#for anyone curious about what's wrong with this pattern:

[cultivating-wildflowers]

I have decided to start this crochet project over for the fourth time.

[aly4khq]

A DRAGON'S LAIR! ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*

— sum: You were exploring Tarus city as a self mission, trying to find the dragon who was told to have lived in the city for many years to come. You thought that you would encounter barely anything, but you were ever so wrong.

— characters: dragon!sylus

— warnings: pining, he tops ur clothes, double penetrartion (he had too dicks), improper use of his tail, manhandling, biting, fuckin from behind. (if i have missed any, please inform me!)

— wc: 1,746

You've never been one to lerk into unknown territory or to find refuge in a random city that you learnt about in a history book — it's never been in your nature at all. But once you saw the posters, you knew that it was a place of worship and surprise.

Tarus city, a city where it's been claimed to have a dragon that laid in the depths of a special cave. The cave was highly risky for any normal human being, I mean, the image that laid on the posters was frightening enough to keep away tourists. The unusually greyish-red that scattered around the cave's entrance, moving around like a line circling a branch, a black thick coating around it which looked like claws when compared to each other, the singular hand on the top leading to the cave like it was inviting you.

You loved mythical creatures so this was a field day for you, you needed to go.

There was also a garden which yearly grew beautiful flowers there, crimson in colour and rose in shape. They scattered everywhere, and they seemed to have been planted by a very skilled gardener — if there even was one back in the early years of life. Oh how you'd love to distress by rolling in there after a long day, what a dream.

But you weren't just there for the cool looking dragon, you were there for the sword. Like that playground sword that you had to remove from the ground, and whoever could move it was the 'chosen one', there was one that laid outside the cave, imbedded in the beautiful scenery of flowers and healthy grass with its delicate pattern leaving you with mysteries.

"Where did it come from?" "What does it symbolise?" "How did it get there out of all places?"

Who owned it?

Well, let's just say that you weren't too scared to find out. You needed answers and if you had to dig into a random mythical cave then you will. Despite the lack of information, you searched up any little tips to help you navigate inside of a cave.

You needed to be prepared, and properly prepared.

After a while of constant climbing and exploring the beautiful long yards of greenery, you stood face to face with the cave that was feared the most back in Linkon City, aka the Dragon's Lair. In the papers, it looked like absolute horror capturing in a frame but in person, it was gorgeous.

The cave was expanded and opened for anyone to come into, and you'd did just that. Entering the cave, you turned on the flashlight you brought, seeing insta treasures of many different kinds of art scattered around the walls of the cave. "Wow...this is cool..." you softly murmured to yourself, still engrossed in the scenery—

...what the hell was that?

A deep and raged growl sped through the walls of the cave like air, filling your eyes with an intense sound. Hissing, the growl's sound waves led you to an expanded room, where a big bed-like item was in the front, surrounding by more jewels of ancient treasures. You found yourself searching around, looking for what this place could've belonged to.

And after 5 minutes, you dug in, "What's the worst that could happen?"

Searching the amazing rich items on the floor, your bag got heavier and heavier with time. Each jewel that caught your eye went in. Some of them even had ancient symbols on them, now that's a lot of money.

But, a singular gem caught your eye. It was a necklace that had a black substance scattered all over it, laying on the bed that was in the middle of the room. "Oh?" your hand went out, curious, "This is peculiar."

The necklace was a beautiful golden chain, wrapping with ancient knots and twists so it was bonded together perfectly. On both sides of the pendants scattered around the necklace, there were small, very intricate patterns dented into the metal. It had a pocture of a dragon on the front, and it...was weirdly shaped. Like the top half was crossed out, but forget that, you just found a good millions of money in your hands.

"Well, that's been a nice journey here cave, thanks for the new finds and...yeah. I'll be going."

You turned for the entrance where you came from, and it was blocked off by a large bolder. "Huh..? Why...who?"

You turned around to find a way to get out when a tail wrapped around your waist, pulling you down to your knees in a rapid manner. You scrapped your knee on the harsh carpet. "Ah! Hah...ow.." You tired to arise from your forced position when you heard a deep voice.

"Were you never taught of etiquette? Or was it just you who missed out?"

He boomed over you, a...handsome man. He was silver hair, crimson eyes and weird black claws and a tail. His clothes bleeding in with his skin.

This isn't the dragon. I mean, it's a literally human being?

"Etiquette? Who are you?" You replied back harshly, not thinking before you spoke. Remembering quickly, it was too late, his tail went around your body before whipping the skin behind you thighs. You yelped, cursing the man-dragon above you.

"You!—" "Me what?"

He arose from his throne, walkijg menacingly to grab your waist before pulling you up to your feet. He turned you around, your back against his toned chest. His hand went over your chin and upper neck, pushing your head back to his shoulder with a smirk.

"Maybe I should teach you," he bite your collarbone before growling, "how to respect a dragon's cave."

"Gahh—Ugggg, you're so deep!—"

"Focus."

That same dragon had you bent over the same drawer you had stolen from, your clothes ripped from his sharp claws just where you soaked pussy was.Your back arched like never before and his hand still around your chin, his teeth biting and sucking on your collarbone with delight. His hips were slow but deep, reaching your cervix with long strokes, his dick sending you into a wave of pleasure.

"What's the answer?"

He'd made you write down the rules of entering his cave again, the pencil shaking vigorously in your trembling hands. The paper soaking up your falling tears as you begged and pleaded with the man above you. "Hahh— Sylus— please...! Please! I might just—"

His tail traveled down your clit, gently caressing it with the peek of the tail. "Write it down, or I'll do even worse." He threatened, and you obeyed, grabbing the pencil and harshly writing down, "I will be respectfu—"

"Ah!!" His hip gave you a sharp thrust, a warning to behave and write properly. His hand groping your wee cheeks to the point that you could feel his claws digging into your flesh. "You have one more chance." With every word, he thrusted harder until you shrieked, your body bending more forward to escape his powerful hips, you pussy squeezes into the life out of him.

Your hands went back, trying to push his pelvis away from you. "Hm?" He hummed, his eyebrow rising before you hear a chuckle, "Want me to slow down sweetie?" His voice was playful, yet you nodded quickly anyway.

"Too bad." 



He sped up, his hips snapping so fast with your to the point where it echoed in the room. Your hands banged on the drawer, lookijg for a way to soothe to intense pleasure that you were being given. You couldn't even speak, your face fucked out and your body slowly weakening.

"S-Sy...luss...I can't...! Please..." You begged, trying to find a better way to convince him to give you a break. His dick the was so deep that you thought that it was two dicks at once. It felt so huge, and more struggle.

The stretch was too much, you yelled, "Sylus! Why is it—" You gasped loudly, relent that he had two massive ducks in you at the moment, both of them lodged deep in your pussy. In that moment, you nearly passed out. "Ahh ah hah...hahh!!" You cried out, tensing, "Pleaseee..."

"You're fine, just one more." Sylus cheered on, his tail moving up to caress your back, travelling down the straight line. His tail met your ass, gently put slowly digging it into your other hole, "No! No no, please, i can't, please," Your whole body was shaking, your sweat coating your skin.

"Mhm, fine, for now." Sylus replied in a teasing tone before continuing to roll his hips into yours, and by that tight squeeze he knew that you were close. You stood a little, crying, "I can feel it!— I need to pee—Why does it feel like I need to pee?!—"

He reassured you, speaking in your ear, "It's normal, you're fine, just relax." You wasn't breathing at all. He grabbed your chin again before ordering you, "Cum."

Your orgasm hit you, your lungs not being able to take in oxygen due to the sheer force of your release. The intense feeling was still shocking you, your hands braking some of the wood of the drawer due to your grip. Your legs shaking like no ever before you felt his claws tap your chest, "Hey, Breathe."

You took a deep breath in before covering your mouth, instantly being met with fatigue. "I need a rest...I can't feel myself..." Sylus chuckled at your position, his hand goijg around your waist to carry you to his bed. "It's okay, you took both off my dicks, well done."

"I knew you'd come along," Sylus hummed, "so just relax my Queen, I'll take care of you.

this is not proofread! i was too eager to post so sorry hotties!

@ aly4khq, do not plagiarise, translate or copy my work. (30/11/24)

[atskiruma]

he makes you cry

expl: he doesn't usually care about others' feelings, so how was he supposed to know what he did to you was mean?

a/n: appalled that this is my first time doing my favorite geo boy, appalled and ashamed; also exhausted this might not be my best work, requests sent will be fulfilled soon, i just need some rest! just got hired at a job that i went for an interview with today, so work will slowly be coming out later and later, sorry!

ask me anything

masterlist

second-person writing no pronouns used, 2,818 words

Xiao was not fond of caring about others' emotions, nor did it ever occur to him that he should care. He tried to keep his life as simple and as peaceful as possible because he deserved it after everything he went through before. Which was why he was so confused when someone would cry in front of him. Xiao never cried when times were hard, what made those salty tears escape human eyes so easily?

Most of the time, he never saw people cry, and if he did, he ignored it. That's how he was taught to deal with emotion, he'd ignore it.

It began when you were up in your room at the Inn, minding your business and trying to figure out how to make the woven bracelet that the Traveler had taught you. Frankly, it was pretty difficult, and when the Traveler was teaching you, you were so busy watching them that you never actually learned.

The hours were beginning to fly by and you could hardly make out the original pattern you were trying to replicate. Repeated failures over and over and piling yarn began to stack up on the bed next to you. It was when you had finally gotten it down to only mess up again because something distracted you was when you finally snapped.

Throwing the bracelet across the room where it rested under the table, streams of hot tears began to roll down your cheeks in frustration. You were doing everything right, why wasn't it working!

It happened to be the same time you were leaving your room when Xiao was strolling down the hallway. The two of you made eye contact and his eyes flew to where the tears were running toward the bottom of your neck. His eyes widened only a little bit and his mouth opened and closed like a fish only to not know what to say.

You also stood still and stared at him. Why? Maybe you were just waiting for him to comfort you or you were curious about what he had to say. But when it was clear that he'd keep gapping like a fish, you started to walk off again. Only for him to grab your wrist before you made it too far and pull you a bit toward him.

"Are you okay?" He asked in a soft voice, hardly making eye contact with you and finding his shoes on the floor more entertaining. It was shocking to see him show such concern in general, but you remembered why you were upset and started to ball again. Pushing yourself into his chest and crying warm tears into his shirt.

His hands fumbled on the sides of you for a while until he rested them softly on your hips. Awkwardly patting you in a form of reassurance he'd never shown anyone before.

His face was pretty flat when you began to show signs of distress and sadness. Albedo was too focused on his experiment to even realize that something went wrong on your end. The sound of a beaker crashing to the floor sounded across the room, but he still kept looking forward, hardly hearing anything at all.

That sound kept up for a while, you were pretty sure you broke at least 5 beakers in the time it took for you to get them from the spare cabinet. It wasn't until the 6th beaker that you managed to catch did Albedo actually turn around to see what had happened.

His experiment seemed to be going fine, the color of the liquid sitting at the bottom of the beaker matching the picture right next to it perfectly. You sighed when you saw he had already beaten you to make the antidote.

"I don't know how you do it 'bedo. This one is probably the most difficult I've done." You said before wiping your forehead which was littered with sweat from how hard you'd been concentrating.

"Just try again, I'm sure you'll be able to complete it." He said, his encouraging words going little to no length and falling straight to the floor. It didn't help that the trashcan full of your previous broken beakers was so close. It was extremely discouraging to see how much damage you've caused just trying to learn how to brew the antidote.

Then Albedo took his leave, putting his things down when he realized the clock read 9 PM. Bidding you goodbye, he looked back one last time with his handle on the doorknob and spoke. "Humans sometimes do not carry the skill to complete such a difficult task, do not push yourself to do something you simply can't achieve."

And then the door shut. All you did was stare at where he previously had been, his words repeating in an endless loop shrinking infinitely into your mind.

"Huh?" Was all you said before a warm feeling rushed down your cheeks and landed on the toe of your shoes. Did he just call me stupid? You thought to yourself. The frustration you felt along with the fact that he just said that, caused a rush of salty tears to leave your eyes. Your eyelashes stuck together as tears mended them together.

You continued to stand there and cry, until the door opened again and the alchemist stuck his head back in the door, announcing he forgot something towards the floor. That was until he lifted his head up to see you standing there, crying. For once, he stood still and just stared at you unable to conjure any words for the scene he was witnessing.

