#i am a girl of sophisticated tastes

[anetherealpoetess]

perfect triple feature: leap year, chasing liberty, and stoker.

[suguru-getos]

Kid Gojo goes to Kid!Fem-Reader's House

This is a part II to a drabble I wrote, Part I.

Satoru's footsteps matched hers, trailing towards an unknown path leading to a normal-looking house. It was beautiful though, bright colours, gardens had flower beds of roses, tulips, a ceramic pot with fresh water for the birds. Homely, the house looked and felt what the Gojo estate never did. For a ten year old, who wasn't accustomed to this new found feeling, Satoru didn't know what to say, how to react. He hums, "small, your house is small." kicking a piece of gravel from the pavement.

She was on her tippy-toes, reaching for the door-bell and ringing it. "Mean." She pouted, looking at Satoru with a disgusted face. Like he has shit his pants and she can smell it kind of disgusted.

"What is that face?" He fumbles, taken aback, eyes siren in offense. She shrugged, sticking her tongue out, "I make this face at meanie poopy people." She crossed her arms, always works. No matter who it is.

The faint echoes of footsteps carry from farther away in the kitchen to the hallway, becoming clearer as the door opens. "Oh hello Y/N! Welcome home sweetheart!" Her mother beams, bright and joyful. Her eyes scan the little kid next to her, from his clothes he definitely did not look homeless. Beautiful, all-knowing, almost frightening eyes. "Oh? You made a new friend?" Her mother inquires, looking at Satoru. Now, Satoru Gojo was used to people bending backwards for him, this bland reaction was refreshing.

"My name is Satoru Gojo." He hums, "She dragged me here." He scoffs. Of course not, but the heir of the Gojo clan can't look eager for some cookies?

"She did? Oh my" Her mother gasped a little, knowing the kid was just behaving of his age. "I just wanted him to taste your cookies mama, he protected my favourite water bottle tumbler from the poopie kids!" She grins, walking inside. For a moment, Satoru looks hesitant. What is he even doing, he has roles and responsibilities. Cookie-tasting is definitely not one of them. He can have cookies from any part of the world, Paris? Even London's bakeries- why even-

His trance is broken the moment his wrist is grabbed by her, cheerful eyes beaming and dragging him inside. The moment Satoru's footsteps get inside, and the delicious scent of cookie dough fills his nostrils, he decides to stay. Cookies are important. He could get cookies from anywhere but these are the best ones, yes. The girl herself, said so.

"Come sit," Her mother coos, "Satoru kun, Y/N." She hums, getting them both a chair in the dining table.

Satoru's eyes linger around, the house is cute, not too vast. The distance between him and Y/N is also minimal, because the dining table is not so big. It's perfect actually. He grins, he feels happy, the spacing makes him feel included.

"So? What is your job?" Satoru asked, crossing his arms, looking at the girl.

"My job? I dunno- mama's daughter? Though when I play Police with my friends I am never the thief!" She grins. Satoru is… jealous. Satoru is… enamoured.

"No like, okay leave it- what is your dream?" He asks again, surely there can be some similarity where he can link his life to hers.

"I am gonna be an Astronaut!" She grins wide, "Gonna see the pretty moon, the pretty stars!"

Satoru Gojo pouts, he's ten, and his birth shackled him to one role. He wants to be a sorcerer because he doesn't know any other thing. He thought being a sorcerer was his decision, training was his decision. An eerie bewilderment presses his soul, hollowing it like a cavity. Why couldn't he think about becoming someone like an Astronaut?

"When you come here next time- we should play together." Y/N hums, feet shaking in boredom.

Next time… why would there be a next time? Her mother comes in the room, freshly baked cookies with a glass of milk, a slice of the cake she just made.

"Oh drooling!" Y/N whines, watching her mom place them on the table.

Satoru acts, sophisticated, there is no way some cookies would make him say that, he's not a dog! But they smell so good- NO WAY!

Y/N quickly takes the first bite, happy shakes and wiggles follow with whines. "Oh my god mama this is the best!" Satoru looks flustered, hesitantly taking a bite as well. The flavours melt in his mouth, it was perfect. Wow… "This is good." He announces, watching her mother grin and leave the two alone. He gets headpats, Y/N gets headpats. Satoru doesn't get headpats, the flustered expression on his face is evidence enough.

"Y-you were saying?" He asked, taking another bite.

"Oh yeah! I was saying, when you c'mere next time, we should play House." "House?" What is that game?

"Like, house? Or we could play Police too…" She grins, so excited, so thoughtless.

"I don't play kid's games. I am ten years old." Satoru scoffed.

"Aw- okay." She looked down, taking another bite, interest and excitement killed. Satoru's eyes glare at her, stop doing that! "Maybe just once." Satoru Gojo was kind, he knew he was… just didn't want to show it to others especially in a scathing world like the Jujutsu community where he is worshipped. "Okay! Let's play House then!" She grins, perking right back up.

Ten year old Satoru Gojo had already promised a second meet to play House. Is this how you make friends, he wonders…

[queenshelby]

Sweet Possession (Part 3)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

Later that day, just as you were waiting for your husband to return home, you couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety  in your stomach as you thought back to your strange encounter at the Italian grocer earlier that day.

The way the man's eyes had flickered down to the gun hidden beneath Isiah's jacket, before quickly averting his gaze. The memory sent a shiver down your spine and you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.

Despite that, you quickly put those thoughts aside as you heard Tommy’s footsteps carrying through the door of Arrow House.

You glanced at the clock hanging in the hallway, realizing that it was already shortly after eight o’clock in the evening.

Thomas walked into the reading room where you were sitting, nursing a glass of wine, the dinner you prepared waiting in the oven to stay warm. He was, still wearing his coat and looked somewhat tired. 

"I am sorry I am late , Love," he greeted you, dropping a quick kiss on your forehead.

"Is everything alright?" you asked your husband, concern etched in your voice as you gazed into his tired eyes. You noticed that there were faint lines around his eyes that you hadn't seen before.

"Yes , everything's fine," Thomas assured you, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, trying not to let your suspicions get the better of you.

"Good. I'll go and serve dinner then," you said, standing up from the sofa and making your way into the kitchen but, just as you stood up, you noticed some red blood stains on the collar of his shirt which he was clearly trying to hide by leaving on his coat.

Nonetheless, you decided not to address it, giving Thomas a reassuring smile before you walked off.

"I should have a shower first, Love. It has been a long day," Thomas told you truthfully in passing, his voice still low but there was a lilt to it, like he was keeping something from you.

"That's fine. Just come down when you are ready," you called after him from the hallway and he gave you a quick nod and a smile before disappearing upstairs.

Minutes later...

The dinner that you had prepared was delicious. The meat had cooked to tender perfection and the rich, earthy flavor of the mushrooms you had picked from the forest earlier that week complemented the dish beautifully. The aroma alone was enough to make your mouth water.

Carefully, you removed the dish from the oven and set it on the table in the nearby dining room, lighting the candles that you had arranged in its center. You had always loved setting a nice table, believing that food always tasted better when it was presented beautifully.

You had spent many hours as a young girl watching your mother, a talented cook, prepare meals for your family. Now, you were proud to use the skills she had taught you.

You had just finished setting the table when Thomas walked into the dining room, his dark hair still damp from his shower. He was wearing a clean white shirt and dark trousers, looking both comfortable and sophisticated. His face was free of stubble and his eyes sparkled with warmth as he looked at you.

"Something smells good," he commented, walking over to where you stood by the table and giving you a kiss.

You blushed, always feeling a little shy when Thomas praised you. 

"Thank you," you responded, making a small curtsy before taking your seat at the table. Thomas chuckled, sitting down across from you and reaching for the glass of whiskey you had already placed in front of him, knowing how much he enjoyed a drink as he dug into the food. 

"I enjoy cooking. In fact, I was thinking about doing some work at the local orphanage. The children there could really do with some decent meals , and it would give me a chance to feel useful," you told Tommy as you served yourself up some food as well, never enjoying the maids doing it for you. 

Thomas raised an eyebrow at this, studying you closely. "You want to work at the orphanage?"

You nodded, taking a sip of your wine. "Yes. I know how much you support local charities and causes. You're always helping people in need, and I want to do my part too."

