#and give you many riches and [insert thing that you like]

[cable-salamdr]

The first thing anyone needs to do when The Wild Robot releases is make an In This Shirt edit I think that would quite literally destroy me thank you

[snail-day]

Anxiety

Inspired by Doechii’s song - I just love the vibe.

Yandere! Insert x Reader

TW: Yandere Behaviors, Online Predation/Stalking, Manipulation, Drugging, Noncon/Dubcon, Somnophilia, Horror themes.

WC: 2.2k

Omegle is one of those sleepover staples - the kind of reckless, giddy indulgence that thrives on a mix of boredom and cheap rosé. A laptop perched on someone’s lap, the glow of the screen painting your faces in artificial blue light. The click of the Next button, over and over, sifting through a sea of faceless strangers, dodging the inevitable perverts with their hands sloppily buried beneath their waists.

Mindless fun. Harmless, even.

Until the screen loads him.

A figure bathed in dim, crimson light. A red room. The air around him is thick, suffocating, pressing against the grainy pixels. You can’t quite make out his face - just the vague shape of a man, shadowed and distant, yet present in a way that sets your teeth on edge.

Then he speaks.

"What are you lovely ladies up to tonight?" a voice that is rich in velvet, curling through the speakers like slow-burning embers. It’s the kind of voice that doesn’t just speak but pulls, ensnaring something primal deep in your chest, forming heat on your cheeks. It drags down your spine, coiling in the pit of your stomach. Your friends giggle, but a strange unease presses into your ribs, spreading like ink. Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s the heat creeping up your neck because, even through the distortion, you can almost see the sharp angles of a handsome face.

"Ever hear of the dark web?"

Your body tenses instinctively. Of course, you have. Who hasn’t? The dark web is whispered about in internet horror stories, in late-night Reddit threads meant to keep thrill-seekers up at night. It isn’t illegal to access, only the things that happen there are. But the way he says it, a slow purr, a drawl of sorts as if you're all children listening to horror stories at the camp fire and he's trying to see who squirms first. The conversation shifts, turning into something colder, heavier. He begins to explain what a red room really is. A place where live torture is broadcasted. A digital coliseum where faceless crowds pay to watch strangers suffer. A world where death is nothing more than entertainment, where pain is a currency traded in cryptocurrency.

His voice, still smooth as honey, lingers too long on every word- Indulgent. Like he’s savoring the explanation, rolling it over his tongue like a delicacy. Your skin prickles with something beyond fear,

"I think we should skip this one," you murmur to your friends, barely moving your lips. "He’s giving me the creeps."

They laugh. Call you paranoid. Say it’s just a spooky story. That it's hard to get a hot guy like him on Omegle. Even he agrees, though there’s something almost teasing in the way he exhales, voice lowering into something impossibly gentle.

"You scared, little dove?"

The nickname sinks into you, far too intimate for your anxiety.

Hours pass.

Somewhere in the blur of the night, one of your friends - drunk on wine and adrenaline - got his number. Sent him a text.

No response.

You assume that’s the end of it.

The party dwindles, sleep creeping in, and you sink into the stiff, lumpy embrace of your friend’s broken couch. A stuffy apartment, filled with the residual warmth of too many bodies and the distant hum of the fridge kicking on in the kitchen. Your eyelids droop, but the unease remains, needling at the edges of your consciousness.

He had a red room.

But morning comes, and the sun filters in through the blinds, scattering gold across the floor. You wake up. Your heart is still beating. Your skin is still unbroken. You suppose it really was just a spooky story. You suppose he really was harmless.

Keeping your head down as you walk home, the rain slicking your hair to your forehead, turning the pavement into a mirrored sheen of distorted streetlights. Each step feels heavier than the last, a slow, dragging weight pressing against your spine. Maybe it’s the hangover. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation. Or maybe it’s the echo of his voice still curling in the back of your mind, like smoke refusing to dissipate.

"You scared, little dove?"

The words slither through you, unbidden, curling around your ribs like thorny vines, pricking at your skin. You shake your head, as if you can physically dislodge the thought. It’s nothing. A stranger in a red-lit room. A stupid story. A glitchy connection that made him seem more ominous than he actually was. Still, you walk faster. By the time you reach your apartment, your clothes are damp, the cold pressing into your skin like a second layer. The key trembles slightly in your grasp as you shove it into the lock, twisting it with more force than necessary. The door swings open, the darkness of your empty space yawning before you. Safe.

Yet, as you step inside, a whisper of paranoia clings to you. The air is thick, too still, the silence too absolute. You don’t remember leaving the lights off, but the place is shrouded in shadow, the only illumination coming from the streetlamp outside, its glow filtering through your curtains.

You close the door. Lock it. Once. Twice.

The anxiety should ease, but it doesn’t. Must be the hangover. The questionable Chinese food. Perhaps you're just weak to horror.

You're fine.

With a breath, you move to your bedroom, peeling off your damp clothes and tossing them into the hamper. The exhaustion pulls at you, yet when you collapse onto the mattress, your body refuses to relax.

Your laptop sits on your desk, the black screen reflecting the dim light. The cursor blinks expectantly when you open it, your fingers hesitating over the keys.

Don’t be stupid. You should sleep. You should forget.

But your fingers move before you can stop them, typing Red Room Dark Web into the search bar. The results are predictable - articles debunking myths, forums filled with speculation, cautionary tales of users claiming they’ve seen one, claiming they’ve barely escaped.

A chill ripples down your spine. You shouldn’t be doing this. Yet, before you can convince yourself to stop, a notification pops up. A single, unread message.

Unknown: Still feeling ignorant, little dove?

Your pulse hammers, an erratic rhythm against your ribs. It’s a coincidence. It has to be. You must've just picked up a virus. Your friend works in tech, she must be messing with you.

You force a laugh, but it sounds weak, brittle.

Then another message.

Unknown: You looked so lovely in the rain. Wish you hadn’t walked home alone.

Ice floods your veins. Your head whips toward the window. The pale curtains are drawn, but you swear you feel something - a presence lingering just beyond the glass. Watching. Waiting. The rain drums against the glass in relentless, hollow beats.

That's silly, you're on the third floor. You're safe.

You do the only thing you can think of to cure your anxiety. Clear the browsing data, clear the weird messages, and turn off your laptop. And pray that ignorance truly is bliss.

Yet, after that night, your dreams shift - warped, sultry, laced with an undercurrent of something dark, something forbidden. They are not just lewd; they are visceral, consuming. Heat coils deep in your core, an unbearable, molten ache spreading through your limbs like liquid fire. A ghostly touch slithers over your thighs, fingers tracing invisible patterns against your fevered skin.

You dream of hands - strong, commanding, fingers digging into your flesh with an intimacy that feels earned. A hand muffles your moans, palm pressing against your parted lips, smothering the sweet, desperate sounds escaping your throat. The other hand - oh, the other - grips your hips, forcing you to take more, to stretch around something thick, something impossibly deep. The pleasure is suffocating, overwhelming, drowning you in wave after wave of raw sensation.

A voice - low, velvety, dripping with amusement - whispers against your ear.

"You take me so well, little dove."

The words reverberate through your bones, sinful and possessive, curling like smoke in your mind. Your body trembles, teeters on the edge. You wake with a sharp inhale, your sheets damp, your skin flushed and dewy with sweat. Your pulse flutters wildly beneath your ribs, your thighs still trembling with phantom pleasure. Yet, there is no trace of your dream lover, no proof of his touch - except for the unmistakable wet patch on your panties, sticky with your own arousal.

Your stomach clenches. This isn’t normal. You must be ovulating. That’s all it is. Just a silly little rut, a needy, desperate craving clawing its way through your veins. Nothing more. And what do silly, desperate college girls do when their bodies betray them?

They fix it.

So, with a flick of your thumb, you download Tinder.

The screen glows in the dimness of your bedroom as you scroll, eyes scanning profiles with detached efficiency. A few swipes. A few teasing messages. You’re not looking for love - just release. Just someone to fuck this unbearable heat out of your system.

And then - you find him. A man sculpted by the gods, as if chiseled from marble itself. Sharp jawline, piercing eye, a mature man. A man who promises a good fuck. That smirk of his dripping with sin, with promises of pleasure so deliciously depraved it makes something low in your stomach tighten. His confidence oozes through the screen, his words smooth, teasing, effortlessly seductive.

Perfect.

This should be easy. But as your gaze lingers on his face, on the sharpness of his cheekbones, the familiar curve of his lips - unease prickles at the base of your spine.

Why does he feel… familiar?

A strange déjà vu claws at the edges of your mind, elusive and taunting. No. You’re just anxious.

That man was probably dozens of miles away. You’re just horny - needy and restless with an ache you don’t care to analyze too deeply. Put on your big girl panties, send your location to a friend, and go get this insatiable heat fucked out of your system.

So you do.

His apartment is pristine, a blend of modern luxury and something deeper - something curated. The air is rich with the scent of leather and faint spice, like cologne that lingers long after someone leaves a room. Dim lighting, warm, casting golden shadows over his immaculate furniture.

He’s charming. Handsome. A man sculpted from sin, his presence intoxicating before he even lays a hand on you.

"Wine?" His voice is a soft purr, rolling over you like smoke. "I have this vintage red from my travels."

There’s a teasing lilt beneath the words, something indulgent, like he’s savoring this moment as much as he plans to savor you. Your legs press together as you sink onto his couch, fingers toying with the hem of your dress. A strange warmth spreads through your chest, an anxious energy you can’t quite place.

"You're a bit older than your profile," you murmur, watching his muscles as he pulls the cork from the bottle with an effortless twist. "You said you were twenty-one."

He hums, low and thoughtful.

"Just a few years older. That’s not a problem, is it?" He tilts the bottle, the wine slipping into a delicate crystal glass - deep red, almost black under the dim light. "Now, wine or no?"

Then, a chuckle - low, velvety, teasing.

"You’ll be tasting it on my lips anyway, little dove. I just thought it’d help calm your nerves."

Little dove.

The words curl around your throat like an unseen hand, a phantom touch pressing into your chest. Your fingers tighten slightly against your thigh, a cold sensation trickling down your spine despite the warmth of the room.

That name.

That exact name. Like an echo from another life, a thread connecting something unseen. It's just a coincidence. It's a common pet name. A common pet name older men use.

The glass is cool against your fingertips as you take it from him, willing the thought away, willing yourself to lean into the heat, the distraction. The first sip is unexpected - sickeningly sweet, cloying in a way vintage wine should never be. There’s a fizz on your tongue, fleeting but noticeable, dissolving into something warm that spreads slowly through your limbs.

It doesn’t matter.

Because the moment the glass leaves your lips, so do his.

His mouth claims yours - slow, intoxicating, coaxing rather than taking. His lips part against yours, the taste of wine mixing with something deeper, something familiar. Your hands find his hair, fingers tangling into the soft strands as he pulls you against him, large hands sliding down your spine, gripping, exploring as he pulls you onto his lap, a hardness pressing against your heat.

A breathless moan escapes you as he tugs- gently at first, then firmer - tilting your head, exposing your throat to him. His lips trace along your jaw, down your neck, a slow, teasing descent that sends shivers skittering through your body.

The room feels warmer.