The sniffles and the silent sounds of tears padding the floor were all that was making sound in the room. As Albedo continued to stare at you like the two of you were playing a game of freeze tag.

"I'm stupid aren't I 'bedo?" You said, which made him flinch when the sound of the nickname you gave him came out in a harsh and rude manner. "Too stupid to figure out the dumb potion because I'm just a mere human in your eyes."

"What're you talking about?" He said, with the quietest and most emotion-full voice you've ever heard him use. Albedo continued to step closer to you, almost as if he was never moving at all. When he finally did reach you, his hand brushed against your cheek and his eyes held so much concern it could fill up the sea.

"I don't think you're lesser than me, is this about what I said? I didn't mean it like that..."

You kept sniffling while looking at him, still stubborn for more than what he was giving you. His arms reached around you and held you close, something he often did when Klee would sob, which he learned from Jean.

The two of you stood like that for a while, until the blazing sun rested its eyes in the distance, and the sorrowful moon began to creep up the valley.

"What is wrong with you??" Tighnari's harsh voice came out in a way you only heard once in a while. His irritated look glared at you from where you stood, all you had done was knock down a few books, but it looked like other things were really beginning to upset him.

You expected to greet the forest ranger and spend some time together, seeing as the both of you made those plans a while ago, but it seems that he was really busy with something that he was supposed to finish a while ago.

He whipped his head back to look at the beakers on the table, making a very loud and audible sigh at your appearance here. "I'm busy, so make another time for..." He waved his hands around dramatically and quick, "Whatever it was you were planning and leave me be."

You stood silent for a while, shocked that he was giving you such an attitude, but at the same time, you had no idea how to respond to what he said. So, you did just that and didn't respond, turning on your heels and leaving. Unfortunately, Tighnari didn't hear you leave and assumed you were still sitting there waiting for him like usual. So when he turned around and opened his mouth to address you and apologize, he stopped in his tracks to see you weren't there.

When you saw Tighnari again, it was actually just his voice you had heard and your eyes didn't flicker to see if it was actually him. Collei was holding some sort of dinner for the forest rangers in the area, to both thank them and congratulate her for beating Eleazar. But you finally did see him when it was too late, and you were bumping into the forest ranger with food in your hands.

A shocked gasp came out of your mouth till the echoed noise of a bowl rumbled onto the ground and crashed down, the food flying along with it. Your distressed state increased, and you immediately flew down to try and clean it up.

In fact, you were so busy trying to clean the bowl of food that had spilled over that you didn't even realize the forest ranger was standing behind you with his hands behind his back. Until the call of your name was repeated for the 3rd time, did you turn around to look at him, tears in your eyes from how frustrated you were?

Tighnari's eyes widened before he immediately dropped to his knees and put his hand on your shoulder for comfort. It shocked him to see you in such a vulnerable state, especially with how cheery you always seemed around him.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Tighnari said, before moving his eyes down to the food splattered all over the dirt. You didn't even realize how much helping out at the party would stress you out. As soon as Tighnari muttered the words are you alright, tears flooded out more and more as you tried to hide your face in your hands. Your shoulders and body shook with how much you were crying. Tighnari moved closer to you and shielded you with his body.

Not only did he treat you terribly before, but the first time he sees you in days, you were crying? His heart felt like it could break then and there. His hand came around your back to soothingly rub circles on it while you continued to sob. His ears even flattened a bit on his head in guilt.

When Collei had come around the corner to see the pasta salad splattered on the ground, and Tighnari hugging you with his tail between his legs. She smiled and sighed a bit, before walking away to leave you two be.

It felt like a long time while the two of you sat like that, his hand never stopping to rub your back. You finally pulled away to look at him and Tighnari rested his hand on your cheek in a comforting manner.

"I'm sorry I treated you like that, I was irritated and you came in at a bad time. I never want to hurt you." His guilt-written face and ears practically flattened to his head making your heart beat in a painful rhythm.

"You can make it up to me by helping me clean this up?" You said as a sly grin grew a little bit on your face. He smiled back and rolled up his sleeves to begin cleaning.

Scaramouche was a mean boy, everyone knew that he had no filter and he acted as if he didn't care about anyone when in reality it was the exact opposite.

"You're pathetic!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, looking at your shocked expression and stance from across the room. You had just failed to do the task that Nahida assigned you again, and it seemed like the newly-found anemo holder was growing more and more impatient watching you fail over and over.

"Excuse me?" You spat back, clearly irritated with his outburst and pushiness. Scaramouche scoffed again before trailing over to where you were, Nahida watching the interaction from her desk.

"You've been doing it all wrong, and that pathetic idiot brain can't seem to comprehend that." His fingers flew a swift flick to your head, pushing you back a centimeter. "If you keep failing, shouldn't you be trying something else instead of pushing the same solution over and over? Moron."

His insults over and over were hurting, sure, but you were used to it. When you felt good. Right now, this was the last thing you needed after failing again and again. At one point you even glanced over at Nahida after failing and saw her face look a bit reluctant about your skills. Which increased your anxiety tenfold.

"I never knew someone could be so stupid. I even worked with morons every day in the Fatui, but none match up to how idiotic you are." Scaramouche just kept blasting insult after insult at you. What was with him today? Was he really that peeved you didn't wait for him in the morning to walk over here?

Moving aside and putting your hands up defensively, you made way for the prince and his smart brain. He moved in front of you and began looking down at what you were doing. It looked like Nahida was still working with you on Fermat's Last Theorem, which was an extremely difficult math equation, back in the 17th century. Scaramouche made a noticeable eye roll before sitting down to begin writing out how to solve it.

What he didn't see was your reaction to the last flinching insult he threw your way. He didn't witness the tears swell up in your eyes and he also didn't see you walk away and leave the sanctuary. Only witnessing your presence gone when he looked up to turn another sarcastic comment towards you. Scaramouche's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before looking around him to see where you went. He turned towards Nahida when he couldn't find you and she looked up at him before looking back down at her papers.

"Tsk, whatever." He pushed his seat back and sat up to leave, wondering what he should have for dinner instead of concerning himself with where you went. It wasn't until later in the evening when he saw you again, sitting back at the desk, not uttering an obnoxious sigh or an irritating "What does this mean??"

He eased himself over to you with his hands in his pockets before leaning behind your shoulder to see what you were doing. You were working on the problem again, but his copy of it was nowhere to be seen, that is until he looked towards the trash and saw his handwriting on the paper barely crumpled and resting near the top of the bin.

"You threw away my paper?" He said with irritation lining every letter. You kept writing though and paid him no mind. The silent treatment seemed to be really riling him up because he continued to berate you over and over as you sat there taking it and continuing to work.

It was only an hour later that it really started to bother him with you being quiet. Maybe what he said earlier was too harsh, he didn't really feel that bad, but if it meant you weren't going to speak to him then he had to do something.

Leaning over you again, he placed his hand on your upper arm, grabbing your attention from the unusual act. His eyes met yours and held the stare for a couple seconds before he spoke,

"I'm sorry." That was all he said.

You raised an eyebrow at him, before squinting your eyes in confusion and responding.

"Sorry for what..?" The sarcasm dripped from every syllable and landed on his fragile ego.

His eyes widened and he took his hand from your arm, frowning and shouting back,

"I don't repeat myself! Accept the apology I gave you."

"You're such a child, does saying sorry really hurt that bad?"

"You heard me!"

Your eyes rolled and you turned back to your paper as if you were going back to ignoring him, his eyes softened again and he grabbed your arm once more.

"I'm sorry I said those mean words to you. I didn't mean it, I don't like it when you leave without me and I don't like it when you're upset."

When he grabbed your arm, you didn't turn to face him again, but after hearing the words he spoke, you turned again with a smile on your face and leaned closer to his.

The blush was evidently growing the more you leaned in, and you could see his adam's apple bob with nervousness.

"I accept your apology Kunikuzushi."

[celianity]

Movie Night

Jordan Li x Reader

Prompt: having your nemesis attend your roommates' movie night takes a turn when some unresolved desires flare back up

Warnings: cursing, mentions of smut

Word count: 1.246

Author's note: would anyone be up for a continuation? _________________________________________

“You seriously bought sour cream and onion?” Emma eyes the bag of chips in Marie’s hand like it is a nuclear bomb.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you the snack police?”

“It’s just a movie night, guys. No need to get at each other’s throats.” You try to be the voice of reason, but you are one pointless argument away from combusting into flames.

The drinks are wrong. The snacks are wrong. The placement of seating (for which you bared responsibility) is wrong. Well, there are only so many options to arrange the furniture in a dorm room.

“Shut up,” your roommates respond in unison.

“Nice to see that you can agree on something.” Emma is glaring daggers at you.

On some level, you understand their motives for organizing this night to hang out like normal teenagers for a change.

Things at the school have been slowly going downhill while you and your friends are still in the dark about most of the details. Too many questions, too little answers.

You can’t shake the feeling that that’s the motto for tonight too, but you wouldn’t dare to say that out loud. Marie would probably strangle you with her blood powers.

So, you have no choice but to suppress your annoyance, pull up an action movie on the flat screen TV by the door and fluff the pillows on Emma’s bed one last time.

Marie hands you a bowl of chips while announcing that Andre and Cate will not be the only ones attending tonight’s comfortable activities. Her lopsided smile does not soften the blow in the slightest like intended.

“Are you kidding me?” you groan out in frustration. “You can’t just invite my nemesis into my fucking bedroom.”

Marie shrugs her shoulders. “Technically, it’s our bedroom, so I’m allowed to invite whoever I please.”

Emma rushes to Marie’s defense, “Maybe that’s a good thing. Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer. Understanding them better might help you finally break into the Top Five.”

You intend to outrank Jordan Li with talent and power.

Not by studying their profile in the flickering light of a movie.

Not by watching their fingers grasp for the last crumbs of chips in the bowl.

And certainly not by wondering what they might be wearing to such a casual event. A tiny voice in the back of your head suggests a pair of grey sweatpants and you suddenly feel the urge to punch yourself in the face.

Instead, you hurry to build up that protective wall in your mind to hold back the quickly resurfacing memory fragments.

Hot breath on your swollen lips. Curious fingers, tracing patterns on a toned stomach, muscles tensing under your touch, wandering southwards. Feeling their need on your fingertips. Feeling your own, searing in the pit of your stomach. Hitching, matching breaths.

Oh, for fucks sake, Marie, what have you done?

---

You loathe feeling weak but that was exactly what pushed you into Jordan’s arms one lonely night a few days ago.

After failing yet again to access the full potential of your powers and expressing your frustration about the matter cursing like a sailor, you were looking for a distraction to blow off some steam.

And there they were, hastily typing away on their phone in the locker room of the training facility.

“Sounds like you have a shitty night too,” they observe, back turned to you, pulling their hair together into a ponytail.

When your eyes finally meet in the dimly lit room, you both know this is inevitable.

---

The movie’s quite entertaining, but you have to resist the urge to continuously let your eyes wander to Emma’s bed where Jordan occupies the spot at the edge, farthest away from you.

Emma and Marie block your view a bit with their legs upright.

From your own spot in the desk chair next to the bed, you restrain from craning your neck.

Andre and Cate are on the floor in front of you, totally engrossed by the plot of the film.

Of course, Jordan’s wearing those damn sweatpants, leaving little to the imagination. They waltzed in here, all tall and lean frame, running a hand through their short dark hair, flexing their bicep in the process.

You received a barely noticeable smirk in exchange for a pointed look.

---

Your staring’s getting obvious.

Your phone screen lights up in the dark, earning an annoyed sigh from Marie. At first, you don’t recognize the unknown number, but it doesn’t take you long to connect the dots.

Stealing phone numbers now? That’s really depressing.

You dim the brightness of your display and roll your chair back as quietly as possible to further shield if from prying eyes.

Must be able to contact you in the event of an emergency.

You frown, catching a glimpse of Jordan’s fingers typing again. Their irritatingly pretty face illuminated by soft blue light.

You’ve been avoiding me.

You’re not sure where this conversation is going, so you try to put an end to it as fast as possible.

I’m a busy person.

And I’m fucking sick of it.

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard, afraid to make a wrong move that would burst this bubble of sudden tension.

That sounds like a you problem.