Thomas smiled at this, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "That's very thoughtful of you, Love. I'm sure the children will appreciate it," Thomas replied, gazing at you with a softness that made your heart flutter. "But remember, Love, the world can be a dangerous place for a young woman and you, of all people, should know that, eh." 

"It's an orphanage, Tommy. It's not the Garrison," you chuckled, recalling the night he had saved you from a less than favorable situation.  Thomas cocked an eyebrow, his face growing serious.

"I know that, Love. But even so," he began to say, before trailing off, collecting his thoughts. "I will send Isiah with you," he then said, shaking his head and you stared at Thomas for a moment, surprised at the intensity of his words. It was clear that he was deeply concerned for your safety, and you couldn't help but feel touched by his protective nature.

"You are always so worried about me ," you told him with a soft smile, reaching across the table to take his hand in yours. He met your gaze with a steady one of his own and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

"It's my job to worry about you, Love," Thomas replied, his voice low and earnest. "You're my wife, and I want to keep you safe."

The two of you finished the rest of the meal in relative silence, the only sounds being the soft clinking of silverware against china and the occasional sip of whiskey or wine.

Thomas watched you closely, his gaze warm and affectionate. He had always been a protective man, although sometimes his methods could be a little unconventional. But you knew that in his heart, he always had your best interests at heart.

As you finished your meal and pushed your plate away, Thomas leaned back in his chair and gave you a small smile. "I have something I want to show you," he said, his voice low and mysterious.

You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued. "What is it?" you asked and Thomas smiled, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"It's a surprise, Love," he said, standing up from his chair and offering you his hand. "Come on, I'll show you."

You took his hand and let him lead you out of the dining room and down the hallway to his study. The room was dimly lit, with only a single lamp casting a soft glow over the large wooden desk that dominated the space. Thomas closed the door behind you and crossed over to the desk, reaching for something behind it.

It was then that you noticed a large painting leaning against the wall, wrapped in thick brown paper.

"Are you going to tell me what it is?" You asked, unable to hide the excitement in your voice. Thomas chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Patience, Love," he murmured, carefully unwrapping the painting to reveal an exquisite work of art. It was a portrait of you , a stunningly accurate depiction of your likeness, down to the last detail. Your eyes were wide with surprise as you took in the image of yourself, feeling a little self-conscious under Thomas' intense gaze.

"It's beautiful," you breathed, reaching out to touch the canvas. The brushstrokes were delicate and precise, capturing the softness of your skin and the warmth of your smile. You had never seen anything quite like it before.

"I had it commissioned as a wedding present," Thomas explained, his eyes never leaving your face.

"I wanted something to celebrate the woman you are, and the woman you're becoming."

His words sent a rush of warmth through you, filling your heart with a sense of love and pride. You had never felt so cherished, so adored. It was an incredible feeling, one that left you breathless and overwhelmed.

You stood there, hand still resting on the painting, heart pounding in your chest as you looked into Thomas' eyes. You could see the raw desire burning in his gaze, the hunger that told you he wanted you as badly as you wanted him.

"This is the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me," you whispered, your breath hitching as Thomas stepped closer to you.

His hand reached out, gently grasping a tendril of your hair, and he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," Thomas growled, his breath hot against your skin.

Your heart raced as he pulled you towards him, his lips crashing down onto yours in a passionate kiss that left you breathless.

"Tommy ," you gasped, your voice barely audible as his hands roamed over your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before cupping your breasts over your dress.

"Yes, Love?" Thomas murmured against your lips, his thumb teasing your nipples through the fabric until they hardened beneath his touch.

You moaned softly, arching your back into his touch as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a dance that was both familiar and thrilling.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as the hunger inside of you grew stronger.

"I want you, Tommy," you whispered hoarsely, your breath hot against his ear.

Thomas responded with a growl, his hands tugging at your dress until it slid down to your feet, leaving you standing there in nothing but your lacy underwear.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful," Thomas groaned, taking a step back to drink in the sight of you. "And you are mine," he added possessively, reaching out to trace the curve of your hip with his fingertips.

You shivered at his touch, feeling a pulse of desire low in your belly. You had never felt so desired, so wanted before. It was intoxicating.

"Yes, I'm yours," you whispered, reaching out to touch him in turn. Your hands found their way to his belt, the metal buckle cool against your skin as you undid it and slid it free from its loops.

Thomas groaned as you began to undo the buttons of his trousers, revealing the hard length of his cock beneath.

"Fuck, Love," Thomas gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling the velvety softness of his skin beneath your fingertips.

You pulled him forward, pressing your lips to his collarbone and trailing kisses down his chest as you unbuttoned his shirt and sank to your knees before him all at the same time.

The scent of him was musky and intoxicating, and you couldn't resist the urge to take him into your mouth.

"I have never done this before," you confessed, looking up at him with shy, yet eager eyes.

Thomas' expression softened at the admission, his hand reaching out to gently caress your cheek. "I know , Love," he murmured. "I'll guide you." And with those words, you opened your mouth eagerly, waiting for him to make the first move.

Your tongue darted out, teasing his tip and tasting his pre-cum as it leaked out. Thomas moaned deeply, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you to take him deeper, urging you to taste more of him.

You complied eagerly, exploring every inch of him with your mouth as Thomas thrust gently into your throat. Your hands wandered up to his toned ass, pulling him closer as you sucked and licked with abandon.

Thomas' breath hitched as you drew back, gasping for air before sliding back down on him once more.

"Good girl ," Thomas grunted, guiding your head back down onto him.

You could feel the trembling in his legs as you worked him with your mouth, the intensity of his pleasure building to a peak.

"I'm going to cum, Love," Thomas warned, his voice low and strained. "Do you think you can swallow it?" Thomas asked, his voice tight with anticipation. You looked up at him, eyes wide, and nodded eagerly.

"Good girl," he praised you before grabbing a fistful of your hair and pumping his hips faster.

You worked your mouth up and down his shaft, feeling the throbbing of his cock intensify until finally, Thomas thrust deep into your throat and held it there as he came hard. You tried to swallow as much of him as you could, feeling the hot streams of cum coat your tongue before spilling out of the corners of your mouth.

You felt a sense of pride wash over you as you took it all in, Thomas's hips still thrusting as he emptied himself into your willing mouth.

Finally, with one last gasp, Thomas pulled out, his cock sliding free from your mouth with a wet, sucking sound. You looked up at him with a sense of accomplishment and longing, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of him.

Thomas reached down and gently brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek for a moment.

His eyes were soft, filled with love and admiration. You blushed under his gaze, feeling both proud and self-conscious at the same time.

"God, you're beautiful," Thomas murmured, his voice raw with emotion. "And so fucking sexy."

Your blush deepened at the compliment, but you didn't look away. Instead, you reached up and took his hand in yours, bringing it to your lips for a gentle kiss. Thomas smiled at the gesture, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your skin as he looked down at you with a hunger that made your heart race.

"Come here," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "I want to feel you."

You stood up, stepping closer to Thomas as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the evidence of your earlier efforts still slick against your thighs. The combined scent of him and of yourself left you heady, intoxicated by the smell of raw, unbridled sexuality.

His mouth found yours again, his lips claiming yours in a bruising kiss that left you breathless and trembling in his arms.

"I always wanted you to do things to me, on this big desk of yours," you giggled nervously  , your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Thomas's grin deepened, his hands roaming your body with a possessiveness that made you shiver.

"Then what are you waiting for, Love?" He murmured, his voice low and seductive.

You didn't need any more encouragement than that. Within seconds, you had pulled your underwear down your legs and climbed up onto the desk, positioning yourself so that your ass was right at the edge.

"So fucking perfect ," Thomas growled, his eyes burning with desire as he took in the sight of you spread out before him, ready and willing.

You felt a rush of heat flood your body, the thought of being so exposed heightening your arousal to new heights.

Thomas reached out, his hands tracing the curve of your waist before moving up to cup your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending pulses of pleasure straight to your core.

You moaned softly, arching your back and pressing yourself into his touch.

Thomas' mouth found yours again, his lips silencing your cries as his fingers continued to tease your nipples.

"You like that, Love?" Thomas asked, his voice low and sultry.

"Yes," you gasped, your breath hitching as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. "Please, Thomas."