No, hotter. The air thickens, viscous and cloying, pressing into your skin, sinking beneath it. Your mind wavers, distant like a detuned radio caught between stations, static buzzing at the edges of your thoughts.

A soft click.

The atmosphere shifts.

The golden glow of the room vanishes, swallowed whole, replaced by something darker.

A deep, pulsing red.

The breath stutters in your throat, as his tongue claims the struggled sound escaping your lips.

Red room.

Your body stiffens, muscles coiling tight, but the warmth laced through your limbs makes it slow, sluggish, like fighting through water. A slow dread bleeds into the haze of pleasure, creeping, insidious. Your heart pounds against your ribs, but your limbs feel heavy. His lips ghost over your ear, voice dipping into something silkier.

"We’re going to have a lot more fun, little dove."

A tremor ripples through you, a grotesque tangle of heat and dread, sinking deep. His grip tightens around your waist, his fingers sinking in deeper, bruising to the skin.

"Just couldn’t get you out of my mind, little dove. And now that I have you..." His breath is warm against your skin, the words a whisper, a promise, a noose tightening around your fate. "I don’t plan to let you go."

Characters: JJK: Geto, Toji, Sukuna, Kenjaku AOT: Zeke, Eren, Kenny HxH: Chrollo, Hisoka, Illumi

[venusincleo]

𝒱𝑒𝓃𝓊𝓈.

 𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚅𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚜♀︎🥀

Warnings: MDNI • Explicit • Terry Richmond x Black!OC [Self Insert], completely self-indulgent, fluff, flirting, teasing and more...

Summary: After a long, draining week, Terry and Cleopatra spoil each other for Valentine's Day the only way they know how; love languages and love making.

Word Count: 3.6k ❣ 

A/N: Hey y'all! 𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚅𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚜 will be the name of my oneshots (or two shots 🤭) as a collection, so I thought it was only right to be inspired by thee Venus Day itself, Valentine's Day. A couple days late, but always on time 🌚 I hope you enjoy this one 🫶🏾❤️

✧ Part Two ✧

Full Playlist for  𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚅𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚜.

• • •

𝑰𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. The calling, the arrangements, the corrections, the decorations, the romance. He had waited a long time to express such passion. To let the lucky woman he would once call his own be showered in his riches, given all that he had; time, love, affection, attention, money and more.

There wasn’t a doubt in Terry’s mind that Cleopatra was a woman of many facets. She loved intellect in a man and expected that he’d be able to carry a conversation, that he was creatively inclined in some way and that his morals were right. And of course, those were things she brought to the table as well.

She didn’t let any of her standards or expectations fall to chance; she told it like it was, and expected those around her to tell her what it wasn’t. What they couldn’t give or, what they didn’t have the capacity to hold.

Terry seldom did any of that.

He allowed himself to be a sanctuary, a holding place for whenever she felt a way. And when he absolutely couldn’t hold it, he let her know swiftly, and gently. No room for any false interpretations.

This did wonders for their union. And so, when she told him that this week had been one of the most draining yet and it was just Thursday, he didn’t hesitate to make the holiday weekend something that she wouldn’t forget.

Valentine’s Day on a Venus Ruled Day. How fitting. And especially in a year emboldened by red.

A day so perfect, he called into her job and requested a vacation day for her ahead of time.

On February 14th, she woke up to a lovely text, and a voice message from her thoughtful man.

“Good morning baby-girl, and Happy Valentine’s Day. I know you’re probably tired, so don’t worry about going to work today, I called out for you. I know you don’t believe me, so gon’ head and check if you want.” His voice was laced with the hint of a chuckle, and she couldn’t help but to smile at the sound.

“In about 12 minutes, your favorite will be at your door. I want you to enjoy your breakfast, and then check your texts to see what other steps you need to take to find your gifts. I love you, baby. I’ll see you soon.”

Sure enough, she let the pad of her thumb lead her to her company’s payroll system and she logged in with FaceID to speed up her process. When she finally got to where she would input her numbers on her timesheet, all of the options were grayed out, and a message was displayed to her in highlighted letters.

Enjoy your day off!

In a near frantic swipe of her thumb to get back to their text thread she typed up a quick response.

good morning Papa, Happy Valentine’s Day!🥰♥️ thank you for calling out for me today 🥹 i appreciate you🫶🏾

After that, she practically jumped out of bed, on her way to her bathroom to get herself together. Once she freshened up, and was ready to begin her day, she made her way out of her room just in time. A quick knock made way for her footsteps to lead her to her front door and she opened the dense wood to see a brown paper bag that was folded along the top.

Cleo picked up the bag, and walked back into her apartment, stopping in her tracks as she realized the unmentioned gift that she completely missed, when she had walked to the door. On her dining table sat a large bouquet of fresh white roses, and a singular red rose in the middle. As she stepped closer to them, she bent down to take in a breath of their soft floral scent.

“Aww.” She cooed, bringing her hands to her chest to hold her heart. She hadn’t even seen the brink of what he’d planned and her eyes were watering by the second. With open hands to fan away the tears that threatened to fall, she took a deep breath, realizing just how much weight Terry had taken off her shoulders with getting her boss to give her the day off.

Working as the only receptionist in a doctor’s office, proved to be a more daunting task than she originally thought.

When she finally sat down to eat her food, she was gladly met with a still steaming plate. Spicy, turkey breakfast patties sat neatly beside some scrambled eggs, and southern breakfast potatoes. A smile rose to her face as she prepared to dig in, and she absentmindedly perused her social media feeds to entertain her while she ate.

Following the thorough nourishment that her most requested breakfast brought her, Cleopatra made sure to check her texts again to see what Terry needed her to do next.

i hope your food was good 🫶🏽  now, i need you to get dressed and go to this nail salon. they’ll tell you what i got for you♥️ Pretty Nails Salon 📍

Without a second thought, Cleo was speed walking to her bathroom, and quickly stripping off her clothes. Excitedly, she turned the knobs for cold and hot water to create her perfect mixture before she turned to grab her shower cap. As the hot water began to steam up her bathroom, Cleo turned on her favorite R&B mix and jumped in the shower hearing Chris Brown serenade her through her phone speaker.

Slowly, she lathered her wash cloth with her soap and took her time as she scrubbed along her limbs. As she moved to each body part, she thought of Terry and what he must be doing. She couldn’t imagine that he had to work today, with all that he seemed to have planned, so she hoped that he was taking as good care of himself as he was her.

Of course, she had her own gifts laid out for him, and she was looking forward to seeing the smile that would rise when he experienced them.

• • •

Terry closed his car door as he looked down at his phone, checking for Cleo’s response. It was going on an hour since he sent her second set of instructions, and he wanted to be sure that she was going through the steps as he planned. Within the next minute, those small three dots arose on his screen and then, her reply.

thank you so much for the breakfast and the flowers baby 🥹  i love you ♥️ omw to the nail salon right now! can’t wait to see you later😘

He smiled widely as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and reacted to her texts, sending a quick ‘me neither 🤞🏽’ before he locked his phone. Stuffing the device into his pocket, he stepped onto the curb in front of his barbershop and reached for the door. He was instantly met with low chatter and the slightly buzzing audio of the small television in the shop.

“We’ been waiting for you, T.” Terry’s barber Leno calls toward the door.

“Why y’all waiting for me?” His deep voice vibrates with laughter as it seems he was walking into the middle of something.

“Just listen.” His barber begins as he swings his chair in Terry’s direction for him to take a seat. “You went all out for ya’ lady for Valentine’s Day right?” Terry scoffs to himself and nods his head as he takes a seat in the barber chair and Leno walks over to his station to grab a cape for him.

“Hell yeah.”

“See?! That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” Leno replies, making a point to the other man in the conversation.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s different. From all the shit T be sayin’ his lady does for him, she’ on wife timing. My girl? Her ass don’t wanna do nothing. That shit gotta be reciprocated, for real.”

Leno smacks his teeth as he shakes his head, snapping the cape around Terry’s neck before he adjusts his tools in their sanitizing solution.

“D’you believe this shit, T?” The large man’s shoulders shake with laughter as he realizes he was made out to be the voice of reason, and then he shrugs, not completely sure of what to say.

“I don’t know man. It’s definitely about reciprocation but, if you feeling like she not doing enough for you, maybe y’all should have a conversation.” Leno sighed in slight defeat that Terry wasn’t completely taking his side, but deep down, he knew he was right.

“I guess. Y’all just not built like me… that’s why I had my lady for fifty’leven years.” Terry finds himself scoffing at the ebonics turn of phrase, and then his mind began to wander to the little black box that sat on his dresser at home. It was time.

• • •

“Thank you!” Cleo charmed as her satisfied smile beamed on her face. She handed the small asian woman a twenty dollar bill that she just happened to have in her wallet, and the fair skinned woman smiled just as big as her.

“You’re welcome! See you later.” Surely enough, the beautiful brown-skinned woman shuffled out of the salon with her fresh gel pedicure safe in her Uggs, and her glossy, almond french tips gleaming in the silver winter sun. Terry had paid for her eyebrows, manicure and pedicure in a package that came with a complimentary glass or two of wine. And by the way Cleo just couldn’t stop looking at her nails, it was safe to say that Terry was outdoing himself this V-Day.

As she got settled in her car, and right as she put on her seatbelt, her phone began to vibrate with a new call. When she reached her hand to the titanium and glass, she saw the name of the man she anticipated the most.

“Hi, baby!” Her voice nearly sang into the phone speaker and Terry instantly smiled.

“How you doing, baby-girl?” Cleo almost lost her train of thought at the sound of his dreamy tone.

“I’m great, thank you for my giftsssss. I’ve really been enjoying my day so far.” She widens her eyes just a little as she gives him a sweet, coy look through her screen.

“Without me?” He half-jokes, getting into his own car as he continues their conversation. Cleopatra tilts her head slightly as if to say ‘of course not’.

“No, Papa. With all the things you’ve taken care of, you’ve been with me all day.” A hint of a red fills his cheeks but he doesn’t even think to look away from her.

“Good, that’s what I like to hear.” He takes a beat to just admire her through his screen, and his eyes basically turn into hearts as he notices the crisp lines of her rounded arch brows, which really brought out her naturally long eyelashes.

“You so damn fine, baby. Show me your nails.” Like clockwork, Cleo raises her free hand in the camera and shows off her pretty yet classic french set. As unfiltered thoughts cloud Terry’s mind at the sight of the pink and white manicure, he holds his tongue while he mentally gets ahold of himself and then he licks over his lips.

“Can’t wait to see them on me tonight.” His voice deepens just slightly as he flirts with his woman, and she pulls her hand from in front of her camera to look at him fully.

“Mhmm, I know you can’t. I have a little surprise for you later, too.”

“Speaking of surprises, I heard somebody paid for my haircut and got a beard grooming add-on…” Cleo giggles and covers her face for a moment before leaning into the camera for a clearer view.

“Show meee…” She drags her words out as she peers on, watching as Terry centers himself in the screen and runs a hand over his head. His pouty, lion-esc face is relaxed as he gazes into the camera, and Cleo can feel her core begin to call for him.

“You look so good, Papa. Y’know I had to take care of my favorite seat.” She flirts, causing a wide smile to raise on Terry’s face yet again, showcasing his pearly whites.