You take the safe route, hoping for the best and expecting the worst.

Maybe you’ve trouble remembering, but you came on to me. Practically ambushing me in the dead of night.

Oh, fuck you.

Yeah, I’d hope that’s what you plan on doing tonight.

You ignore the heat rising in your cheeks and begin typing again. Two can play this game.

If you ask nicely. I recall you’re good at begging.

Jordan’s laughter merges into an awkward coughing fit and you have to bite your tongue when Emma offers them a glass of water.

Getting a reaction fuels your… ambition. You’re getting bolder, tired of tiptoeing around the topic.

You know what else I recall? A fucking sleepless night after getting interrupted by that janitor. The imprints of your fingers all over my skin, between my legs, deep inside. Wishing every curve and hard edge of you up against me again in the dark. And no goddamn release.

The images come crashing down like a wave and you shift your weight, parting your thighs slightly, needing to get out of your own skin.

Jordan is catching onto your drift.

The image of you kneeling in front of me seared itself onto my brain. Those soft lips parted, ready to take every goddamn inch. I still feel your hair strands around my fingers.

Out of the corner of your eye, in the flickering light of the TV, Jordan suddenly switches to their female form.

“That’s it, I’ve had enough,” Emma declares, startling everyone in their seats.

Andre pauses the movie, him and Cate turning to see what she is on about.

You hide your knowing grin behind a yawn. It is a small victory, but at what cost? You’re itching to tear your clothes along with your skin from your burning body.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I wish to be excluded from this narrative until you two have sorted it out. Emotionally, physically, or whatever.”

The silence is deafening. Almost guiltily, Jordan puts their phone aside, you follow suit.

“It’s like watching a movie in the middle of a fucking porn shoot. Now, if everyone agrees to behave themselves, can we continue, please?”

[brayneworms]

prompt: l lawliet + food play + pink

wc. 2.8k. gn!reader, foodplay, virgin!l, handjobs, sliiiight come eating, reader is a wet cat in a cardboard box kinda, safe sane and consensual, no real power dynamics.

L contextualises things in the way he sees the world.

Strings of numbers, statistics, behavioural patterns that he's memorised to a 'T' until he can tell guilt from the aversion of an eye or fury from the remnants of nails pressed into the palm of someone's hand. It's why maybe something like sex or desire is a struggle for him. It's not that he doesn't understand it, it's more like he doesn't see the—the need for it, or whatever. You chalk it up to him being extremely busy and also probably totally asexual and don't think about it.

(Don't think about it much.)

It sort of surprises you that it's you he corners with his questions about. Maybe he's more embarrassed than he lets on—as it is, he looks cool as a cucumber save for the faintest shade of pink across his cheekbones. There's no way he would escape a conversation about it from anyone on the squad without a degree of ragging. Misa would squeal like a pig if L dared to broach the topic with her, you're sure. Matsuda would blush bright red and trip over all his words, and Aizawa would probably stare at him like he'd set his firstborn on fire.

And Light is Light. He probably knows little more than L, for all the airs he puts on.

So it's you he comes to. When it first starts, you think it has something to do with a case or lead he's hunting. Tell me, have you had sex before?

Perched like a frog, licking whipped cream off his finger. You don't know if he's doing to be provocative or not; don't know which is worse, that he's aware of what he's doing or not.

"This isn't exactly proper workplace conversation L."

A flicker of a smile. Cheeky, omniscient. "Feel free to report me to HR, in that case."

You do answer—honestly and concisely, if not with a shade of awkwardness. He's essentially your boss. But L seems so far removed from the worlds of sexuality and desire that it seems harmless, occupational, and eventually it stops feeling embarrassing. Out of nowhere—what is the purpose of restrains in an intimate context? Why do you think some people like to feel as though they have no control in the bedroom? Would you say that visual pornography has given watchers unrealistic expectations of actual intercourse?

One night, the two of you alone in front of a big glowing screen, turning to him and asking. "Why do you ask me this stuff, anyway? Is it for a case?"

"No," he says neutrally. A quick glance from his dark eyes you could almost describe as coy. "I'm just... curious."

"Curious," you echo, deadpan. "You?"

"Does that surprise you?" he murmurs. You almost feel that your honest answer—yes—would be insulting now, so instead you just shrug and mumble something incoherent under your breath. "You're not completely wrong. I thought having a better understanding of things like sex and power dynamics would be beneficial in the long run. Most people have a greater knowledge of it than me, which—puts me at a disadvantage." He says these last words with an air of revulsion, as though the very concept of knowing less than someone sours in his mouth, and you chuckle at his childishness.

"That makes sense." You pause. Wonder if you're reading this all wrong, then barrel ahead anyway. "Wouldn't actually experiencing it for yourself lend a better understanding than anything else, though?"

L's eyebrow raises. His smile has vanished, leaving him bug-eyed and unreadable. "What are you suggesting?"

He's not stupid, and you're not subtle. He knows exactly what you were suggesting. The fact that he's trying to get you to go into more detail rather than firing you on the spot is probably a good sign, and further than you expected to get. You squirm in your seat.

"You know. It's like being told about how something feels rather than knowing," you say awkwardly. "I'm just—can I ask—"

"It only seems fair," L says slowly. "After I've been badgering you with my own questions for so long." His chair spins; he rests his wrists on his rucked-up knees, fingers steepled in front of him. "Please."

Hot-faced, you spin your chair aimlessly. "Okay, well, uh—have you? I mean, before?"

L hesitates before he shakes his head, an almost imperceptible twitch that has his dark hair floating. You swallow the sudden large dry lump in your throat.

"Okay. So. Probably somewhere to start," you mumble.

L seems to consider this. "Would you be willing?"

You don't have the right to be surprised, with all the dancing around the subject, but you are, still. You choke on your spit and fly around to look at him, which is a mistake. His gaze is so dark and intense, and you think he can see right through you before you even open your mouth to answer.

"I'm not—" you stammer, with no idea what you're going to say. "I mean—"

"I had assumed you would be," L goes on calmly, but you catch the slight flicker of his eyes, a ghost of uncertainty that makes your chest squeeze. "If I have read your responses incorrectly, though, feel free to forget I asked. I can guarantee no awkwardness tomorrow."

"It's not that," you blurt. L blinks at you, go on. "It's just... do you have any idea what you're, you know. Into? Where to start?"

L's eyes flicker, the barest furrow knitted between his brows. You can tell he hasn't thought too hard about it. "What would you suggest?" he asks, curling his long fingers over his knees.

You swallow. "Well... anything you like the idea of, I guess. Something familiar, to ease you into it."

L's eyes roll over to his desk, where a perfectly glistening slice of strawberry cake waits for him. Pink sponge and halved red berries, topped with pale pink cream. "Familiar," he echoes. "I may have a suggestion."

-

So you feed L a strawberry just to get started.

Hold it up. It's distinctly awkward; L just stares at it for a moment, the berry dusted with frosting that glistens between your fingers. You tell him, "If you're not comfortable with this, sex is probably going to be—"

He leans forward and plucks the fruit from between your fingers; you feel the barest ghosting of teeth, the sweep of his tongue sharp and curious against the pads of your fingers before he leans back again. You watch the motions of his jaw and throat as he chews and swallows. Pins you with his headlamp stare, wide and dark.

You deconstruct the strawberry cake carefully, removing the berries and setting them to the side. Cast a look over at him. "Take off your shirt?"

L twists the hem of this shirt for a few moments before removing it. It feels so strange to see him devoid of clothing, like a knight removing their armour. Pale ribs, pinched waist. He's not whipcord-thin like you had imagined—there's lean muscle packed under the skin, his stomach flat and somewhat soft. It flexes almost nervously when you look at it. He reclines back on his bed without being told, bracing his weight onto his elbows, legs dangling off the side.

"You sure about all this?" you ask, glancing from the smooth planes of his white skin—shit—to the plate of crumbling pink dessert. "Didn't think you'd be into, you know. All the mess."

"I have a shower," L says reflexively.

You take that as permission to approach with the plate. You place the strawberry halves in a red dotted line, starting at his clavicle, watching him shiver and flex at the cold touch. Down—one at the bottom of his ribs, one above his bellybutton, one at his naval just above the low sling of his jeans. He's started to flush, prettily pink down his chest. It makes you slightly dizzy.

"Okay. So. Okay." You try not to feel so nervous, but it's more like you feel out of place, or time, or space. It feels surreal, basically. Standing between L's legs with your fingers stained pink from fruit and frosting. Him looking up at you like that, all big dark round eyes and slightly parted lips. Damn it. You take a deep, steadying breath. "Okay, so, I'll start now if you're okay. And just say if you don't want—if you want to stop, or if you don't like anything, just say, okay?"

"I understand the basic premises of consent, if that's what you're trying to affirm." The words are all L, but there's an element of breathlessness to them.

"Just making sure we're clear," you mutter. You lean forward and smooth a palm over his collarbones. They're sharp, they jut up to meet your hand like cut diamond, and you hear and see his breath hitch, which is slightly intoxicating. His skin is warmer and softer than you thought it would be. You run your hands over his shoulders and neck, which he squirms away from with a wrinkled nose.

"No neck?" you ask.

He shakes his head. So no neck.

Once you're done exploring this part of his body, you lean forward, close your lips around the strawberry and bite the end of it, sinking your teeth into the flesh. Pink juice runs down your chin; L's eyes follow it, transfixed, as you tilt your head forward and push your mouthful against his lips. They part unquestioningly, and you push the strawberry into his mouth with your tongue. Your lips brush together, tantalising and sweet with sugar. A mimic of a kiss, a palimpsest of intimacy. You don't want to overwhelm him, anyway.

This goes on; your hands over his chest next, the soft pectorals. An experimental brush of your thumb over his left nipple that makes his whole body shudder. He's so sensitive, reacting to every prod and touch and tweak with a jerk and a shiver. Gooseflesh blooms up his skin, pebbling his nipples, and when you tweak the other one gently he lets out a choked sound.

Finding the strawberry nestled under his ribs. Taking it between your teeth and passing it to him. His face gets pinker with each one. Stomach, concave, flexing with every hard breath. A ticklish spot over his belly button. Strawberry, bite, pass. The flex of his jaw as he chews.

Fingers over his waist, indenting the skin as much as you dare. You try not to think of how easily he would bruise. Brushing your touch over his lower abdomen makes his breath catch again. You find the strawberry, hold it between your lips. L cranes his neck, searching this time—he thinks he knows the game, has memorised the steps, found the pattern, the sequence. He doesn't know that the best sex is the unpredictable kind. This time, you press your lips against him and when your tongue pushes the strawberry into his mouth it stays there. His lips part, slack against yours, either in shock or inexperience. You allow yourself the briefest twirl of your tongue against his before pulling back with a wet pop.

L stares at you as you retreat. The strawberries leave pale pink residue on his skin. Pulling back fully reveals the hardness between his legs, pushing up against the dark denim of his jeans. He grunts when your eyes land on it, either out of embarrassment or frustration. You swallow and its like sandpaper.

"Still want me to...?"

"I have not changed my mind," he replies, slightly hoarsely and a beat slower than usual. You shrug, smooth your hands over the tent at his crotch, and he whines. It's the most searing noise you've pulled from him yet, and all from some halfhearted palming over the jeans. It sends a thrill zipping through you, hot and addicting. His arms shake with the weight of holding himself up, neck craning to follow as you sink to your knees between his legs.

You unzip him, pop the button, and he groans slightly at the freedom from the constraints of his clothes. He's fully hard, straining against his dark underwear. You experiment, rubbing at the tip, feeling for the wet spot, and he keens and thrashes, losing his stability and crashing to the mattress. He makes a frustrated noise just after, as though cursing himself for his own lack of control.

"That—" he swallows hard, breathes shakily. "That feels..."

Your hand hovers. "Am I stopping?"

"No, I don't..." He scrambles. L scrambles over his words. "Please, continue."

You stroke him over his underwear for a few concentrated minutes, mostly enjoying the way he twitches and huffs and occasionally makes soft, whiny noises, the way he starts to rut his hips against your hand. No technique, no rhythm, just some sort of baseless desire that you find incredibly hot. There's almost a frustration to it that makes you want to laugh—of course there would be nothing more agonising to someone like L than seeing what he wanted so close to him but being unable to accomplish it himself.

When he starts gritting his teeth, you pull his boxers down to his thighs and he makes a choking, embarrassed sound. When you wrap your fingers around his cock for the first time, finding it velvety-soft and leaking, his eyes roll back and his hips arch into the loose wet tunnel of your hand. "Oh," is all he says. Small and soft like he's surprised. His neck twists and his mouth presses into the starched white sheets. "Oh," he says again as your fist moves slowly, stroking with intent, up and down. He's not overly big, fits nicely in your hand, makes swiping over the head where the pre beads with your thumb nice and convenient. And you love the way he shudders and thrashes when you do it.

"How does that feel?" Your voice is lower than you remember it being. L cracks a bleary eye open; his face is flushed bright pink now, a flush that bleeds all the way down his chest, blending in with the strawberry stains.

"It feels," he starts, before his brow pinches. "I—I am not sure how to—how to describe..."

"It's okay," you tell him. His thighs shake, flexing against the edge of the mattress. When he tips his head back the cords in his pretty throat bulge, so biteable. "You can come whenever."

"I wasn't—oh," he gasps, squirming. "I wasn't aware I n-needed your—permission, oh."

"Yeah, well," you say intelligently, a little struck dumb by the sight before you. "Just making sure we're on the same page."

"A-and what page is that?" he pants, thrusting his hips messily into your hand. He's so fucking sensitive that you swear you can see his eyes growing shiny.

"The one where I help you out, so don't be a brat," you murmur. L laughs breathlessly, trying, you think, to summon some retort. You twist your fist around him and it died, half-formed in his brain, his eyes rolling back and fingers flexing hard in the sheets.

After another minute, he reaches out and grabs your wrist hard enough to bruise. He doesn't say it—can't, maybe. But you know. Your pace speeds up just a touch and he honest to god moans, spilling out of him soft and breathy before he comes, streaking over his stomach in pearly arcs. You watch him flinch at the contact, fingers slipping on your wrist. His chest flexes—in, out, in, out.

You collect a big scoop of pink frosting on your finger and dip it in the come starting to cool between his pecs before pressing it to his lips. L's brow wrinkles, startled—but he opens his lips and lets your fingers pass into the hot cavern of his mouth. Like a cat he licks your finger clean, pointed pink tongue prodding with no technique or flourish, just something steadfast, something stubborn.

You do him the dignity of tucking his softened cock back into his underwear and zipping up his jeans. Unsure how to proceed until L sits up rather abruptly. His hair is even more tousled from his tossing and turning as he reaches for a tissue to wipe himself down.

He looks at you. "I understand it's customary to offer some sort of equivalent exchange in these circumstances." A pause whilst he gathers his breath. "You'll have to forgive me. I'm not quite feeling up to the task."

His tone is normal, if a little shaky. You rock back on your heels. "Did you like it?"

L blinks at you. "My curiosity has been sated," he says, carefully. "Yes, I believe I did enjoy it."

Well, that's a relief if nothing else. The pink remnants of the strawberry cake it on the plate; the shade matches his blush.

[yanderes-galore]

19. “That’s where you belong. Worshipping me on your hands and knees.”From starbabytea yandere prompt list, for yandere Crocadile with a darling who keeps trying to escape from him.

Oogh, my favorite villain, here you go!

Prompts Here

Yandere! Sir Crocodile Prompt 19

“That’s where you belong. Worshipping me on your hands and knees.”

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Controlling behavior, Dehumanization, Violence, Isolation, Kidnapping, Forced relationship.

Sir Crocodile is infamous in the seas. He's a Warlord, the leader of Baroque Works, and yearns to be a king. Not only that, but he is a wielder of a Devil Fruit.

Sir Crocodile is a master of manipulation. Others may view him as a hero, others may view him as a villain. It's all in perspective... but both sides agree that he is strong.

How do you view Crocodile?

He's more than a villain to you. To you, Crocodile is your captor. He's a tyrant who picked you to be the closest one to him. Sir Crocodile does not trust many.

You doubt he even fully trusts you, if anyone at all.

Despite that, Crocodile treats you as though you two are closer than you are. You can't tell if Crocodile intends to view you as a lover... or some sort of toy. Regardless...

You always feel sick when the people of Arabasta view him as a hero.

He's no hero. As someone who's been trapped beside him below Rain Dinners, you know what he is. He's still very much a pirate... and a crime boss with many under him.

While you hate his guts, you could care less what he does. What you don't understand is why he dragged you into it. You don't know what Crocodile truly wants from you.

Are you useful to him? Are you a hostage? Does he just want to be entertained? Are you meant to be a good servant?

There's no way he's keeping you because he likes you... right?

You wish Crocodile just let you leave. You wouldn't tell a soul about his true nature. You'd live your own life, alone, happily.

It's never that easy.

In fact, you should've known it wouldn't be when you made your escape attempt.

Crocodile never leaves you alone. He usually keeps you on his lap during paperwork or meetings. That or he gives you something to do while he watches you and smokes.

It really felt... wrong that he left you unattended.

Yet you're desperate.

The moment you were given a chance to leave Rain Dinners, you took it. You knew you should've hesitated, built more trust with Crocodile. Unfortunately...

There's no building trust with Crocodile.

It was an obvious trap. Crocodile is no doubt used to your escape attempts, running out of your 'home' like a curious dog every five seconds. You were always defiant.

So he got used to it... always ready for your next move.

It was a pattern your desperation always made you fall for. Crocodile always managed to find you. Yet he made when he found you take longer and longer...

Making you think you'll get away this time... Only to find you once again.

Just to see the hope in your eyes shatter.

To show you your place.

Crocodile never likes to let go of what's his. In his mind, you belong to him. You're meant to respect him... to praise and bow to him.

So he'll catch you as many times as he needs to... Just to make sure you get the message.

"I'd think you'd learn by this point...."

Sand always managed to catch you in the end. Really, there was never anywhere you could go. Crocodile has power over the entire country... Even if you made it out of one city, let alone got to sea...

Crocodile would always find you... and obliterate anything in his path to drag you back.

Yet, as fun as that would be for him, he never lets you get that far. He likes to stop you once you realize your efforts are futile. He likes to use his powers to hold you in place... as he approaches with a smile on his face.

"This is exactly why I don't trust you... You disobey, you run, and I'm forced to take time out of my day to hunt you down." Crocodile clicks his tongue, smoke leaving his mouth from his cigar.

You stare blankly at him when you are eventually dragged back to his underwater base. Sand still seems to bind you at his will as he speaks. He looks disappointed... but not surprised.

"I don't understand you. You escape and for what? You act like you'll get far. The heat will kill you if someone from Baroque Works doesn't find you... You never seem to learn your place."

Crocodile urges you closer and you reluctantly follow. His large golden hook wraps around the back of your neck before yanking downwards. You gasp, falling to your knees as Crocodile chuckles, sitting in his chair in front of you.

"That’s where you belong. Worshipping me on your hands and knees." Crocodile hums, watching you as he uses his hook to force you into staying bowed.

"Is this life so hard to get used to? I can give you anything you want. I can spoil you, yet you fight me. All I ask for is your adoration... your devotion..."

You feel his other hand tilt your chin up, just to make you look in his eyes.

"You crave freedom over what I can give you? It's foolish. The faster you accept me as your ruler, the faster things will be easier for the both of us." Crocodile scoffs, his thumb stroking your chin and cheek gently.

You try to pull away, yet Crocodile merely pulls you forward with his hook. You're soon hoisted onto his lap despite you're struggling. You hear him laugh again... and he holds you tighter.

"You are such an annoyance..." Crocodile sighs, yet grins down at you. "But you entertain me. Someday, I'll break you. Someday you'll accept your place as mine... and when that happens..."

Crocodile leans closer, his lips ghosting your ear even as you try to pull away.

"I'll relish the day I make you mine... we'll both enjoy it, you'll see, sweetheart."

With that, you feel the warlord kiss you...

Which only seems to make you think of other ways to make his life hell... just like he did to you.

[l-in-the-light]

Luffy's and Law's similarities

Because people always talk only about their differences, time to do the uno reverse! You might be surprised how many there are, actually.

Snapping at exactly same thing.

Snapping at same stuff again, because sometimes they share exactly the same brain cell. Even their face expressions are exactly the same in both examples lol.

Whenever Law actually loosens his guard, he reacts in exact same ways as Luffy does.

They both have a very similar experience with their mentors sacrificing themselves for them and same selfblaming reaction. This serves mostly as a prologue because we will compare how child Law and child Luffy behaved.

Both were reckless brats with very wrong self-harming ideas to get what they want.

They hate "dirty tricks" and being lied to. And easily lash out.

Their initial reaction to making fun of someone tripping/being pushed on the floor or making fun of anyone. Also standing there in exact same pose with their fists clenched.

"I will go find a real role model", same vibes here honestly.

"You will pay for this" mentality. They were also both literally thrown which endagered their lives and they both can't believe it's actually happening, that anyone would do something like that. Also bonus points for swearing child Luffy haha.

Both consider some people to be just total scums that deserve punching. Bad guys should be taught a lesson. Law at least managed to land a stab, so 1:0 for him.

This is intriguing. This is the last time Law asks someone for help. And last time Luffy asks someone to help him. Both seem to be convinced "asking for help" caused their loved ones to get hurt, so you will never hear them do it again. The only difference here is Law is asking to help Corazon, while Luffy is the one who needs the help.

Later on Luffy is taught to ask for help by Vivi in Drum Kingdom, but he isn't asking for himself, but to help Nami. Meanwhile Law never again uses the polite words. The most he is capable of is to ask Cavendish "tanomu" which is more like "I'm counting on you".

Both sit in same pose whenever Law isn't trying to impersonate Corazon's style (yes, Law mimicks Cora a lot, also in the way he walks). At least once he slipped and sat in the way he found naturally comfortable instead and it was exactly same way as Luffy's preferred sitting position. What a curious coincidence.

Another funny thing about them is that they both like to wear exactly same type of shoes they used to wear as a child, Luffy the sandals, and Law his dark boots. It's not really that common thing in the manga, for example, Nami and Zoro didn't stick to same type of shoes they used to wear when they were kids.

They also sleep in exactly same position, the infamous T-pose. For comparison, the rest of the Strawhats all have their own different sleeping positions (first from the right is Usopp ofc lol).

They also match each other's pace pretty well. "Let's go, Torao!" and "Ike!" as Law's answer which literally means just "Go!", because Traffy is ready too, no need to stall back.

And finally my favourite:

If Law wasn't under Corazon's "calm" spell, would his laugh sound familiar? Perhaps would it be "shishishi" we know so well? Of course that's the last time Law laughs like that, so we can't compare him laughing when he's an adult. Families in One Piece often share similar laughs, it seems. Unless you're a devil fruit user, that also changes your laughter apparently hm.

There's probably even more similarities between their behaviour, thinking patterns and expressions than I managed to find. I find it suspicious considering those two did not grow up together, so why are they so similar when they're both children?

I dunno if whole D. clan is an actual family, but I think Law and Luffy definitely had a shared ancestor and probably not that far in the past. Very curious since they're from East Blue and North Blue, the two seas mentioned to be the hardest to travel from one another.

Many people speculated Dragon isn't related to Garp or Luffy because they don't really look that much alike, but if you compare Monkey, Trafalgar and Gol family members together you can start to see some pattern emerging: they all have naturally black ruffled hair Potter-family style (you're welcome for that comparison you never wanted to notice and now you can't unsee haha). I wonder if Joyboy will also be revealed of sporting similar style of hair.

[olderthannetfic]

Of course people are being defensive, Spotify Anon. You rolled into the Fandom Old corner of Tumblr to tell us to examine our biases based on a streaming platform that only half of us even use at all.

Someome compared it to the f/f wank and they're right. If you accuse people of bullshit based on completely ufounded speculation, half of them will block you and the other half will explain to you why you're wrong. And we can't block other people's anons, so you're just going to have to endure a barrage of "this is bullshit and here's why". You asked for this, this is us examining the racial bias in our spotify wrapped and going "huh, it can't show bias if it doesn't exist" or "how does the fact that I listen to weird non-American music you've never heard of say anything about my feelings about the personhood and rights of American popstars I've never heard of?"

--

Spotify wrapped season is really popular broadly (though not so much around here) to the point that I find it very annoying since you apparently have to download the app to see wrapped??? I hate this season every year.

