#jinx does streaming

[ghostchilismoothie]

It's ExtraLife Game Day time once again, a 24-hour charity event raising money for the Children's Miracle Network of hospitals. This year i'll be playing 6 hours of Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, the quintessential LoZ game, starting at 6pm edt on Saturday November 2nd

Incentives you ask? We have incentives. For $6 donated, i still have beanboozled beans, somehow, and will eat one. For $15 donated you can add an image redeem of your choice to my stream.

[bistaxx]

... I'm just gonna ignore what he did to the picture of Pluto the dog for my own sake-💀💀💀-

[choas232]

G/N Chatty reader x Steb 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Summary: In which you grapple with feelings you don’t yet understand by talking a certain enforcer’s ears off. Forced proximity makes everything worse, as it tends to.

CWs: Profanity. Canon typical violence. Reader has some bias about Zaunites they probably need to work on. I wrote most of this at 10pm at night, so be warned.

No use of Y/N, neutral terms and they/them are used to refer the reader. Set in episode three, season 2.

Word count: 2.9k

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝

“God. I’m starving. And tired. I barely slept at allllll last night. Do you think the Grey’s keeping us awake? Our glorious leader Kiramman sure wants it to, dragging us along at this cracking speed. It’s been a whole week, too. I’m gonna drop dead, at this rate.” You lament. Your fellow enforcer does not comment from his place behind you, his footsteps echoing around the pipe.

Graffiti crowds the metal surface, amateur artworks, declarations of love, violence, and scripts you don’t recognise cramming themselves over one another, space sparse and sought after. It’s not Jinx’s work. Still, there’s a chill on your back you choose to attribute to the profanities.

The people of the underground sure know how to decorate, that’s for sure.

You two have been chosen to scout out a fairly low-danger area in search of a Zuanite’s sighting of Jinx. He did say it after a hefty heaping of Grey was funnelled into his lungs and a gun was held to his head, but Caitlyn is paranoid enough to bark at shadows, and you will oblige, if only to keep her happy.

It’s not like any of you are much better. Loris is quieter than ever, Maddie jumps at the smallest sounds and of your companion… you have no idea. You never have. Steb’s inner workings remain a mystery to you.

You turn. “Are we there yet? We should be there soon, right?” Steb nods distantly, more focused on the setting around you.

This part of the pipes is yet to be flooded with grey, so you can see him clearly without the obscuring mask.

His light teal skin, thin lips, nose, sharp, angular features. His neat uniform. His polished posture. He is distinctly and utterly out of place amongst the chaos that surrounds you. His eyes are so blue. So opalescent, shining like pearls in his eye sockets. Is that weird to notice? How much detail is it normal to notice about someone? You should probably stop looking.

His ribbed ears flick back, ever so slightly, eyes flicking to meet yours for a brief moment.

You look away. “Uh.” His eyes. His blue eyes. Blue. “God. I’m sooo hungry. Hah. I haven’t eaten since this morning. The rations are running out, and all the Zaunite stuff Vi is bringing in is uhm, questionable.”

You don’t look behind you again, your mouth moving quicker. Your breath is tight, probably because of the steady stream of words flowing from your mouth. You think. “I would kill for a good sandwich. Or two. I might have to resort to cannibalism—”

Hands enclose around your collar and yank you back with force.

Below you, a human sized-hole lined with rusted, broken metal grating, a slowly, ever spinning fan—

Your heart staggers in your chest like a drunkard. Images of your empaled, scraped, body twisted and pressed beyond recognition cram into your skull, rattle and scream.

“Fuck.” You mumble, quietly. Steb’s hand releases your collar. “C-close one. Thanks. Fish-sticks. How didn’t I see that?” You laugh. He doesn’t. It isn’t funny.

He brushes the shoulder pads of your uniform off, carefully but hastily looking you up and down. He keeps a respectable distance between you, but you can still see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. You mimic him. Your mouth feels dry.

He fixes you with a look as his hands drop to his sides, and although his face usually retains some semblance of ambiguity on it, you know exactly what he’s thinking. Watch where you’re going.

“Sorry doc. I…” You trail off. You should stop talking. You probably talk so much around him because he makes you nervous. Why does he make you nervous? Your usual slamming of thoughts trickles dry. You have no idea.

Carefully, you two traverse over the great gaping hole in the pipework. How did you miss it? You don’t sure don’t miss how Steb watches you hawk-like though, and the following guilt is low and prickling in your gut. He goes first, and every small unprompted movement of yours has him stiffening, arm moving to steady you.

“Jeez. Don’t mother hen me, I’m all grown-up, I assure you.” You bat him away, landing with a clang! of the metal against your boots as you leap across the last segment. His frown is resounding.

A corner stretches before you, now. You let him go first with a swing of your arm just in case the metal of the pipe opens up to attempt to swallow you yet again. “All yours,” He obliges.

It’s an open space. Milky green light filters through the roofing, painting the graffiti stained flooring monochromatic and hazy. Two other pipes adjoin to the room, and a mural of Janna clad in white laced with metallic armour bounds over the walls. It looks exactly like what was described, which is worrying, because hey, Jinx!

The sniffling child is even more worrying, though. Looking up, she brushes away dark locks  from her face and bursts into prompt tears. “Please, m-my-my… my leg. it really hurts.” She wails.

Sure enough, one of her legs is crushed under a slab of tin, making itself known as the cause of the light filtering through the roof. “Please. Please.” Snot dribbles down onto her ragged shirt, her big brown eyes blown wide.

Steb is already gone before you can access the situation, bounding over.

Poor kid. You wince, tapping your fingers against your lips. Probably just playing with the ball you see perched nearby when shoddy craftmanship led to tragedy. Still… “Jeez. Think to consider a trap? No? Just me.” You mutter.

“Just you.” The voice from behind you amusedly whispers, and then you feel the cool rim of the gun pressed against your skull.

Fear makes a mockery out of you. Your thoughts accelerate, snapping at each others heels, but you cannot think. You aren’t really the brawlers of the team. He’s the field medic, for fuck’s sake, and while you can handle yourself in a fight this is more of a Vi job. You regret mocking her cuisine choices. This is probably some kind of sick karma. Sick? You feel sick. God, your stomach is writhing, your insides eating each other up.

Steb, still blinded by his tunnel vision, hauls the tin off of the girl. His ears flick down as he peers down at the clean space beneath, clean of blood and gore. Her leg, unblemished and by all means healthy looking, curls back into her body, and then she bursts outwards like a spring, down the nearest tunnel.

Too late, he looks back at you.

“I’m sure they require you topsiders to rattle a few braincells together to wear that fancy uniform. They don’t need allll of them, do they?” The man holding the gun to your head calls out to him. Flesh drips from his arms, lanky and lean, pressing against your neck as he holds you into him. You smell the shimmer on his breath before you see his blood lined eyes.

Steb jerks forwards. Bruisingly, the gun slams into your skull. “Move and their brains go BOOM! Hands in the air. Now.” He snarls, and Steb freezes in place, slowly raising his hands. You can see him breathing, hard, heaving breaths.

More people clamour their way out of vents, behind slabs of wood. You count at least four. Shit.

Shit.

This is bad.

“Woah! Talk about dramatics, huh?” You start, and almost in shock, the man holding you to himself grip loosens. From Steb’s place, you can see the wrinkle that lines his mouth when he gets stressed creep into existence. (That’s normal to remember. You should know when your coworkers get stressed. Part of the job, and all.) He slowly shakes his head. You mouth, trust me. He shakes his head harder. “Maybe we should talk this out? Civilly, tea and biscuits? …No?”

“It stopped being civil when you went for one of mine.”

Of course that guy you beat the shit out of gave you the location of an ambush. He was all too eager to speak, and when you go poking your hand down foxholes, it’s going to get bitten off. You feel both incredibly stupid and incredibly self-satisfied, you knew it, and you went here anyways.

“One of yours? I mean, we probably didn’t mean to? It was probably a mistake—” he shoves the gun down your throat. Spittle drips down the barrel. You taste dirt and gunpowder. You taste the blood leaking from your tongue.

You taste fear.

“Well? Your bag.” He gestures loosely to Steb.

Steb locks eyes with you as he gently tugs the straps off of his back, letting the hefty bag land to the floor with a thump. Carefully, he steps back, raising his hands in the air once again.

One of the hovering goons quickly snatches it, tugging it open. Medical supplies, bottles, all-the-like clatter the ground, but she continues shifting through hastily, eyes slowly narrowing. The last of our food supplies…, you mournfully think, quickly followed by Caitlyn is going to kill us, and she’s probably right to.

“You told us there would be hex tech, you fucking liar.” She drops the bag carelessly, starting towards the man holding you. “Well, do you think I’m some sort of prophet? You knew that it was an estimate.” He snaps back, grip on you loosening, the gun shifting out of your mouth to point towards the soft flesh of your cheek, spreading out your blood clouded spit as it does.

“I think you set us the hell up. You promised we’d split the money, but where’s the money now, huh? I gotta family to feed, hired work is dropping like flies with the chem barons at each other’s throats, which means I missed on any number of begging clients for this shit.”

You get an idea.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

It’s a terrible idea.

Steb tears his gaze from the arguing pair to meet your eyes, perhaps on some precognition of the mistake you are about to make.

You wink, grab the gun pressed to your cheek and then you yank.

It comes as cleanly as expected, the man’s adrenaline rattled, drug loosened reflexes nothing for the shock you give him when you take the gun from his hands, and than run. Surprise gives you the upper hand, yells clouding your soundscape. You still manage to pick out Steb’s footsteps, clean and even behind you as you barrel down the nearest pipe.

You run harder than you’ve ever run, past graffiti, with only your breath, the calls behind you, your heartbeat and the echoes of his and your boots slamming against metal to guide you.

You turn the corner so hard you slam your side against it, feeling your already bruised cheek cry out in pain in time with your yelp, and you stumble. Steb catches your shirt and yanks you right back up, and then you’re in another wide-open space.

Your head swings around, fear hammering around your ribcage like a desperate songbird.

Steb grabs your shoulder, gesturing with his head. You follow his gaze. There’s a smaller pipe in the wall, covered by a draping of torn fabric, and you rush towards it before you have any time to think, the fabric draping over your hair, the surface cool under your fingers.

He follows, your pursuer yells barrelling into your ears as the curtain draws shut.

The space is tight, circular, not even big enough for you to stretch out an arm and not brush the opposite end. Your back is pressed flush against the concrete and plaster. Your legs cage Steb, as do his, looping over one each other, his knee bent at an angle that’s for sure going to hurt later. His arms clutch the walls of the tube, yours resting bent in your lap.

He leans down, and his fingers gently grasp that stupid beret of his and tug it down onto his lap, before he pulls his head back up, his head scraping the roof. He’s a least a head taller than Maddie, and although you’d like to think of yourself as average, you are now grateful for the height you lack.

“OVER HERE!” Did they see you? Is this it? What can you do, two against at least five or so. You mean, counting has never really been your strong suit under pressure, and who’s to tell? Are you going to die? Are you going to die, your legs pressed into his midriff?

The gold smattering across Steb’s undereyes and nose adjoins with the darker turquoise scales lining the cavities his eyeballs are strung into, carving out little gold, blue, orange stripes, like the ones on the fish you and your parents used to gawk at the aquariums had.

Are they going to cart out your body to your parents, after your fellow enforcers find you, crammed into a hole in the underground? What would you had died for?

His eyes are so blue.

He blinks, smooth, deep lapis overtaking the gleaming surface of his eyes before his eyelids do. He has a second eyelid. How did you never notice?

His lips, perpetually downturned as they are, his steady line his eyebrows carve themselves into, his perfect posture, even as you are cramped within the pipe, the smooth, angular frame of his cheekbones all of it make him look like one of those forever uninconvenienced paintings the councillors hang from their mansion walls. He looks calm. His stupid snooty resting face cannot fool you. You know he isn’t.

His lips are parted, the gap between his front teeth visible as he stares down the opening of the tunnel like a loyal family dog. His little giveaway.

Maybe his inner workings aren’t such a mystery, after all.

He makes you nervous. He makes you so nervous. He makes you into a wreck.

You think you might be in love with him.

—and your pursuers are rushing past you, all until you can’t hear their voices and you’re alive. You’re alive and you’ve never been so happy to tomorrow eat shitty Zaunite food and have Caitlyn yell at you for loosing supplies and talk and talk and talk until your throat is raw.

You don’t. Talk. You don’t talk.

He’s looking at you.

You feel like a fool.

You sit there, just looking at him too. His eyelids slip halfway, letting you count the short lashes that frame them. His expression relaxes, loosens, ever so slightly, his arms moving from the wall of the tunnel to his lap.

You could sit here with him for hours, death inches from you both, and you could be happy. You could be suspended in disbelief and plausible deniability; you could allow yourself to lie. Your heart is pounding from the adrenaline, of course. Your face is pink because of overexertion, and you kind of want to kiss him because you’ve never kissed anybody and you may as well as get it over with before you die, right?

He points to his face. You blink, and then he points to yours. You brush your finger cheeks against the flesh and feel the sting of injury, spittle and blood on your fingers. Right.

Right. He’s looking at you because you’re injured right?

Of course he is. (Disappoint is still food, and you swallow it.)

Gently, he reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Instead of sparring you and handing it to you, he merely carefully holds your head, one hand on your jaw and the other gently patting down the mess on your cheek. His head is tilted. You feel your heart slam up your throat, a throbbing, horrible pain that lets you part your lips to let the breath escape you before it can choke you.

The hand cradling your jaw moves a careful finger up to brush your lower lip.

Accident, of course. He’s not even looking at them, rather, the mess, taking his sweet time as he does, so very gentle.

You think he might be the danger, not the hell that is the pipework, nor the Grey, nor not the man with the gun

He pulls back, tucking the handkerchief back into the pocket and shallowly inclining his head towards the opening.

With a long look back at you, he crawls out of the hole first. You follow, dizzily. Ever the gentlemen, he offers you a hand as you push your way out of the hell that made you. You take it and feel incredibly guilty for doing so, stumbling to your feet.

He fastens his beret, usually a sign from you to inwardly (or outwardly) mock his silly hat, still watching you. You do not, in fact, mock him. You might be shaking, in fact, and that thought makes you hate yourself more than you could ever despise that ugly navy piece of fabric.

He frowns, and then he gestures to your mouth. You flinch without meaning too. “Huh?”

He mimes speaking, shallowly opening and then hastily closing his mouth

He's right to be concerned.

You haven’t spoken since you two trapped yourselves in the tunnel, after all.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝

Notes: Thank you for reading!! :)))) STUPID. IDIOTS IN LOVE. Him under the guise of medical assistance letting himself touch you... bro isn't slick whatsoever. If you have any ideas, be sure to drop them in my ask box, there is lack of fic on him holy hell. As a side note, we all need the comfort after season two part two holy cow…

[l4ndonorizz]

cooking stream gone wrong / lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x reader

song: disclosure - latch

summary: cooking stream is not something lando does often, but when he does it's worth it. and gossip is his middle name.

wc: 1.3k

“Alright, we’re live!” Lando grinned at the camera, adjusting his headset as you stood beside him in the kitchen, waving to his thousands of Twitch followers tuning in for what was supposed to be a simple, fun cooking stream.

“Say hi!” he nudged you with his elbow, a cheeky smile playing on his lips.

“Hi, everyone!” you laughed, feeling a little awkward but excited at the same time. Cooking was not your strong suit, but Lando had convinced you it would be fun—how hard could making pasta be?

“So, here’s the plan,” Lando started, turning back to the camera. “We’re going to make...well, attempt to make some pasta. Easy, right? We’ve got everything set up, and—”

“And by ‘set up,’ you mean we threw everything onto the counter and hoped for the best,” you interrupted, earning a laugh from Lando as the chat started flooding with comments.

"Lando can’t even boil water."

"This is going to be a disaster, isn’t it?"

"Who’s the better cook?"

Lando squinted at the screen, reading the comments. “Who’s the better cook? Honestly, neither of us, but I think I’ve got this. Easy win,” he said, confidently reaching for the flour to start mixing the dough.

“Sure, sure,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “Let’s see how that confidence holds up when we burn your kitchen.”

As you both got to work, the chaos started almost immediately. Lando spilled flour all over the counter while trying to measure it, and you couldn’t stop laughing as he attempted to save it by brushing the mess into a pile.

“Mate, I’m a racing driver, not a chef!” he exclaimed, looking at the camera as if that excused the growing disaster in front of him. The chat was already spamming laughing emojis.

“And yet, here we are,” you said, reaching for the eggs. “Okay, let’s at least try to make the dough...not a total failure.”

A few minutes later, you both had something that vaguely resembled dough, though it was sticking to your hands and the countertop. You exchanged glances, trying not to burst out laughing.

“This...doesn’t feel right,” you said, holding up your sticky hands.

Lando shook his head, grinning as he swiped some flour from the counter and smeared it across your cheek. “You’re doing great.”

You laughed, pushing him away playfully. “Seriously? You’re just making it worse!”

The chat exploded with more comments.

"What’s happening here?"

"This stream is pure chaos."

"They are so bad at this!"

“Alright, alright, let’s focus. We’re gonna make this work,” Lando said, trying to regain control of the situation. “We just need to roll it out, right?”

You nodded, grabbing the rolling pin. But, in true chaotic fashion, you accidentally knocked over the bag of flour, sending a cloud of white powder into the air. Both of you froze for a moment, staring at the mess before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

“Okay, this is an absolute disaster,” you managed to say between laughs, wiping the flour from your face.

“Disaster? Nah, this is quality content,” Lando grinned, gesturing to the camera as he brushed the flour off his shirt. “Everyone loves a bit of chaos.”

The chat seemed to agree, with viewers sending donations and spamming messages about how this was the funniest stream they’d seen in a while.

With the dough finally rolled out (though not exactly perfectly), you both moved on to boiling the water. Lando confidently set the pot on the stove, turning up the heat.

“See? Easy,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel. “We’ve totally got this.”

“Don’t jinx it,” you warned, but the damage was already done.

Just a few minutes later, the water started boiling over, steam rising from the pot. Lando scrambled to turn down the heat while you frantically grabbed a towel to clean up the mess.

“I said don’t jinx it!” you laughed, trying to keep the chaos under control.

“Okay, okay, I might’ve messed that one up,” Lando admitted, wiping his forehead dramatically for the camera. “But we’re still going strong!”

As the chaos in the kitchen continued, you both got more and more caught up in the moment. Between the flour, the boiling water, and the laughter, it was easy to forget about the camera still rolling. The playful banter between you and Lando became more flirtatious as the minutes passed, and you couldn’t help but notice how close you were standing to each other now.

Lando leaned in, a grin on his face as he pretended to offer you a bite of the pasta that had somehow ended up slightly burnt. “Care for a taste, chef?”

You laughed, leaning back against the counter. “Oh, I’ll pass. Looks like you’re trying to poison me.”

But instead of pulling away, Lando stayed close, his hand resting gently on your waist. The playful energy shifted, and suddenly, the laughter faded, replaced by an unfamiliar tension. His eyes stayed on yours, the teasing glint in them softening as the air between you thickened.

You felt your pulse quicken, your heart racing in your chest. "Lando..." you started, unsure if you should break the moment or let it take its course.

He didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze dropped to your lips, and before you could even process it, his hand slid up your side, pulling you closer. His lips found yours, softly at first, as if testing the waters, but then something shifted, and the kiss deepened with an urgency neither of you had anticipated.

Your hands moved instinctively to his chest, your fingers curling into his shirt as you kissed him back, completely caught up in the moment. Everything else faded away—the kitchen, the mess, the stream. It was just you and Lando, lost in a kiss that felt far more intense than anything you’d ever shared before.

His hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him as the kiss grew hungrier, more desperate. You could feel the counter digging into your back, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was the warmth of his body against yours, the way his lips moved over yours, the way your heart raced uncontrollably in your chest.

Then suddenly, the shrill sound of a phone ringing pierced through the haze.

You both froze, your lips still inches apart, breathing heavily as reality crashed back into the room. Lando’s phone continued ringing, and you blinked in confusion, your mind scrambling to catch up with what had just happened.

Lando reached for his phone, glancing at the screen with wide eyes. “It’s Max,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

Lando answered the call with trembling fingers. “Uh...hey, Max.”

“Bro,” Max’s voice came through the speaker, half-amused, half-panicked. “Are you guys seriously still streaming? Because, uh...you’re about two seconds away from getting banned for...whatever the hell you were just doing on that counter.”

Lando’s eyes widened in horror as he glanced at the camera, finally realizing that the chat was still going crazy. His hand shot out to shut off the stream, but it was too late. The damage was done.

You stood there in stunned silence, your face burning with embarrassment as you covered your mouth with your hand. How could you have forgotten about the stream?

“Well,” Lando finally said, breaking the silence after what felt like an eternity. “That...happened.”

You let out a nervous laugh, still feeling the lingering heat from the kiss. “Yeah. That definitely happened.”

Lando ran a hand through his hair, clearly still trying to process everything. He looked at you, his expression a mix of embarrassment and something else—something unspoken.

Before either of you could say anything more, he reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I guess...we’re going to have some explaining to do, huh?”

You nodded, still breathless from the chaos of the last few minutes. “Yeah. But...I don’t regret it.”

Lando grinned, a hint of that familiar mischievous spark returning. “Neither do I.”

[lichenes]

I heard you were begging for Silco asks and I will take literally anything.

Jealous Silco or Jealous Reader (bonus points if Silco doesn't notice that someone is hitting on him)

I also feel like Silco would be an amazing dance partner/classical waltz style or some intimate partner dance but would only ever do it in private.

Silco with a reader who is maternal with Jinx ❤️

Smut or fluff, whatever you feel like writing I just want to treat that man right 👍

To all the anons that requested Silco i will be getting on that soon!! Now I present to you: Silco looking for a mum for Jinx, any takers?

This gif has such a fucking GRIP on me it's driving me insane. How can pixels be SO F I N E. Anyway per your request anon this is Silco x reader x (kinda) platonic!Jinx :D!! SILCO DESERVES SO MUCH LOVEEEE. I don't care if he commited like... actual war crimes, what does AIR mean to my LUNGS. CW: brief cursing!! not much besides that, pretty tame, kinda ooc.... sorri... wc: 1261 .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚

The Zaunite air was filled with an unrelenting heaviness. Each day, despite Silcos best efforts, the food was getting scarcer and people were more and more scared. It wasn’t ever too much. He could handle it no doubt. Right?

Jinx was sitting on his desk and talking his ear off.

She was enjoying her time with him while Silco was quietly taking care of some documents. Spending time together with Jinx was one of the few things he enjoyed in life. Sure, his unique appearance made many women drawn to him and most people in Zaun felt nothing but respect for the man but he never developed anything meaningful, anything… tangible. Aside from Jinx he had no one. 

The stream of words being let out of Jinx at, at least, 200 words per minute stopped when there was a knock at the door. “Come in.” Said Silco with his usual sombre tone. He always filled the room with a certain coldness few were able to tolerate or enjoy, for that matter. Sevika entered the room. “Someone wants to talk to you.” 

He nodded, giving her permission to let them in. 

During the conversation with whoever was sitting on the other side of the desk Jinx kept returning to the thought that brushed by her mind that morning. Shouldn’t someone as undoing as a daughter have a mother by her side? Jinx was good. Good at what she did, good at killing and even better at creation. She lacked the maternal hand that was supposed to lead her through life even if she wasn’t exactly aware of what she was looking for she needed someone to guide her through her life. 

On the other hand, Silco, the effective ruler of Zaun, didn’t have anyone to share the parental burdens of life with. The swooning crowd of power-hungry women in the city weren’t a good choice for a mother. Not for someone as unpredictable as Jinx. 

Jinx was convinced you fell from heaven for her, how could he not see it? A godsend perfect for what she needed.

The Last Drop was busy. People talking, the air stuffy with Zaunite tensions, dilemmas and the smoke being extruded out of the lungs of many. He noticed you before, an everyday woman, providing her parents with whatever they needed in their old age. He didn’t do many of the job interviews himself, his lesser henchmen took care of that, but the barkeep of The Last Drop was the person he came to care for. 

“You’re hired.” He said at the end of your chat.

You were used to people chatting you up while you were behind the bar, an additional drink, boredom or true infatuation were all at play here. Never… this. “What can I get you?” You said when someone took the only free stool at the bar. When they didn’t answer you so you turned around to check them out. If they were a danger to the well being of the people inside or the bar itself you’d rather they threatened the guards than you. 

What transpired was truly bizarre. You expected to see anyone here, Sevika in a foul mood, Jinx with a gun to your head or even one of the lesser lackeys of the many people running this city. Silco? Silco was last on your list.

You froze in place almost dropping the pint you were holding. Quickly you put it on the counter in front of the person who ordered it and turned your attention to him. He looked at you with an unusual intent, normally when you’d look over to his usual spot he’d be smoking and surveying the room with his ice-cold vision, today there was… need. 

You were stuck in place not being able to even utter a word in such presence. After a moment more of scaring you into an early grave he spoke. “Come to the back, someone will take your place for tonight.” Suddenly terror turned into anxiety. “Am I being replaced?” He only stood up and went around the bar to presumably accompany you there. 

Your heart was pounding and your hands were sweaty, this could be your execution you realised. Your mind was going a million miles a minute, combing through all your wrongdoings and if you were eligible for any pardon. 

He didn’t enjoy that scared expression on your face, he enjoyed them on most people with exception to Jinx and well… you. “Nothing to be afraid of, lady.” Said Jinx toying with her gun. That definitely didn’t mitigate your concerns. “She’s right.” Said Silco somehow appearing behind you. You jumped at his sudden intrusion into your personal space. 

Explaining what they wanted was certainly difficult. You had a lot of questions regarding your new position as a… babysitter for Jinx? You’d never say that out loud for fear of swift death. The payment was lucrative as well so you decided on accepting the offer. At the end of the talk you were more or less familiarised with what this job entailed, along with being a co-parent to Silco, you were to be on their beck and call, still you retained the position of the barkeep. 

As all people you were a bit afraid of Jinx. Looking at her she was inconspicuous, the braids giving her a child-like wonder look to her. Underneath you could feel a profound sadness sitting inside of her and you were determined to make this weird little fucked up family a happy one at least. 

You were happy to tend to wounds, look after The Last Drop when needed and listen to Jinx talk for hours. With time, Silco grew fond of you. Your mannerisms of a caring and doting parental figure, despite all which burdened you, would soon make him swoon. 

One night after closing when you were wiping down tables Silco walked in, in an unusually good mood. He leaned on one of the clean tables. “Hello. How was your day?” You asked mindlessly, not noticing him inching closer and closer to your figure. Nobody else was in the room when it all happened. 

You weren’t the best at concealing your growing affection towards Silco. The longing stares weren’t doing you any good and the fact that somehow he kept catching you was even worse. You were sure your position was soon to be terminated. 

He spun you around and caged your body between his own. His breath was warm and falling just over your chest. “Silco?” You dared. 

“You make me sick with worry sometimes.” He was… smiling? Silco was smiling? You couldn’t make anything out, your head was spinning from the proximity and his cologne. “Look at me.” He demanded grabbing your chin and tilting it upwards. “I’ve got a question.” You nodded. “Do you want to dance?” You were stunned.

The tables were moved to the sides as Silco put a few coins into the jukebox and began striding towards you with the delicacy and grace of a cat. You put your arm on his shoulder and grasped his other one. He led you around the room to the song being played and amidst the growing tension, brought his lips to yours, hesitantly. The kiss was magical, you could feel yourself rising above the roof when he finally closed the gap. You reciprocated the kiss and as the song faded away he put his hands on your cheeks trying to get as close to you as possible.

He thought he’d lost the spark and now, here you were. 

.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ masterlist

[wolvwa]

Streamer au Izuku playing dress to impress.

It's cannon.

fem reader (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Sometimes, he begs you to play with him.

"Girl you are not eating.."

"You don't even have skin yet be real."

"Thank you for the five gifted, Deku's....!"

You don't let him finish reading that, and he's very grateful. Overall, his chat is normal, and you two are clipped everywhere on tiktok. Especially when he screams out rigged (and it very much is.)

"Chat we are getting podium today!"

"Dont jinx it baby, please."

He did jinx it.

"Get off of our stage right now girl you did not even touch the plate."

CLIPPPPEEDDDD!!!!

He doesn't spam pose, he has all his posed favorited in order and syncs with you.

When you two finally do get podium, he's cheering and very quickly running off screen to hug you. That's clipped, too. It's either a ship edit or an edit starting with him going "TOLD YALL WE SLAYEDDD!!"

You two make Ochako or Katsuki join you sometimes.

Katsuki is surprisingly good and gets podium almost every time. He thinks it's rigged when he doesn't which makes for a loud ass fucking stream. If it's the same theme he's done, he is not doing the same fit.

Ochako is more calm on the other hand.

"Aw.. you all did great, ggs!" The ggs is a little forced with the people who didn't even try..

I think she's more prone to getting 4th and 3rd place😭

Katsuki is so aggressive reading chat everybody loves him. Show him and edit and he's staring at the screen like.

'...what'

And

'DAMN RIGHT I SERVED CUNT!'

Don't get me started on horror games with these bitches. Most insane sleepover trio.

Everyone's screaming for different reasons. Izuku is floating cause Ochako accidently touched him when she accidentally floated her phone. Bakugou isn't scared, he's just mad you're all being babies. And that you went to try getting Izuku down after sitting to him the whole time.

After stream, Izuku is happily enjoying sleep over time with you all. Katsuki takes over his bed, and you decide to take over his takeover. To which you two have a screaming match. Ochako is fine with her little floor bed while Izuku is panicking on where to sleep.

Would Kaachan really let him sleep in the same bed?

Yes

Katsuki makes Izuku sleep at the bottom

"It's my bed...but okay😒"

You made Ochako join so you two are cuddled against the wall while you hold hands with Izuku from your new long distance relationship 💔

Katsuki grumbles to himself about letting you idiot keep him up so lage and presses his back against yours. He's very warm so you have absolutely no complaints.

Izuku very much does, though.

[sadnessrainbow1]

Game

͙͘͡★

This girl went so deep, it felt like you couldn’t take it much longer. Jinx loved to play with you, especially when you were tied up, panting, your panties soaked, whimpering while trying to hold back your moans and other details. The game this time? You had to keep quiet, or she'd stop. You got the message loud and clear, but it was so hard... so damn hard when she was doing everything to make you fall apart and give in.

"You're not very good at this game..." Jinx teased, even though she wasn’t the one who had to keep it together. After all, she was in control.

You were about to respond but hesitated for a second before finally saying, "...It-it’s easy for you to say from there."

The more you held back, the more Jinx pushed forward. One thing she loved about this game? Your sweet tears of pleasure, your cute little whining — God, it was all so adorable to her. So she played her final card, thanks to an idea you gave her. You hadn't made a noise yet — no moans, at least — but no one said Jinx had to keep a steady pace. So, she slowed her fingers down and then, with a wicked grin, slid her two soaked fingers inside you for your entry.

That was enough to make your hips buck, chasing after more, even though you knew the more intense it got, the harder it'd be to keep quiet. Your thighs trembled with the effort of trying to hold back. But when Jinx realized what you were doing — pushing the boundaries she'd set — she smacked your left thigh, hard enough to sting but so good... so good that you finally let out a delicious moan, like music to her ears.

But your bliss didn’t last long. True to her word, Jinx pulled her fingers away.

“No!” You would've done something if you weren’t tied up... Damn it! Does she think of every little detail before torturing you like this? Now here you are, tied up, dripping, your pussy practically begging for it.

“Haha... you couldn’t hold it in...” Jinx grinned, but she wasn’t done yet. As she watched you, trembling, with tears streaming down your face, she couldn't help but find you unbearably cute. So she leaned in and gave you a soft kiss on the cheek, a little reward for being her precious toy.

But she was far from finished. The next game would be even harder... are you ready?

☆

Wc: 423

Small thing,but I hope u enjoyed this!

[dissapointu]

“Listening to the Chaos”

You’ve learned by now that Jinx’s mind never seems to stop. It’s like a tornado of thoughts, each one spiraling in and out, colliding with another before it has the chance to fully form. Most people can’t keep up with her, and even fewer try. But you, for some reason, find yourself drawn to the chaos.

It’s a warm afternoon, the sun low in the sky, casting long shadows across the streets of Zaun. The noise of the city is a constant hum, the clatter of machines, distant shouts, and the occasional explosion are all part of the soundtrack of life in this place.

Jinx is pacing in front of you, a nervous energy pouring off her as she runs her hands through her wild, blue hair. She’s been going on about something—again—but you’re the only one who’s still listening.

“Okay, okay, so I’m thinking of making a bomb that actually makes things smell good, right? But like… a really big one! Like, you know, huge. But it’s got to have a big boom too, obviously, or else what’s the point? Who wants a bomb that just smells nice? That’s lame, right?” Her words tumble out in a stream, faster than your brain can fully process. She’s hardly pausing for breath, her hands moving wildly as she gestures around, as if painting a picture in the air. “I was thinking, maybe… orange? Or no, pineapple! Or, wait, bubblegum! Gotta be something that totally confuses the people around, you know? Like, what’s that smell? It’s weird, but it’s awesome, but—”

You catch her eye, and without missing a beat, you offer a soft, understanding nod. She pauses mid-rant, her wide blue eyes locking onto yours. For a split second, it’s as if the storm in her mind has momentarily settled, just because you’re paying attention. You’re not distracted. You’re not zoning out, waiting for her to finish.

“Yeah, I’m listening,” you say gently, offering a small smile. “Pineapple sounds fun. You could totally make it pop.”

Her face brightens in an instant, as if the smallest bit of validation from you makes the world brighter. “Right?! It’d be amazing! Imagine—an explosion that smells like a tropical vacation, but then BOOM, you’re covered in shrapnel!” She cackles at her own idea, but the laughter is lighter now, less manic. She’s not used to anyone staying with her during her rambling, but you’ve been there since the beginning, hearing her out, even when no one else does.

As Jinx continues, the words start to tumble less wildly. She’s still bouncing from one topic to another, but now there’s a softness to it—something less frantic in her voice. You keep your attention on her, your gaze steady, giving her the kind of focus she doesn’t often get. You don’t interrupt. You don’t rush her. You just let her spill her thoughts.

“And then,” she continues, grinning madly, “I was thinking of this one thing. You know, I was in the middle of making the biggest thing I’ve ever made, but then—oh, wait—there’s a thing where, like, what if I just, I don’t know, make a huge thing and then—”

You tilt your head, listening with full attention. “So, you mean like a surprise, right? Keeping people on their toes?”

Her eyes light up at the suggestion, and for a moment, it feels like you’ve given her the missing piece of a puzzle. “Yeah! Exactly! Like, they think they know what it’s gonna be, and then, BOOM—surprise! The world explodes in a way they never expected!”

You can hear the excitement building in her voice as she begins to pace again, but this time, she’s pacing with a purpose. Her steps are more deliberate, her mind piecing things together in a way that she can share now, instead of keeping it all locked inside. And it’s all because you’re listening—really listening.

It’s moments like this, where the world feels like it’s in motion around her, but you’re the anchor. You’re the calm in her storm. And for once, it’s not overwhelming. It’s not exhausting. It’s just you and Jinx, sharing a space together, hearing each other out.

“I— I think I can make it work,” she mutters, quieter now, but there’s a new determination in her voice. “Maybe… maybe I just needed to say it all out loud.” Her tone is different now. Less chaotic, less like she’s struggling to keep her thoughts in line, and more like she’s confident in her idea.

You give her a reassuring smile. “You can totally do it, Jinx. Whatever you make, it’s gonna be awesome.”

Jinx grins, her wild eyes softening as she looks at you. “You’re the best,” she says, her voice quieter now, full of something that almost sounds… grateful.

And in that moment, you realize that while her mind might always be racing, she finds comfort in you, in the fact that you never dismiss her ideas. You don’t shut her down. You don’t pretend not to hear her rambling. You’re the one who’s there, listening, catching the fragments of her scattered thoughts and helping them make sense.

Her hand reaches out to grab yours, squeezing it tightly. “Thanks for listening to my crazy rants,” she says, her usual manic energy replaced by a quiet appreciation. “Most people don’t. But you? You really get it.”

You squeeze her hand back, your smile widening. “I always will, Jinx.”

And as she lets out a deep breath, leaning her head against your shoulder for a moment, you realize it’s not just about her ideas or her explosions. It’s about being the one who doesn’t just listen to her chaos—it’s about understanding her. In a world where everyone expects her to be loud, unpredictable, and wild, you’re the one person who listens when the world drowns out the noise. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what makes all the difference.

[ladey]

I have hope that Jinx didn't die because Caityln was looking at the vent blueprints and kinda smiled. And you can see a pink stream going through the vents before the explosion, which could be jinx with shimmer. Plus vi, is surprisingly ok after that??? Jinx also did say that she wanted to fly away on one of the airships in season one, and that's what it ended with. Maybe she's doing what she said, leaving so people would be better off without her, though I don't believe they would 😢

(Sharing this theory with all Jinx writers right now to cope)

that is EXACTLY what i was wondering about too. how come caitlyn was holding the monkey head while looking through the hexgate blueprints and then had that smile???? it looked like she knew something we don’t.

i don’t wanna be too delulu. i also went and rewatched to look for that pink streak u mentioned and i did indeed see it. however i’m not sure if that’s solid enough proof to claim it was her because it doesn’t look super convincing 😞. but it does for real make me wonder if ur right bc why else is it there? unless it’s just part of the explosion…??? i’m clueless.

as for the airship i also wondered if it was her for the same reason, because why are we just watching a random one fly away without finding out who it is or why it’s there? what significance does it hold in order for it to be the last clip we see of the episode? so many questions ARRRGH

[warrior-cats-rewritten]

Grayclaw

"Looks like we're gonna have to kill this guy, Jinx Arcane."

"Damn."

Grayclaw is a silver tabby tom with spiral patterned stripes, long fur, sharp claws, broad shoulders, and ears that begin to curl inward at the tips by ASC Book 4. His eyes are ice-blue.

Poor Graypaw. He takes each loss he feels so deeply to heart. He was inconsolable when his Papa was gone, as he and Jayclaw had an incredibly close bond despite how young Graykit was.

When Curlfeather passed, Graypaw took it even more terribly. He was very nearly in denial, trying to hold himself together to be the "rock" for his sisters. He did not do it well.

Splashtail sunk his claws into him. Promised him security in return for support. He was Curlfeather's apprentice, he knew she would want him to watch over her kits. She was such a good, loving mother, wasn't she? Such a shame she's gone, she would have made a perfect leader, good thing she shared all her ideas with me to make me a perfect new candidate. Ah, rest, sweet Curlstar, I shall take care of your children for you...

Graypaw buys it. He supports Splashtail, his new best friend. When Splashtail claims his leadership, Graypaw vouches for him. His mother trusted him, he must clearly be worthy.

Then Frostpaw is "killed". She runs away from the Clans into a strange place with a small party of other cats, Sunbeam, Nightheart, Whistlepaw, and Shadowsight. No one knows this, of course. She is assumed to have died as well. Graypaw snaps. He cannot take another loss, and hangs on to every word Splashtail says. Splashtail is young and born from tumultuous times himself. Starclan has lead them astray in his eyes, and his mentality stems from a long cycle of violence that is as inevitable as an egg spoiling in summer heat. