run to the hotel to get your go bag, allowing you to change out of your bloodied clothes.

Thankfully, the doctors said you didn’t need to stay overnight, meaning you and the team got to go home. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked while you were waiting to board the jet.

You hummed, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes, and leaning against a car, “Tired, but I’m alright.” Tired might have been underselling it, you felt like all of the energy had been physically drained from your body. “You worry too much,” you whispered, closing your eyes for just a moment. Your throat was a little raspy, but it should go back to normal after a couple of days.

“Your throat was cut about four hours ago, some might say I’m not worrying enough,” he responded, reaching down, and picking up your bag, carrying it over to the jet once they got the okay to board. On the jet, he gestured to the seat, “Lay down, get some rest.”

You furrowed your brows, “Isn’t it kind of frowned upon to take up a whole seat?” You asked, of course, sometimes it happened, but you didn’t want to take up too much space.

Spencer cocked his head at you, “I don’t think anyone is going to fight you on it, love.”

Taking a deep breath, you sat down on the seat, laying down and closing your eyes, falling asleep before you even left the tarmac.

Being the Unit Chief had its perks, surely, but the piles of paperwork sometimes felt never-ending. Aaron took a deep breath before he closed the file, Rossi sat across from him, nursing a glass of whiskey.

“Hey,” Prentiss whispered, taking the seat next to him and setting her glass of water down on the small table. “Do you see that?” She said, gesturing with her head toward where you were lying down, asleep.

Right next to you was Reid, who usually had his nose buried in a book at this point in a flight, but he was wide awake, and all of his focus seemed to be on you. Begrudgingly, Hotch watched as Spencer reached over and tucked a blanket around you as if he was afraid you’d freeze on the temperature-controlled jet. “What about it?” Hotch asked, reaching over for the next file.

His eyes flicked up again, Spencer was sitting on the floor of the jet. Everyone had elected to leave the couch seats for the two of you, but the one across the aisle from you was empty. Like Reid didn’t even want you to be any more than one foot away from him.

Leaning back in the chair, Emily shook her head, “That’s what we in the business call hypervigilance.”

Hotch didn’t respond, he just spared another glance over at the two of you. “’We in the business’?” He inquired, humoring Prentiss.

“I’m just saying… the hovering? The blanket? I don’t know about you, but that looks pretty real to me,” she said, leaning back in the leather seat.

Silently, he glared, it would seem his hopes of getting the team to stop eavesdropping on familial conversations were quashed.

“Just let the kids be, Aaron,” Rossi said, grinning into his glass.

He cleared his throat and flipped open the new file before he acquiesced, “Fine, for now.”

please reblog, like, and/or comment if you enjoyed 🩵

[orikixx]

Blueprints & Heartbeats

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Featuring: Nanami Kento

Warnings: slight angst, wc 1.5k, part 2 will be a smau!

Summary: academic rivals to lovers! a mixup in the architecture group project forces you to team up with Nanami Kento, the serious and stoic student. But maybe, he isn’t as brooding as you thought?

Author's note: I feel like I’m trying a new style and this is kinda scary lol. I hope you guys like it!🫶

There he was.

As you walked into the classroom, you saw him. The man you’ve heard all too much about, yet never got the chance to talk to. Well, it’s not like you didn’t get the chance, Nanami Kento just flat out ignored you.

At first, you thought he hasn’t heard you. He couldn’t have been ignoring you on purpose, right? So you tried again, and again, until eventually giving up because clearly, he had no interest in talking to his classmate.

You two share the same major, but that doesn’t seem to matter to him. Despite being in the same classes and even the same study groups, Nanami always finds a way to avoid interacting with you. It’s frustrating, to say the least, especially when can’t understand why. Maybe it’s your personality?

It cannot be the fact that you’re an annoying person, because you aren’t. There’s no denying that people definitely find you loud and bubbly, but no one would actually describe you as an annoying person, since you almost manage to brighten everyone’s mood. Or almost everyone, in that case. The problem could be Nanami, perhaps he just hates everything that’s not beige, boring and brooding, just the way he is. Or maybe there was something else, something deeper, that made him keep his distance. He definitely strikes you as the antisocial, loner wolf type. Either way, it was clear that Nanami Kento wasn’t interested in getting to know you.

You sat down next to Satoru, a friend you’ve met through the architecture course, and immediately felt at ease, with the help of his non stop babbling about some movie he’s watched with his girlfriend over the weekend. Zoning out a little, the hum of conversations fills the room, Satoru’s voice drowning in the background as you observe the walls of your lecture hall. The walls are lined with endless sketches, and the faint scent of ink lingered in the air. The harsh fluorescent lights made you dizzy, which brought you back to the fact that your professor has just walked in.

You quickly hush Satoru, and look at your professor. She’s known for being very harsh on students, so you always try your best to leave a good impression on her. She starts talking, something about another group project. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to have to work in groups, but it felt like such a hassle for you. Having a very different way of working than the other students, it sometimes caused clashes within the group. They were eventually solved by getting to a compromise, but it was noticeable that it happened every single time you were in the group.

While most students meticulously planned their designs with rulers and perfectly aligned sketches, your workspace always looked like controlled chaos. Bold, colorful markers and loose sheets of paper filled with quick sketches and half-formed ideas were scattered across your desk. You thrived on spontaneity, letting inspiration strike in bursts, while others preferred methodical precision.

Your designs were vibrant, full of life and energy, much like you. They weren't always perfect, but they stood out. Other students often seemed to be skeptical about your work, yet they agreed that your flashy ideas were always the cherry on top of their mundane, strictly planned designs.

The professor starts reading out the names for the group projects, which are in duos for the first time in the entire year and a half you’ve spent at the course already. She reads name after name, and when satoru is paired with some other student instead of you, the both of you silently groan. You wait as the list goes on, until eventually you’re paired with… Nanami.

Before you can even process what your professor said, someone’s coughing loudly, and you turn around to see that it’s no other than the man himself. You turn back bashfully, ears red with embarrassment. The fact he looks terrified out of his mind at the thought of working with you bothers you, but what can you really do at this point.

When class ends, you and satoru go your separate ways. He went to talk to his teammate, and you were intending to do the same, or at least try to, because when you search around the class for Nanami, he’s already standing by the professor, seemingly.. arguing with her? You get closer, trying to subtly eavesdrop on whatever they were not so calmly discussing.

“There must be something you can do to change the groups!”

Oh.

You stop in your tracks, feeling like a beat down puppy. You don’t even move away, inevitably listening to the rest of their conversation as the other students’ conversations buzz around you.

“I’m sorry Nanami, I’ve already submitted your names to the administration, there’s nothing I can do to change the situation.”

There’s a burn in your chest, slowly spreading until you feel your neck heating, until your face is red, and you’re suddenly filled with such utter despair, because how the hell are you supposed to work on a project with someone who hates you without even knowing you?

You weren’t intending to be dramatic, but you know you can’t handle him right now. Before either of them could turn around and notice you, you just left class. Not discussing even the simplest details with him felt wrong, but you can try doing that later, when you’re calmer, if he’ll deem you as worthy enough to talk to.

As you were walking through the campus, your mind clouded with anger, you tried deciding how to deal with the situation.

You could text him, though with the way he’s treated you so far, he might as well just block you. You don’t actually believe he’d to that, since he cares too much about his grades, yet he’s definitely going to be so unpleasant to you.

…………

Nanami might as well have buried himself 6 feet deep at this point. Not only he got paired with the one person in the entire class that could beat his grade on every single assignment, but she also had the audacity to be so effortlessly unbothered and vibrant about it. Her carefree attitude, her ability to come up with ideas on the spot, and the way she never seems to second guess herself, it irritates him in ways he can’t quite explain.

He knows he won’t be able to function.. normally, if he had to work with her alone. It’s not like he hates y/n, because no one could hate her. He just lets his ego get to him, and he doesn’t know what to say when she comes by, trying to talk to him. As he sees it, she might as well wave a huge flag that says “look at me! I’m better than you!”. He knows it’s stupid, but that’s just the way he is. So when the professor tells him she can’t change his teammate, he feels defeated.

He turns around, contemplating if he should search for y/n in the classroom.

He scans the room , yet he can’t spot her anywhere. She usually hangs out with gojo, but the white haired man is now talking to his own teammate, and y/n’s bubbly voice isn’t heard throughout the place.

Nanami’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he swiftly takes it out, curious about who even has his number saved.

Unknown number: hi Nanami, it’s y/n from the architecture course. Would you like to meet up tomorrow and start working on our project?

Nanami stares at the screen, unexpectedly dumbfounded. How did she manage to beat him even at texting?

Nanami: meet me tomorrow at the café near the lecture hall at 11:00.

He knows he could’ve been nicer to her, but honestly it doesn’t bother him at the moment since all he can think about is how he’s gonna spend the rest of the semester with y/n as his teammate.

She doesn’t reply to him, just leaves the text on read. He shouldn’t be surprised, or feel anything considering the fact he’s been anything but nice to her, but he feels like it doesn’t fit her personality. Maybe he hadn’t talked to her even once, but he’s been watching her.

A lot.

He knows which students get on her nerves, and he can recognize the look on her face when she tries to hold her laugh in during a lecture. The fact he even knows anything about her irritates him, but if he doesn't observe her to learn and improve himself, what other option does he have?

Nanami sighs, shoving the phone back into his pocket before leaving the hall. As he walks across the campus, in the direction of his dorm, he notices y/n. She was sitting on the grass with her friends, the sun shining on her figure, and she looked so…. He doesn’t want to finish that thought.

Her hands move in an almost animated manner, one he often sees in class. He has to tear his eyes away from the sight, fastening his pace.

Still, even as he tried to stop it, the image of her lingered in his mind, unbidden and unwelcome.

divider credit: @soulari

taglist: @yourname-exee @realalpacorn @zayuriluvs @galactacium

[deesseshesca]

PAC: Why does your partner find u irresistible ?  (18+)

October is about to get real spooky....

Good morning pretty soul ! I am so excited ... IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else.

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST 

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST 

PILE 1 

9 cups (revere), 10 wands (reverse), Hermit (reverse), Star (reverse)

They find you irresistible because you are boring. Y’all remind me of the beige character in Lazytown. You are probably the mother/father of your group of friends. You rather stay inside than to be the life of the party. You prefer being in a comfy spot with your fav blankie reading a book or even watching anime. Also you don’t mastubate and there is no dark reason nor strong conviction, it doesn't have any effect on you. You don’t really care for it. They find your kinda self control sexy. Plus you are a very logical person and you don’t date around. You also don’t fall for the glitz and glam of the world. The fact that you are not easily entertained and you choose them as yours make them feel wanted. The way you treat them is hella hot.

💌:Imma throw this here because I know y'all don't be reading intro. Y'all be to excited : IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$.

PILE 2 

5 cups, Queen wands, 7 swords, page of cups

They find your clinginess irresistible. I feel like past lovers often hated how physical you are. I just heard someone say: ‘’Get a life already !’’. But the one you have now loves your hug, kisses, hand holding, hair playing and back rubbing that you keep doing because physical touch is your love language. You are literally a sex symbol pile 2, before you get all self conscious on me … just know that Marilyn Monroe is a sex symbol, so is Kylie Jenner and Angelina Jolie let me throw Esther Jones and Precious (Top model) ,all different symbols and all very much SEX ! So now you can stop comparing yourself to the standard and realize you are born  with it. You have it or you don’t. A lot of y’all reading this have hip dip but baby that bubble butt… hun… let me catch my breath real quick. I feel like a lot of your ‘’wannabe’’ lovers try to get with you just for your body. I’m hearing : ‘’ Cauze 99.9% of this fuckboys can’t fuck me !’’ PERIDOT ! I know that’s right. They think you dumb for not catching their hints but I just heard someone say : ‘’ It's not my fault I refuse to speak the bum language …’’. Just so you know pile 2, I’m taking that iconic statement from you for my next insta post. It does not stop here, y’all be so skillful in the bedroom. Most of y’all have a girly girl aesthetic (even if you are a goth it still has a very feminine touch to it) so people think y’all are pillow princesses/princes. If you are a man it is because you have a clean look to you. But y’all be doing tricks on a dick. I heard  the tiktok sound that goes : ‘’ Bus, club and another club no sleep’’ but for you it be ‘’ handjob , cuddlefuck, doggy and missionary ‘’. So I ask : ‘’ All in one round …’’. Your energy : ‘’I am a ride they won't survive …’’ OK ! PILE 2! I SEE YOU! The sexiest thing of it all is the fact that you are very loyal. Y’all be having your partner as a lock screen, as your profile pic or even on your boxer or panties. If you play video games, you might get your equipment costume with their picture. That together makes you a hottie !

💌: Imma throw this here because I know y'all don't be reading intro. Y'all be to excited : IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$.

PILE 3 

4 pentacles (reverse), knight wands (reverse), page of wands, 7 pentacles. 

You guys are dangerous. Fucking dangerous. You are the reason  why a love witch is always going to catch a check. People are getting cut ties spell  because of the impact you have on them. You are the soul tie final boss. If you are a owner of dick you are out here hitting it raw having those ladies often older than you thinking maybe a baby with my sneak link ain’t that bad (shake my motherfucking head) . Is not their fault. Is yours. You are out here whispering bullshit but that good bullshit. I’m hearing : ‘’ I’m yours baby …’’, 'Are you almost there princess…’’, ‘’ I know baby, I know it is too much but you can give me one more …’’. Hey ! where y’all think you are going ? Yes, you , women ! Out here making men double your age believe they still got it. What’s irresistible about this group is that y’all are loving lovers. For the women, I am channeling a dilf that you met while traveling. You are out there living life like a Lana Del Rey video clip. You let that man slide it in raw, because for you it is just for fun. Pile 3, you cannot trick me. First y’all don’t use condoms, some of y’all are allergic to it. But you still don’t use birth control out here timing yourself with your natural calendar. God do be having  favorites ! That older man was mesmerized by your moaning and the way you speak some life into their sexual skills. Making them think they're the best. Loving lover + big dick/gripping pussy+smooth talk and sexy moan = Irresistible to the point of insanity .

💌: The lover that I channel for this collective whether it be the girls/boys they are done trying to manifest you back in their life. But they still miss the intimacy your share. Imma throw this here because I know y'all don't be reading intro. Y'all be to excited : IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 12: "This is spooky" "Really?"

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

“Spencer, do we really have to do this?”

From your spot, you pouted while watching your boyfriend struggle with the TV, trying to insert the VHS tape. Seriously, who still had those? you thought as you watched him, but knowing the man, it wasn’t surprising at all.

“Come on, sunshine! We’ve been watching romantic comedies for months. It’s my turn to show you something.”

“But I hate horror movies.”

“We’re starting with the Scream series—it’s no big deal,” he reassured you. “I promise.”

Once he managed to insert the tape, he practically ran back to your side, settling on the couch where there was already popcorn, some Halloween candy, and a couple of other movies Spencer had lined up for the marathon.

“Is that Drew Barrymore? She’s in a great movie, Never Been Kissed. Want to watch that one instead?”

“Is it a romantic one?” he asked, looking at you seriously. You couldn’t deny it.

“I’m going to have nightmares!”

“You’re not going to have nightmares, baby,” he murmured confidently, leaning in to plant a loud kiss on your cheek. “Come on, do it for me. I love these movies, and besides, it’s October. It would be a crime not to watch them!”

You grumbled a bit, resigned to the fact that you wouldn’t get your way, and then shifted to get comfortable, laying your head on your boyfriend’s chest. The truth was you didn’t want to break his heart by saying you didn’t want to watch those movies, but everything involving blood and death completely terrified you. You didn’t even know how Spencer managed to deal with it every day at his job, especially when, once, by accident, he had brought home photos from a case, and just seeing them made you feel like throwing up. You spent several nights with that image stuck in your head and begged him never to share gruesome details about his work with you again.

You reminded him a lot of Garcia. Always in such pretty, feminine dresses, with maybe 80% of your belongings in shades of pink, purple, or any pastel tone, and, of course, a sweet and delicate personality.

He always thought his taste in women was pretty defined in certain aspects, but you had completely broken the mold. You left colorful post-it notes with motivational messages on his beige bureau folders, bought him skincare products, and once a week, you’d do face masks, manicures, massages, among other things for him.

You were the complete opposite of what he saw every day, and maybe that’s why he was so in love with you. Like a beautiful flower in the middle of the desert.

“Did you watch this stuff when you were a kid?” you suddenly asked, still looking at the screen and tracing uneven patterns with the hand you had resting on his chest.

“Some, yeah. I started with the classics, like Carrie, The Craft, The Shining… slasher films were never my favorite subgenre, but they’re the easiest to digest for beginners.”

“So, in this one, that guy just wants to kill everyone?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Lovely,” you muttered sarcastically, making him chuckle.

After thinking about it for a moment, he dared to express the doubt that had been growing from your attitude.

“Hey, baby, do you really not want to watch these? It’s okay if you don’t want to, I didn’t mean to push you. I just thought…”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I mean, I freaking hate jumping out of my seat every five minutes, but if you enjoy this, I want to share it with you. I highly doubt you enjoy my favorite movies as much as I do, but you always let me pick. And you comforted me for almost an hour after we watched The Notebook, so this is the least I can do for you.”

He knew you were being sincere when you said that, and to ease any lingering doubts, you stretched up to kiss him sweetly.

“Besides,” you continued, “you never get any days off, and if the price to pay for spending the whole night cuddling with you is watching these movies, then I’m okay with it.”

He smiled broadly and pulled you closer against his body, as if wanting you to feel completely protected from anything. He was the one who hunted monsters in real life, after all, and you knew that if some crazy killer ever stalked you, Spencer would take care of it.

The truth was, you were getting pretty interested in the movie, as the mystery of Ghostface’s identity kept you hooked. Unfortunately, you were about halfway through the movie when a scene startled you (more than the others had), and you quickly hid your face in your boyfriend’s neck.

“What’s wrong?”

“This is spooky”

“Really?” he laughed, trying not to sound too amused. “I can’t imagine what you’ll say when we watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

“Spencer!” you practically screamed, lifting your head to look at him and playfully hitting him on the shoulder in protest.

“I’m joking…” he defended himself, kissing you as an apology. “Do you want to stop?”

“No, I want to finish it. I’m enjoying it, and I need to know who the killer is.”

“Any guesses?”

“You’re the profiler here, not me. The only thing I can tell you is that the makeup artist on set did a great job.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, and you snuggled back against him, occasionally grabbing some popcorn while letting him feed you candy and marshmallows.

After two more movies, Spencer noticed you had fallen sound asleep against him, and not wanting to disturb your rest, he simply pulled the blanket over you. Once you were fully covered and the TV was off, he rested his head on yours to get some sleep, lulled by the scent of your hair.

To his surprise, on the next movie night, you asked to watch a horror movie, and when he questioned your choice, you simply shrugged.

“When we watch them, you hug me the whole time and kiss me whenever something scares me. Plus, you enjoy them, so we both win.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that and happily obliged, sticking to what you had said. After a few weeks, the truth was you weren’t that scared anymore, but either way, it was always nice to pretend if it meant getting extra cuddles from your boyfriend. And he, who quickly figured out your little lie, was more than happy to play along.

[depresssant]

hades!reader x persephone!geto

also, geto has purple eyes in this bc he originally has purple eyes in the manga.

i love my glorious wife sm 😫

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

you liked to think that you had some semblance of control over some aspects of your life.

you were a goddess⏤ruler of the underworld, at that, but sometimes, frustration crept up into your mind and heart like a constricting snake. it made you want to scream, and tear, and blow everything to bits because this wasn't the life you picked for yourself. what? to be overworked to the bone and taken for granted? shit, you felt like the corporate lawyer for olympus, always cleaning up their messes and doing all the dirty work that they didn't want to do.

so, it was frustrating.

you were tired, and done with everything, and just always angry, but this?

this topped it all.

you didn't even bother to glance at the man standing before you. your hand held your pen so tightly it snapped in half. you wanted to yell. you wanted to scream. you wanted to run away. however, that wasn't you.

tossing the shattered pen pieces to the side and making it vanish into thin air, you gave your husband your signature shit-eating grin and leaned back in your office chair. "so what is this? an audience or a little preview of your next play?"

geto suguru titled his head with an expression on his face that you really couldn't decipher. "i assumed you would be a little more eager to see me after being taken from you. i was gone for six straight months."

the mere sight of him pissed you off.

"what can i say, princess? i'm a busy woman. my entire schedule is packed to the brim for ruling over a bunch of⏤you know, dead people⏤so i'm sorry if i cant drop by to say hi. i don't have time for such silly matters."

"it's strange, really." he took a step forward, and there was some strange tone in his voice. you never were good with emotions. "i was gone for six months. kidnapped. my mother took me back so easily it was almost as if... you orchestrated it all."

"..."

"tell me the truth, [name]. it was you who ordered my kidnapping, right?"

"you're... RIGHT! tada! congratulations!" using your magic, you made little bursts of fire combust into ember-like sparkles that imitated confetti. seriously, it took him that long? all this waiting for him to get the hint was finally kicking in! "i hate it break it to you, but you're not bonnie, and i'm not clyde. honestly, i was waiting for you to get the hint. i mean, come on! a god like you doesn't belong in a place like this. all booring and draaab, am i right?"

geto only gazed at you blankly as you rambled off and paced all about the office. there was a vase full of fresh gardenias right on your desk, but it was strange. you weren't the type of person to have flowers in your office. the strong smell of sweet cologne filled the air, and that jacket draped on your chair wasn't yours. no, geto had gone through your plain closet before, and he had never seen a beige jacket like that. 

"who did you have in here?"

you paused mid-word and chuckled. "you sound a little on edge. a friend of mines came over. why? oh, wait! are you jealous, princess? don't worry⏤"

"no. no, i am not."

huh?

the man walked over to the flower vase and grabbed one of the gardenias, just to crush it with his hand. a tight-lipped smile painted his lips, but his eyes darkened. the temperature seemed to have dropped, and the air just changed.

darkly.

"you can have as many lovers as you want. i'll just kill each and every one of them." his tone was low. threatening. "you can torment me as much as you want, i'll still be here."

"i'm sorry? i'm not following?"

"nanami. that's his name, right?"'

okay. why was he was acting strangely. you expected the kidnapping to piss him off, but it wasn't to this extent. and why was he bringing up your friend? he thought you were having an affair. well, he wasn't wrong.

your grin dropped, and you moved to light a new cigarette.

"you'll kill my lovers?"

"so you are having an affair!"

"what about it?"

geto's eyes narrowed, and he tossed the vase across the room. "we're married!"

"you think i want to be married to you? if i could, i would've divorced you straight to tartarus by now! yes! i orchestrated your kidnapping to make zeus realize i don't give a shit about you! i would give up my immortality before even starting to think of you as my real husband!"

catching the vase, you placed it back on your desk. damn it, you had enough of this. he was wasting all of your free time by throwing this little tantrum! why did he care about your business? this marriage was nothing but a business arrangement from zeus himself! his mother didn't want him married to you as much as you didn't want to be married to him. it was her idea to kidnap him, anyways. all your life, you had no control over the decisions made regarding you, so you didn't want to let geto suguru become another example.

and why was he bothered about all of this?

he hated you.

... right?

you turned back to look at geto with a sigh, but he cut you off the second you opened your mouth to speak.

"do you want to know what future the fates offered me?"

"geto, look⏤"

before you could react, he shoved you down to the floor and caged you in between his hands. there was wild look in his lavender-colored eyes, but you didn't push him away. you couldn't.

"the fates offered me the perfect future... with you!" your husband whispered in your ear. "all i have to do is get rid of anybody that will threaten it."

"suguru, i love you. you know that. please, this is⏤"

the man chuckled and shook his head. his hand moved to caress your cheek and, well, your lower lip. "don't try to sell me your smoke and mirrors. i know you're bound by divine contract."

his voice felt like iron bars caging you on the spot.

"you can't use your powers on me without the intention of good, and you have to stay with me forever. what's with the look on your face? you thought i was just some dumb himbo that was unaware of everything?"

"..."

"but that future the fates showed me? it's perfect. you and i will never be apart. all i have to do is just take care of a few things. starting with that nanami of yours."

[marzipanandminutiae]

Do you know much about historical cuisine? Saw yet another anime with friends and they went the whole 'modern food always tastes better' bit. I feel tired of the trope and am wondering how different historical cuisine would taste compared to modern times. So anything you happen to know as a historian would be cool to know!

That varies MASSIVELY based on time and location. Like. Much more than fashion does, even, I'd imagine (in a given sub-region- I can talk about Mainstream European and Euro-American Fashion of the 19th CenturyTM but the food was so different in different countries that were dressing the same, if that makes sense? just as an example).

Food is often more globalized in a lot of places nowadays, so the characters might have more diversity of flavors from the regional norm than they're used to. But this could be a good or a bad thing- a woman from 17th-century Japan might love pizza and much sweeter Western pastries, or she might absolutely hate them. Which is not to say regional cuisines haven't evolved, too- a museum here in Boston used to have tastings of 18th-century-style hot chocolate, and it was very different from the modern sort. But that's the largest blanket difference across the globe that I can think of, food-wise.

Not sure what anime this was, so it could have been Japan-specific, but I feel like this gets applied the most to the 19th-mid 20th century UK and United States. The whole Captain America line about "food's better; we used to boil everything," for example, and the general belief that everything was bland mush in those areas until the 1950s and then it was incomprehensible Jell-O mold horrors until approximately the 1980s. And of course, none of that's true- there were plenty of dishes that used spices and different cooking methods, many of which are still popular today. See also: Jonathan Harker, a Normal 1890s Englishman, getting so rhapsodical about paprikahendl that he simply must have the recipe for his fiancee to make. There also WERE bland mushes and fluorescent nightmares, but there's less than ideal food today, as well.

(Note that I'm much less confident talking about the whole English StodgeTM thing as we get into the 20th century. That is outside my history wheelhouse and there's a lot of different stuff embroiled in it relating to class and such that I don't want to talk out my ass about. All I know is that I've seen plenty of recipes from as late as the end of the 19th century, from England and some from urban Scotland if I recall correctly, that made ample use of spices. Nutmeg, mustard, black pepper, rosemary, caraway, and cayenne pepper were especially popular (not all together obviously). There was a belief among the middle and upper classes that strong flavors of garlic and onion were distasteful to ladies, but the fact that cookbooks and such feel the need to mention it implies that those elements WERE being used in cooking generally, in the UK, at that time. So wherever the idea that All British Food Is Beige And Tasteless came from, it wasn't mainstream late Victorian cooking for adults as far as I can tell)

(They gave kids a fair amount of the beige and tasteless because they believed their digestive systems couldn't handle strongly-flavored- okay now I'm getting off topic. Read Ruth Goodman's "How To Be A Victorian." Anyway!)

tl;dr- The answer to "is modern food better?" is "that's literally impossible to answer as a blanket statement, since it's massively dependent on the character's original time, place, social status, and personal taste- and where they end up in the present, of course."

Now, I do agree that the trope is annoying the same way every single princess being totally shocked and appalled when her marriage is arranged gets annoying- not because it can't be true based on history and human behavior, but because fiction treats it as some kind of universal precept. Mix it up a little sometimes! Have a Regency character who comes to the present, finds out that her favorite local cheese isn't being made anymore, and loses her entire mind!

[supermeiko]

First: This post is the premise.↑

Note: This review was not made with the intention of "judging skin color." On the contrary, it was made to point out the double standard that you non-Asian people "judge Asian skin color," but "in reality, you guys are getting the skin color wrong." Personally, I think people should be free to even change their skin color. I made this because I hate people like you who enforce a lack of tolerance.

Verification: Materials were copied and pasted to make everything the same. Area lights were used so that there would be no difference in lighting. Shang Tsung was used as the base, and everything except the skin was temporary or reused. What was surprising was that in yellow tones, Shang Tsung was the brightest in his class. This means that it is not wrong to draw Shang Tsung in lighter colors. In red tones, Sub-Zero is bright, but Scorpion is also surprisingly pale. Below are my own speculations

Among them, Johnny is the only one who is white, and because he is white, his coloring reflects his complexion, but if you look at the color of his face alone, you wonder if there is a difference between him and Kenshi. In terms of simple whiteness, Sub-Zero is by far the whitest.

The color around Kenshi's collarbone is slightly redder, and I feel like we should get rid of the jinx that white people = whiteness.

No matter how much I review Kenshi's materials, the results always seem to have some kind of error, why?

I thought Smoke was a bit high-toned even in the game screen, but surprisingly, Subsco ends up looking paler than him. I think the reason Smoke looks high-toned is because the light in photo mode is also yellowish.

So when drawing these three, it's correct to use the same tones and make Smoke yellower.

Scorpion is a little redder and darker than Smoke, but it's wrong to make him a clear black and white contrast with Smoke. So, artists like that should be blackwashed! (But don't forget that Scorpion has Japanese roots and gets sunburned easily. He looks like he'll get sunburned.)

As for the problem with Raiden, he ends up being a darker tone than Liu Kang, so it's not wrong to point out that he shouldn't be colored with lighter skin.

However, that Westerner "draws Havik with normal skin tone," so if the face alone is about the same tone, Raiden should be drawn with the same skin tone as Havik.

By the way, please draw Scorpion with lighter skin♥

I think Takeda's skin is dark because, as a personal preference, he is half Thai. On the other hand, I think Kung Lao's skin is too yellow, not dark, because NRS made him too yellow because of a lack of Asians, so I've decided that Kung Lao is an Asian stereotype created by white people and black people.

I've said before that Liu Kang's tone is light, but in reality, he's only a few tones different from Kitana. (I thought the complexion was better on screen, too, but Liu Kang's is better.)

Basically, women's tones are higher than men's, even if they are the same race, but Kitana's tone is a little more beige than Shang Tsung's.

As it turns out, this assertion is incorrect, since Shang Tsung is lighter skinned than Johnny.

No matter what you guys say, Japanese people tend to draw better by putting basic bright colors first, so if you follow that rule and adjust the contrast, you can put colors like this. Use it as a color chart! I'll add character comparisons with my critiques if requested.

[byeoltoyuki]

best mistake

↳ Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

❧ Genre : Fluff / colleagues to lovers / smut

❧ Warnings: oral (f)

❧ Words : +1,8k

❧ Summary : Many things could happen at a party.

“Look who’s here.” Hana pointed with her glass at someone across the room, her voice filled with venom. You could guess easily who just entered the room, her venom was always directed at one person, one person only, nevertheless you followed her gaze.

Hyunjin walked in, one hand in his pocket, the other roaming through his long hair, looking unfairly beautiful in his black, fancy suit. It was hard to believe that a man like him was actually a simple employee in a company instead of being a model. He had everything to succeed in modeling; the face, the look, the aura and definitely the attitude.

“Mind to tell me what he did this time to piss you off?” You asked genuinely curious. Hana was easy to anger, that was a well-known fact, but somehow with Hyunjin it was even worse. You let it slide for a while, guessing that she would eventually share it with you, but she didn’t. Her dislike only grew.

She huffed and averted her eyes. She emptied her glass of wine in one go before finally looking at you. “Honestly? There’s something about him that just bothers me. The way he talks, the way he behaves – he’s just not someone I can trust.”

“And have you seen how people throw themselves at his feet? It’s so annoying! But he enjoys it.” She added

Huh. That bad, you thought. You took a sip of your own wine and hid your smile in the glass. Clearly, Hana had a bad image of Hyunjin without knowing the real him.

People often misunderstood Hyunjin. Because of his looks; they either liked him, wanted him or envied him. Those who wanted him and didn’t get him, tended to start hating him and spreading rumors which, in your opinion, was unfair.

But you knew better. One year ago, at this same corporate party, you committed the best mistake, by hooking up with him.

Flashback

Those corporate parties were supposed to be a way to thank the employees for their hard work, for their loyalty. It was supposed to be a night of fun, of drinking, of dancing, of singing and strengthen the bonds between colleagues. You liked the idea. Not that you needed this particular party to get close to people, but people tended to act different when under influence of alcohol.

“I’ll be right back.” You told Hana. You heard some of your colleagues mentioning that this year they had improved their alcohol choices by adding cocktails – you were eager to find out.

But before you could even spot the said bar, Hwang Hyunjin appeared right in front of you, holding two glasses. Stunned with his presence, you stepped back, your hand on your chest. He, on the other hand, looked smug.

There was absolutely no reason for Hyunjin to talk to you. Yes, you were colleagues, you had been for a while, but you never really talked to each other. You would usually see him chatting with other women which never bothered you, in fact, you understood the appeal. You weren’t blind, the man was beautiful, not to say a piece of art. But you knew better than to get involved with pretty men.

“Hello, beautiful.”

Well shit, you thought. No wonder, people were so attracted to him. It was obviously not only because of his looks. His voice? The way he said ‘beautiful’, along with the smile – nobody could possibly resist his charms. You had a hard time too.

Instead of answering him, you studied him for a moment, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. Hyunjin wore a full beige suit, the sleeves of his jacket rolled, exposing his veiny forearms (was it your weakness? Maybe). More you stared at him and less you understood his intentions.

“What is it?” You finally asked, curious.

“Why? Am I not allowed to offer a drink to a beautiful lady?” He shook his head, disappointed and yet his mouth curved into a pretty smile, not looking so smug anymore. He shoved the two glasses before you. “Wine or champagne?”

This was definitely fishy. “What if I don’t drink?”

“I’d say you’re full of shit because I saw you drinking champagne earlier.”

Someone had definitely been watching you. You wondered how you missed it. “What a mouth you have, Hwang.”

Apparently, you calling him Hwang did something to him. His whole demeanor changed, going from all smiling and sunshine to wicked and dangerous. Were you impressed? A little.

Without minding your personal space, he leaned closer. Warm breath tickled your ear; your breath hitched in your throat as you waited for his next move. Was it you or you were about to get into unexpected yet very welcomed trouble?

“You have no idea what my mouth can do, pretty.”

Now, that escalated quickly. How did you go from being offered a drink to something more, you had no idea but you shivered at his words. Just like that, he pulled back as if he had simply made a joke.

“Champagne for you then.” He gave you the glass and clinked his glass with yours. He took a sip, completely unfazed with your lack of response. You? You simply stared at him, a little dumbfounded and maybe a little dazed too.

You didn’t want to stare at him for so long, but his words replayed in your mind and unwillingly you find yourself staring at his mouth. This, did not go unnoticed. Hyunjin licked his lips on purpose, watching as you inhaled sharply.

“Intrigued?” He asked playfully.

“Yeah.” You didn’t even try to deny. Were you bewitched? Absolutely.

Hyunjin seemed pleased with your honesty. “Want to find out?”

You certainly did.

Just like that, you found yourself in an empty hall, pressed against a wall. One leg thrown over Hyunjin’s shoulder, you were a moaning mess as he ravaged you. At any moment, someone could walk on you, but you couldn’t care less. Not when such a beautiful man was on his knees, doing a marvelous job with his tongue, with his mouth.

He hadn’t lied. He was so damn good with his mouth, knew exactly what he was doing, when to kiss, when to lick, when to suck. In a matter of minutes, he turned you into a mess, drowning in your pleasure.

“Fuck, Hwang,” You moaned louder than you wanted. You clapped your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans.

“Don’t you dare.” He growled against you.

He pulled back and sent you a glare that could have made you come just like that. His lips glistening with your juices, his eyes glowing with pure lust and hunger. What a sight. “I want to hear you.”

Bloody hell. You obeyed. Maybe because of the way he sounded or maybe because, deep inside, you did want someone to see just how good this man made you feel. You plunged your fingers into his hair, pushing his face back against your pussy. Less talk and more action.

“Better.” He obliged as he closed his mouth around your clit making you gasp loudly. You arched your back against the wall, trying to hold for your dear life.

Hyunjin showed you no mercy as he feasted on you; his every grunt of satisfaction, every flick of his tongue drawing you closer to your orgasm.

“Shit, I’m so close.” You whined, your thighs shaking wildly. You were grateful he was supporting your weight, grounding you in a way.

“Then, come, beautiful.” No matter how nice he sounded, it was an order. One, you had no problem to follow thanks to his sinful tongue. You cried out his name, your whole body shuddering uncontrollably as you came.

Hyunjin straightened up, back to your level. He studied you for a second, a proud smile on his face along with a look of pure fondness. You looked like a mess, but such a pretty mess. Lips swollen with all the kissing. Hair a mess with all the pulling. Just watching you, so dizzy, so consumed with your own pleasure, made him even harder.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He claimed your mouth, for a hungry and passionate kiss, letting you taste yourself, swallowing your pretty moans.

Back to present

You thought it would be a one-time thing. But it wasn’t. The very next day, Hyunjin came to your office with two cups of coffee and asked you out. One year later and you were still together.

You meet Hyunjin’s eyes across the room, he winked playfully at you, not caring that he wasn’t alone and that people would see it. Maybe it was time for them to find out about you two.

“Please, don’t fall for his tricks.” Hana, who also saw his wink, pleaded.

“Too late for that.” Yes, it was about time.

“What?”

You put your empty glass on the table and looked at Hana, feeling a tad guilty for hiding this important information from her. It wasn’t like you hid in on purpose, it just felt right at the moment. “He’s a sweet guy, Hana. Easily misunderstood. But give him a chance.” With that you started walking toward him. Toward the man that swept you off your feet. Not like it was hard. Hyunjin was truly the sweetest, most caring man you had ever met. He cared deeply and always showered you with love and attention. How could you not love him?

Hyunjin joined you halfway, smiling prettily at you.

“Hello, pretty lady.” He took your hand and planted a soft kiss on your knuckles. What a gentleman.

It made you laugh heartily. Of course, he would do something like that. “Hi, handsome.”

“Are you ready to make people talk?” He asked without letting go of your hand. Instead, he started rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. Another sweet and natural gesture that provoked butterflies in your stomach.

People would talk. You spotted from the corner of your eyes a group of colleagues; some looked surprised with your sudden display of affection, some looked appalled.

“I don’t give a damn.” You said, confident. You inched forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, gently tugging at his locks.  “Let them talk.” And you kissed him, making him smile into the kiss.

“Such a troublemaker.”

“Me? And here I thought it was you!” You chuckled

Hyunjin flicked your nose. “Nope. Definitely you.”

“I think your friend is about to have a heart attack.” He added when he saw Hana’s pale face.

You glanced over your shoulder; he was right, Hana looked paler than earlier and you guessed you were the reason. You were in trouble, you knew it, but the explanation could wait for another time. Now, you wanted to fully concentrate on the beautiful, lovely man before you.

“And I think, I’m about to have a heart attack because of how lovely you look tonight.” Hyunjin admitted and leaned closer. “Can we leave? I don’t think I can control myself much longer.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “What am I going to do with you, Hwang?”

“Anything you want, darling.” And he kissed the corner of your lips.

“Then, I suggest we leave.”

[coridallasmultipass]

I was gonna put up ONE little poster on my poster wall, since it was lying on my desk for months and I needed to clear my desk. (It was one of the Machine56 ones on the very bottom left.) But my poster wall was very unbalanced and driving me nuts, so I just went and rearranged the whole thing to be grouped evenly, took down some excessive OW ones, brought out the band and Alice posters again, etc. Fucking miserable doing this on a slanted wall, but it looks so much more organized now!! Relief!

If you don't have slanted walls, count yourself a lucky nerd. But man, the colour groupings paired up nicely with the content groupings, so that was a neat discovery. My thumbs are killing me from pushing the pins in, since EVERY poster on the slanted wall had to be moved, and some had to go into the hard parts/posts of the wall. But it all looks intentional and cohesive now compared with how it looked before.

[hellparkreimaginado]

NEXT CHAPTER

Inglés:

Craig was resting by the window of his room, calmly observing the landscape that always greeted him when he woke up. He had no worries at that moment, nothing to do, all his household chores were completed, and he had no extra schoolwork. This gave Craig plenty of time to simply watch his peaceful town from the comfort of his room. The raven-haired boy looked at the mountains beside the sun for a while, creating an image as beautiful as it was tranquil. Craig loved taking photos of landscapes like this: simple, beautiful, calming. It was everything! Sometimes, when he looked at that natural mural that was the sunset in his town, Craig couldn't help but think of his partner: Thomas Lacey. That boy with blond hair and beige eyes was the most beautiful thing Craig's young eyes had ever seen. They had been a couple for a few years, and although Thomas suffered from a peculiar condition called Tourette's, which caused, among many things, tics, spasms, and sudden outbursts, this did not matter to Craig. He loved him with all his flaws and problems. And whenever Craig brought Thomas to his house, he didn't hesitate to show him some of the photos he had taken of landscapes like the one he was seeing right now.

The raven-haired boy started to get lost in his thoughts, imagining his entire life alongside that handsome boy, imagining them in those mountains: sitting with their children, having a meal while watching the sunset from the top of that mountain. Maybe his dreams often weren't realistic, but anyone would imagine a whole life with the person they love the most if they wanted to.

As Craig continued imagining that teenage novel in his mind, he didn't notice a series of notifications coming from his phone. He was too immersed to care; after all, couldn't they give him a moment to admire the views? After about two minutes, Craig turned and glanced nonchalantly at those notifications: they were messages from Thomas, and what they said was anything but normal.

• Craig, I have to thank you for all the time you've spent by my side. No one, no one, NO ONE will love me as much as you have. YOU, you, Craig, you are the most important person in my life, the most beautiful and sincere person in the world. And I have to apologize for being so weak, for being the most useless person in the world, for... failing you. Forgive me, but I simply don't belong in this world. I deserve to die; I've only caused sadness and pain to everyone who loves me, including you. I'm not made to live; God hates me; I don't deserve to live...

• Craig, I'm the worst person there is, but I truly cherished all the time by your side. Goodbye.

Craig's heart stopped for a few seconds: his eyes widened as much as possible, his breathing sounded like something was choking him. Almost instantly, he felt a huge lump in his throat; he couldn't even say a single word.

Craig ran with the speed worthy of the Olympics towards the exit of his room. His entire family saw him run and ignored them when they tried to ask what was happening. Craig didn't even stop to look at them, opened the door of his house, and ran through the neighborhood. His beloved's house wasn't far from his; he could easily get there in a minute at the speed he was going.

But all his hopes of saving Thomas ended when he heard the thunderous sound, like a distant lightning strike. Craig fell to the ground on his knees: he couldn't even scream or make a sound of agony after hearing that noise. He knew very well where that shot had come from, he knew very well that there was nothing he could do about it now. The lump in his throat grew so large that he could almost feel like he was being choked by it. Those were agonizing seconds, the purest silence covered the entire town. The town that no more than a minute ago enjoyed the beautiful melody of birds singing, of united and happy families chatting about their lives, now everything was in the most absolute silence. There wasn't a single soul on that street, just Craig kneeling: his eyes quickly filling with tears and spreading across his forehead.

The first to break the silence was his father: Thomas Tucker.

• Craig, is everything okay!? What the hell is happening!? - said his father.

T. Tucker shook his son nervously, wanting him to say something, not understanding why he ran out of the house, but knowing very well that the distant shot had something to do with all this. But Craig still didn't say anything, he couldn't even make a sigh, much less say what had just happened. Craig remained motionless for a while, the only thing he could think of was that if he had seen his partner's message a minute earlier, all this might have happened very differently. Maybe, just maybe, Craig could have saved him. But now, now the only thing left was to go to his beloved's house.

Without even the slightest bit of hope, Craig headed to the home of what was no less than 10 minutes ago his partner. And when he saw the house open, with his mother crying inconsolably on the floor and a couple of neighbors comforting her, he understood that, indeed, his worst fear had come true. His partner, his boyfriend, his life companion, was... gone. He couldn't even look at the lifeless body of the person he loved so much. He wasn't strong enough to do it; he couldn't bear to let all his sadness out. He cried in silence as he walked towards Thomas's mother: she was simply devastated. That poor woman had to live through her husband's divorce, had to see her son humiliated for his illness over and over again, had to watch her son isolate himself from the world, and finally, had to live through the death of the only thing she had left in life.

• No~ I don't understand~ I don't understand!~ I DON'T UNDERSTAND!~ I did everything for my son~ but I didn't realize what was happening to him...~ - said that completely broken mother, with eyes that looked like dried grapes from crying so much, her voice becoming weaker and weaker the more she cried, making it increasingly difficult to understand what she was saying.