I use spotify via a browser, grudgingly, because some friends' fun guess-the-song stuff is on there. I had to use it at the fertility clinic because that's what they use to play music while injecting you with eggs. (I picked Mono if anyone is curious, but given how insanely painful being inflated with saline was, I should probably have picked D-2. I just thought it wasn't available because Spotify used to NOT FUCKING HAVE most of BTS' side projects because Spotify sucks donkey balls. Have I mentioned lately how much I resent the ubiquity of this piece of garbage? Have I?)

The thing that gets me that I hadn't quite worked out until just now is that 100 songs is the precise right amount to feel huge and significant without actually being so. Top 100 albums or artists is still an illusion of knowing what someone listens to. (Spotify has been improving, but they still routinely don't have the stuff I want.) But at least there, by the time you get to my 100th most listened to artist for a year, you might have some kind of picture of what I listen to.

Now, if you only listen to prog rock on vinyl, maybe your top 100 songs represent about 50 albums. >:D But let's say you're listening to some modern albums with bonus tracks and shit on Spotify. Your top 100 might be March When I Broke Up And Listened To The Same Five Albums Day And Night. No matter how diverse and interesting the rest of your musical diet, your bland-ass breakup playlist is now ninety out of one hundred songs on your Spotify Wrapped for this year.

I think it's that previously not totally conscious thought about how many 100 songs really is that was annoying me until just now.

Sure, it's just one scenario, but I think this sense of what 100 songs means is what's really annoying me about how people go on about Wrapped. Not just here and about racism: All the mainstream blathering about Wrapped annoys the shit out of me too every damn year.

It's a little like kudos. The top 200-500 most kudosed things in a big fandom may well show some pattern I find interesting. The top 100 most kudosed things show that people like that daily updating omegaverse crossover ship epic with Tony Stark.

Okay, okay, with kudos, you could probably exclude the top 10-30 depending on fandom size, but you know what I mean. Your last 100 fics read mean little, IMO. Your last 100 fandoms read, which is likely to be significantly more than 100 fics, is interesting to me.

It's my usual Numbers Are Deceptive complaint about how people love stats but do not contextualize things well.

[butchreg]

regressor ! vi with cg ! caitlyn headcanons !!

requested by @themoondropcollective . i did puppy and little vi because he is sooo puppy regressor and the world must know if they don't already ! you know the drill by now (hopefully) vi will be referred to with he/him pronouns. if you don't share this headcanon that's okay but any hate / transphobia will be blocked. arcane masterlist here , upcoming list here

fanart by NOEHGE on twt

his favorite show is clifford's puppy days and clifford the big red dog. he's a puppy regressor and identifies a lot with clifford, he sometimes barks at the screen or wags his tail when he's onscreen. usually he'll sit on the floor, wagging and yipping happily, pointing at the screen. "'ama !" "who's that baby?" "CLIFFY !" vi shouts excitedly. if he's feeling particularly little or perhaps just more clingy than usual he'll watch from caitlyn's lap, wiggling in her lap trying to wag his tail. this makes caitlyn chuckle, planting so many kisses on his cheeks.

puppy ! vi tends to struggle with words when fully regressed. he typically communicates through yips and whines, getting a lot of use out of his puppy eyes. he may stare when he wants something, growl when he's feeling upset or angry, and whimper if he's feeling sad. it's not really conscious, it tends to just slip out.

when he's puppy regressed vi can be a bit hyper, but when he's otherwise regressed he's typically very calm. vi tends to be more of a baby regressor, though he's not very comfortable being regressed in this way around people other than caitlyn. he's okay being puppy ! regressed around others but he's a shy baby, getting weepy if anyone sees him while in this headspace. he's especially weepy if jinx is around, stuck in the mindset of being her big sibling, feeling selfish about his regression.

vi in general is a pretty weepy baby, he's been through so much and his big emotions can be pretty overwhelming for such a small little one. caitlyn is so understanding and gentle with him. letting out a little gasp, "what's wrong, my love? what can mama do, huh?"

with caitlyn being so wealthy she certainly takes advantage of it when it comes to baby && puppy ! vi. buying him all the toys he could dream of, every time she sees something that reminds her of him she can't help but get it for him. she gets him cute patterned diapers which he gets excited by, toddling over to cait wide eyed and curious whenever she gets home with a bag of goodies.

vi isn't good about asking for things he wants or even needs, getting shy about it but caitlyn is always checking in. "do you have enough, sweetheart?" or if vi's eyeing something, "hmm, i think that looks nice, would you like that pup?"

little ! vi likes superheroes, especially spiderman ! he gets excited whenever he sees something spiderman themed, babbling and pointing. he likes animated spiderman best, babbling along to the theme song.

vi always sleeps in caitlyn's bed when he's regressed. caitlyn dresses him in footie sleepers, his favorite ones being spiderman themed. she feeds him a bottle, humming to him or reading him a story, vi loves books ! if he doesn't have his bottle vi tends to get fussy. he sleeps cuddled up in caitlyn's arms, her touch keeping him grounded if he's to fuss while having a nightmare or in his sleep. this wakes cait right up so she can help her baby through whatever is bothering him.

vi's regression is involuntary and largely a trauma response. caitlyn is very patient and understanding, never getting angry or yelling at her baby. she's always there to hold him when he cries, talking him through what's making him fussy. she carefully explains when he makes a mistake what he did wrong, reassuring him that it's okay, everyone makes mistakes. she doesn't punish him really, at most taking away a toy for a brief period if he's being rough with it.

if puppy ! vi is particularly energetic, caitlyn will take him outside to play fetch or to go on a walk. she puts him on a leash so he can't get lost or run too far ahead. he likes his leash most of the time but if caitlyn isn't going fast enough he'll tug on it or whine.

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

Astrology Observations : Planets & Things 💙

Moon/Pluto individuals need space to heal their dark emotions otherwise they will combust and it will show on their bodies in a not so good way. They can start too look sick because their astral bodies are holding on to dead weight.

Aries Sun should always have something to fulfill them as this gives them purpose and strengthens their passionate energy. These DIY individuals can master anything they put their minds too.

Planets in the 9th house show that you will mostly move out of the state or country . Leaving your hometown will be beneficial for you. Most celebrities with these planets had to leave their hometown to find success (Rihanna for ex.)

Men with Moon/Venus can be mocked for their sensitivity but can also be well liked by women because of it. A ladys man and can be powerfully charming like a Casanova.

Women with mars and pluto dominating their chart are the most hated, but the sign everyone wants to fuck. Men hate that you may be more dominate & powerful than them, and can have twisted fantasies of how they can dominate you. Can possess a lot of weirdos with this placement. People wanting to control them and also underestimate them.

Lilith dominate women can receive a lot of secret admirers, like they'll pretend to hate them in public but we'll be in there dms like..... ;) Can make women turn 'bi' with this placement, curious Georges wanting to try something new because they just have this energy about them. This is especially true if your sun or venus is connected to lilith.

Mercury/Pluto individuals have an incredible mind. There words can make listeners change their perspective on any topic they express to the public. They can get the world talking about what ever it is they put in their art, or want to get off their chest. The intellectual that can get you to think.

Venus/ASC have a dark side that no one ever seems to notice. They can turn it off at any moment and even if they do show their dark side most people dont care or even notice it because their aura hypnotizes them. Radiate a powerful aura that can shield them from other peoples energy especially envious energy. Their beautiful energy is their protection & can be used as a weapon as well.

Neptune/ASC have powers in shapeshifting due to knowing how to connect with the frequencies around them. Its important for them to always cleanse themselves spiritually or they will take in the wrong energies from time to time.

Anyone with Neptune Dominating their chart should learn to use their mind to control their reality. They have gifts where they can quantum jump, script their reality into fruition, control their minds to get the outcome that they want (eliminating certain thought patterns, creating a world in their head and using it as art, law of attraction/universal laws are something they naturally when they start tapping into their inner knowledge etc.).

Virgos need to allow themselves to have a bit of chaos because this gives them a chance to reveal a side of themselves they dont usually see. Always being organized , living in routine, and perfectionism can keep them lost in the sauce if they don't let things crash and burn like it needs too. This helps them create from the ground up so something new can take place, and then they can create a new routine from there. Something that will benefit them much more than living the same way time and time again. Great listeners, and can talk about anything if you give them a chance. If they're comfortable with you, they'll let you into their world of thoughts but let me tell you... Its like one big wild card in there which is why they try to organize, create routines, and make everything perfect in their day to day life because their mind is going bonkers.

Cancer Venus needs lots of attention. Can and will hold on to your secrets for dear life. Can face rejection during childhood which is why their a little nurturing to other people because they know whats its like to be pushed to the side. Motherly energy makes them more likable, they can be great bakers with this placement. Hypnotizing auras. Can get their way when they allow their seductive qualities to show.

Scorpio Venus are powerhouses, simple. Seductive auras that magnetize their desires to them with no issue. They aren't ashamed to express their sexualities, in fact they admire when you worship them and their enchanting physiques. These individuals know how to use their eyes, and can possess you with them. Turning you into their worshippers with just one look. Can make you obsessed with them by just looking at them. They may have desires that could be pretty taboo.

[queenshelby]

AMERICAN GIRL (PART FOUR)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace's Stepdaughter!Reader

Warning: Grace is a bully, infidelity, taboo

The following day,  you went about your usual routine. Working in the shop, spending time with Ada, and avoiding Grace at all costs. But your mind couldn't stop drifting back to Tommy and that moment last night. The way his eyes bore into yours, igniting a flame inside of you that you couldn't ignore.

It was forbidden, wrong even, but you couldn't help the way you felt. You wanted him, there was no denying it. But at what cost?

You shook your head, trying to dispel the thoughts that plagued your mind but when you saw him again with Lizzie that day, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

It was irrational, you knew it was, but you couldn't help the way you felt.

"Why does he see her, you think?" you asked Ada , attempting to sound as casual as possible, hoping she wouldn't catch on to the tightness in your voice or the yearning that was etched into your eyes.

"You mean Tommy?"  Ada asked, squinting as she looked in the direction where you were gazing.

"Yes, why do you think Tommy is seeing Lizzie, or any other prostitute for that matter?"  you asked Ada, feigning interest in a stack of fabric samples she had spread on the counter before her.

Ada gave you a sidelong glance before turning to face you fully. "I thought that was obvious," she then chuckled. "For pleasure of course,” she nonchalantly said, flipping through the fabrics, but not before catching a hint of a blush on your cheeks.

You felt the sudden knot in your stomach. It was the same question gnawing at the back of your mind ever since that one fateful night, but it took you this long to finally gather enough courage to voice it out. You couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed in her response.

"But he's in a relationship with Grace," you blurted out, biting your lip the moment after. Ada merely shrugged.

"I suppose, but Tommy has never been one to be held down by societal norms and expectations. Despite, many men who can afford it see whores these days,” Ada replied with a casual shrug, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Men think with their cocks. It's all about sex for them and, quite frankly, I would be willing to pay for it too if I had the option. It makes things much less complicated,” Ada said offhandedly as she continued to flip through the fabric samples, making a mental note of the ones she wanted to purchase.

"Is it really that good?" you asked, curious and slightly taken aback by her blatant honesty.

"Well, that depends on your definition of good," Ada smiled wryly. "With the right man, it can be amazing," she told you before asking you a question. "Have you never done it before?" Ada asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and looked away, studying the intricate pattern on the fabric before you.

"No, I haven't," you muttered softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been in jail for two years and before that I never felt...you know, attracted to anyone before." You glanced up at Ada, hoping she would understand.

"I would never have guessed it Y/N. You are so confident, even around my brothers who can be quite intimidating. I thought surely you must have had a lover or two in the past," Ada stated, intrigued.

"No, there was never really anyone who caught my eye and to be honest, I don't think I was ever truly ready for something like that," you confessed, looking up to meet Ada's gaze. "But I can't say I haven't thought about it before. Especially after coming here."

"Oh god, you need to stay away from men in this area," Ada chuckled. "You should come and visit me in London. I will take you out. The men there are different. Sophisticated, even. You will see,” Ada winked slyly.

You smiled at the thought, already beginning to feel the excitement build inside of you. "I would like that, Ada. I truly would."

The exchange with Ada gave you a small reprieve from the chaos inside your mind, but the thoughts of Thomas and your growing desires lingered in your consciousness.