“Aw, I got him blushing now!” His woman jokes, and all he can do is laugh at her.

“Alright, alright.” He begins to shake his head, rubbing his large hand over his neatly kept facial hair.

“We got a reservation to make so, gon’ home and see what else I got for you. I’ll see you in like,” He swipes down on his phone to show his lock screen and sees the time is 11:32 p.m. “Two hours. I love you, baby-doll.” Cleo pouts playfully at his endearing nickname for her, and bats her eyelashes softly.

“I love you too, baby. I’ll see you soon.”

The ride home was quick, filled with the constant thought of what the rest of the day may have to offer. She had no clue what this next gift could be, but she hoped it wasn’t too hard to find.

After a long shower, where she luxuriated through her cleansing, Cleopatra took her time moisturizing her skin, including some after shower oil atop her normal lotions. She sprayed her favorite perfume over the oil while it still glistened, and made sure to rub it into her skin to make her scent last longer. Mixing Dolcé by Dolcé with less expensive perfumes to add just a little touch of exclusivity to her favorite notes, she felt she smelled like heaven.

Purposeful steps led her to her walk in closet, where she moved hangers back and forth in search of the perfect dress to wear. I should’ve bought something new. She thought, as she pushed all of her clothes to one side, revealing a dress that she didn’t remember buying. Once she grabbed the hanger that it rested on within her closet, she held it out in front of her to try and jog her memory. Hm…this does not look familiar.

She continued to search the dress until the thick paper tag was all that she hadn’t looked at, and then she saw a note.

𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓈𝑒𝓍𝓎 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂 𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓁𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒. ♡

Scoffing lightly at her perfectly placed gift, she turned to the other side of her closet and her eyes instantly darted to the shoes that Terry mentioned in his note. She cursed herself for not having worn heels in so long. It’s like riding a bike…right?

Grabbing the heels by the ankle strap, she brought them into her room along with the dress. Then, she ventured back into her closet for her undergarments. After putting on a soft lace thong for some coverage under her sheer black stockings and a matching lace bustier, Cleo slipped her dress on and stepped in front of her mirror.

She adjusted her breasts in the top of the dress and straightened out the fabric, liking the way the dress fit over her thicker frame. When she finally slipped her feet into her heels and fastened the buckles around her ankles, she gave herself a full look in the mirror, turning to see her other angles.

“Okay, Terry the stylist.” She joked to herself.

With a glance at the time, she decided to only do a quick, natural beat; employing concealer more than any other complexion product and accentuating her eyelashes with mascara. A little more blush than needed accounted for the oxidizing affect the elements would have after she set her makeup, and a couple swipes of her reddish-brown Glossier lip-gloss made her lips pop.

Cleopatra gathered her lip-gloss, her keys, her ID and her handheld mirror then put them in her small crossbody purse neatly, pulling the long strap over her right shoulder to hang by her hip. She smoothed out her thick locs in their simple middle part, approving of her look and then made sure she had everything just one last time. Quickly she grabbed the small black box that held Terry’s gifts and she scurried out of her space.

When she finally walked out of her room, she peered at her phone to see she had two minutes to spare. And then, she noticed someone sitting on her couch in total silence.

“Oh-my-God.” She jumped instantly, stepping back and gripping the box in her hand as she processed that the figure was none other than her ex-Marine boyfriend. “Terry! What the fuck?”

He got up from his seat on her couch and stepped towards her, placing his large hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry, babe. I ain’t mean to scare you.” They shared a soft laugh, and then Cleo began to take in his outfit.

He wore her favorite color in the form of a premium black collared shirt that fit him in all the right places, his broad shoulders and biceps shone through the cut of the fabric. The shirt wrapped around his waist in the fashion of an uwagi and there was a black belt tied around him to top it all off. He paired the shirt with some basic black slacks and classic, glossy dress boots.

“You look handsome,” She begins, bringing her free hand to his shoulder to smooth out the structured linen. Then her eyes meet his again. “I love this outfit.” Her eyes lower with words unsaid, and Terry bites his lips at the sight, eyeing her lips.

“And you look,” He took her hand and watched as she stepped back to show him how she dressed up his gift. His eyes dart to her assets, taking in her pretty brown locs, which were parted down the middle just how he liked, her d-cups sitting pretty in the dress he picked, her beautiful, deep copper skin-tone and the way her high-heels elongated her thick legs. “Good enough to eat.”

“I do, huh?” She flirts back arrogantly, and Terry eats it right up, leaning his face down to give her a soft kiss.

“Mhmm.” He hums against her lips, and then she parts her mouth just slightly to welcome him for a deeper lip-lock. As he got deeper into the kiss, Terry brought his hands to the hem of Cleo’s dress, and they wandered further and further up her legs until he squeezed at her ass through her stockings. The young woman let out a breathy moan but pulled away from the kiss quickly, grabbing his chin in her hand tautly.

“Not too fast, baby-boy.” She sassed, letting her eyes flicker between his aquamarine orbs and his thick lips which were now stained with her gloss. “Just wait until tonight.” Her voice comes out in a purr as she closes the space between her lips and Terry’s, and then she gives him a teasingly lingering peck.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” Cleo steps away from her man who is practically drooling at the thought of another kiss, and holds up the black gift box that would soon belong to him. Terry averted his eyes from the lovely woman in front of him to look at the box and then wrapped both hands around the edge of it.

“What’s in here?” He asked, shocked at the gesture. He knew that Cleo didn’t mind getting him things but he never expected anything, and that allowed him to be surprised every time.

“Open it and see.” Just as she said the words, Terry lifted the lid of the black box to see a silver Gucci watch, and a matching cuban link chain. Before he could even truly take in the gift, he looked back up at his girlfriend in awe.

“Cleo…” He began to shake his head as he couldn’t even find the words to express his gratitude.

“I know you like your watches so, I wanted to add to your collection.” Cleopatra smiles as she watches her man take the timepiece out the round holder she sat it in and look at it up close. The face mimicked a black woodgrain and included the classic interlocking G with Gucci lettering and a small compass.

“I’ma put it on right now.” He gushed, glancing up at Cleo. Holding out her hand to assist Terry’s efforts, she watched as he set the box in her palm and unclasped the watch that he was wearing. Smoothly, he slid it from his wrist and placed it in the holder his new gift came in, before slipping the Gucci timepiece over his hand, seeing the glint of the steel.

As he clasped it tighter on his arm, he realized that it fit perfectly and extended his hand in front of him to look at the gift.

“Baby…This is clean as hell.” Cleo couldn’t help the rise of her cheeks into a closed lip smile as Terry looked at her with such gratitude and pure joy at his gift.

“I’m happy that you like it.” She replied, searching for another dose of dopamine through the genuine smile in her man’s eyes. He gently took the box out of her hand and wrapped his strong arm around her body to pull her in.

“I love it baby, the chain too. Thank you.” This time his hand rested right at the small of her back, his eyes staring directly into hers with pure adoration.

“You’re welcome.” Cleopatra smiled up at him as she brought her hands to either side of his face and then delivered a soft, heartfelt kiss to his lips one last time.

“C’mon,” Terry rasped, “We’ gon be late.”

“You should probably wipe my lip-gloss off first.”

✧ Part Two ✧

• • •

I do not condone any translations, replications or plagiarisms of my original work. Please do not repost as your own. Reblogs and comments/notes welcome. ♥︎

• • •

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER THIRTEEN

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @numberonepartyanth3m @wbb4l @authentic-girl03 @slut4uconnwbb @unadulteratedcyclepaper @kplum10 @fuddfanatic35 @avvwritesstufff @paigesluver @bueckersbitch

warnings this one is pretty sad ngl, some internal realizations, angst

kalena speakss 🪽! don’t jump me i swear things are happier next chapter lmao

July 2025 — Los Angeles, California

I’m happy.

The phrase plays over and over in my head like a mantra, like I'm trying to convince myself more than I am everyone else.

Music blares loudly at the Sparks gala, some fancy art museum that was all done up to make our coach and our GM look good, and to make the hundreds of rich donors in the building give money to the organization.

It’s working though, apparently a new practice facility is on the way.

It’s my first Gala, which means Brit dressed me in a fancy pinstriped suit: white button up, black tie. My hair, freshly dyed, falls straight over my shoulders. Some silver chains layered on my neck, studs in my ears.

I look good.

And in a room full of women, I should be taking advantage of the opportunity. But I’m not even sure I want to with the way Maraye is all I can think about.

I think it’s been, scratch that, it's literally been the longest five days of my life. I’ve sent so many texts that my thumbs are swollen, and checked my phone at all hours of the night that my eyes were burning. 

She runs through my head during all hours of the day. And if I had a chance to talk to her just once I think everything would be fine.

So you can imagine how quick my neutral expression just flips when I see her. Maraye, in a beautiful floor length navy gown. Her hair done up in a side part, a golden cuff tracing her ear. The tattoo that trails down her neck to her shoulder is even more visible by the way her hair drapes over her shoulder.

I knew she was here, her attendance being part of the reason I dressed up and made my way here. She was all I needed to see. Not all the investors that wanted to talk to the number one pick, or anyone else who wanted me to be Paige Bueckers the basketball player.

I needed to see her. The one who made me feel like I was just me.

"Either y'all say something to each other or move on, P." Cameron snickers as she watches my attempt to just go through the motions. "You have all these girls here and you’re not paying ‘em any mind."

Raye had just finished up a conversation with Coach Roberts. Which makes the smallest change to my expression because there she was, smiling and laughing with my head coach and I can’t help but to wonder if they’re talking about me. If just a little bit of that bright smile of hers is at the mention of my name.

"Better watch out, that girl over there with her mouth watering." Dearica jokes as she points to whoever the hell is making her way over to Raye with her hand on Raye’s arm. 

A blonde. Hair shorter than mine and she herself is probably shorter than me too. 

I can’t even see her face, but I bet she’s smiling, telling her some corny joke because it makes Raye giggle, and now I’m angry. There’s no way it could be that funny.

I feel wrong. Out of place in a room where, in the least cocky sounding way possible, I literally commanded attention.

But none of it matters, because I stand here, letting my teammates ridicule me over something they know nothing about, while wanting to insert myself into whatever she and Maraye were discussing.

Even more than that, me and her had our own private matters to discuss. There were too many words left unsaid to bring to the surface.

I couldn’t let it all go to waste without talking to her. That’s it. I let it go for five days, but any longer and I was sure that there’d be no more fixing it.

“Okay, I was just kidding but— oh my God you have feelings for her.” Cameron chuckles, and from the corner of my eye I see her jaw drop a little.

“Cam, just shut up for a second.”

I think about when I went to dinner with Nika, and the most important thing that sets in my head while I’m shamelessly staring is when she asked if there was anything holding me back.

Then, I said yes. That the thing was holding me back from Raye was my career.

But now, I feel like an idiot because the real thing holding me back was myself. My shitty relationship skills and my very obvious commitment issues when it came to having feelings for someone.

In what felt like milliseconds, my feet were moving faster than my brain and I was almost in reach of her when my eyes connected with Raye’s. 

I can’t read her face. If she’s still hurt or if she wants to find a way to hit me with a car. It’s just blank. Which in my opinion is ten times worse than her giving me a reaction. There is none. 

I do, however, pick up on this; the pure amusement when a girl approached me.

I remember her. Tanned skin and curls that framed her face. One of the few girls I’ve had a one night stand with after getting drafted. 

"Paige, hey!” She grins, her hand resting on my forearm.

I couldn't help but look past her to see Raye’s response. It was clear that she didn't look pleased, turning away to listen to whatever was being said by other blondie. 

I had to make a decision and it was literally my future vs. my very embarrassing past. I just know that letting this conversation continue for even a second longer, was a second that would make Raye hate me more than I think she already does. 

"Sorry, if you'll excuse me." I mutter without another thought, not even taking a second look at the woman in front of me, choosing to continue my path to her.

Raye looks at me shocked. Her eyes went wider and her serious expression faltered just slightly.

I don’t even speak, just inserting myself in the space between the fellow blonde and the woman I hoped to take home tonight. Which might be just a bit forward, but I decided then that I didn’t even care.

"Buckets, good to see you!" The blonde greets me, a smile on her face as she senses nothing ill behind my appearance and shakes my hand.

My eyes don’t even look down to her for more than a second, physically stuck to the beauty in front of me. 

"Mind if I cut in and speak to Maraye real quick?"

Raye raises her brow before placing her empty glass down. A cup of what I assume had to be a lemon drop. 

Her hand presses to that girl's shoulder, smiling much to my irritation. But luckily she ends the conversation there, hopefully keeping it that way for the rest of the night.

Then she’s walking off in front of me, and my legs are moving all too fast to catch up to her. I end up following her out the gala hall and down the hallway, past some stairs, and then she stops. Turing on her Jimmy Choo heels to look at me with her arms crossed.

When I was laying in bed or sitting on my couch, the words I needed to say came easy. Having her stand in front of me though, makes it so much fucking harder. 

“You don’t get to do this.”

“Ra—”

“Breaking up my conversation? What, Paige. What could you possibly have to say to me right now?” She asks me.

It’s a good question. I don’t know what I should tell her. Sorry isn’t going to cut it, not with her. I know better than to even try it again. 

“Raye, we just need to talk. That’s it. It’s been five days.”

“And I don’t think that’s long enough! I spent seven days thinking about you and you spent seven days avoiding telling me the truth.” She bites. “I’m not ready. Let me be ready.”

And just as fast as I got her alone, she’s pushing off her heels and walking past me, so quick that I don’t even get the chance to reach for her. To hold her back and tell her everything that I’m feeling.

That— the inability to speak to the only person that I really want to be around— that hurts more than anything else I think I’ve ever felt in my life.

So I lied. I’m not happy.

I’m very fucking miserable.

—

July 2025 — Los Angeles, California

It’s hard to explain the feeling.

When I was in her house— Paige trying her hardest to keep me there, within reach— my mind was racing. When we stood face to face at the gala the other night and Paige was looking at me with all the hurt so obvious in her eyes, my heart almost stopped completely.

But now that it’s been over a week since I found out, I think the closest thing to describe all this is numb. I’m numb to it all.

Every time something comes along that reminds me of her— a pretty blonde on the tv, a tweet about the sparks, anything fucking purple— I don’t get upset nor do I cry, I just sit there. Like I'm doing now.

Cassie sits soundly next to me on the couch, I’ve decided that I really needed some older sister love tonight. My head rests on her shoulder, a plate of banana pudding in my lap that reminds me too much of Paige and the first night I really got to know her.

It’s all too emotional. The way Cassie runs her hands through my hair or rubs my shoulder without asking questions. Add on the romance movie on the screen.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, 10 Things I Hate About You plays on my TV, and watching Kat Stratford read her poem makes the tears flow from my eyes nearly as hard as they did last week.

“Ra—no, don’t cry! It’s okay.” Cassie immediately attempts to comfort me, but my eyes aren’t even glued to the screen anymore.

They stare up at the ceiling, as if looking at the white expanse would stop them from falling.

It doesn’t. 

It just gives me the perfect background to picture me and her. All of the late night FaceTimes. I can see the screen of my Mac, or my phone, and I can see her in the center of it. I can hear that laugh, loud and so uniquely Paige. 

All the late night drives, the chipotle runs, the waffle house breakfasts. Everything I’ve ever done with her just consumes me. 

Cassie’s palm spreads over my check, attempting to wipe what’s left of the streaks on my face. It’s almost second nature to her, taking care of me.

“Okay I wasn’t gonna mention Paige, but now you’re crying over a movie we’ve seen thousands of times.” She starts tugging me into her and rubbing my back gently. “Talk to me Chuchi.” She pouts and I laugh at the nickname I probably haven’t heard since I was like 12 years old.

I’ve done a good job at keeping this whole Paige thing under wraps. Nobody knew what was going on between us anyway, and I don’t think we really knew what was going on either until it was being stripped away.

But it was stupid of me to think my sister wouldn’t pick up on the signs. I used to find every excuse to bring Paige up in conversation, and now I haven’t talked about her for a week. 

“Is it supposed to hurt this bad?” I ask. “Cause if it is, I swear I’m never getting involved with another woman again.” I sniff, wiping my eyes languidly.

“If it does, that just means you really like her.” Cassie explains. It’s so soft. Like saying anything else, anything real, would break me apart into a million pieces. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

I do. So, I do.

I tell her everything, she’s my sister of course. I leave out nothing, telling her everything I felt when Paige first tumbled into us at the game. To the dinner party, which makes me cry some more over the banana pudding.

Each memory replays in my head like a vivid movie scene. The way Paige kissed me: always skillful but still a bit hesitant like she was trying to learn me, learn my tells and what makes me smile. And as I speak I can still feel her lips and her hands, smell her cologne so vividly that I swear it’s probably lingering on my hoodie right now.

I can so clearly recall everything that went down in her apartment. How fucking happy I was behind that door and how my smile only grew when she opened it and I got to see her again. After days of yearning for her. 

After days of wanting her and thinking of her and needing her.

How she touched me that day. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to tell her about how Julian and I were done. But she still touched me so intimately. Like she already knew. 

Her hands on my thighs and mine playing with that blonde hair on the nape of her neck. Blue eyes staring into mine like she’d die if she looked away.

Paige had that way of making you think you were the only person in the world. The only person she wanted or cared for, just by looking into your eyes.

And I fell victim to it.

I remember every single word she said to me that day. I also remember every single word I said to her.

Which doesn’t really help when you’re trying to convince yourself that you’re not in the wrong. That walking out was a good decision.

The way her voice raised when she got defensive, telling me I didn’t “get to be upset”. Then the way it immediately contrasted when she apologized. That subtle crack of her voice replayed in my mind over and over like a skipping record. 

I’ve only ever been cheated on once in my life. I was young, in high school, in a relationship that lasted a few years.

And that one hurt. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep.

It did make for some good music.

But this. This whatever with Paige feels ten times worse.

I swear I can feel each pulse and throb of my heart in my chest. Each mention of her name causes a few stray, dramatic tears to pool at my waterline.

By the time I finish telling Cassie everything, my nose is already puffy and reddened. I think I’ve stopped crying now, but I'm not sure because my cheeks are still wet. Tissues pile in my lap and some new romance movie plays on the screen. 

I didn’t know how much I was holding back until now. Until it was all laid out in front of me and my sister.

“You gotta talk to her, Raye.” She shrugs. I know I do. But thinking about it and actually doing it are two different things.

I look at her wearily. My tongue is poking at the corner of my lips as I think. “I dunno if I’m ready yet, Cas.” I mumble, my voice low. Almost embarrassed.

“I know.” She comforts, running her finger over my knee. “But maybe hearing her out is gonna make things clearer for you. Don’t let this get in the way of what you want.”

I let that sink in. Replaying her words in my head until they stick. 

Don’t let this get in the way of what you want.

— 

July 2025 — Seattle, Washington  

The ball passed through the net consistently. Swish after swish as if I had a point to make or something to prove. 

And I do.

I’ve been playing like shit these last couple games before all-star. I blame it on Maraye and my inability to get her out of my head.

So instead of getting sleep, and quite possibly dreaming about her and those perfect eyes, I’m on the court at our hotel, putting up shot after shot until the sound of the nylon and the leather becoming one just meshes in my brain like music.

Music. Yet another thing that reminds me of her.

“What the hell are you doing?”

It’s Rickea. Her voice is easy to spot even with my back turned.

“I’m getting shots up Kea.”

“Well I can see that. It’s two in the morning, P.” 

I chase after my rebound once again before looking at her lazily. Completely decked out in Sparks gear, similarly to myself.

I think my silence in this whole matter is part of the reason why I’m struggling so badly. But I don’t know who to talk to. Azzi and Nika would take it upon themselves to fix it. Cam would call me an idiot, which I’ve accepted at this point but still it isn’t what I need. 

Kea already told me my head would be served on a silver platter for making a mess.

So I keep it all to myself.

Basketball was my therapy. I’d get in the gyms and shoot till someone was coming in and telling me to go home. Then, everything would be fine.

Except now it’s not fine. Because I get up, go to the gym, and the entire time I’m shooting, I just think about Raye.

“Ion know what to do, Kea.” I shrug, my voice sounding so different than what I’m used to hearing. It’s not certain, actually the complete opposite.

I take another shot. The second it leaves my hands, I know it’s off. The rim clunks loudly at my miss, and that alone is enough to break me down from the inside out.

“Paige.”

“I need to get her back.” I sniff, not even registering the single tear that immediately trails down my cheek. “Help me get her back, Kea.”

Rickea is walking over to me in an instant, stepping in front of me to stop me from grabbing another ball and letting this cycle consume me for another couple hours. She looks at me with something I can’t quite grasp. Like sympathy, but at the same time her eyes are stern like she’s pissed at me.

I deserve that. She told me she’d kill me if I hurt Raye. And I did, bad.

“Paige. Jus’ breathe, aight? Breathe and listen to me for a second.” She says, hands splayed on my shoulders in an attempt to ground me. 

This is the most vulnerable I’ve ever been with any of my teammates, let alone Rickea. Usually it’s dumb jokes, and making fun of each other, prying a bit too hard into each of our personal lives. But I nod anyway, taking a shaking breath and wiping my face.

“I’m not gonna tell you how much you fucked up. You already know that.” She starts. “You’re so used to being in control that when you’re not, you start spiraling. Just breathe. Give her time.”

She’s right. I’m usually in control of everything. My career, my family, Maraye. And now that she’s taking control of us, causing that distance, I don’t know what to do. 

“This shit fuckin’ hurts, Kea.” I groan, turning around to walk over to the bench. “I know I made a mistake but damn, it’s eating me alive.”

She racks up the balls for me before taking a seat next to me. I probably stink, all the sweat from my late night workout. But still Rickea wraps an arm around me, much different than any of the hugs we’ve had before. Like she doesn’t care about anything else but comforting me.

“You see where she’s coming from tho, right?” She asks me. “If Raye doesn’t wanna talk it’s prolly because she doesn’t wanna hurt you more. I know her well enough to know that mouth is reckless.” She jokes, and it brings a smile to my face because it’s true.

“So instead, she got me payin’ for my mistake by feeling the absence of her in my life.”

“Exactly!” Kea nods as if this is some astute observation. “Well, I dunno if that’s a good thing. But hold onto some hope, Five. She likes you. She doesn’t have to tell me that for me to see it.”

Surprisingly the words do soothe me a bit. If I’m feeling like shit over my own decision, I can only imagine how she’s feeling. With all the shit she got going on work wise, to have me pile more shit on top of it must be terrible.

“Just wait it out a little longer. I like you both together more than I like you apart, okay?” 

I nod, holding on to those words tight.

Even though I’m missing her. I just have to wait it out. Whenever she’s ready.

[rambosgirl]

Hiii, could you write about logan x f! opera singer! reader??? And maybe make a moodboard🫶🫶🫶 thx for your works

Heck yea I gotcha babe <3 the first thing I thought of was Greatest Showman (duh) but then I also thought of Phantom of the Opera so uh... here it is, I hope you like it! Oh and I added some headcanons for you, if you want a full fic lmk

Masterlist

Headcanons

Storm, Jean, and Scott dragged him to a show of yours bc ya'll are old friends or something

He was a grump the entire time but when he heard you sing??

he was fascinated

and then they went backstage to see you??

girl he was head over heels. Forgot about Jean for the rest of time bc who is this

He would flirt like there was no tomorrow. And he'd give you pet names, his favorite being 'angel'

Despite your busy schedule and sporadic traveling, the two of you become friends. Whenever you were in town, Charles invited you to teach a few classes for students interested in music.

You loved teaching, so you always said yes. But after you finished, you and Logan would sneak off and hang out (Jean and Storm call them dates, and tease Logan about it whenever you're not around)

Logan loves listening to you practice. Your voice isn't just calming, it's fascinating. How do you hold out notes for that long? How do you reach those high notes and make them sound so rich? He doesn't know but he's here for it.

He goes to as many performances as he can, but he often struggles to fit in with the elegance of your world

The fancy opera house, galas, high-society events and people, it's not really his element. It's actually the opposite.

Not to mention the tux. DANG he looks good in it but you can tell he's wildly uncomfortable in it.

it's why he only goes to those events with you sometimes, but he does love to be with you backstage, supporting you within his comfort zone, which you are perfectly okay with.

He'll be there watching when you do your hair, perfect your makeup, and when you perform.

He also reminds you when you're not performing that you don't have to be perfect all the time, something that as an opera singer, you struggle with

You've known each other for months by the time he lets you hear his singing voice

It's a deep baritone voice, completely different from his speaking voice, but at the same time very similar

"You've got a voice that could sell out a theater. Ever think of putting the claws away to give musicals a try?"

He just let out a soft, playful scoff in response "You won't ever catch me singing on a stage"

"The circus it is then"

Insert the Logan eyebrow raise here

As your relationship grows, so does Logan's admiration for you.

sometimes when he sees you on stage in your white dress he imagines it's a wedding dress

Eventually, you tone down the performance side of your career and start staying at the mansion teaching more. You miss performing sometimes, but this means you can spend more time with your old friends, your students, and Logan.

Logan is a-okay with this he misses the white dress

but that's okay because he's planning a way for you to wear a white dress again :)))

[ominous-faechild]

Hey how do you do the color gradient thing for your dialog tags?

Assuming you mean these things, I've actually been meaning to make a guide of my own for a while lol.

For one, you can only do this on computer/the website of Tumblr! There's no option to select this stuff on the app.

STEP 1: CREATE A NEW DOC / GO TO SETTINGS

It opens a dropdown menu/whole screen full of options!

From there, select the "text editor" dropdown, which starts as displaying "rich text".

Select "HTML"

And it should change how the entire post looks!

STEP TWO: CHEAT

Yeeeeeaaaaah, so I use a website for this lol

I inserted my colors for faeries (#30853C) and Cloud (#6DC1B4) for my example of "these things" earlier. To make this easier, I most often have two windows open at a time while working on uploading my scripts to Tumblr.

To get colours to insert into the Text Colorizer website, you can use any kind of hex color picker or even this one website I've used to yoink "thematic" colors from photos!

Personally, I've developed a massive library of colors over time for this exact purpose lol. Using my old colors as a "base", I can change it accordingly to the kind of "new color" that I want for a specific character or thing!

(I'll use the website to also make gradients for "in-between" colors lol)

STEP 3: INSERT TEXT / DESIRED COLORS

To make Nova's gradient, I start with #A600D9, my color for Magic, and end with #F56745—their individual color. However, being as it's short, I'll use a quote from them instead lol.

Once you've inserted your text and colors, you will click in the text box I highlighted in red, ctrl+a and ctrl+c to copy it all, and go back over to your new tumblr post tab!

From there, you'll ctrl+v to paste the entirety into the HTML area, which pastes the code into your post!

AND VOILA!

You have gorgeous gradient text!

However, I want to give a fair warning and a bit of advice! If you didn't notice wayyyyyyy back when...

Tumblr warns that this all can break your formatting!

It doesn't do it too often, but take it from someone who does an obscene amount of formatting... it's 100% true.

STEP 4: CHEAT SOME MORE!

For this reason, I personally have a whole separate draft post full of my characters' colors (and names lol) that I use to copy-paste them in from rather than using the "html" text editor on every post!

I mentioned earlier I often have multiple windows open while editing? Here's what that looks like!

Additionally, I'll use a separate tab off on the left (my "current wip post" side) with the "html editor" enabled for me to copy-paste stuff!

(Also here's yet another example of how many colors I have)

Once again, you can ctrl+c these things to paste them into another tumblr post with the correct colors!

And it's ONLY possible to do on the website!!!

EXTRA INFO!

WARNING:

Tumblr will only allow each "paragraph's html to be so many characters long, so you can't have too big of anything in a gradient!

And by "anything"... I mean you really can't have that big of a gradient in general. RIP lol.

It straight-up won't save the post so long as you have that "overflow" in the character block! MAKE SURE YOU'VE FIXED IT, OR YOU CAN AND WILL LOSE ALL PROGRESS ON YOUR POST!

SINGLE-COLOR TIP:

You don't need the website for a single color! If you'd like, you can just change the "color code" within the html editor to change specific colors!

MAKE SURE COLORS CAN WORK ON DIFFERENT BACKGROUNDS!

On desktop, you can use shift+p while not on any sort of textbox to change the color pallet! I always do tests to see which colors work best before settling on any!

(Tho, the blue background SPECIFICALLY is nightmarish to work around. So if that's the ONLY thing I can't make work, I often ignore it and let you guys who use it suffer lmao)

(Hopefully this'll give you guys some respect for me and how much I do to make my posts aesthetic af lol)

Also hopefully this all helps???

divider by @cafekitsune

[shegatsby]

Hiii I wanted to ask if you can do like a sexting story between hannibal and reader where they met online or are in a long distance relationship and reader is desperate for him? If you feel comfortable with that! :)

A/N: Hi!!! Sorry to keep you waiting, I'm getting to the requests one by one. I enjoyed writing this and I hope you guys will enjoy reading it. Lots of love. xxx

Warnings; Sexting!

“Why did I even decide to take on the position in the first place?!” She said complaining to her boyfriend on the phone. Hannibal sighed, “Because you’re a brilliant woman who is a professor and your skills are needed in Italy’s most prestigious university.” He reminded her which made her smile, he loved giving her compliments and she loved receiving. “Thank you darling. I just… I miss you so much.” She confessed sadly, dropping herself on the bed of her rental. Hannibal noticed the change in her voice, he wanted to just drop everything and get a ticket but he had responsibilities in Baltimore, Maryland. He had patients to attend and also he was helping the FBI. “How was your day?” She asked, due to the tme difference which was 5 hours they had different daly routines. Hannibal started to tell her about his day, As you know I had my patient Mason Verger.” She could sense that Hannibal didn’t like his patient, “He is rich so.. use him.” She commented which earned a chuckle from him. “When in doubt eat the rich.” He replied back and made her laugh. She loved hearing his calm and direct voice, she was laying on the bed, missing the one she shared with her boyfriend. “Later, I had to join a meeting at the FBI Quarters you know, there is a new serial killer.” As he was telling her his day Y/N had an idea. It had been so long since they had been together and she was desperate for him, his touch, his voice…

Her hand started to travel to her breast, squeezing and playing with it under her shirt, she hummed silently over the phone which went unnoticed by him, and then her hand travelled down to her shorts, she got rid of them quickly. “Can you give me more details honey?” She asked softly, she was the only one Hannibal shared these things with so he obliged.

Well, we know that he is a male in his middle ages, white, most likely belongs to a wealthy family.” He said, Hannibal was in his study room at home, his Ipad open and going over the details, “Why do you think so?” She asked curiously her hand went to her already dripping core. “His killings are in very luxurious and high societal places, the last one was at the opera house. He thinks he can get away with, I believe he has done this so many times and thanks to his family connections and money he didn’t get caught..” her fingers were soaked, she gently rubbed herself, she was amazed that even his voice could get her this wet and ready, she inserted a finger and couldn’t keep her mouth shut. There was a pause on Hannibal’s side, and after a few seconds of silence he spoke, “Did you just moan?” He could feel his member waking up. “What if I did?” She teased.

''You naught girl..'' he teased with a low growl, his breath sent shiver down her spine, Hannibal got excited that his beloved got aroused by talking about murder, could that mean that he could reveal his true color? Only time would tell. His hand went to his rock hard cock, rubbing himself trhough the fabric of his pants, ''Were you touching yourself like a whore when I was telling you about the recent killings?'' he asked slowly, ''Yes, yes I was..'' she admitted, ''How wet are you?'' he asked keep rubbing himself, ''Wanna see?'' she teased.

''I would love to see how wet I got you sweetheart.'' he teased back, this was the first time they had to do something like this and it was new for both of them, however, Hannibal liked the thrill of it.

Y/N sent a picture of her wet folds, ''That much.'' she said as the photo was sent. Hannibal exhaled sharply, ''Darling, you're killing me overe here.'' and he pulled down his pants and boxers to free himself, and he took a picture of his hard cock, sent it to her. ''Someone missed you.'' he said, ''I've missed both of you too.'' she said when she saw how hard he was.

''Wait..'' Hannibal said and hung up the phone which made her whine in annoyance, did he have to do something important? As she was thinkinh Hannibal FaceTimed her. She answered eagerly, ''That's better, now I can see your pretty face and pretty cunt.'' she loved it when he spoke dirty to her, to see a highly respected psyciatrist to use such words got her even wetter because she was the only one who got to experience that behind closed doors. Hannibal was hers and hers only.

She placed the phone in an angle where he could see her open legs and wet folds.

''That's my girl, touch yourself for me sweetheart.''

She complied, touching her self, ''Now insert a finger.'' he loved the way she put on a show for him. To see her wet cunt and to hear the wet sounds and her citten like whimpers made him spit on his palm and stroke himself, ''I wish I was there..'' he found himself whisper and she heard him. ''Wish you were here, touching me..'' her soft voice and wimpers made him stroke himself harder and faster, ''Insert another one.'' he ordered with a harsh and impatient tone, she followed his command. As she inserted a second finger she screamed in pleasure, ''That's it love, that's it, keep going for me..''

His encouraging words made her movements fast, they were both desperate and in need for each other that it drove them crazy.

''Hannibal..'' she moaned his name, hips moving like a snake, ''Yes sweetheart?'' he was close, ''I'm coming.'' she whimpered, she could feel the waves in her core, something was brewing and she knew she was about to gush.

''Good girl, come for me sweetheart.'' he encouraged her with his stern and yet passionate voice, ''Keep fingering that sweet spot and imagine it was me darling.''

Her eyes were closed shut, she kept pressuring that sweet spot in her which Hannibal knew like the back of his hand, he also put pressure on his tip as he stroke himself imagining the feeling of her soft and slick folds.

''Hannibal!'' she screamed as she came, the sheets under her got damp, to see that pushed Hannibal over the edge too. He came on his hand, covering it with the thick cum.

''Fuck darling,'' he panted, leaning on his chair, ''I'm getting a ticket.''

Thank you for reading. :)

[voiidorwhatever]

a lot of people have already said similar things, but i'm just gonna throw my own two cents in the mix as well. the fact that fnv gives you more freedom than fo4 is already so glaringly obvious in the set-up for your character. for many reasons. but one of the really annoying ones - for me - is the job the main character has. sounds trivial, i know, but starting a new fo4 playthrough just to be met with nate's soldier ramble or seeing nora's laywer certificates (whatever those were, i have a bad memory lmao) already kinda spoils the fun to me. i've seen people do great things with those concepts, but i feel like in the game they just fall flat. being a lawyer has the implications of going to a good college, being rich, having higher social status. being a soldier. well. *insert military propaganda here*. the picket fences, the forced nuclear family. it's such a rigid starting point that i have to imagine most of it away to play a character that is interesting to me. courier six on the other hand - well, they're a courier. that doesn't have many implications. i feel like it's such an easy start into a game. it's a job they could've picked up recently, a while back, or practially forever ago (lets ignore old world blues for a second there, i think this point still counts). you don't have to study to be a courier, no special social class is assigned to it. it seems a part of your character you can reliably choose to give as much or as little importance as you want or need to. of course, courier six has picked that job up in the wasteland, not before the war like the sole survivor has, but i still feel like nora and nate have too many ImplicationsTM attached to them for rpg main characters, jobs incluced

[mcmeerkat1]

Rambling Y’all

So I got back into the transformers fandom last year around October. I literally had a awakening on my birthday which is on National Autobot Day guys lmfao

Fitting right?

Anyways, I have started to get into the comics as that’s something I had always wanted to do. I just never did awhile back as I was scared 13 year old not wanting to be judged. However I’m not friends with people from that time so I’m FREEEEEEE 😂

But lets seriously talk about More Than Meets The Eye

I’m in love with it. The art style is amazing but the story is rich and real. And I swear every time I turn a page I’m suddenly hit with the most SCRUMPTIOUS art of a specific character and I’m left like 🫠

So here is a thing about me. I’m not scared to self insert or do OC x Canon. And thanks to good ol’ tumblr here….im joining the First Contact AU

Starting off strong with art for myself lmfao. Although I’ll go ahead and say that walking around the Lost Light in an oversized shirt has left me with many reprimands from Ultra Magnus. Says I’m not wearing pants.

Pfffft

Of course I am. And I don’t listen to his warnings

So I’m wanting to make some art and possibly write for the AU. However I’m not sure what to do. So my lovely audience, I’m giving you guys the chance to help me

And if anyone is curious I absolutely love answering questions as that helps me build my storyline so feel free to engage with me on this

[chaifootsteps]

watched the video going over the Ken chatlogs and while I've been resisting the temptation to assume Viv is projecting onto Stolas, a couple things about that video really stuck out to me (stating the above on the assumption that the chatlogs are true, obviously this is all alleged, though I'm pretty sure I remember Ken posting a video scrolling through their discord in the past)

it's just a long list of behaviors - being melodramatic, being two-faced, framing herself as the victim and talking about how upset she is even when no one involved is being unreasonable. then saying anyone that expresses a problem, even if they attempt to be polite or compliment her work while doing so, is attacking her and hostile and using that to try and avoid talking about the problem

as far as we know she never dated anyone who worked with her but it does make me wonder since she behaves as though just working for her is good enough and that she's doing people a favor, then they're ungratefully attacking her if they have a problem.

it reminds me a lot of Stolas' 'I've tried to so hard to support you!' line - he was using Blitzo for sex but wants to reframe it as Blitzo should be grateful because he supported his business. which is the same thing with Viv - she seems to think anyone she gives a job to is indebted to her because they get paid for their work, even though in reality she was using them by taking their ideas and passing them off as their own to make herself look better (and of course Stolas' whole crybully if I'm sad, you're in the wrong routine). It's like she just constantly wants him, the character with all the power who was not trying to be philantropic when lending Blitzo the book, to be right at all times because she doesn't like to confront ideas of power dynamics if the rich/more privileged one has done anything wrong

the other thing that floored me was how many times she said some variation of the phrase 'if you would like credit, you can have it' when like - they shouldn't have to ask, Viv! of course everyone would like to be credited but it should be the industry standard for any studio claiming to be professional and worth taking seriously

One thing about reading as many Viv chatlogs as something like this entails...it makes listening to Stolas's dialouge especially haunting. I don't know that she intends him to be a self-insert, but if you just put their quotes and the phrases they favor side by side, you'd be very hard pressed to tell them apart.

[fayevalcntine]

Anyway I've been kind of following the press releases for The Count of Monte Cristo (2024) (French) movie and some potential spoilers that I kind of want to air out:

The film seems to be marketed as "much darker" in terms of focusing on the revenge aspect, which I don't mind, but some other stuff give me pause as to how they're gonna handle The Count as a character because the way the actors talk about him, he almost sounds weirdly irredeemable, or rather just completely incapable of still loving and caring about people? Which is the exact opposite of how he behaves in the book..... he wants to be cold and completely detached but fails each time because he a) forms close connections with people like Haydée and Maximilien, even comes to deeply respect Albert despite trying to talk himself into not caring about the boy and b) is meant to question his own revenge plot because it inadvertently causes the death of an innocent child

Apparently Haydée is 'torn between her loyalty for the Count and the love of her life' with said love of her life being.....guess who? Albert de Morcerf. There's no mention of a court scene so far where she accuses Fernand of being a traitorous officer and murdering her father, instead Edmond apparently gets her to seduce Albert but then Haydée falls in love with him for real? I once wrote a post complaining about this type of idea I've seen others mention as a "potential fix" for the plot but taking aside my issue with Albert/Haydée as a pairing in any sense, in this context it's almost doubly bizarre and I feel like the writers took so many different elements from the book, namely Albert's blind trust and admiration towards the Count and the forbidden love story between Maximilien and Valentine, and decided to go for a much more digestible change for the story, I guess? The actress who plays Haydée also mentions that she wants to "break free from the Count's psychological grip", which..... you can say a lot of stuff about Edmond/Haydée as an overall dynamic, particularly in him inserting her in his plan for revenge, but the big thing noted in the book is that Haydée makes the decision herself to testify against Fernand, and even thinks that the Count will disapprove of her for this. He also does genuinely care for her and wanted her to inherit everything he owns should he die.... the whole point of him taking her in is that he wanted her to have the life she was entitled to before Fernand's actions stripped it away from her.

The film also seems to have merged several different characters related to Villefort into one, namely Benedetto/Andrea and Bertuccio, since Andrea (in the film) is also under the Count's wing and seems to accompany him as a possible servant in some scenes. This isn't a bad idea in theory, though I'm pretty sure that he ends up dying when he goes after Villefort at the court house, so I presume he's also supposed to represent Edouard's death? My main question is when this scene even happens in the film because apparently, there's a final sword fight (likely the one between Fernand and Edmond), so the death that makes Edmond question his entire plot isn't even at the end of his plan?

This brings me to my next point which is why are Fernand and Edmond even doing a sword duel in the first place.... apparently the film has Fernand come from a rich family already, and he's known and been friends with Edmond prior to his imprisonment, so w/e, classic trope of CoMC adaptations at this point. But the duel and Haydée's 'seduction' plot just makes me think that for all the apparent attempts at centering her as a character more, these writers took out a significant scene related to her character that means a lot FOR her, namely the court scene, and instead centered Edmond's feelings of betrayal towards Fernand. I know that this is likely to also focus a lot on Edmond's lost life with Mercedes, but Fernand isn't even such a significant focus of Edmond's ire in the book as much as the other two men are.

The movie doesn't seem to end with Mercedes and Edmond getting back together, which I at least appreciate if this Edmond is "much darker" than even in the book, but if he isn't with her or isn't dead by the end, what exactly is the point of him going off alone? I presume this is the ending if Haydée/Albert are supposed to represent Maximilien/Valentine and the Count "gives them support" for being together, but Edmond was pretty much contemplating suicide until Haydée stopped him in the book. The point is that his focus on avenging the past was his only assumed reason for living, but there's a chance for him to simply live on with those who genuinely care about him as he is now. Without him trying to make amends through Maximilien and Valentine and Haydée indicating she will only live if he lives, I can't really see the film making a good argument for why Edmond wouldn't contemplate suicide instead of living on.

Apparently Villefort has a Bonapartist sister (I presume this character is meant to replace his father in the film) whom I also think Edmond saves from a shipwreck that has been shown in the trailers. I've zero clue how this movie is going to fit a new character in this while doing all of this to the other more significant characters, but that seems to be a general trend with this scriptwriter duo.

Only minor positive thing so far is that Eugenie IS included for once, and they didn't omit her being a lesbian.

[hrizantemy]

If you don't mind, could you share some of your thought process on creating Taryn as a character and your favorite aspects of writing her so far? (Can you also give a physical description? I would like to draw her and nesta together and Ive been imagining her as cruel princes' Taryn; which is a little funny to think about)

This is so sweet—and so funny! I’ve read the first Cruel Prince book but didn’t even make the connection to Taryn from that series! That’s hilarious and kind of fitting in its own way, but yes, let me give you more details!

So, Taryn as a character actually came about unexpectedly. She wasn’t someone I initially planned to write; it was going to be just Nesta on her own, focusing on her healing journey. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Nesta has never really had someone wholly in her corner—a person who supports her without judgment or an agenda. That gap in her life is what inspired Taryn’s creation.

I wanted someone who could stand alongside Nesta, not to “fix” her, but to offer her unconditional support and the space to be herself. Taryn’s character grew from that idea, and I started with her name, which has so many layered meanings.

• In Irish and Gaelic, it’s tied to “the land of Eoghan” or “people’s ruler,” which felt fitting for someone who would hold her own and guide by example rather than force.

• The connection to rivers and flooding, as in “the trespasser,” reminded me of someone who defies expectations and carves out a path that may disrupt, but ultimately creates growth.

• Then there’s the Latin meaning tied to “earth” or an “elevated place,” which gave her a grounded, steady quality.

One of my favorite aspects of writing Taryn so far is how she knows when to step back and respect Nesta’s autonomy. A perfect example of this is during the Solstice and Nesta’s interactions with the IC—Taryn doesn’t try to insert herself or take over. Instead, she lets Nesta handle things in her own way, at her own pace, without any interference. That respect for boundaries is a cornerstone of who Taryn is, and it’s a deliberate contrast to how other characters have behaved.

For instance, take Rhysand. Even when Feyre explicitly tells him to leave her relationship with Nesta alone, he still tries to control it, inserting his own ideas of what should happen. Or Cassian, who has a pattern of badgering Nesta, pushing her even when it’s clear she’s uncomfortable or not ready to engage with him on his terms. These moments can feel suffocating for Nesta, and I wanted Taryn to be the opposite of that.

Taryn highlights what it truly means to give someone the space to heal and make their own choices. She supports Nesta without demanding anything in return. There’s no pressure to act a certain way, no need to meet someone else’s expectations or timelines. If Nesta decides to set boundaries or push back, Taryn respects that instead of trying to guilt or force her into compliance.

I think that dynamic is so important for Nesta because it offers her something she’s never really had: a connection where she feels safe to be herself without fear of judgment or consequence. And, more than that, it allows her to grow on her own terms. Taryn is there to back her up when needed, but she also knows when to step back and let Nesta lead.

It’s a refreshing contrast to the characters who think they’re helping but end up reinforcing unhealthy patterns instead. Writing Taryn as someone who embodies that quiet, unwavering support has been incredibly rewarding.

Now, onto Taryn’s physical description! She has dark hair—by dark, I mean black—and striking green eyes that stand out against her complexion. Her features are sharp, with high cheekbones.

Taryn’s complexion is on the darker side, with warm, rich undertones that speak to her heritage. Her skin carries a sun-kissed glow, as if she’s spent a significant amount of time under a different sun than Velaris or even the Night Court could provide. It’s a deeper shade, almost like burnished bronze, with a natural radiance that contrasts beautifully against her black hair and sharp features. I’ve hinted at it before, but Taryn isn’t from Velaris or the Night Court.

Taryn typically wears dresses that balance simplicity, emphasizing her. She prefers flowing silhouettes that allow her to move with ease, often crafted from rich fabrics like velvet, silk, or fine linen. Her dresses are usually in deep, earthy tones such as forest green, burnt orange, midnight blue, or warm gold, complementing her complexion and hair.

The designs of her dresses are practical yet stylish—long sleeves for cooler weather or sleeveless options for warmer climates, always tailored to fit her perfectly. High necklines and subtle embroidery along the hems or cuffs add an air of refinement, while the occasional slit in the skirt gives her freedom of movement without being overly revealing.

I think I’ve covered all your questions, but feel free to let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to know or dive deeper into! I’ve enjoyed answering these and exploring Taryn and Nesta’s dynamic—it’s always exciting to share more about their story and development. So if there’s anything you’re curious about, don’t hesitate to ask!

[choicesmaychallenge24]

MAY 2024 PROMPTS

Have fun! Take liberties! Be weird!

Playlist Inspo

SPOTIFY || YOUTUBE

Deity Inspo

(extensive list of Dieties can be found here)

Zeus

Power, Oak tree, unfaithful

"Statistically, you've got better chances being struck by lightning"

Hera

Marriage, revenge, peacock

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned"

Poseidon

Ocean, earthquakes, horses

"stormy eyes"

Demeter

Wheat fields, middle child, poppy

"...moods that changed like the weather"

Apollo

Harp, medicine, prophesy

"...like they were the sun"

Artemis

Wilderness, moon, archery

"lets go lesbians, lets go!"

Ares

War, strength, hated

"Don't be a boar"

Athena

Wisdom, strategy, owl

"You're giving me a headache"

Hephaestus

Inventive, disability, overlooked

"...Like a volcano about to erupt"

Aphrodite

Pearls, swan, passion

"You know ___ is an aphrodisiac"

Hermes

Guide, messages, travel

"That's just an eloquent way of saying, 'fuck you.'"

Hestia

Home comforts, Eldest Daughter problems, gentle

"Sometimes a family is (insert found family here)"

Dionysus

Wine, celebration, mania

"I heard it though the grapevine..."

Nyx

Mysterious, rest, starlight

"Goodnight, My Love"

Hades

Rich, death, responsibility

"who's a good puppy?"

Quotes

"You wish to be considered righteous, but not to act with justice." (Eumenides)

"Talk sense to a fool and he calls you foolish." (The Bacchae)

"Isn’t it delightful to forget how old we are?" (The Bacchae)

"I was born to join in love, not hate - that is my nature" (Antigone)

“I have no love for a friend who loves in words alone.” (Antigone)

“Have you ever been struck by a sudden desire for - soup?” (The Frogs)

Dionysus [doing everything wrong], "Like that?" (The Frogs)

“If you try to cure evil with evil, you will add more pain to your fate.” (Ajax)

“Which would you choose if you could: pleasure for yourself despite your friends, or a share in their grief?” (Ajax)

“I ask this one thing: let me go mad in my own way.” (Electra)

"Oh, it is easy for the one who stands outside the prison-wall of pain to exhort and teach the one who suffers” (Prometheus Bound)

“In childbirth grief begins.” (Medea)

"I'll take care of you."

"it's rotten work."

"Not to me. Not if it's you." (Euripides)

“Love, stealing with grace into the heart you wish to destroy, love, turning us blind with the bitter poison of desire, love come not my way. And when you whirl through the streets, wild steps to unchained rhythms, love, I pray you, brush not against me, love, I beg you, pass me by.” (The Love of the Nightingale)

“There is a time for many words, and there is also a time for sleep.” (The Odyssey)

“Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.” (The Odyssey)

"Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again." (The Iliad)

FASHION INSPO

From Dolce & Gabbana

STORY INSPO

Many of these stories have different tellings and variations, embrace whichever version you most enjoy.

Echo and Narcissus (painting) (story)

Pandora's Box (painting) (story)

Arachne (painting) (story)

Hades and Persephone (painting) (story)

The Gorgon Medusa (painting) (story)

Cygnus (painting) (story)

Theseus, Ariadne, and the Minotaur (painting) (story)

Daedalus and Icarus (painting) (story)

Eros and Psyche (sculpture) (story)

Orpheus and Euydice (painting) (story)

Myth of Sisyphus (painting) (story)

Cassandra (painting) (story)

The Fates (painting) (story)

Atlas (sculpture) (story)

[affluent-havoc]

Honestly really like the many different and varying interpretations of Naegami and I am just going to gush about it with some small Naegamigiri/Toenaegiri in there too for good measure! Like, one interpretation I've seen is Byakuya being that angry, lanky, over-protective, boyfriend. Peak guard dog energy. And, Richie Rich over here is ready for violence and has vigorously prepared for potential knife fights. The prick would SO start some shit and get in a knife fight if necessary. Or he'd sue for all the worthless pennies the instigator being mean to his boyfriend is worth. Cus, when in doubt, suing is Byakuya's main. Or both options. Like, knife fight, sues, somthing, something, PROFIT. The emotional kind of profit though since Makoto is now safe from the Karens. Minus HIM of course/hj There's then "Makoto happy doggo boy" and "Byakuya grumpy feline". Like this one too. I just enjoy comparing these two to a cat and a dog getting along and trading smooches on a park bench while contemplating if they should REALLY feed the birds or not and why people do it to begin with before they just cycle through topic after topic together. They don't have to like... actually be a cat and a dog for that though. All about the vibes! If Makoto was a dog though, his tail would be wagging CONSTANTLY. You just can't put him down. Guy just has golden retriever energy. Even though I have never interacted with a golden retriever so.... Yeah. Also, another dynamic that goes into this one is just that grumpy boy and sunshine dynamic. This is nice too. It is them. The homies. Honestly, most things that play up Byakuya's almost feral energy also makes me incredibly happy in life. Just ruffle the Karen cut a bit and BOOM! Full fletched wet cat looking prick! Either that or skrungly energy. There is no in-between. To be honest, it is so funny that he has this energy for me. Like, he's a billionaire loser! Why am I attached?! (i know why but silly joke time :D ) A good one is also ones where Makoto is just getting info dumped by Byakuya. Like, it's just Makoto existing while Byakuya blabbers on about his hyper fixations and special interests which I do have some headcanons on what some of those specifically are because at this point, I've started projecting onto him and there is now no return. He's getting dorkified which honestly doesn't help cus he already looks and sounds like a dweeb in denial that he's a dork. Another one is just, these two knuckleheads getting into hijinks cus Makoto is just a magnet for trouble and Byakuya just can't stop starting shit. Adding Kyoko in the mix for that goody good sprinkle of Naegamigiri/Tonaegiri also gives is slight Scooby Doo hijinks I also appreciate. Insert Benny Hill Theme. It is legit just, Makoto existing and crap happening, Byakuya making more problems, and Kyoko being the one who fixes all the bullshit. Though this version of the trio gets me too. Just: "Makoto gets in trouble, Byakuya causes trouble, and Kyoko also causes trouble sometimes but she knows how to course-correct" I guess chaotic gays just do stuff to my brain. Releases the happy brain juices into my body and soul. Like, just let them do arson! It'd be great! Or just, Byakuya doing arson while Makoto sheds a singular tear.

There's also other stuff like, what makes the Naegami in a non-despair au alter from the Naegami with despair? That kinda stuff. I eat that shit up. All the shit. Too much shit. Chronically. This stuff is just fascinating to me. Cus there's questions to be had such as would they be as close in a non-despair story without some meddling? And the best part is that there's no right or wrong answer in a sense. It's fluid and nice and it's cool. Specifically regarding tropes and stuff for these two regardless of despair or non-despair is that good good slow burn. Like, the two of them slowly hanging out more and getting to know each other and badabing, badaboom, Byakuya's definitely not crushing HARD and he's also SOOOO not having having an identity crisis too while we're at it. Another thing I like are interpretations where the two of them are equals in a sense or instances where it's not just Makoto helping Byakuya out. Basically, where both boys get to help one another. This also doesn't really matter if it's despair or non-despair. I just like these two being a unit together! It can be as small as Byakuya helping Makoto be more assertive and not a total doormat or Makoto teaching Byakuya that he shouldn't put all this stress on himself or just hitting him with the reality that his childhood SUCKED. Or just, hitting him with the fact that he kinda a shitty poo poo head! Not like that though! Makoto would never shake him and say something like that. It'd be more like Byakuya coming to the realization that he treats others bad and he's a hypocrite. I want him to suffer a bit before he gets to be gay with the egg/hj Gosh. I'm probably missing so many differing interpretations I've seen or had, dang it! This may be a bit incoherent for all I know. Though, me try. This is also getting a bit too long so... Tldr; boys do kiss kiss

[skitskatdacat63]

pls complain as much as you want about the eff won movie, i agree with all your tags and i'm sure you have more to say 👀

Hello here I am, ready to complain!!! I did in fact have more to say so thank you for asking

*Sorry Grace if you read this and I accidentally stole any of your talking points lol

ALSO DISCLAIMER: If you disagree with me, please do not fucking bug me about, I do not care, let me be a massive bitter hater in peace, thanks

I. Disinterest 

First of all, who asked for this? To me the appeal of F1 is how exclusive and confined it is. There are only 10 teams and 20 drivers you have to learn about which makes it very easy to become super invested. If you want to step outside that, you can learn more about the lower formulas or past seasons(there’s many of them!!!!) So why would I, someone extremely invested in the people and narrative already taking place, even remotely care about some made up drivers? Especially since they’re not JUST made up drivers, they’re made up drivers in the background of REAL drivers. I am highly invested in the results of current F1, so why would I want to watch a movie where those results and drivers are in the background. I’d rather just watch DTS, which is a crazy statement within itself.

I’ve actually thought a lot about how one could mesh real and fake within a sport like F1. Cause I daydream about my OCs in F1 haha, but then start thinking too hard about the logistics of it all. I came to the conclusion that putting fake F1 drivers into the real story is just not a great idea. Because you’re disrupting the actual results and inserting yourself into them, and also as I said, putting real life people in the background out of self interest. It just complicates things so much to add outside elements to such an insulated sport. If this movie had made up a completely fake grid, I’d honestly be all for it and probably would be pretty interested. Like, wow, give me a whole franchise of this!!! Give me a movie about every fake team!!! Get me invested!! But at the end of the day, I’m always going to care about the real life drivers more

In other racing movies, that are biopics, there is a focus of maybe one or two drivers. And those other drivers that were in the grid at the same time become background characters. BUT it’s in service of a real life story with real life people many may already be emotionally invested in. They’re not just turning the rest of the drivers into background characters in order to prop up their own fake F1 drivers, but rather just putting the focus on a story that deserves to be told. There’s so many stories that deserve to be told in F1, literal decades of stories. Why are they putting so much money and effort in service of a story that no one knows or cares about. 

Also I can already tell this movie is gonna be like…60% action, 40% plot. Again, if I wanted any of those things, I’d watch actual F1. It feels like a male power fantasy for men who wish they could try driving F1 cars.

II. Invasive 

I really dislike how involved it is with F1. You know, F1, something that is people’s legitimate job? It’s already a very flashy sport with so much publicity around it, why do you have to unnecessarily  add to that? Their cars being on the actual grid, the fake drivers being in the media pen. I just find the whole idea of them inserting themselves into modern F1 to be so weird. 

All those clips of Brad Pitt alongside the actual drivers genuinely make my skin crawl, it’s soooooooo fucking weird. Like that one clip of him standing alongside them for the anthem. Imagine you work your whole life and put so much blood, sweat, and tears into getting into F1, and then this rich asshole is allowed to roleplay next to you. There’s already enough pressure with the netflix cameras around all the time. And now they’re forced to be in a movie as well. Maybe I’m self centered but I’d be so annoyed if they were making a film about my sport and then I find out I’m only there to be a background character in a story about made up drivers. It just makes me cringe so much to imagine him pretending to be an F1 driver next to the actual drivers, like is that not embarrassing???

The social medias….very strange. Like the stuff with them using Paul Aron as their rookie. Even if they did get his permission, which I’m still not sure about, it’s so weird to me. Like oh the main characters are made up but you’re still willing to use other drivers in the pursuit of your own story. I’m sorry but is that not weird to anyone else???? I dislike how much this movie blurs the line between fiction and reality, involving real life drivers whenever it’s convenient. Looking at their socmed makes me cringe so much. I’m sure a bunch of self insert writers or novel writers would do the same but they’d get bullied. Yet a bunch of grown ass men are allowed to literally roleplay on twt/insta and it’s suddenly fine and normal? Lmao their most recent post is the FP1 results from Hungary. Is it not so fucking weird for them to make up placements, and thus just ignore the actual drivers who got those positions? Imagine you’re Lando and you got P6 and you go on instagram and suddenly discover that you did not in fact get P6, but rather Sonny Hayes did! Wow that 60 yr old sure is a good driver. 

And let us not forget to mention them making memorial posts for Senna and Jules Bianchi. That actually made me feel sickened, especially the Jules one. Imagine using a real life tragedy for publicity on your roleplay twitter. Is that fucking creepy???? Like why of all things would you choose THAT to play along with. They’re a made up team that is in no way associated with either drivers, so why are they talking about them? What is the point. 

Okay but that clip of Fernando staring at Brad Pitt, I’m fucking dying. I wish he could give his actual thoughts on it. Like what is it like to see a guy older than you, pretending to be an F1 driver, while you are there, doing your actual job. I like to think he had a dementia moment and was like, “hey wait when did that guy join the grid? I thought I was the oldest!?”

III. Dramatising

There already is a pretty big issue in this community where the drivers are treated like characters, and not real people. There’s so many people out there who just watch DTS and treat F1 like a soap opera. People who only know about F1 in the context of made up drama, and now there's gonna be a movie about made up drama. This movie further blurs the lines between fiction and reality. Again, they’re literally turning the F1 drivers into background characters of a movie. Like, wow you’re not real people anymore, your lives exist in the back of this story now. Imagine how confusing this would be as a new fan.

I know they’re all a bunch of rich privileged guys but, at the end of the day, this is still their job, not just fodder for drama. I want the sanctity of F1 to be respected okay. It's such a cool sport to me and I love all the real stuff about it, and I don't like the way media treats it and changes it.

IV. Old Man Self Insert

I basically covered this in my other categories but I just want to complain more. I really really despise that this movie just feels like some old guy really wanted to drive F1 cars and had to come up with a reason to justify it. I feel like someone who is a serious F1 fan would want to honor the actual history and context  of the sport more, y’know? Not just make a blatant self insert film, inserting himself in the literal daily life of the actual drivers. It annoys me bcs this is a sport where people start getting called old when they hit 30, not that I agree with that but I’m just saying, it’s a very ageist sport where youth seems to be valued over most other things. My resident GOAT old man, who is 18 years younger than Pitt, constantly has people saying how he should retire to give younger drivers more of a chance. So why the hell in a sport with this environment are we getting a movie about a 60 YEAR OLD driver. It’s just so clearly a self motivated passion project, and Domenicalli and others want to milk F1 for all the money it's worth. Okay so a made up team is allowed to be 11th and yet you keep shunning actual teams that could join and bring in more publicity/money? Okay, okay…

V. Misc

I’m ngl it feels like a made up team would have an easier job getting into F1 if they really wanted to, because of the publicity. And yet Andretti cannot. Imagine a docu film about a brand new team joining F1 for the first time ever and the trials and tribulations it takes to be a new team in such a historical, bloodthirsty sport. But nah let’s put all that money and effort into a make believe story. 

But yeah they’re not really doing anything inventive anyways. Wow an old man driver who they’re probably gonna pretend is not completely age inaccurate for this sport. And the supposed dynamic of it. Isn’t it supposed to be Brad Pitt’s chara coming back to mentor a rookie prodigy?? When are teammate relationships ever that nice?????? The only similar relationship I can think of is Seb and Micheal but they were on diff teams, and RBR was a lot better than Merc atp. I feel like the only time you see mentor-like relationships is either when the two are on diff teams, the car is an absolute backmarker, or the mentor absolutely outclasses the rookie. 

The fucking “who cares about safety” line, who authorized that????? Thinking about how I almost got ripped to shreds on here for talking about how refueling was interesting, and yet a blockbuster is allowed to disregard safety??? And weren’t they saying in that trailer that they have to make the car for battle? Is their strat being terrorists??

VI. Javier Bardem

GAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH WHY DOES ONE OF MY FAVORITE ACTORS HAVE TO BE IN THIS SHIT FUCKING MOVIE GOD DAMN YOU JAVIER YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!! 

It is very painful to me that he’s gonna be in this movie, and that his doppelganger who you may know as Fernando Alonso will also guest star. Like I don’t want to give this film money nor do I want to watch it. But the fact that there’s the possibility of seeing Fernando Alonso beloved on the big screen…it’s so tempting.

It’s just irritating cause his chara in the trailer DOES seem like smth I’d actually be interested in. Like I think he’s gonna be a dubious team owner or TP and man….that’s so perfect. But not in the context of the full movie lmao. So who will be the brave soul and make the Javier Bardem and Fernando Alonso cut for me? Maybe I will ask my brother to write down the timestamps for me. 

I digress. There’s probably some things I forgot to complain about but this is what I came up with <3 I hate you Brad Pitt and I hate you Domenicalli and I hate you MBS, etc etc. Lmao you know what this feels like? When you're in a fandom for a fandom for a franchise like the MCU or SW, and nrw shows/movies come out and you feel like they're bastardizing the whole franchise. This is what this movie is to me.

[thewickedlorchqueen]

I hate Lily's Star Wars oc

And I'm going to be straight forward here, it's because of her video's about heroinism. I love mary sue's, I love oc x canon, I say break canon for your own au and I don't care if one add's there own politics. Basically I love bad oc fanfiction, but Lily's whole moral code and how much she tries to force that Aliana is a good person despite being a psychopaths' that kills whoever she deems as the villain and is rewarded for it in the story just makes her unbearable.

And before anyone starts no this wouldn't change if Aliana was any other race. One of my favorite fic authors has several self insert black characters she even openly claims as Mary sues and I love them. My favorite is still her Beverly hill teens oc (again I love bad cringy shit don't at me) that becomes BFF with Bianca and humbles Lark (the main character, who I love but the fic is fun)

A bad character is a bad character regardless of race.

"But she only goes after rich bad people!" Firstly overhearing a conversation and deciding to kill people based on that isn't heroic, not to mention frustrating. She doesn't try to dismantle the system that holds them, (no just killing the big boss doesn't count), she doesn't find said 'poor slaves' and gives them a better home. She kills the traders and everything works out in the end.

Which becomes even more frustrating when it turns out that Luke kills her mom (a sith and a slave trader herself, the same one that transported Ray her love interest. But don't worry guys she felt super bad about it. She was even willing to raise Ray and Aliana as siblings!

) and is in the right to get revenge.

Yet isn't Luke in the same place as Aliana? A sith (you know the dark side, proven bad guys, a slave trader herself, possible over heard her bragging about her trades. A villian according to his beliefs and morals) was doing bad things so he killed her possibly saving who knows how many poor, innocent souls~ Yet is in the wrong because she was Aliana's mom. And that's just one of the Skywalkers.

Would that mean that any of the children of the people Aliana killed would be justified in getting revenge against her because they also felt 'super bad' about it but only talked big? What if they were acting tough and lying because said trader was trying to save their child that (like Ray) was being transported and unlike Ray's was trying to save their child? Then Aliana (based on a conversation she overheard) killed them, forsaking the child.

What if their morality justified the parents actions in the same way Aliana justified her own family? Not trying to justified slave trading but it would be interesting and a great way to strengthen Aliana as a character if she has to fight against someone who justifies their actions the same way she justifies murdering people. The same way she tries to say a sith can be a good guy despite history (and canon) saying other wise. You know an actual story besides teaching Ray "murder good, capitalisms bad, I'm always right" with some romance (which I'm not knocking or going into because Rays just the love interest. In a better or campier story I might like it more)

But nope all we got was an oc whose always right and all the bad fun camp one usually gets is sucked away because of grandstanding from a sith cop (kills who she wants based on her own morality, deems who is right and wrong it fits).

Lily claims to go into deep topics but I'm still waiting for anything besides "Aliana is always right, rich people bad (unless it her family) and watch as she murders people with justice,".

Anyway this fic is frustrating and now I want a fanfic where a child of one of the people Aliana murdered fights her.