• I- I don't understand either, ma'am~ I- I loved him,~ I always tried to make his day better but~ but...~ I don't understand what I did wrong...~ - Without saying much more, the raven-haired boy hugged the mother of his deceased boyfriend; only she could understand the pain he was feeling at that moment.

• Oh, Craig~ - Mrs. Lacey closed her eyes and, still sobbing, said to Craig: - D-do you know?~ Of the few moments I remember seeing Thomas happy in these last months was when you were by his side,~ he wouldn't stop talking to me about you and everything you did together. I thought he was getting better,~ but, honestly, I don't understand what happened.~ I don't know what I did wrong~ - The inconsolable lady wiped her tears a little and then handed Craig an envelope with a blue seal.

• Here,~ T-Thomas wanted you to read this~ -

Craig inspected the envelope with his tired eyes; it was very clean and well-kept, adorned with innocent hearts on the sides that seemed to have been drawn with extremely fine and bright markers, while in the center was a blue seal and below it a message that read: "For Craig, my one and only true love." Instantly, an avalanche of emotions overwhelmed Craig. He seemed to have a nervous breakdown, a combination of sadness for knowing this was surely the last thing Thomas did in life, and massive regret for not being there for him. All those feelings that seemed to have dissipated came back, stronger this time. He tried to calm down, tried to look away, only to feel the urge to flee from that place at once. He simply didn't want to be there any longer.

Craig ran out with the envelope in one hand and wiping away the tears running down his face and extending to his neck with the other. He didn't pay attention to his family, much less to his boyfriend's mother, who was asking him to please come back. Amid many tears, Craig just hid in his room and lay down to cry in silence. Everything had happened so quickly, he was so exhausted after this horrible day. He just lay in his bed, but it was impossible for him to sleep. Hours passed, he didn't let anyone in to console him; he felt so guilty and so powerless that he didn't even have the strength to see what was in the envelope given by Thomas. It was simply too much guilt, to the point where he couldn't look anywhere but at that letter he couldn't even open.

And as the hours passed, the only thing Craig heard was the sound of a gunshot in the distance... It was the only thing he could hear inside his head for hours.

[elegantballetalk]

I was watching Bolshoi's old recording of Paquita Grand Pas (the one w/ Maria Alexandrova as the lead) and couldn't help but feel so sad. Bolshoi used to give so much energy no matter who the dancer was. All of them looked genuinely love dancing and enjoyed their time performing on the stage. They were such a joy to watch and I've never gotten so much positive energy watching other companies. Today's Bolshoi looks so pale in comparison, as if it has lost its soul. Where did it all go wrong?

You’re absolutely not alone in thinking this. My personal opinion is that there will always be ups and downs. And when we look back, we usually only see the “highlights” — not what everyday life was actually like.

There’s also a sort of cultural homogenization happening, and not just in the ballet world. In the past, there was a clear division between styles and methodologies, which is now beginning to blur. It’s no longer so easy to recognize which style a dancer was trained in. The method is still somewhat distinguishable, but the style much less so. I’m not sure what’s causing this. Perhaps academies are losing their monopolies and tight grip — both in good ways and bad ways. It used to be obvious where a student trained, and careful eyes could detect the influence of their pedagogues in the dancer’s movements. To stereotype: Bolshoi was bold, Mariinsky was lyrical, right? But today those lines are blurred, and I fear that in this neutral zone, there’s less room to shine. Everything feels "fine" — without infamy, but also without high praise… beige… standard.

I have a theory — based on very little, so perhaps better to call it a hypothesis — that companies are touring less and that there’s less competition between companies. Maybe because the average level has improved, and audiences have shrunk, so there's less need for companies to diversify and create distinctive “wow” factors. Imagine when the Bolshoi toured the States years ago: there was a cultural push to make the Bolshoi even more Bolshoi. Now… not so much.

Another small hypothesis I have is related to social media. There’s so much admiration for “low legs” and “artistry” when people watch vintage ballet videos. But if Maria Khoreva posted a video tomorrow dancing exactly like that, she'd likely be torn apart. Along these lines, I think dancers — especially in Russia, where there doesn't seem to be a strict “NO CELL PHONES IN THE THEATRE” policy — know their performances will end up online. So why would they risk being emotional, bold, or raw, only to face public scrutiny? Audiences used to be limited to those in the theatre, followed by reviews. But a journalist’s review is different from random people like me watching a bootleg video and saying, “Hmm, her fifths aren’t tight,” then leaving a hate comment. (I would never leave a hate comment, but people online, especially anonymous ones, can be cruel.) Take Maria Koshkaryova, for example. If she had danced in the ’90s, wouldn't we be praising her today for her energy, passion, and bravado? Instead, now, many say she sacrifices technique for effect. I’m not even talking about artistry — she’s still so young, and artistry is developed over time — but her technique should be at its peak. And yet, that's what I like about her AND ALSO, what I don't like about her. She doesn’t seem afraid; she has some of that old-school bravura. Sometimes it works brilliantly (and how great it is when it does!), sometimes less so. But the difference is, in the past, only the best performances were filmed and shared. Now, everything is available for everyone to dissect. Also consider that many artists share these videos on their instagrams, and that it's actually a way for them to make some more money/gain audience, so it would make sense they act risk averse to avoid negativity.

But this could be completely untrue, perhaps the artists are being told to tone everything down, perhaps they are encouraged to focus on other things rather than the spirit dancers were told to show years past. Priorities shift. Perhaps the dancers themselves prefer to show of their technical abilities (which they've worked on since childhood) rather than being concerned with their energy.

Another significant demographic shift has taken place, even in Russia, regarding the audience attending ballet performances. Historically, especially during the Soviet era, attending the ballet was far more affordable and accessible to the general population. It wasn’t just a luxury or elite pastime—it was an integral part of Russian cultural life, something people from all walks of life could engage with regularly. However, in recent years, ticket prices have risen considerably, even in russia, making ballet attendance less accessible to the average person and more aligned with wealthier, upper-class audiences. This economic shift naturally affects not only who is sitting in the audience but also what kind of performance is favored and appreciated. A more affluent, elite audience may lean toward valuing refinement, precision, and polished technical execution—qualities that align with broader cultural trends of minimalism, discretion, and so-called “quiet luxury.” In this context, a dancer’s technical perfection might be prized more highly than raw energy, spontaneity, or bold artistic choices. The atmosphere becomes more about flawless delivery and tasteful restraint, rather than the emotional engagement and vivacity that a more diverse, passionate, or “aficionado” audience might prefer. Interestingly, and sadly, this shift isn’t limited to the ballet world. It reflects a wider societal pattern seen in many “high-end” industries—whether it’s food, fashion, interior design, or hospitality. Across the board, luxury has moved away from overt opulence and embraced minimalism, subtlety, and a focus on quality over excess. While this can bring undeniable elegance and excellence, it often draws criticism for lacking vibrancy, warmth, or personality—everything being polished but perhaps a little too gray, too neutral, too safe. So, when applied back to ballet, the concern is that the art form may also be adapting itself to meet the tastes of this narrower, wealthier demographic. That might mean fewer risks, fewer bold stylistic choices, and a stronger emphasis on precision over passion, potentially leading to a more homogenized, less emotionally charged experience.

Beyond this, many other factors change: leadership, répétiteurs, pedagogues, teachers, teaching methods, budgets, corruption, culture, priorities… and simply the dynamic of the ensemble and how they work together. One would really need to deep dive into the cultural context then and now to form a complete opinion.

A lot of people say that today, there's too much focus on technique and not enough on artistry, and perhaps that's true. Russians, after all, are leaders in épaulement, but that alone is not enough to guarantee the level of energy you describe.

I’ve also heard people say that being a ballet dancer in Russia (or anywhere else) isn’t as prestigious as it used to be.

I’ve heard that in the past, dancers often performed the same roles repeatedly, being cast in parts they excelled at. Now, there’s more of a “try everything” mentality. While I’m sure this is more stimulating for the artist, it’s hard to be excellent at everything, and such a diverse repertoire can be physically draining. So who knows where the balance lies, or if this is even true. For example, some time ago, Renata Shakirova was removed from dancing Odette/Odile, and many people were upset, even finding the decision offensive. But this situation highlights a deeper, ongoing question in ballet: should every dancer be expected to perform every role, regardless of whether they naturally fit the aesthetic ideal associated with it? Should the traditional aesthetic canon — built over centuries — be challenged, adapted, or preserved as is? In Shakirova’s case, it raises another layer of complexity: was she personally happy dancing Odette/Odile, or did she feel uncomfortable because of external criticism suggesting she didn’t embody the archetype? How much weight should be given to the artist’s own feelings about a role, versus the opinions of audiences or critics? This brings us to a broader dilemma: in ballet, whose desires take precedence? The artist’s, the audience’s, or the artistic director’s? After all, the artist’s performance is a form of art, but it is also a product being sold to an audience who pays to see it. Should the audience only experience what the director believes is “best” for the company’s vision, even if that means sidelining a dancer’s individuality or wishes? Conversely, should an artist’s personal aspirations be prioritized, even if they don’t align with traditional interpretations or audience expectations?

I’ve also heard that the way Russia selects ballet students has changed. Ballet was once a path for girls from humble backgrounds to rise through society. Now, since getting into academies requires so much preparation — often private and expensive — it has shifted more toward being an elite pursuit, even though the academies are still public.

I’ve heard people say that today dancers are over-rehearsed, and others say they’re under-rehearsed.

I’ve heard that thanks to better physiotherapy and medicine, dancers are more overworked, because they can "handle it," whereas before, even small injuries gave them time to rest. It would be interesting to see how much the workload and pay has changed over the years.

I’ve heard people say that orchestras and dancers are less musical now. I’ve heard tempos are slower. I’ve also heard people say the environment is less toxic and abusive, though of course that's case by case, and each shift in approach comes with positives and negatives. Some even say it’s more toxic now. So who knows?

Filming plays a huge role too — the angle, the quality, the lighting, even the springiness of the floor, or how pointe shoes are made. Personally, when I watch old footage, what surprises me most is how dead the shoes look. Maybe there’s something to that.

But honestly, there’s so much more. The truth is, I don’t know. I tend to agree with you — when we look back, everything seems better. But maybe that’s just me glamorizing the past.

[theswarmsarchives]

OLIVER (DIALTOWN) ANGST!

[tw: transphobia and twisted views of gender and presentation because of it!]

Oliver flopped back onto his bed, a heavy groan leaving his speaker as his tail thrashed about frantically. The once enjoyable sound of the bells on the end of the beige cord only served to further his pissed off mood. He yanked the bells off, the ringing from them growing louder as he tossed them across his room at the door. His head felt heavy, loud and foggy all at once. It was like all of his thoughts were clambering for his attention. All of them yelling “Hey! Hey, Oliver! Look at me!” Getting told to go home by his own adopted father hadn’t helped. To be fair, Dickens could tell something was up with him and he knew damn well that Oliver couldn’t have made it through the rest of his shift without blowing up on at least one customer. Too bad he hadn’t got there in time to stop that from happening.

“Uh, hello, ma’am-” He could clearly remember that was exactly what that customer said. He also remembered scraping his fingernails into the counter as he tried to politely correct them.

“Yeahhh, it’s sir, actually. Y’know, he/him n’ all that stuff.” The tilt of their head said everything.

“Uh-huh.. But, you aren’t, you’re a girl.” The customer waving their hands around in his face was probably what set him off. That and the blatant transphobia obviously.

“Listen, I’ve had a long day, can you just tell me what movie you want to see?” His tail lashed dangerously behind him, just out of sight of the person he was talking to. He honestly kinda wished they had seen it.

“Ma’am, you don’t have to call yourself a boy to fit in.. I know times are different nowadays, but a pretty lady like yourself doesn’t have to change.” He vividly remembered the customer taking one of his hands into their own and cupping it like they were doing him a favor with their words. It took all of his will power to not punch them.

“Phone lord.. What aren’t you getting!? I’m not a girl! I’m a guy, a male, a dude! I’ve worked hard to be one and I’d really prefer it if you didn’t play my identity off as a joke or a trend!” He’d pulled his hand back so fast, tears pooling in his sensor, but he refused to let them fall. Transphobia be damned, he wouldn’t cry in front of them.

Then Mr. Dickens stepped in, told him to go home and dealt with that bitch of a customer. Recalling it only brought the tears back to his sensor, which he quickly wiped away. If he was going to be seen as a man, he wasn’t going to cry like a girl. He hated that’s how he had to see things now. How he had to purposely avoid things seen as even remotely feminine to avoid being called a woman. He curled in on himself, he really wished he could take out his stuffed animals from underneath his bed. Curl up with one of those instead but they’re just another “girly” thing he needed to cut out. Everything that would calm him down wasn’t masculine enough for him to want to do. Painting his nails, coloring in one of those adult coloring books, all of it was too feminine.

He eventually choked back the sobs that were threatening to leave his throat, easing into a shallow sleep. His chest heaved as he slept, like he couldn’t exactly breathe properly.

[littlechick1]

Eremika Rekindled Heart AU : Me, You & Swiss

Happy Reading

---

Swiss, 202x

The windy of Swiss Alps swept through the windows of the restored 19th-century music conservatory, now transformed into a prestigious orphanage and piano academy—an institution once overseen by Mikasa’s late grandmother. It was quiet, peaceful—the kind of peace she had been craving ever since she walked away from the tangled mess that was her engagement with Eren Yeager. She had come here for healing, for purpose to honor her late grandmother’s legacy by contributing to the pianist education foundation for orphans

Dressed in a sleek beige coat, her long raven hair tied back loosely, Mikasa moved briskly through the marble hallway. Her steps echoed like a quiet melody as she met with Darius Zackly, the ever-smiling deputy director. They stood near the grand recital hall, where the sounds of piano scales filtered faintly through the doors.

"How are the final preparations for the charity showcase going, Mr. Zackly?" Mikasa asked, eyes alert with purpose.

"Everything’s running smoothly under your instructions, the pianists are ready, the press, the investors will be attending," he said with a nod. "In fact, we have some excellent news, a new investor has joined our cause."

Mikasa blinked, her brows furrowing. "A new investor? Why wasn’t I informed about this earlier?"

Zackly nodded, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Yes. A very generous one, in fact. He specifically requested to meet with you in person, Miss Ackerman.”

Before Mikasa could ask more, the front doors opened. Golden light poured into the room like a spotlight from the heavens, and there he was.

Eren Yeager.

Handsome, poised, dangerous as ever. The sunlight flared behind him like he had been cast from Olympus itself, he walked with effortless confidence, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his tailored coat and a small smirk on his lips. Mikasa’s heart dropped to her stomach. Her eyes widened.

Mikasa’s breath caught. Why… why was he here? Her blood ran cold. No. No way. He… he can’t be that investor.

Eren approached with that infuriatingly smug smile that made her want to scream and sob at the same time. Darius, completely oblivious to the silent war raging in Mikasa’s mind, leaned toward her with a teasing grin.

Zackly chuckled. “You’re still so shy, Miss Ackerman. I figured you’d enjoy the surprise. After all, it’s not every day a fiancé makes such a grand entrance.”

“F-fiancé?” Mikasa stuttered.

Eren leaned down and casually kissed Mikasa on the cheek. “Hey, sweetheart".

Mikasa froze like a statue. Her entire being screamed to move, to slap him, to run—but her stupid heart fluttered. God, she hated herself. Mikasa wanted to scream. She hadn’t seen Eren in months—not since she walked away from him in her wedding dress with tears staining her cheeks. She had told herself over and over again that it was over. That he had made his choice—Pieck. That their engagement was a painful joke, yet… here he was, standing before her like the past hadn’t destroyed her.

Zackly beamed. “Welcome to Switzerland, Mr. Yeager. I hope the flight wasn’t too tiring. I believe you and Miss Ackerman have quite the reunion.”

Eren turned to Darius with a polite tone, suddenly all businessman. "I’m honored to support this foundation. Mikasa’s work here is nothing short of incredible."

Darius beamed. "She’s the heart of this event, really. You’re lucky to have her."

"Yeah," Eren said, glancing sideways at her, something unreadable in his gaze. "I know."

Mikasa wanted to disappear.

Once Darius excused himself to attend to a staff member, leaving her and Eren alone, the air shifted

"Okay, what game is this?" Mikasa hissed the moment they were alone. "If this is some charade for your image or whatever—drop it. I’m tired, Eren. We ended things."

Eren raised an eyebrow. "Still sulking, I see."

The audacity. Her jaw dropped slightly. "Sulking? We are not engaged anymore! I told my Dad. I walked away because you—"

"Really?" Eren cut her off, smirking. "Strange... because your Dad didn’t tell me that. In fact—" he leaned closer, eyes glinting, "our wedding is next week."

“WHAT?! A-are you lost your mind?”

Mikasa’s phone rang. She grabbed it like it was a lifeline. "Hello?"

"Mikasa!" It was Sasha. "Didn’t you say you broke up with Eren?! Why are all the news channels saying you’re getting married next week?"

Mikasa blinked. "What?! What are you talking about?"

"Literally everywhere! It’s the headline, Mikasa—front page of magazines, social media, TV! The wedding of the century, they’re calling it!"

She turned her head slowly toward Eren, who simply looked at her with that maddening smirk—the one she hadn’t seen in years.

Eren shrugged again, then leaned slightly toward her. “Just making sure the world remembers what you seem so desperate to forget.”

Mikasa’s heart thundered in her chest. she clutched her phone, her heart thundering beneath her ribs. Her voice came out barely above a whisper.

“I hate you.”

Eren’s smile widened—just slightly—but his eyes, they flickered with something else. Something softer.

“Good,” he said. “That means you still feel something.”

Mikasa could only stare at him, stunned, torn, and trembling.

---

The heavy oak door to Mikasa’s office slammed shut behind them.

Eren leaned against it casually, arms crossed, like he hadn't just hijacked her life. Mikasa paced across the polished wooden floors, her heels tapping a furious rhythm. Her cheeks were flushed, her heart an erratic drum in her chest. She couldn’t believe this. Couldn’t believe him.

“You’ve lost your mind,” she snapped, whipping around to face him. “Do you think this is some kind of game?”

Eren’s expression didn’t change. Calm, unreadable. But his eyes followed her, like a hawk tracking its prey.

“I’m not playing, Mikasa.”

“Then what do you call this?” she gestured toward the hallway, where moments ago Darius had beamed at their supposed wedding announcement. “You forged headlines. You let the entire world believe we’re getting married next week!”

“Correction,” Eren said coolly, stepping forward. “I never said we weren’t.”

Mikasa stared at him, stunned into silence.

“I told you I was done,” she said, quieter this time. “I let you go. I freed you.”

Eren stopped only inches from her, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And you think I wanted that?”

“You chose her,” Mikasa breathed. “You always looked at Pieck like—like she was the one.”

“That’s what you saw,” he replied. “Because that was easier for you to believe than the truth.”

Mikasa blinked, confused.

“Your sister and I finished the thing we had years ago,” he said.

Her breath hitched.

Eren’s voice was raw now, laced with years of buried hurt. “You think I didn’t feel anything when you walked away in that dress? You think I didn’t die a little when you left with tears on your cheeks and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop you?”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” she cried, tears threatening again.

“Because I thought I didn’t deserve you,” he admitted. “I thought I’d ruined everything beyond repair.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

“And now?” she whispered.

“Now?” Eren stepped even closer, one hand brushing against hers, hesitant but hungry. “Now I know I’ll never forgive myself if I let you walk away again.”

Mikasa looked up at him, eyes glistening. Her hands were clenched at her sides. Her mouth quivered.

“You don’t get to just show up and say all the right things,” she said. “You don’t get to crash into my life and think I’ll fall into your arms.”

“I know,” he said. “I came here expecting a fight.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Then you’re going to get one.”

He smiled softly. “Good. I’ll fight for you. Every day. As long as it takes.”

Mikasa looked away, chest tight. Her fingers brushed the piano behind her, grounding herself.

“You hurt me, Eren.”

“I know.”

“I’m still angry.”

“You should be.”

“I don’t forgive you.”

“I’ll earn it,” he said. “If you let me try.”

Silence again. The kind that crackled with everything unsaid.

She finally met his eyes, a storm swirling in hers.

“I’m not ready to love you again.”

“I can wait,” he said. “But I’ll be right here, loving you anyway.”

She hated this man. 

God help her. She hated how much she didn’t.

---

[ashton-sano]

Food Wars! Shokugeki no Souma in: Going Grocery Shopping

(Char. Involved: Sōma Yukihira, Akira Hayama, Takumi Aldini, Eishi Tsukasa)

(Thank you so much for 40 notes! Here's another one for you guys. Sorry i couldn't do a short story for these but take some headcanons my dears.)

Sōma Yukihira

-Usually you cant take him anywhere because he causes an issue in which you have to be asked to leave (much to your despair)

-The grocery store is probably the only place you two can go without much problems

-May or may not be sneaking ingredients that werent on your list into the shopping cart

"Oh? What do you mean there werent any Rice crackers and Salmon in the cart before? I'm certain you put them in."

-Will asked to be pushed in the cart around the aisles

-If he ever gets lost, find him in the Frozen Dessert aisle, he loves it there for whatever reason

"C'mon Babeeee. Just one more tub of Ice cream.....Yes i know we already have 4 tubs already. Your point is?"

-However if you were shopping for a food war/cooking practice, he'd be very helpful

-Recommending ingredients, telling you the best flavor combinations from his experience, and slipping in a few personal items

-Overall, hes a massive child in the store so please hold his hand so he doesn't run off

Akira Hayama

-A rollercoaster of emotions

-Its like stepping into a whole other world when you food shop with him

-He tends to find the items in the store "Sub par" and "Second rate" but always picks the best ones with his well trained sense of smell

"Why bother buying from these cheap stores when i have fresh spices and blends at home?"

-He'd swear he hates shopping with you but secretly enjoys the time he spends with you (Good luck getting him to admit it though)

-May subtly tease and feign ignorance when you need help reaching something at a higher shelf

"Hm? Cant you reach it on your own from down there?” -pause- “Whats that look on your face for?"

-On rare occasions, he'll hold your hand when you go together

-He swears its just so that you dont get lost but you know better

-To be honest, its just less of a arduous task if you just go by yourself

Takumi Aldini

-One of the most normal ones on this list if we're being honest

-Its just a calming and sweet time through and through

-He's usually the one to ask you to go with him but will flush when you ask why

"Dont be silly, I just thought you'd want to pick up some things for your upcoming food war, thats all."

-Will never leave you on your own in the store since he loves spending time with you more than he'll admit (his face gives him away)

-He'll push the cart and carry your bags like a gentleman

"How could you even say that, Il mio amore? As if id let you carry them when you already paid."

-An absolute god at picking vegatables for some reason

-His background in the restaurant business definitely plays a part

-In the top 3 (And not three) guys you should always bring when you're shopping

(New!) Eishi Tsukasa

-A walking beige flag when it comes to shopping

-You either love it or want to rip every single hair from your body with tweezers

-Hes not loud or causing a disturbance but hes micro managing and nitpickjng everything

"Thats the one you chose?" "Uhp, I wouldnt go with that one."

-Its better to just let him do everything because he'll make you feel stupid no matter what move you make (even though thats not his intention)

-He means well but lets be honest, you just arent on the same page very often in terms of shopping

"I apologize dear but you know im particular. I dont mean to hover."

-If you have no filter and tell him to cut it out, he'll immeidiently draw back into himself at your blantant rejection

-His more awkward side will show and he will mumble endless strings of apologies

-Just be ready to put up with this weird snowflake

[airedelalmena]

God I loathe men's summer clothing.

I wouldn't feel comfortable wearing women's, either, or like the way it looked on me, so that's not an option. But it's so beautiful. Always going to be bitter about this lol. All those hats and fun sundresses and different cuts of tops and shorts and one-pieces... The light "wraps"/cardigan sorts of things. Even the most boyish women's summer wear gives Katharine Hepburn elegance IMO.

But men's summer "fashion" just encapsulates everything that sucks about men's clothing, all in one. There's almost no way to make it look good. Shorts are ass. Most t shirts thrown on top of it just feel little-boyish. Tank tops feel like underwear, which they used to be and IMO still are. (Hell, t shirts ALSO used to be underwear, worn under a long sleeved shirt, which is why it was subversive when people started to wear them as anything else.) Last option is better than anything else though. Loose button down t shirt sort of things dress it up.

I would not wear it with a shoe I would not wear it howdy-do I would not wear it up or down I would not wear it in the town

I would not wear it anywhere I would just pull out my own hair

I would not wear it it's a sham I would not wear it Sam I am!!

(takes a bow) (vomits on own shoes)

Going to have to dig for ideas of the way it was done pre idk...pre-1940s? and in different countries pre-westernization (that had hot weather and accommodated for it, so, not long leg coverings)

Some moderate version of hippie-ass "harem pants" (not huge MC Hammer pants in other words), and anything that's in non-dressy, non-crisp linen looking fabrics, will probably work. But then you risk looking like a Yoga Fixes Everything sort of prick lol. I guess relying on the personality not being that way and people picking up on that.

All advice to make it more fashionable just suggests you dress like Richie Rich on a fucking yacht.

Then there's not damaging your skin. Which I care about for health, and yeah to be vain, anti aging. Sun hats (or worse, bucket hats or absolute worst of all, ballcaps) make you look like a tourist in your own city. Also another thing that women benefit so greatly from...summer hats for women look AMAZING, especially pairing it with a sundress. Still trying to figure out a masculine option...I've seen panama hats suggested, though that feels tourist ish still.

HATE the preppiness of white clothing. Khaki/beige even worse. And again the tourist vibes of putting it all together. Black is the hottest, temperature-wise, and having to part with it for summer... this_kills_the_man.jpg. Wearing a version in black really destroys any ultra preppy vibes when it comes to summer wear...I basically look like the Addams Family weirdo that I am with that. I break the rule whenever it's not literally just too sweltering.

I did it the summer before last and will probably do it again...those scarf-weight full-length beach-wrap sort of things that are basically kimono-like and can almost pass as a dress or semi-formalwear. I was closeted for that, but honestly I'll probably do it again in a genderfuck way and say to hell with it and what it does to passability. Idc. I like the look too much. But it's only possible sometimes to handle the dysphoria of actually physically wearing it. Even just in my own room. So. Balance.

Still always going to miss big floppy sun hats...and the way that they don't read as tourist immediately

Eventually going to just do a day or two here and there of full on womenswear, drag, for a summer look, i imagine. but concealing certain things would not be so easy by then so who knows.

Idk. I've sucked it up and dealt with hating the way that I look every summer for easily the past ten years. Function over happiness. That plus surviving my health conditions during the heat. I am so ready to do something more than just look and feel barely-tolerable this year. It's not even funny.