When the day came to an end however, you felt like drowning out these irrational and somewhat irritating thoughts about a man you knew you could not have and asked Ada whether she wanted to join you for a drink at any of the local establishments. 

"A drink?" she asked, chuckling. "There are only pubs around here and none of them are really appealing to say the least. Despite, I must be home for Karl. One of my maids is sick," she added, crinkling her nose in distaste.

"I don't think I have ever been to a pub," you confessed, somewhat abashedly, seeing that you had only ever visited a few clubs in New York, all of which had been elegant and modern for the times. 

"Well, you are not missing much," Ada replied, screwing her face in a wince. "But, if you insist, there are a few ones around here that are safe. Go to the Garisson and tell them that you are a Shelby. That way you will be served a drink, and no one will lay a hand on you unless you want them to. If you run into any trouble though, get them to call Tommy or Arthur," Ada said with a hint of a smile.

You looked at her, puzzled, not quite understanding the meaning behind her words. You were unsure what you needed protection from and why you wouldn't be served a drink in the first place, but you didn't ask.

"All right, I will keep that in mind," you replied, pursing your lips and nodding your head ever so slightly.

Ada left shortly after that, leaving you alone in the empty shop and you were quick to close up before embarking on your maiden voyage to one of these notorious local establishments.

You walked past the dimly lit streets of Birmingham, the cobblestone illuminated by the soft orange glow from gas streetlamps that lined the streets. You ventured further, passing the occasional passersby, feeling as though all eyes were upon you. Your heartbeat faster with every footstep as you grew closer to your unknown destination and you wondered whether, perhaps, this was not such a good idea after all. 

You already felt out of place in this city, with your elegant dress and your high heels from New York.  You were aware that this was not the kind of place that women like you dared to step foot in, but you were determined to push your boundaries and, perhaps, learn something new about yourself - and the world around you.

The Garisson was unremarkable among the neighbouring buildings, but once you stepped inside, you felt the atmosphere instantly change. It was charged with a tense, almost palpable energy, a strange combination of excitement and danger that seemed to reverberate through the air.

When you entered, the men inside turned to look at you, their gazes lingering on your figure for a moment before turning back to their drinks. You could feel the weight of their stares, but you didn't let it intimidate you. Instead, you walked with a newfound confidence, feeling an unexpected sense of power.

You made your way to the bar and took a seat, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked around the room. Yet, despite the unfamiliarity of your surroundings, there was something oddly liberating about being in a place where everyone seemed to be living on the edge.

"I am afraid I can't serve you ma'am," the man behind the bar said, breaking the spell of your thoughts.

You blinked, surprised by his words. "I'm sorry?" you asked, unsure if you had heard him correctly.

The bartender nodded, his expression apologetic. "I'm sorry, but we don't serve women here," he explained.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "But I thought the Garisson was a public house?" you asked, your confusion growing.

The bartender shrugged. "It is, but that doesn't mean we serve women," he replied.  "It's just the way things are around here."

His words hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the unspoken rules that governed this world. You felt a surge of frustration and anger rise within you, but you held your tongue, refusing to let these men see you falter.

"I see," you said calmly, mustering every ounce of strength and dignity to push down the hurt while contemplating your next move just as you heard a familiar voice from the distance.

"It's alright. She's with me," the voice said, cutting through the tension. You turned to see Thomas Shelby making his way towards you, his eyes fixed on yours.

The bartender nodded, his gaze flicking between you and Thomas before he finally relented.  "Of course, Mr Shelby. I am sorry. I did not know," the bartender apologized, eyes wide with embarrassment. "What can I get you, ma'am?" the bartender asked, his tone now deferential.

But Thomas hadn't taken his eyes off you. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low and husky. He was so close to you now that you could feel his warm breath on your face.

You swallowed hard; your throat suddenly dry. "I was just... looking for some... entertainment," you stammered, feeling like a schoolgirl again before quickly ordering a drink with the barman.

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Entertainment, eh?" he chuckled. "This is fucking Birmingham, Love. There is no entertainment here unless you wish to stand up there and fucking sing,” Thomas chuckled, motioning towards the makeshift stage. He was so near that you could feel the heat emanating from his body and it sent a ripple of excitement through you.

"And I just may, after a glass of whiskey or two," you replied, cocking your head to one side as you gave him a playful grin that belied the tension between them.

Thomas chuckled, the deep rumbling sound drawing the attention of those around them. It wasn't long before the whispers and murmurs filled the air, the patrons whispering and speculating about the nature of your relationship.

The thought made you feel uncomfortable, and you shifted uncomfortably on your stool, but Thomas didn't seem to notice or care.

"No," he said, nonetheless. "Have your drink and then I will get one of my men to drive you home, eh. This is no place for a woman like you,” Thomas sighed, his voice low as he leaned against the bar. His words felt almost like a blow, and you couldn't quite understand why.

"Well, I want to stay, and you are going to buy me another drink after I am done with this one," you told him as you quickly downed the amber liquid in front of you before ordering another.

Thomas studied you for a moment, his gaze intense and penetrating. "And why would I do that?"  Thomas asked, arching an eyebrow. There was an amused glint in his eyes, but you could also detect a hint of sincerity beneath that.

"Well, because if you do, then I may keep this little secret of yours from my lovely stepmother Grace," you said, matching his smirk as you revealed your trump card.

Thomas' eyes narrowed for a moment, as if sizing you up and assessing whether you were bluffing or not.

"What little secret?"  Thomas growled, arching an eyebrow as he leaned closer, invading your personal space.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze on you before leaning closer and whispering into his ear almost seductively. "Lizzie Stark," was all that you said, watching as Thomas's expression shifted at the mention of the name. His jaw clenched and unclenched, his eyes darkening before he too whispered into your ear.

"Another whiskey?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear and you nodded.

"Yes, and make it a double this time."

The intensity between you and Thomas had grown palpable. You had pushed a button that no one else could, daring to confront him about what usually remained unspoken. 

Thomas gave you a curt nod before signalling to the bartender for a double whiskey. He downed his drink in one swift motion, his eyes never leaving yours for even a moment.  The look in his eyes was something you had never seen before - it was intense, powerful and overwhelming. It was full of the promise of passion, forbidden and uninhibited.

You watched him as he placed the empty glass back on the counter with a muted clink, swallowed hard and took a deep, steadying breath. Your heart raced in your chest and your head swam dizzily with the potency of the liquor as well as the proximity of Thomas Shelby.

You too drank your double whiskey in one swift motion, feeling the burn as it travelled down your throat and warmed your belly. The world seemed to tilt slightly with each passing moment, and you were glad for the bar to steady you in place.

Eventually, after a few more drinks, you indeed made up on stage, looking way out place in this rather run down establishment. Glamorous and with an unmistakable American charm, you stood out. In that moment, the entire bar fell silent, all eyes trained on you as you stood up tall. 

"Fuck," Tommy murmured to himself as Arthur and John took their places next to him by the bar in readiness for the show.

"Finn has been having his eye on that one, Tom. And I can't fucking blame him," John piped up, nodding towards the stage where you now stood.

"Finn couldn't handle her," Tommy brushed John's comment off as he looked at you with a mix of admiration and desire, the latter intensifying as you started singing. 

You had chosen a jazzy, sultry tune that perfectly suited your velvety voice and captivating stage presence and the patrons at the pub watched in astonishment at this unexpected interlude, but you paid them no mind.

Your voice, steady and confident, echoed throughout the room, sweeping everyone off their feet. The energy in the room had shifted from tense and uneasy to electric, filled with raw emotion that pulsed through your veins.

The room was full of men, not a single woman in sight, and as you sang, you felt like you commanded their attention, bending them to your will with the melody of your voice.

But then, from the corner of your eye, you saw him rise from his seat. Thomas Shelby.

His presence was overpowering, commanding attention without any effort. A shiver ran down your spine as those deep blue eyes locked onto yours, holding you captive in his gaze.

He moved closer, the throngs of whispering men parting in his wake.

He was a force to be reckoned with, radiating authority and desire that made your heart race: with fear, with excitement, or perhaps a little bit of both.

Two other men whom you did not know also moved closer, trying to make their move as you finished the song. They were rough-looking men, clearly not used to elegance or refinement, the types that frequented such establishments often. But they were no match for Thomas Shelby.

He moved in front of them just as they reached you, his movements quick and lethal, a silent warning etched on his face. The two men hesitated, sensing the danger in his eyes, and then turned around, choosing not to press their luck.

Thomas offered you a hand, and you took it gratefully, feeling like you needed his support more than ever before as you finished signing and descended from the stage.

Cheers erupted around you as you made your way back to the bar, your heart still pounding with the rush of singing onstage.

Tommy's hand lingered at your waist, drawing goosebumps to the surface of your skin. The warmth of his touch sent a ripple of pleasure through you, and you couldn't help but lean into him just a little.

"You shouldn't have done that Love, drawing these men's attention like this," Thomas murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I didn't mean to," you replied, looking up at him with a mixture of awe and confusion. "I just...I love to sing, and it felt good to let go, even for just a moment."

Thomas looked at you, his gaze softening just a fraction. "I know," he said. "But around here, attention can quickly turn into danger.  Men like these have not seen a woman like you before, and they will try to have you in any way they can," Thomas continued, his eyes filled with an intensity that sent a tremble down your spine.

His finger brushed gently against your cheek, a feather-soft touch that caused you to gasp before blushing scarlet. Your heart raced in your chest, aware that his words had some weight to them but also appreciating the gentle way he offered them.

You nodded silently, a mix of fear and gratitude coursing through you.  Thomas Shelby had a reputation for being a dangerous man, but right now, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his protection.

"Now, are you going to have another drink or are you going to allow me to take you home?"  Thomas' voice was low and gravelly in your ear, his arm still lightly draped around your waist. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine and setting your heart racing.

"Home, please," you replied softly, your emotions still swirling from the impromptu performance and the attention you received from these strange men. The energy in the pub had shifted once again, becoming charged with a tension that unnerved you slightly. But Thomas' presence was a comforting one, drawing you nearer to him with each passing moment.

He signalled to the bartender for your coat, and you slipped it on gratefully, feeling the comforting weight of the fabric against your skin.

The moment you stepped outside, the frigid winter air hit you like a slap in the face, jolting you from the haze of the pub's atmosphere. You shivered involuntarily, wrapping your coat tighter around your body.

Thomas' arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to him in a protective gesture as several men kept looking at you with predatory  eyes from across the street. He led you to the curb, signalling for one of his men to bring the car around.

In the distance, the sound of an approaching motor roared in the silence of the night. Your breath hitched as the vehicle sped towards you, and then slowed down just in time, stopping inches away from where you and Thomas stood.

The door swung open, and Thomas guided you inside, settling into the plush leather seat with a sigh.

The engine hummed to life, and the warmth of the car seeped into your bones, causing you to relax slightly. You watched as the streets of Birmingham passed by in a blur, the city streets abandoned at this late hour.

Thomas didn't speak, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, but you could feel his intensity radiating from him. You shifted awkwardly in your seat, unsure of what to say or do.

Despite your earlier confrontation with him, you couldn't deny the way your body responded to his presence.

A warm flush spread across your cheeks and you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest.

Thomas stole a glance at you, his eyes softening as he took in your nervous mannerisms. He didn't say anything, but the way he shifted his position in the seat told you that he was closer now, his arm brushing against yours and sending an electric current through your body.

"You did well up there," Thomas murmured, breaking the silence between you. "The men loved you."

Your blush deepened, and you shrugged off his compliment.

"I just sang a song. It's not a big deal," you replied softly, your gaze fixed on the passing buildings.

"You didn't just sign a song Love. You performed. There is a difference," Thomas continued, determination in his voice. The way he said it stirred something inside you, and your heart skipped a beat.

You fell silent again, lost in thoughts as you watched the streets of Birmingham pass by. Your mind raced with everything that had happened since you arrived in the city.

So many changes, so many new experiences, and so many unanswered questions, all of which you put aside when Tommy's Bently pulled up in front of Arrow House, the magnificent building that you and your sister now called home.

He got out of the car, coming around to open the door for you, offering his arm as he led you towards the staircase leading up to the grand wooden entrance.

His touch was firm and reassuring, and despite your earlier reservations, you felt safe under his protection.

"Thank you," you murmured, unsure of what else to say as you entered the house. 

"It was nothing," he replied, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You should get some sleep, Y/N. It's been a long day," Thomas said, his voice low and gentle as he caressed your cheek.  You blinked, his touch making you feel suddenly lightheaded. You couldn't remember the last time someone had been so tender with you.

"Yes, it has," you agreed, leaning into his touch for a moment.

Thomas' gaze held yours, and you felt your heart skip a beat as you stared into the depths of his blue eyes. Slowly, he closed the distance between you, and before you knew what was happening, his lips were on yours. It was a gentle kiss, one filled with both longing and tenderness, and you found yourself responding in kind. But all too soon, the kiss ended, and Thomas pulled away, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he said softly before turning and walking away towards the left as if he had suddenly changed his mind, leaving you to watch him disappear into his office upstairs.

"Goodnight," your murmured almost to yourself, unaware of the fact that you had been watched by someone else.

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[joanofexys]

i don't want to start a war or anything but i know nothing about cults. so i'm really curious if you have any thoughts on former ravens being in a long-term relationship with other former ravens once they're out of that environment. like maybe it's realistic or maybe it wouldn't cause as many problems as one would assume...

OKAY SO

this is actually such a good question and something i’m very excited to talk about. yet another disclaimer that my experience is unique, as are all cult survivors, and my opinion isn’t like an objective fact just observations from being a cult a survivor. since i haven’t made a cult post in awhile

but cult survivors tend to flock to each other. without even realizing most of it the time. as a cult survivor the majority of my friends are fellow cult survivors. some of them i grew up with and others i befriended without even knowing they were in a cult. you’ll hear a lot of queer people or neurodivergent people talk about their friend groups being predominantly queer or ND just by complete coincidence and i’d say a very similar thing happens to cult survivors. and of course a lot of us also seek each other out as support systems for a sense of community and understanding and shared experiences.

and there are couples who are in cults together and often get married while in the cults who will often deconstruct and leave together. obviously it seems like the majority of the time it’s just one person in the couple leaving the cult but i wouldn’t discount the amount of couples who leave together or say they’re a rarity.

all that to say i think it’s very likely for couples who were secretly together in the nest to stay together. especially because a lot of ravens haven’t worked through the mindset of being in a cult. that us vs them mentality.

it actually probably seems beneficial to them once they graduate. and it’s probably something that reflects well in the media too. a raven couple signing to the same team and then later publicly being a couple. the media gets to use that “power couple” sort of spin. the ravens get someone who understands and a way to still rely on the partner system. it’s a safe option.

and there’s a couple ways it can go. they feed into each other’s patterns. they cling the nest and everything they were taught. they might function fine that way but they’re not healing. they’re not unlearning anything. it could even make it worse, send them spiralling downwards. they could crash and burn. or it’s a way to slowly adjust to the outside world. they don’t drown without someone by their side. it’s a way to ease into everything with someone that understands. and maybe with that they get the time to think about everything they were put through. as they recognize what was wrong with the nest they have someone to turn to when they feel like they can’t tell anyone else. they get to work through things together. relearn healthy relationships and boundaries and how to be people again. and those things that are too heavy, too shameful, too gut wrenching to confess to anyone who didn’t go through it too can finally be said.

or there’s the option of ravens who never dated in the nest seeking each other out afterwards and dating. this is probably something messy and unhealthy for former ravens who have never tried to heal. they’d likely flock back to each other and become codependent, fall back into habits in the nest. but it also has the opportunity of being something healthy. it’s that same sense of community, of understanding.

even former ravens who have adjusted to life outside the nest, who have relearned how to be people, may not feel comfortable with dating or with being surrounded by people who just don’t understand. and i’m not saying that cult survivors can’t date non cult survivors. obviously those relationships happen and they can be fully healthy and loving with a lot of understanding and growth. they work just fine. but there might be some ravens who feel like that’s not possible for them. they’ll find people with similar experiences, other ravens, who just get it.

in general i think it’s incredibly likely that a lot of ravens tend to reconnect or stay together outside of the nest. and that has the potential to be good or bad. i don’t doubt that some of them just cut each other off entirely. some might be more causal friends than anything. but maybe they meet up for breakfast when they’re playing in the same city. they might send each other wedding invites or christmas cards. a text with a therapist’s information and a mention that they’ve been really helpful in working through things. a lot of them might be a lot closer. teams made up almost entirely of former ravens. a lot of them might be roommates. they spend a lot of time together on and off the court. a change from their obligated time spent together in the nest to actually becoming friends. ravens retiring together and following each other into the same field. coaches, journalists, commentators. eventually moving further away but staying in touch. regular phone calls and texting every day.

the ravens healing does not necessitate them cutting each other out of their lives. though that’s something that people might assume. they can continue to co-exist and even maintain relationships with each other in a healthy way if they do it right. and a lot of them might do it unhealthily anyway. it’s unlikely that ravens uninterested in healing or working through trauma will let each other go when their system relied on an unhealthy level of dependency.

[luizd3ad]

Heyyyyyy :D :D

May I pleaseeeee request ploy!bartylus (that's probably spelt wrong) x reader? (Gn if that's okay!!!!) Like maybe reader it's supper into true crime or something similar but is a little over confident and a little stupid and keeps like kinda-ish-maybe accidently or not accidently seeking out active murders and not telling the boys before they go and like almost die now and then. or something. like anything is fine, I love ur writing so much ur so cool and amazing and thank you for existing please go drink water and have a lil snack that makes u happy and like don't eat a butterfly and idk ur very cool I hope you've had a great week and a good hair day and okay bye bye now um

I Was Just Curious... | Bartylus X Reader

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖��� .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Barty Crouch Jr x Regulus Black x GN! Reader WC: 1,623 CW: Talks of injury, being stabbed, blood loss, serial killers, murders, crime, police, swearing, polyamorous relationships. Author's Note: Omg, I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this out I've just been so busy lately thank you so much for the request and I hope you like it <3

ALSO HAPPY FUCKING SPOOKY SEASON EVERYONE!!!!

Summary: You cant help that you're curious...

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You were always so surprised that it took muggle police so long to figure out the identities and the patterns of the killers they were investigating. 

Honestly it didn't even feel like they were actually trying half the time.

It normally only took you about two days to figure out the identities of the people who were committing these crimes.

Admittedly you did have your magic and what not so that probably did give you what some might consider an ‘unfair’ advantage to the muggle police but that's besides the point.

The point was you liked finding out who these people were, you liked reading what crimes they had committed, obviously not to idolize them but because you were just simply curious. 

You were curious as to the why’s and what’s.

Why did they do it? Why those specific people? What drove them to this point? Ect. Ect.

So when you figured out that you could use your magic to find these people, that you could find out who they were. You perhaps got a little too excited. 

But who could blame you?

You finally had the chance to have answers to the questions that would flood your mind when you read about the heinous and disgusting acts that they would commit. 

So you would find them, confront them. Ask them the questions that would practically drive you mad and then turn them in. 

Was it the smartest thing in the world to confront murders and serial killers?

Absolutely not. Not in the slightest.

And your friends and boyfriends would tell how absolutely idiotic it was as often as they could. How they absolutely hated the fact that you were now putting yourself in danger in the name of curiosity.

The thing that bothered your boyfriends the most was that you would never tell anyone when you were going on your little ‘suicide missions’ as Barty called them. You would just leave, disappear without a word.

Now most of the time you would come home completely fine once in a while you came home with cuts and bruises, that would absolutely stress Regulus and Barty out to no end, but you never came hurt genuinely injured.

That was until today.

You had confronted a particularly nasty man. He was the worst of the worst at this point. 

He didn't appreciate being found out and he had no problem expressing that when he made the choice to come at you with a knife.

Now here you were stumbling into your dark and empty flat that you share with Barty and Regulus clutching to your side as the crimson sticky liquid seeped through your shirt coating your hand.

You had lost a decent amount of blood so you started to feel quite weak and dizzy already, apparating home probably was not the best choice in keeping your strength, but I digress.

You stumbled through the door clutching at your side bumping into the wall knocking over a picture frame glass shattering on the floor. You felt dizzy, weak and Merlin did it hurt like hell.

You were leaning against the wall for support, looking paler by the second slowly losing consciousness as you slowly sunk to the floor as the world around you started to fade into black. 

Eventually you had woken up to the sun spilling through the windows your eyes opening to see a white ceiling, the sun only making the white seem brighter. You couldn't help but close your eyes once again or the small wince that fell from your lips at the sudden brightens.

“Oh thank Salazar you're awake.”

You didn't have to look to know it was Regulus as he whispered; he sounded so relieved, so worried and so so exhausted.

You turned your head and opened your eyes meeting the sight of your normally stoic and well put together lover. 

Next to him was a sleeping Barty, he was curled up on a chair, his position looking beyond uncomfortable.

They both looked like hell.

They looked exhausted.

“Reg… Where…?”

You tried to speak but your throat hurt feeling so dry.

“Here, drink first.” Regulus helped you sit up slowly. 

You had felt a slight dull pain in your side where you had been stabbed. You watched as Regulus poured you a glass of water now realizing just how thirsty you were.

You gladly accepted the glass taking a long drink trying to help soothe your aching throat.

“We’re in St Mungo's, you've been passed out for over a day. Barty and I came home to find you bleeding on the floor… Y/N what in Merlin's name happened?” You had never heard Regulus sound so worried and concerned.

“I- I went to look for the man who's been killing people in London… he got upset that I knew it was him. He came after me…”

Your voice trailed off. You knew Regulus would be upset. He and Barty had told you countless times that you needed to stop but of course you never listened.

The sigh that left Regulus’ lips could only be described as disappointed and frustrated. 

“Why? Why do you constantly do this?! We could have lost you Y/N!”

It was rare that Regulus yelled or shouted but he had never yelled at you up until this point.

His yelling had woken Barty up to the sight of a very pissed Regulus and you looking down like a scolded child.

“Oh thank Merlin you're awake, angel.” 

Barty took no time to be at your side, completely ignoring Regulus and his scolding look. 

Barty tilled your chin up with his fingers kissing the tip of your nose and then your lips softly, he then looked into your eyes with so much love and relief that you almost forgot how mad Regulus was.

“Are you okay? How are you feeling? How's your pain? Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine Barty, just a little pain. I’m fine I promise.”

Yours and Bartys attention was pulled away from each other when you heard a small scoff come from Regulus.

“Alright, Black. What's crawled up your ass? Our angel is awake and fine. You should be grateful that they're okay.” 

Barty turned and looked at Regulus with a glare. He was clearly getting upset with what he considered Regulus’s ‘unnecessary and bitchy’ attitude. 

“Why don't you ask them how they got hurt in the first place?” Regulus’ jaw was clenched a little, not bothering to hide his irritation. 

Barty looked back at you a little hesitant and confused (something that was very unBarty-like) he then looked at you with raised eyebrows waiting for you to say something.

You were visibly hesitant and nervous.

“Go on. Tell him Y/N.” Regulus countied not trying to hide that he was still very pissed.

“I went to confront the man who has been murdering people in London. He attacked me.”

“Oh for fucks sake…” Barty mumbled running a hand through his hair. “We told you to stop doing that, Y/N.”

“I know, I know and I'm sorry I- I couldn't help it. I'm just so curious…”

“We understand that but your curiosity isn't worth your life… we can't lose you.” 

When you looked up at Regulus as he spoke the last thing you expected to see was the tears brimming in his eyes. 

That only made you feel worse. 

To see one of the loves of your life with tears in his eyes killed a part of you.

“You can't do this anymore, angel. I had never been so bloody scared in my life. Walking in our home and seeing your lifeless body… I can't ever go through that again. We can't ever go through that again.”

Barty’s words pulled your attention away from Regulus for a moment, your actions finally dawning on you.

You had been stupid. So fucking stupid. You felt terrible.

“I’m sorry. Truly. I won't do it anymore. I'll find another way to cure my curiosity. I- I didn't mean for it all to go this far… to worry you both so much. I feel terrible.”

“I'm not going to say that it's fine because it's not, but we understand. We just can't stand the idea of something happening to you. You mean everything to us. It would ruin us if something happened to you. It's supposed to be the three of us. Forever.”

Barty sat on the hospital bed next to you, his hand resting on yours as he looked at you with love and concern swimming in his eyes. “Regs right, angel. You have to stop these little suicide missions. If me and Reg were only a few more minutes late, who knows what would have happened.”

“You're both right. I'm done. Honest.”

“That's all we ask, amour. We love you too much to see something happen to you.” Regulus sat on the other side of you putting your hand in his and kissing your hand softly, his anger and frustration from before forgotten.

“I love you both so much…”

You whispered as the exhaustion from your body healing and the high amount of emotions caught up to you, slowly you started to fall asleep. 

The last thing you felt and heard before sleep consumed you was Barty crawling up next to you wrapping you in his arms and then the soft sound of Regulus chuckling.

You always knew you were lucky. That you were lucky beyond belief.

You had amazing friends and two amazing partners that meant the world to you.

In that moment you had realized that your questions would just have to remain unanswered. That being here with them was so much more important than any answer to any question you could ever have.

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[petermorwood]

I was wondering if you could answer a question about armor, especially the solid/articulated types - how much did it need to be personalized or fitted? I ask because I often see people criticizing fantasy/gaming armor for being too heavy or cumbersome, but rarely for perfectly fitting everyone between five and seven feet tall regardless of whether they're built like Legolas or Gimli.

So I'm curious about whether and what kinds of armor might have been mass produced vs what needed to be customized. Was it easier to produce broadly applicable armor or to recruit your army by height and weight?

Non-custom-fitted mass-produced armour ("munition grade" as some modern repro makers call it) started becoming more common when workshops where everything ran on muscle-power became ones whose hammers, grinders and polishers were powered by a water-wheel.

Making armour to fit a range of average sizes now took less time, effort and wages, so could be sold for less and be afforded by more people.

It would have been made in the period equivalent of S, M, L and maybe XL, with buyers either paying extra for custom adjustments, or DIY-ing for better fit with padded liners to make it snug or extra holes punched into straps for more space.

*****

Top grade plate armour on the other hand was almost like a second skin - a common term is "exoskeleton".

This post from a few years back has a lot more information, including what was done to ensure a good fit when the wearer couldn't be measured in person: for instance sending close-fitting garments or even wax model limbs to the armourer.

It definitely wouldn't have fitted anyone but the original owner anything like as well. In particular, if a non-original wearer was longer or shorter in arm or leg, the armour's knee and elbow joints might pinch at distracting moments or simply not flex through their full range.

"Is increased protection better than reduced mobility?" was a question where the wrong answer could prove fatal.

*****

Perhaps that's why medieval art shows a lot of partial armour being worn:

arm-harness - sometimes just vambraces on the forearms, often all the parts from gauntlets to pauldrons (hands to shoulders);

brigandine - a cloth or leather jacket with small metal plates riveted inside; this wasn't concealed armour, the rivets arranged in rows or patterns were an obvious decorative feature;

haubergeon (or byrnie, though that's more a Saxon / Viking term IMO) - a short-sleeved, short-bodied mail shirt, usually worn under something else;

plackart - front or sometimes front-and-rear lower-abdomen torso plates;

poleyns - knee-guards, worn on otherwise unarmoured legs.

The one thing everyone wore is the first thing Hollywood armour leaves off - a helmet - while the archer below has not just a helmet, haubergeon, brigandine and poleyns, but also something equally important, a brayette or breech...

...which is a pair - or at least the front half where It Matters Most - of well-padded mail and indeed male underpants.

Full plate armours had full plate ones which were even more emphatic. Boob-plates may be (mostly) fantasy, but obvious gendered armour was A Real Thing.

*****

Flexible armour like mail, scale and lamellar wasn't tailored for fit; being flexible it didn't need to be. That said, if the size was really wrong one way or the other, it could be reduced or enlarged by removing or adding sections, similar to a modern tailor taking in or letting out a garment.

I have a vague recollection of a photo showing a late medieval haubergeon with tailoring darts inserted under the arms, but I can't remember where or when, so "vague" has more weight than "recollection". ;-P

Genuine mail is rarer in museums than plate armour, because at the end of its working life mail armour was often chopped into pot-scrubbers for the kitchen. You can buy the same sort of thing today.

Finally, while some looted high-grade armour, or at least parts of it, might fit the looter straight away, it's more likely that after any battle there was probably a brisk trade in swapping what didn't fit for what did.

Hope This Helps! :->

[py-dreamer]

...um...hi?

so if anyone's concerned, no I'm not dead.

Thankfully the digital studio is intact this year (thank god I would've had another mental breakdown istg-)

to all my lovely marshiemallows, thank y'all so much for your patience omg!!!!

(and to all my mutuals, @furornocturna and @violetjedisylveon in particular I'm so sorry I haven't been responding or active online at all, I'm so sorry-)

But to sum it up:

I'm on holiday in my home country rn and have been having a blast personally. Meeting relatives, childhood friends, the food, familiar places ect.

and I'll admit I do have a lot of free time outside that but honestly I do feel a wee bit burnt out ngl.

And with my spare time, I've jumped down the demon slayer rabbit hole

(huh who would've guessed)

Basically it's all been a huge break for me.

But I will still post lmk stuff dw. Though don't be surprised if you see a kny thingy pop up somewhere in the dreamscape!!

And for those curious about the fic:

I'm sorry I haven't updated at all, the wips are still in my drafts. I have no formal posting schedule but after returning and getting some work sorted out I'll see what I can do! But no promises!

Regardless, about the pic then.

It is a WIP. It's a sketch for a shadowalkers piece (Wooh! Haven't heard of that au in a while eh?)

I have redesigned mostly Bai He's outfit and added a little pouch for Macaca. The change was mostly so I had more freedom to do different top designs for the new members of the fam!

If anyone has suggestions for outfit designs or accessories or jewelery, hair, anything! let me know pls!

This is just the WIP stage and I really want to achieve that semi-wild, untamed but mysterious and refined gypsy look.

(Also its a guilty pleasure of mine to dress up my characters in aus or just for the fun of it lol)

And fun fact: Wukong's the only one in the fam wearing shoes lol.

Another fun fact: That brick pattern rag he's wearing? Was once a part of tripitaka's cassock from their days on the mountain. (see shadowalkers lore summary for context)

I didn't forget their tails this time! Wheeee!!

Oooh! Ooooh! Also the top half of Wukong's body? I did that myself sans references!!! Woooooooh!!!

Not that there's anything wrong with references of course. Pros and beginners use them and I do recommend them for poses, ideas and such.

Though I am proud I could think of something off like memory and make it work! I think...you can tell me otherwise lol

(BTW this is the after of the main plot where shadowpeach reconciles, they escape the town and Bai He gains a new stepbrother!)

SH!T I REALIZED I FORGOT MEI!!!!

UM I'LL ADD HER IN!! PROMISE!!!!

[bekolxeram]

Hi! I have a question. There's this theory going around that 802/803 could be based on the movie Airport 1975. I don't know if you've seen it, but basically something crashes into the cockpit of Boeing 747, which causes the crew to become incapacitated and there is no one on the plane who is knowledgeable enough to take the controls. So they send in a helicopter, which hovers above the plane, and a replacement pilot is extended on a tether from it to climb into the cockpit of the plane and take the controls.

I was curious if it could work in reality. I mean, the situation sounds pretty crazy and I don't know how rooted in reality it actually is, but what I'm interested about is whether a helicopter pilot could land a plane like that. Would they need to be acquainted with flying airplanes for it to work? I know you said that helicopter pilots have a head start if they want to learn how to fly planes because the basics are the same, so I was wondering if a helicopter pilot who has never flown a plane could potentially land it without hurting anyone? Are they knowledgeable enough to try? Sorry if the question is dumb or the answer obvious.

TW: aviation accident

Yes, I've indeed seen the movie, together with its predecessor Airport (1970), to better appreciate the greatest aviation film of them all: Airplane! (1980). Seriously, although it's a comedic parody of cheesy air disaster films, it somehow manages to be more accurate than all of them in terms of flying and aviation safety. Plus, all the jabs at how the Airport movies portray female characters are so satisfying. The first half of Airport 1975 is basically Workplace Sexual Misconduct: The Movie.

To answer your question, no, there has never been a case of non-airline pilot not a part of the flight crew successfully landing a jet airliner. There have been a few cases of student pilots landing a light aircraft when the instructor became incapacitated, but the only time it came even close to that on a jet airliner was Helios Flight 522 in 2005.

A ground engineer set the cabin pressurization system to manual for some testing and forgot to set it back to automatic. The flight crew never spotted it and slowly succumbed to the effect of hypoxia while cruising at 34,000 feet. A flight attendant entered the cockpit at the later stage of the flight with a portable oxygen supply reserved for crew members, the dropped down oxygen masks in the cabin, the lack of communication from the flight crew, the aimless holding pattern over the Athens airport and the fighter jets sent out by the Hellenic Air Force to investigate probably gave it away that something was terribly wrong with that flight. The flight attendant held a commercial pilot license, though not qualified to fly the 737. Tragically, the jet was already critically low on fuel, and the No. 1 engine flamed out as soon as he entered the cockpit. Investigators later concluded that he would not have been able to control the aircraft under such circumstances with his experience, as engine flameout would take many of the automated systems offline. He attempted to send out a mayday call and briefly waved at the fighter jets as a sign of acknowledgement. The fighter pilots then pointed at the direction of the airport, hoping to guide the plane towards safety. The flight attendant at the yoke simply replied by pointing down, signaling an immanent crash. As a last ditch effort, he banked the plane away from Athens towards a rural area, pulling the yoke back in an attempt to soften the impact. Shortly after, the 737 crashed into a hill just outside of Athens. There were no survivors.

If someone with a commercial pilot license in the airplane category couldn't do it, a helicopter pilot with limited to no experience on any plane wouldn't be able to either. They might have a better idea than the average layman about how to keep the plane in the air, but when it comes to configuring the jet for landing, they would have to be instructed by an actual airliner pilot through it like the rest of us. Just look at the differences between the cockpit of a Cessna 172 and one of a B777:

Cessna 172

AS350, aka Tommy's helicopter in 7x03

They don't look that different, yeah? I'd say Tommy would recognize most of the instruments on the Cessna even without any experience on it. Now let's look at the B777:

So many screens, so many buttons in front, on the side, even on top. Most modern airliners also operate on a fly-by-wire system, meaning the pilots' inputs go through a flight computer and it calculates the optimal for the actuators to respond. If you don't have at least some basic knowledge of how the flight control systems on a certain model of airliner work, you risk misdiagnosing any issue encountered, even crashing the plane even though the problems are minor and solvable by letting the computers take over. (Air France Flight 447, I'll spare you the details, it's still too scary for me.)

That's why in Airport 1975, it's the US Air Force responding to the 747 in danger with one of its helicopters, and the one tethering into the cockpit at first isn't a helicopter pilot, he used to fly the "707 tanker" (KC-135 I presume). When he falls to his death, the film makes it a major plot point that the only person on board the helicopter by then is Nancy's boyfriend, chief flight instructor of the airline.

This scene is actually one of the more realistic scenes in the film, at least physically. It was the 1970s and CGI technology was lacking, so the scene was filmed with an actual USAF helicopter flying in front of a 747. If you believe this person who claimed to be the crew chief working on that exact helicopter, the stunt man got as near as 3 feet away from the fuselage of the jet.

Military helicopters fly close to big airplanes all the time, air tankers are basically flying gas stations, but helicopters usual fly behind air tankers. You see, as I mentioned before, wings of airplanes deflect incoming air stream downward to generate lift, so the bigger the plane, the more air needed, meaning heavier planes have faster stall speed. Helicopters on the other hand, can go straight up and down without moving horizontally, and they're designed for maneuverability, not speed, so even the best performing military helicopter has its maximum speed dangerously close to the stall speed of a 747. In order to make a midair pilot transfer like that possible, the helicopter would have to fly as fast as possible while the jet limping close to stall speed, the helicopter pilots would also have to fly in formation with the jet on autopilot, without any coordination.

So if our weewoo show really decides to recreate this famous stunt, not even trying to explain why the USAF/USCG are not available like in S7, leaving the LAFD to its own device, Tommy would realistically not be hoisting into the crippled jet. He would be flying the helicopter. Honestly it's a much tougher job than dropping into the plane and landing it, Tommy's expertise is needed in the helicopter. Like the first replacement pilot, he falls, so he dies. But if the helicopter makes a wrong move and crashes into the jet, everyone dies.