Thomas grinned at the plea, his fingers leaving your breasts to trace a path down your stomach and towards the apex of your thighs.

"God, you're so fucking wet for me," Thomas groaned against your mouth, his fingers brushing through your folds before delving deep within you.

You gasped, your back arching off the desk as Thomas began to thrust his fingers in and out of you. Each stroke hit a spot deep within you, driving you wild with pleasure.

"Please Love, let me cum inside you ," Thomas groaned, his breath hot against your ear.

"No , I- I can't," you gasped, feeling the familiar fluttering deep within your belly.

"Please ," Thomas begged as, finally, he aligned himself with your wetness and thrust into you with one swift push, but you knew that if you let Thomas cum inside of you, there was a chance you could end up pregnant. And with your life the way it was, the last thing you needed right now was a child.

You shook your head, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as your husband bottomed out inside of you.

God, he felt amazing. But you knew that this was as far as you could go.\

"I am sorry," you whispered, your breath hitching as Thomas began to thrust his hips against yours, driving himself in deep and hard. "I-I can't. I'm sorry."

But Thomas seemed to understand.

"It's alright, Love," he murmured, brushing a stray curl from your face with a tender hand. "I'll just make a mess instead," he chuckled in between groans as he continued to thrust in and out of you.

Your nails dug into the desk, your breath coming in ragged gasps as Thomas's hips snapped against yours, his cock hitting that delicious spot inside of you.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, your pelvis bucking to meet his thrusts. "Harder."

Thomas growled at the demand and obliged, his cock pounding into you with bruising force. You cried out, throwing your head back and bracing yourself against the onslaught of pleasure.

Thomas's thrusts became erratic, his breaths coming in short panting gasps.

"Fuck, I'm close Love," he groaned, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips.

You nodded frantically, feeling your own pleasure coiling deep within you. "Yes, yes," you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation as your own orgasm built within you.

Your nails dug into the surface of the desk even harder now as Thomas continued to drive into you with an almost brutal force. Each thrust sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through your body, your breasts bouncing in time with each stroke.

"Yes, Tommy! Oh god , I'm gonna cum!" You screamed as your orgasm tore through your body like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him.

Thomas's thrusts became erratic as he too, found his release, his hot seed filling the air around you as he pulled out and used his hand to finish the job.

You collapsed back onto the desk, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Thomas leaned over you, his arms braced on either side of your head as he caught his own breath.

"Fuck, Love," he groaned before, suddenly, you were being interrupted by one of the maids.

The sound of a knock on the door broke through your haze of pleasure, and Thomas quickly pulled away from you with an annoyed expression on his face. You each gathered your clothes and Thomas barked, not bothering to conceal his irritation at being interrupted in the middle of such an intimate moment.

The maid, a young girl with mousy brown hair and a pinched expression on her face, looked at the ground as she spoke, knowing exactly what you had been doing, 

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but there's a matter that needs your immediate attention."

Thomas sighed heavily and rubbed his temples with his fingers. he asked, his voice clipped and impatient.

"It's the new shipment of whiskey, sir," the maid replied nervously. "The delivery driver says it was damaged during transport, and he refuses to hand it over until you inspect it yourself."

The maid's statement caught Tommy by surprise. "Y/N, go upstairs!" he ordered you in a way he had not spoken to you before.

"Excuse me?" you asked, annoyed with the way Thomas had spoken to you. You were still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm and, frankly, the last thing you wanted was him to snap at you like this. It was unlike him. 

Thomas let out a long-suffering sigh. "I am sorry Y/N. I shouldn't have spoken to you like this, but I need you to go upstairs and stay there. Please," he added as an afterthought, his voice softening.

"Fine ," you muttered, annoyance tingeing your voice as you slid off the desk and started to pull your panties back on, pulling them up beneath your dress. 

You couldn't help but feel irritated at the interruption, even more so at the tone Thomas had used with you. 

But you shook it off, reminding yourself that Thomas wasn't like that. He cared for you deeply, and you cared for him just as much. Maybe he was just having a stressful day.

When you arrived in the bedroom you shared with Tommy now however, you couldn't help but wonder what was really going on. A whiskey delivery at 10 o'clock seemed absurd and, with that in mind, you pulled aside the curtains and peaked out of the window .

Tommy was already standing outside, talking to a somewhat scary looking truck driver. But something was off. Tommy looked tense, his shoulders rigid and his expression stern.

The driver seemed to be making wild gestures, his hands waving around erratically as he spoke. And then, you saw it when the stranger opened one of the boxes on the back of his truck.

Inside there was no whiskey however, but instead, you saw something black, something that looked like rifles. A lot of rifles.  Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing. Was this some kind of arms deal? And if so, why would Thomas be involved in something like that?

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

girl on fire 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, neglect, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: neglected, you find comfort in another home.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, Loki

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself

“Chardonnay, simple but classic. Versatile,” Jonathan declares as he uncorks the bottle, “a fine match for this delectable looking salmon.” 

He’s plated the meal nicely and set the patio table for the dinner. It isn’t the one you planned but better than the one you’d been about to resign yourself too. He pours you a healthy glass and you can’t help but admire his profile. He’s younger and fairer, but does he ever remind you of your husband. It’s like a cruel joke. 

He fills his own glass and sits, his elbow close to yours as he leans it on the arm rest. He reaches for his wine and raises it, awaiting your cheers. You cling the crystal and try not to show how flustered his gaze makes you. You were prepared for your unloving husband but not an intent neighbour. 

“Thanks, this is all very nice,” you smile. How long since you did that? Genuinely. “You really didn’t have to humour me.” 

“Humour you? Not at all. I have to confess, it’s rather lonely. Hattie’s great fun when she’s not in pain but I’m afraid she’s been rather lethargic with all the sedation.” 

“She is? I didn’t think she’d had her surgery yet,” you perk up and take a cautious sip. The chardonnay is oaky and bold. It must be expensive. 

“Not as yet, no, she’s due soon,” he explains as he slices into the flaky salmon, “but I’m afraid she is not handling the pain.” He hums before he tastes the fish. He tastes it very deliberately, “that is perfectly cooked. You must have training, yes?” 

You laugh, not meaning too, but it’s a compliment you don’t expect. 

“Oh no, no, I... I worked at the deli in a grocery store, a long time ago, but I wouldn’t call it culinary school.” 

“Very long ago? You don’t seem that old,” he says, “not that I’m guessing your age. I am aware it’s rather uncourteous to mention it to a woman so I suppose I’ve already said too much.” 

“Thirty-three.” 

“Spry,” he comments with a grin. “I enjoyed thirty-three. And thirty-four. It was all rather merry until forty.” 

“Now I know I have a lot to look forward to,” you kid and take a more generous mouthful, “this wine...” 

“Ah, yes, I’m a bit of an enthusiast. Hattie only had cooking sherry when I moved in. I had to stock up for my stay though I admit I’ve found it rather glum to drink alone. I opened a single bottle of merlot and couldn’t finish.” 

“Mm, I... think I know what you mean,” you admit bittersweetly. 

“Yes, I’ve not seen the husband yet. Elusive? He must be busy.” 

“All the time. Eleven years... well, the flame gets dimmer,” you swirl the chardonnay and watch the golden cyclone, “I’m sure you don’t care. I’m boring. Tell me about you,” you put the glass down and pick up your fork, “when you’re not caring for elderly women, what do you get up to? It must be something exciting. Does your wife miss you?” 

“So many questions, I’m afraid I might disappoint,” he mulls his response as he chews. “I can’t help but repeat myself. Absolutely delicious.” 

“You’re not answering,” you goad. Your heart is fluttering. You can’t help it. He just seems so sophisticated. 

“I manage several hotels for a luxury chain. Though I am looking into slowing down. I’ve invested in the brand so I have a cushion. I tire of all this running around,” he says forlornly, “I didn’t realise it until I arrived here. Hattie, bless her, she’s helped me realise how much I’ve missed out on,” he shifts and sits straighter, “so to your point, no, I’ve not a wife to miss me.” 

You laugh, “I’m sorry. I’m so nosy. It’s just... this place, well, we have gossips but it’s always the same stories.” 

“I’m flattered, truly. I’m truly not very exciting.” 

“Look who you’re talking to,” you scoff. 

“I’d counter and say I find you rather interesting,” he insists, “I wonder how any man could keep away from you.” 

“Oh, you really know what to say,” you giggle. 

“The truth is always the best policy,” he winks, “a woman who cooks like this, she must be something special.” 

Your cheeks burn and bulb and you smile even deeper. There’s an edge to your delight. The nagging voice in the back of your head; he isn’t your husband, though not for your own negligence. You wish he was Loki. You have yearned for your husband to look at you, to speak to you like this.  

It’s fine. It’s nothing. He knows you’re married. It’s only dinner. You’re not going to do anything.  

❤️‍🔥

“I’ve some sorbet in the freezer, would you like some dessert?” Jonathan asks as you empty your glass. The third. Like everything else, he is generous with the bottle. 

“I’d love dessert,” you preen and set the glass down, cupping your chin in your hand as you lean in to marvel at him. You angle your foot to touch his leg, “but I’m not in the mood for sorbet.” 

He tilts his head and his blue eyes flash. He takes a breath and you sense his reluctance. Oh no. Why did you do that? Why did you say that? It’s the wine. 

“Ah,” he reaches to touch your knee, squeezing, “I am entirely flattered but... you are married.” 

“Oh god,” you pull back and cover your face, “please, forget that happened. I’m drunk.” 

“It’s rather fine. It is a rather strong vintage,” he removes his hand, “please do not be embarrassed.” 

“How can I not be?” You whine. 

“Truly, I... I would. I cannot say I invited you in without the whim and yet... you are married.” 

“I know,” you whimper. 

“And I wouldn’t want to put you in such a compromised position.” 

You nod and gulp, hiding still behind your fingers, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Please, I should be. I’ve been... misleading. I must admit I would leap at the chance and yet I find it difficult knowing that it would be only a fleeting deceit.” 

“Ugh, please, I’ll go,” you sit up and grip the edge of the table, about to stand. He catches your arm, and holds you there. 

“Darling, you are one of the most immaculate woman I’ve met. That man, whoever he is, is a fool. I’ve not met him and even I know it,” he trails his hand down your arm and takes yours, raising it to kiss your knuckles, “please, know I do not reject you out of repulsion, only out of consideration. I wouldn’t dare put you in that position.” 

“I...” the touch of his lips makes you tingle. You tear your hand away and get to your feet, “I have to go.” 

“Darling--” 

“No, you’re so sweet,” your voice quavers, “but I can’t... I can’t hear lies from another man. I understand, okay? Please, just forget this all.” 

You clamour around his seat and across the deck. You take the two steps to even ground and wobble to the gate. You leave it open as you barrel through and across the street. You slow as you approach your house, the moonlight high above its peak. You stop short as Loki’s car sits in the driveway. 

What timing he has. 

[sinful-lanterns]

oh man Garofano in that collab art... i am down bad ASTRONOMICALLY for her i need her so bad omg. i just want to kneel at her feet and eat her out while running my hands along her thighs :(((( i just know she would look so beautiful sitting in that outfit looking down at me, gently petting my head and praising me kkshdksbfkadjakqbdjajdja mommy...

CW: Mommy kink

MORE PUSSY EATING 🍽️

Nnngh Garofano is so soft and comforting when you go down on her. Giving off loads of MILF energy while she runs her fingers across your face and coos at how good of a girl you are for eating mommy’s pussy so well. Oh to have her soft, milky thighs clamping around the sides of your head, trapping you under mommy Garofano’s hold as you have no choice but to dart out your tongue and taste what a mature and sophisticated woman is supposed to be like.

Aaaaah call me a pussy connoisseur, because I’m sampling Garofano’s pussy like it’s a fine aged wine <3

[gremlingottoosilly]

does...does König sext??? like I'm sure he would be the type to ask for nudes but does he send anything back?? god I am so afraid of the answer 🫣

"I send you my cock, please respond" (NSFW ahead, MDNI) Honestly, if not for his social anxiety, Konig would go absolutely feral on his old man sexting type of behavior. Man can't flirt to save his life and also doesn't want to learn - it's a good thing that Mrs.Konig loves him enough, poor girl would be freaking devastated if she'd have to deal with his flirting for the first few stages of their relationships. Good thing she was kidnapped, right? Konig is willing to beg for nudes, he needs some jerking-off material that wouldn't make him feel guilty. He is the type of gut to watch porn for the plot and get mad if there is a cat that doesn't get belly scratches in the whole movie, and he is often too distracted by dumb plot points to actually enjoy wanking his dick. Photos are much, much easier for him to use - your photos, specifically. This man would ask you for too many things, like costumes, special poses, and basically everything - you may think that a simple pantie shot would be enough, but his tastes grow more and more sophisticated (read - perverted) with every month of your relationships. He especially enjoys seeing you in some form of self-bondage - even the collar and some cuffs are doing that for him. let's pray Horangi won't find his secret folder... He would be more shy about sending nudes back, he doesn't really believe that you enjoy looking at him as much as he is looking at you - but he really tries to believe that anyway.

[nartml]

To Pimp a Butterfly and 1989: a rant

Listen here, three things about me are that I'm a) white as snow, b) Greek, c) still a minor.

What does this mean? It means that I obviously wasn't raised with hip-hop, and I got into Kendrick Lamar's music pretty late.

As in, early this year.

I've known of him for some time, and the moment I found out he had a Pulitzer prize at some point in late-ish 2023, I decided I had to sit my ass down and pull out Spotify.

Now, as an avid reader of both fanfiction (ao3 raised me) and books [I feel the immense need to clarify that I don't associate myself with mainstream booktok. Capitalism's consumerism has overrun that shit and all I see are the same 20 books being recycled and recommended (a substantial amount of those are Colleen Hoover and her variants). Tropes and spice* are officially the defining factors of whether a book is worth it (*your porn addiction ain't cute) and quantity is heavily prioritized at the expense of quality. Also, diversity who?], I was, for a lack of a better word, hyped.

A Pulitzer prize is nothing to scoff at in general, more so in music, more so in hip-hop.

(Edit: Upon quick reflection, I realize that putting emphasis on hip-hop can come across as coded.

I am in no way, shape, or form trying to undermine hip-hop or say that it's somehow less 'sophisticated' than, for example, classical music. I'm very aware of the amount of skill and technique one needs to write a masterful hip-hop album, and I'm not doubting that there are hip-hop artists out there who are also incredibly deserving of such a prize. I meant it in the sense that I've unfortunately never heard of another hip-hop artist who won a Pulitzer before, which is quite telling.)

That's some huge shit, and I'd be a fool not to be intrigued.

Admittedly, I didn't get on that immediately. For a while I procrastinated, because I wasn't in the mood to hyper-fixate on anything new just yet.

Which of course meant I ended up forgetting about it for a few months, because of course I did.

But then I came across a TikTok that talked about how it was insane that '1989' won the Grammy when To Pimp a Butterfly was right there.

Now, a fourth thing about me is that I don't fuck with Taylor Swift.

And a fifth thing about me is that I'm not baseless in anything that I do, say or feel, and that includes annoyance.

Her immature understanding of activism and feminism leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The way she built up her fan base around this portrayal of her as a relatable girl's girl, her refusal to accept criticism, and always making a victim out of herself (even now when she's in her thirties and is a fucking billionaire) while never using her position of power and privilege for good are all reasons that serve to fuel my dispassionate dislike.

And before any Swifties get on my ass, no, I don't think that "But she's a singer! Why are you expecting so much out of her, she isn't even qualified to speak on XYZ—" is a good enough excuse.

She has always been rich, and now she's a billionaire. There are no ethical billionaires, and that includes her.

Fame is influence is power. Uncle Ben said it all: With great power comes great responsibility.

And let me tell you, I don't see her owning up to that responsibility, especially after all that talk about how she supports women, supports the LGBTQ community, and supports the BLM movement. Has she ever actually put her abundant money where her mouth is?

I've never seen her speak about anything that doesn't immediately concern her.

Don't get me wrong. She's not the only celebrity like this out there. I'm sure there are worse cases. I know it for a fact.

To wrap this segment up before I get even more sidetracked, I'll outright state that I don't hate her, because hating her would by definition mean that I, in some way, actually care about her, and that just sounds exhausting.

Best way to describe me is indifferent, leaning towards distasteful.

She's annoying.

And that's how I feel about both her as a person and her as an artist.

I'm not denying her talent, nor her impact on the industry, nor the fact that she does have good songs that even I like.

A select few, of course, but still.

Apart from those...what? Ten songs? I have never, ever been able to listen to any other song of her's all the way through.

I get bored. They do nothing for me. They sound empty. Hollow. Plastic. Repetitive.

Her lyrics, that are praised by fans for being deep and complex, sound pretty surface level to me.

Not all of them. But I'm a sucker for analysis. A literature nerd. Greek is my native language. I can tell when something's deep and when something wants to be deep.

(Not necessarily including Folklore and Evermore in that category. Her storytelling ability is actually great.)

Her music largely sounds like it wants to be deep.

Most recent example being her latest release, The Tortured Poets Department.

Anyway, back to Kendrick.

My initial plan was to listen to 'DAMN.' first, because that's what he won the Pulitzer for in the first place.

There was a change of plans after that TikTok.

I decided to compare the opening tacks.

I put on Welcome to New York, and predictably, I felt nothing.

The rhythm is dance-y, I suppose. But there's nothing substantial about it. There's nothing exciting about it.

The lyrics are juvenile, and I get it, it's a pop song and she was in her twenties.

Nobody is expecting Shakespeare (no matter how much you scream or kick your feet, the only reason Shakespeare couldn't write Taylor Swift is because he's in another league entirely) or Odysseus Elytis. Nobody is expecting mind-blowing lyricism.

But it's the opening track to an apparently Grammy-worthy album. The very least I'd expect from it would be some additional levels of artistry.

Am I being harsh? Probably. Do I care? No.

Disappointed but unsurprised, I put on Wesley's Theory.

I ascended within the first minute.

Don't get it twisted, I barely understood shit.

Not only am I white, I am also entirely removed from America and its culture as a whole. I don't know what's going on there in y'all's daily lives.

And this was baby's first proper introduction to hip-hop as a whole.

My untrained, white-ass ear barely caught two references. I got what the gist of the song was about, and that's about it.

I had to look up analyses of the track to fully grasp what Kendrick was on about, and even then, there was obviously still a disconnect.

And I expected all of that.

I didn't expect to get hooked on that song within the first listen.

I swear to fuck, the beat is addictive. I swear to fuck, even when I was fighting to understand what the lyrics were referencing, I was having the time of my life.

Even I, an amateur in every sense of the word, could tell that there was depth and there was quality and there was intentional meaning in every line of that song.

It didn't matter that I couldn't understand it. It mattered that I knew it was there. Not because someone told me that was the case. But because it was audible.

I listened to the next track. And the one after that. And the one after that. I had listened to all of the tracks, before I knew it.

And the evident permeance of quality, of substance, carried on throughout the whole album.

It had exactly the type of lyricism I'd expect a Grammy-worthy album to have. It had exactly the amount of artistry I expected a Grammy-worthy album to have.

Even better, it had all the ingredients I expected a timeless album to have.

The poetry Taylor Swift fans insist hides in her discography, I found in plain sight within Kendrick Lamar's.

After meticulously reading the lyrics, I watched video essay after video essay, searched for analysis after analysis on this album, each time understanding the meanings behind it a little better.

Needless to say that the Grammy's are rigged and I love Kendrick Lamar.

Hip-hop is gorgeous.

[cynic-spirit]

The Black Sweater

Yn walked into the club, the warm glow of the interior contrasting with the cold outside. She wore Bucky’s black turtleneck sweater, which enveloped her in a cozy, relaxed way, the soft fabric emphasizing her delicate frame. Her skirt, paired with stockings and boots, created a chic, sophisticated look. The brooch Bucky had gifted her gleamed on the sweater, adding a touch of elegance.

Her hair was styled in her signature French twist, with a few strands left loose, framing her face in a soft, alluring manner. Her red lips, bold and striking, made a statement that contrasted with the muted tones of her outfit. Her glasses, always a part of her refined look, caught the light as she scanned the room for Bucky.

As she moved through the crowd, even those with their significant others couldn’t help but turn their heads. Yn’s presence was magnetic, and Bucky couldn’t help but notice the sudden shift in the room’s attention. He watched as the other men in the club glanced up, their conversations faltering momentarily. Some even nudged their partners, pointing subtly at Yn, their expressions a mix of admiration and surprise.

Bucky’s lips curled into a proud smile as he observed Yn from his vantage point. Her ability to capture the attention of everyone around her, even while simply searching for him, never failed to amaze him.

When Yn finally reached Bucky, she greeted him with a warm kiss, the kind that made time feel suspended. As she pulled back, Bucky’s eyes sparkled with genuine admiration.

“That sweater has never looked so good,” he said, his voice filled with affection.

Yn chuckled softly, a light blush warming her cheeks. “You put me on a high horse, Bucky,” she teased, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Bucky’s grin widened, clearly delighted by her response. “Only because you deserve to be there, doll,” he replied, his tone earnest and filled with pride.

As Yn tried to maneuver around, she stumbled slightly and fell into Bucky’s lap. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“I am so, so sorry,” she said quickly, trying to push herself up. “I kind of lost balance.”

But Bucky’s arms were already reaching out, pulling her back down gently. “Nope, this is your seat,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Bucky, I cannot sit in your lap all night,” Yn protested, her voice a mixture of amusement and discomfort.

“Yes, you can,” he replied, pulling her closer and tightening his grip around her waist. “Like this.”

“What will others think?” she asked, glancing around nervously.

“If anyone has a problem with me having my woman sit on my lap,” Bucky said matter-of-factly, “I’ll get them beaten and thrown out.”

“And what about your friends when they come?” Yn asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Believe me, doll, they give me a hard time, but they’re more whipped than me for their girls,” Bucky said with a chuckle. “I saw Steve drying clothes in the washer the other day. Now stop arguing and get comfortable.”

He nuzzled her neck and cheek, his affection evident in every touch.

Yn’s lips curled into a playful smile as she leaned in and pulled Bucky into a deep, lingering kiss.

“Well then, if I’m sitting in your lap, I might as well do this,” she murmured against his lips.

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with delight as he responded, “Oh, doll, you are amazing.” His hands cupped her face, pulling her closer as he kissed her back with equal fervor.

The kiss was tender yet passionate, a perfect reflection of their deep connection. Yn’s red lips tasted of warmth and intimacy, and Bucky savored every moment, feeling his heart swell with love and contentment. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own private paradise.

[take-it-on-the-run]

Fox Mulder Playlist

"You're my one in five billion."

Fox Mulder Masterlist | The X-Files Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

A/N: Could also be interpreted as 'Being in Love With Fox Mulder'. You guys, I don't think you can understand the amount of yearning I feel for this man. He's already shot up to number two on my list™ and is probably going to get promoted to #1 if I write for him. I'm going to throw up because I love him so much, all he has to do is be real.

Fox On The Run // Sweet

Fox on the run; you scream and everybody comes a-running; take a run and hide yourself away

Spooky // Dusty Springfield

You always keep me guessing; I never seem to know what you are thinking

Psycho Killer // Talking Heads

I can't seem to face up to the facts; I'm tense and nervous and I can't relax

Light My Fire // The Doors

The time to hesitate is through; no time to wallow in the mire

The Killing Moon // Echo & the Bunnymen

Fate; up against your will; through the thick and thin

Pretty Girls Make Graves // The Smiths

I could have been wild and I could have been free; but nature played this trick on me

The Adults Are Talking // The Strokes

They've been saying you're sophisticated; they've been complaining overeducated; you are saying all the words I'm dreaming

Fade Into You // Mazzy Star

I wanna hold the hand inside you; I wanna take the breath that's true

Vampire Empire // Big Thief

I see you there, rejecting all your earthly power; protecting and dissecting 'til you've emptied every hour

Lover, You Should've Come Over // Jeff Buckley

Too young to hold on; and too old to just break free and run

Cherry // Lana Del Rey

Love; I said real love; is like feelin' no fear

No. 1 Party Anthem // Arctic Monkeys

The look of love, the rush of blood; the "She's with me"'s, the Gallic shrug

The Night We Met // Lord Huron

I am not the only traveler; who has not repaid his debt; I've been searching for a trail to follow again; take me back to the night we met

Sailor Song // Gigi Perez

Oh, won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?; And when you get a taste, can you tell me what's my flavor?; I don't believe in God, but I believe that you're my savior

Everlong - Acoustic Version // Foo Fighters

And I wonder; when I sing along with you; if everything could ever feel this real forever; if anything could ever be this good again

[nyaagolor]

Evanatsu Week Day 2: Roses / Tea

A happier one this time :) I am still behind, unfortunately. Short preview below and the rest under the readmore like before

Eva, admittedly, didn’t care much for tea. Drinking out of the dainty cups on Rokkenjima, surrounded by the bustle of servants and the gentle chime of silverware, Eva felt like a child again, all sculpted posture and delicate hands. It was much the same here, even in the change of scenery. Golden roses, perpetually in bloom and blanketing the arbor in a rich floral scent, covered the grounds like it were alive– some sparkling, monochrome plain only disrupted by the small gazebo where the women tended to have their parties. Eva hardly ever bothered to attend. 

Tea was sophisticated, lady-like, dainty in a way that made her stomach turn in a deep-seated repugnance. Coffee was much more to her tastes– but if she had to guess, the woman sitting at the opposite end of the table didn’t have a tenth of the palate needed to appreciate something quite so strong and snappy. Glancing across the arbor, Eva couldn’t help but smile to herself. Natsuhi, as it seemed, needed cream and sugar to stomach even the insipid teas that Ronove prepared. She was careful not to make noise when she stirred, applying her own attempts at elegance to something so childish. It was cute, Eva thought, like a little girl parading about in her mother’s heels. 

Admittedly, it was a mostly silent affair. They sat there for a while in the stillness, Eva swirling her coffee and trying to follow Natsuhi’s gaze. She stared out at the roses with a faraway look in her eyes, sipping her tea with enough ambivalence towards Eva’s presence beside her that she had to wonder why Natsuhi invited her here at all. As if noticing her staring, Natushi looked up at her, eyes wide. Within moments she was fidgeting with the cup, dragging her finger around the lip as though lost in thought. 

“Nee-san,” she finally said, “Thank you for joining me here.”

Eva hid her expression by taking a sip of coffee, letting the aromatics and bitter taste drown whatever she might have said. Natsuhi, words hanging awkwardly in the silence, continued. 

“I know you don’t like tea, so I was worried you wouldn’t come, but…” she turned away this time, staring at her reflection in her cup, “I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to be in your company every once in a while.”

Eva licked the crema off her lips, unable to stifle a retort. “So being in my company on most occasions is unpleasant?”

Natsuhi immediately turned red. “That is not what I said!” she stammered. Eva just grinned at her, watching as Natushi’s indignation sputtered out into nothing, turning her face away like Eva couldn’t read her expression like a book. 

“I just… wanted to get to know you a little better, that’s all.” She paused for a moment, her gaze flitting back to the rose garden. “Since I never got the chance to.”

Eva felt the words fall away in an instant, any of the usual teasing drying to nothing on her tongue. Chances. They had gotten their chances, squandered every one. Eva had thought about it, sitting on the top of that high-rise when Ange was at St. Lucia. She had every chance to quit, every chance to be a good mother, every chance to just leave before 1986 had even happened. 

To say that they only needed chances brought an immediate and familiar scowl to Eva’s face. She and Natsuhi had passed each other in the hallway a hundred times, ignored each other’s tear-stained faces when they were still little girls who liked to act like they weren’t. They had stepped on each other to grasp at illusions above them and blame the other for their empty hands. They were given every opportunity to be what the other needed, to find some camaraderie against the idiot man-kings who lorded over the island. The only chances they ever seemed to take were to hurt each other, to take the burden off Kinzo’s shoulders and tear each other apart like dogs in his stead. They had chances, and they had time. If nothing else, that was the one thing they had been granted their entire lives. She had asked Beatrice about it, not longer after they had arrived at the Golden Land. In a thousand fragments, Eva had the chance to put the gun back on the table– to never pick it up in the first place. In a thousand fragments, she never did. 

Natsuhi went back to stirring her tea, silently shifting herself to turn away from Eva. She wasn’t dumb enough to miss the flicker of Eva’s expression, just how Eva did not fail to notice exactly what the change in posture meant. How naive, then, to think that a chance was what they needed when they had already had so many. How stupid, to walk so far down a trail of fate and still think there was a chance to try something else. How futile, how worthless, how pathetic, to try. 

… And for all of that, it was Eva who couldn’t meet her gaze. 

Natsuhi was the one who invited her out here, who remembered what she liked, who opened herself to ridicule and made a new chance herself. Perhaps caring enough to try wasn’t ever the problem. 

“What kind of tea are you drinking?” Eva finally said. Natsuhi choked on her own response, wincing and quickly wiping her face as she snapped out of her thoughts. 

“W– huh? This?” She sniffled, trying to clear her throat. “It’s black tea. It has rosehips.”

“Can I have some?” 

Natsuhi seemed taken aback by the question, watching Eva glance over at the teapot in the center of the table. “O- of course,” she said, moving to sit next to her to prepare her a cup. 

“I haven’t tried many teas,” Eva admitted as Natushi set up the saucers and spoons, “but you always seem to be drinking it. You’ll have to show me some of your collection another time.”

Natushi froze, her gaze fixed on Eva. At times like this, it was a little hard for Eva to imagine why they had fought so often– Natushi was easy to read, her emotions as intense and fleeting as a little girl’s. Eva felt vaguely like she was looking at a puppy she had just kicked. Even now, Natsuhi’s lips were parted in surprise, her eyes wide in shock and sparkling with barely concealed delight. 

“The cup is overflowing,” Eva pointed out, and Natushi quickly leapt back with a yelp, her knees hitting the table and making their drinkware rattle. The tea was still overflowing in the cup, silently spilling over the edges of the saucer and making a slight amber puddle on the table, filtering out slowly. Eva could see their warped reflections in the glassy surface, Natsuhi flitting about like a startled maidservant while Eva watched the both of them.  

Another meeting. Another conversation. Another excuse to be in your company. Another chance to know you. A million possibilities in a catbox of our own creation.

Perhaps another cup of tea wouldn’t be so bad.

[fueledbysano]

Okay, this is old, but I just saw your perfume post about tr boys, and I loved it so much! I am a perfume enthusiast and just from that post, I can tell you have emasculate taste. Can I request one of what tr girls would wear? I also just want some women perfume recs lmaooo

what fragrances I think tokyo revengers girls would wear

hello, nonnie 🖤 I love going back to old works so thank you for sending this! while making the boys' version, I actually also thought about doing one for the girls but it slipped my mind since then so thanks for bringing it back! I'd love to do it, here we go!

♱ ft. Hina Tachibana, Yuzuha Shiba, Akane Inui, Senju Akashi

♱ an: these are always really fun to make.

boys' version

Hina - Decorte Kimono Yui, Jo Malone Mimosa & Cardamom

I'm giving her two scents because I really pin her as the type of girl who has a signature scent plus a rotation of perfumes for different outfits. For her usual everyday fragrance in school, I believe that Hina would love Kimono Yui by Decorte. It's floral and citrus-y in scent, and I like how none of which overpower the other which makes it more appealing. It's flirty and fun, not an over bearing fragrance... This scent feels like having lemon pastries at a rose garden. This scent is perfect as it is, and is good for layering with richer floral-based scents too! She loves how cute the bottle looks too and I can see her owning the other scents from the line.

Jo Malone is actually a favorite in Japan as well. I like to hc that Takemichi lined up with crowds of people at the store opening to get her a bottle. He thought they all smelled the same and ended up just taking which one sounded cuter and Hina ended up loving it anyways. She wears this scents on their dates. It's such a good warm, soft, spicy floral, and a little powdery scent. this scent feels like collecting laundry from the yard on a summer.

Yuzuha - L'interdit Rouge Givenchy

this is the scent of a boss babe. she is canonically an it girl with fan girls and I thought this scent is her signature. you get something spicy, fresh, and the stronger notes like ginger on first spray, and then it becomes really creamy and sweet because of the jasmine notes over time. this feels like dressing up for the night at a five star restaurant or hotel. I own the l'interdit Intense which is the goth sister of the l'interdit scents and it's safe to say that this is the sexiest scent in the line.

miss shiba became Hakkai's manager in the future which means she knows her fashion and her scents, and I think she would also really love the Good Girl perfume line, anything from Xerjoff and Jean Paul Gaultier— perfume of sophisticated and powerful boss babes like her 💋

Akane - Replica "By the fireplace" by Maison Margiela

look, the burning house incident didn't even occur to me when I came up with this, I swear on my life. burnt jokes aside, this scent smells like going for a walk to a bookstore in autumn, and you're eating s'mores. it settles into a warm, sweet, woody vanilla... it's very cozy and warm, and smoky too. ( alright maybe there was an implication of the roasted joke in that last one ) I have a travel-sized bottle of this which was gifted by a friend from Japan and I wear it on colder days.

Senju - Replica "Springtime in a Park" by Maison Margiela

senju is another maison margiela girlie. I believe this is one of the more underrated scents from the Replica line. It's floral in a way so light, airy, and fresh. It reminds me of walking down a field and picking up the scent of fresh and dewy flowers in the breeze. those kind of random whiffs of scents that suddenly take you back to when you were younger, but never identify where it was coming from. I think she's not really big on fragrances and sticks on a signature scent like this! I am not big on floral scents but this is the few I like. I sprayed it on my wrist at an outlet shop.

[corvidclub]

in light of discourse of potential drag in s3 here's the iwtv guys' relationship to drag/crossdressing

Lestat: He does it. We've already seen him do it. He thinks it's fun :). his taste level and makeup skills are...not all the way there. I imagine his drag aesthetic without Louis' supervision is either 5yo girl at a princess tea party or hot mall slut. Regardless, he's having fun that doesn't involve inhuman violence so good for him ig. Knows very little about modern drag culture apart from what his gay tour interns tell him and the occasional bar visit. He is blocked by several drag race queens bc he keeps sliding into their dms with critiques and/or flirtations based on whatever episode he happened to catch a glimpse of.

Louis: Knows the most about contemporary drag culture by far out of anyone on the cast. Was on the ground floor observing the ballroom scene develop. Thinks rupaul's drag race ruined real drag culture (but has seen every episode). Is absolutely vicious in his criticisms of the queens and def ate some baby queens back in the day. Internally thinks he would slay drag race but whenever someone suggests he actually do drag he always comes up with some excuse like 'I can't shave bc I'm a vampire' or 'I can't find a drag mother I'll eat them'. In reality he is just afraid of getting similar criticisms and would like to keep his ego intact. If he were to do drag though his aesthetic would be very sleek and sophisticated a lot of 80s powersuits/powerdresses (executive realness is his fav category), slinky jewel tone gowns, big hats, fur coats, some tasteful bdsm elements. While his style is fairly modern I imagine he's quite old-fashioned about certain elements of drag like: NO body hair! NO boy nipples! FEMALE ILLUSION ONLY! I think he'd get really into the interiority of his drag persona as well...Lestat is like "Je suis Lisette :) it is like my name but I'm a girl :)" Louis on the other hand is looking in the mirror face beat like.. "who is Celine Emerald VanMichaels DuPree? does she dream? what does she dream of? what am I trying to embody when I become her?" tdlr: he is very annoying.

Armand: Doesn't really have much interest in drag tbh sure he'll drink a glass of AB on drag race nights with loustat and bitch about fabric with the best of them but it's not something he'd really do on his own. If he felt he had to crossdress for whatever reason he'd do it but wouldn't feel that strongly about it positively or negatively. I imagine some elements of women's clothing would bring him back to the renaissance since men were very much gowned-up back then which could be good or bad depending on the day he's having. I imagine his past painting skills would transfer so he'd be weirdly very good at drag makeup like he and Lestat would follow the same tutorial on youtube and Armand would come out looking like Plastique Tiara while Lestat looks crazy. He wore eyeliner casually in Paris and I could see him having fun with eye makeup under certain circumstances. However, I don't think the idea of having a drag persona would appeal to him bc 1. repressed femininity and enforced masculinity wasn't really a significant part of his human life unlike loustat and 2. a performance is only worth it for Armand if someone actually fully believes it otherwise it's Just Acting and that's Lestat's thing not his. He loves typical drag queen camp movies though like Mommie Dearest, Showgirls, What Ever Happened to Baby Jane, etc. are some of his faves. Louis thinks those films are bad/weird (he's more of a Steel Magnolias queen) but Daniel and Lestat watch with him.

Daniel: He did drag/crossdressed for special occasions back when he was younger like halloween and pride events/protests. He'd do one of those stories where the reporter becomes part of the community they're writing about and he'd do drag for like a week just for the story ofc. He has a Frank n' Furter costume that he's owned since 1976 and worn to at least a decade's worth of Rocky Horror screenings. Also a playboy bunny look which he tries to claim he wore as some sort of feminist commentary but was really about showing off his twunk body to various substance users. He probably sees these past antics as him 'being secure in his masculinity' rather than expressing femininity which is.... kinda true but also not. He's a huge fan of John Waters and Divine. Like Louis he also believes that rpdr ruined drag culture but actually doesn't watch it except for clips of untucked fights (he would like dragula though). He thinks the most important thing for a drag queen to be is funny and shocking to straight people rather than to serve looks, in fact, he prefers queens who are a bit busted or purposely strange looking. This makes going to drag shows with him and Louis very entertaining because they are guaranteed to have exact opposite opinions and fight about it.

[meowyjean]

marauders as architecture styles

remus as renaissance - neeerrddd; probably wished the great classics saw him and hoped they were proud of him; values silent independent reading time; gets excited over the golden ratio and symmetry and columns

james as post-modern - if you gave a child a paper and crayons and told them to make buildings but they forgot what you asked of them halfway through and just made whatever; let's stop repressing our feelings u guys; life's motto is have fun!

peter as mid-century modern - it ain't that deep bro; unassuming; "you don't need to do all that" (secretly wishes he could do all that); a repressed catholic virgin if you will; banging taste in furniture, shit taste in structures = don't judge a book by its cover

sirius as baroque - (i am biased and i love them); let's make a statement on every surface imaginable; let's put all our efforts and money to the pursuit of being pretty; oh and add gold. everywhere.

regulus as victorian - combination of dark and mysterious and the desire to be ornate; you would think he'd be gothic, but he just wants to sit on the plush seat in the library of his home, surrounded by unnecessary amounts of ornate moulding and picture frames

pandora as art nouveau - the fluid era not the geometrical one; bespoke everything; fun, fresh, flirty, frivolous; bonus points on her matching the art style of the era too (pandora fanart in an art nouveau style would be so)

mary as islamic - you can't keep your eyes off her; the intricate geometric AND symmetrical patterns, the lofty AND pointed arches; oh you feel hot in the courtyard? we'll put water there babes it isn't that serious

lily as neoclassical - whatever you can do, i can do better; "wake up babes, be so fucking fr"; it girl all-day every day; oh that was your style but she added to it and made it completely her own? yeah, sorry babes, she won, it's hers now

barty as high gothic - as in over the top, go big or go home, i want it so high, oh shit too high i need to add buttresses, "yo what if we put glass in thick ass walls and get risky with them and maybe even have fun with them while we're at it" high gothic

evan as industrial - sleek, lofty, no bullshit; i'm so confident in myself that you can look through me; wdym you're scared of this new construction material? look at me fucking bending it and making tall ass structures bitch

marlene as deconstructivism - nuh uh; fuck it, fuck you, fuck everything, fuck the police; thanks for letting me read the rules, now i'll be breaking them (and look good doing it)

dorcas as art deco - a cultural reset; get you a girl who is elegant AND artful; no one does dark and sophisticated quite like she does; plus she's fun and ornate too? she is the coolest girl to ever walk the campus

thank you for coming to my ted talk

[lesbiansamgoode]

i’m really bored rn so here’s lorien legacies as shit me and my friends have said

Nine: Counterpoint: L, ratio, bozo.

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Ella: You motherfricker!

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Nine: I’m going to eat drywall.

Five: Can I have some?

Nine: No, find your own drywall you pleb.

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Six: My wife is cheating on me with a fucking text-to-speech!

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Sam: I play sudoku like a SOPHISTICATED person.

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Nine: Ah yes, because nothing says “I am a normal human and definitely not a space alien” like the name JOHN SMITH.

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John, drinking an espresso for the first time: It’s as dark as my soul… AAAH IT TASTES REALLY BAD

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Six: If Ra just decided to be a stripper instead maybe Lorien would still be alive.

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Agent Walker: Superbeings with their pronouns…

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Sam: I got dice and a visceral need to use them.

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Six at the Paradise High battle: HEY I’VE BEEN STABBED CAN YOU STOP MAKING OUT FOR ONE SECOND AND HELP ME??

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Setrákus Ra: Good evening.

Ella: Bitch.

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John: So, did you meet any girls?

Sam: Fictional or real?

[barbiebutgayer]

Rating Talia al Ghul’s Outfits:

*disclaimer this is just my personal opinion based on my style/taste and everyone style’s different so take this with a grain a salt*

1. Starting out LOVE the Matcha green color on her and we already know this girly can rock a skin tight leather anything at this point. Personally, wouldn’t have added a belt but we know if miss girl can incorporate an accessory to her look she will take the opportunity. It does bring more attention to her shape because it hits right under her natural waistline that, mixed with how the neckline hits, creates a nice harmony that compliments her figure well. I’ll give the nails a bonus point as well. My only downside is that while cute it would be a headache to wear with that fabric all day. I know queen is picking the wedgies out left and right when she wears this. Also she only has a front zipper which means she has to peel off that entire suit just to use the bathroom especially when it’s hot outside. With all that being said I’ll give it 6/10. The color of the suit with the nails is to die for but while it’s aesthetically is cute it’s a little underwhelming. Also the idea of trying to peel that off at the end of a long day is a no for me.

2. Love Love Lovveeee this one!! Her in vibrant pinks slay every time it’s always a vibe like you go you dramatic lil groovy barbiecore gal 💞 Anyways getting onto the look the waistline is gorgeous it looks like either gold boning or fabric draped down along the body whatever it is it’s stunning and adds a dramatic yet dainty detail. I’m also loving the pleats on the skirt and the sleek sophisticated yet playful feel the fabric and sleeves gives her. I know this one is a specific type of taste but personally it’s a yes for me I’d give this one an 10/10 Ik Ik it’s only the 2nd one I’ve rated but I’m a big fan of this look and am always here for a good high neck moment also feeling the slit yes queen get the airflow. That is one downside of the dress is the slit fairly high so prone it accidentally flashing and some people could find the high neck stiff and restricting but overall with the shape, color, fabric, the gold on the dress paired with matching gold bracelets the look gives a very feminine elegance that while soft makes a powerful statement.

3. …..total early 2010s vibes with the chunky bracelet paired with the even chunkier necklace. It’s perfect for the era of when this comic came out but I’m sorry it’s not the vibe personally. Love the shoes and the blouse but just maybe not with that skirt paired together. Or you know what the outfit is do able I take that back the combo isn’t too bad. It’s just not the best for what she’s trying to do like I’m sorry this doesn’t scream “I’m the woman who’s going to world dominate and take your business” she’s still girl bossing and dominating yes, but in a Vegas Nightclub Receptionist way. Which isn’t a bad thing I say that as someone from there. It’s just idk something about it ain’t hitting. My baby is always pretty and her hair flows gorgeously in harmony with her blouse maybe it’s her stance the photo but idk I’d give it a 3.5/10. 🤷‍♀️

4. A simple look but she does her job bringing back the hot pink in the form of cargo pants. It’s Talia’s world and everyone else just lives in to when she walks around in pink. Her blouse is super cute and length of her sleeves give her a “let’s get down to business” energy. It’s not her most over the top and flashier moments but it’s giving effortless intelligent beauty who might or might not be some sort of doctor/professor. I’d give it a 7/10 nothing bad aesthetic wise and comfort wise you’re pretty set. A little bit on the basic side for someone like Talia but for someone who constantly wears statement pieces. A casual civilian moment is refreshing to see on someone like her. Definitely a perfect outfit to for a cute hiking date or mission with Bruce. Not high enough to be a 10 but too cute of an outfit to be a 5.

5. Yeah you know not really feeling this one either. I know different artist have done variants of this suit but no matter the art style it just doesn’t do any thing for me aesthetic wise. Like idk what it is about it because I ofc love white on her and I can appreciate the symbolism behind the suit but idk i feel like they could of gone different directions. The suit just is a little stiff looking. Which I know that is the point of the look but I’m sure she definitely not comfortable imagine getting a back itch in this outfit not the vibe. The gloves are little too medical feeling especially with the straight jacket looking bands. I know I’m tearing into this one but a positive of the look is the texture of the suit I do like that added detailing gives her a bite of a regal white knight in shining armor feel. Overall would give it only a 3/10.

6. Idk about y’all but I’m feeling the long slit midi skirt with the black garter or weapon giving a free little show. The whole ensemble all together gave camp steampunk pirate feel in the best way. What I’ve learned making this post is that our girl loves a good blouse and any outfit she pair with it. The sleeves on this one is a lot more of a puffier bishop than the ones she’d d normally wear. I also really like the little belt she has sitting at her natural waist with the gold in the center. It’s a tiny detail but the gold on the belt pick up on the gold rose on her skirt. I’d rate this one a solid 8/10 maybe that’s too high of a rating but it’s different it’s dramatic without it being too over the top. Very Talia as well. 🏴‍☠️

7. It’s iconic, it’s an OG style on the queen we all know and love just with added accessories. Always the moment whenever she wears this type of style dress and she knows it. It’s a 9.5/10 ofccc! Love the plunging neckline again personally wouldn’t of done a belt if so maybe a gold one to pair with the gold jewelry but maybe that would of been too much gold and draw too much attention. Her shoes are so cute and look comfy which is a plus. Her cape piece and how the fabric falls gives her such an ethereal but modern essence when she walks through the door.

8. -10000/10 Love an orange moment on her just not when it’s a prison uniform…. #freemygirl

9. Another iconic look from an iconic moment. She reminds me of the blue fairy from Pinocchio. The twinkle in the night serving femme fatale but also girl next door at the same time with the pink dainty shoes. A simple but timeless dress comfortable enough to tend to Bruce’s wounds while also looking good. Some people might say it give night gown vibes but in a 13 going on 30 way. I’d give it a 7/10

10. Basically her high neck pink dress but in a sun-kissed orange and more gold accents with a ruby gem draped over her waistline with a slit. My god and though SLEEVES giving Shakespearean vibes ! 😍 Since it’s a version of the other one ofc I’m going to give it a 10/10 🧡

But yeah that’s it maybe I’ll make a part 2

[amjusttree]

I'd like to take a moment to ramble aimlessly about the potential horrors of assigning a specific image to a specific type of task or person, specifically in academia.

There's an expectation of sophistication, traditionally "high-brow" tastes in literature or film, and even certain speech patterns. In terms of physical appearance, a lot of these elements of "class" are just subtle implications towards wealth. (Blazers, dress-shoes, literal suits at times)

An interesting example of the predetermined image occurs routinely at my school: I am from Texas, my school is northern, I've had classmates express shock that I'm from the south because that's "not what they imagined". I've been asked repeatedly if I struggle to keep up with college level work because southern schools are "behind" academically.

(Fun fact: I had an accent growing up but was encouraged to speak without it, out of concern for being perceived as uneducated in academic settings. I no longer have an accent.)

The very messy point I'm trying to make is that aesthetics are simply aesthetics, nobody is anything 100 percent of the time, and we should not impose more expectations on ourselves when higher education is difficult enough to access as it is without the financial strain of reworking your wardrobe.

This is coming from someone who admittedly commits pretty hard to the aesthetics of it (I have classmates who will literally ask me if something is wrong when I'm seen in casual clothing.) and considers it a major aspect of my identity. I also literally have a Tumblr dedicated to it.

So, to close this off:

-My favorite professor comes to school in sweatpants

-My very serious English professor's favorite movie is the hangover (part three if you were wondering)

-One of the most intelligent people I know wrote one of his longest essays on the morality of SpongeBob characters.

-I literally study to the types of songs you hear at frat parties.

Pursue education in your pajamas, don't force yourself to study to classical music, read silly books from time to time, and don't take yourself too seriously, education is stressful and we deserve to loosen up.

Sincerely,

A girl who had a full blown identity crisis over dyeing her hair blue.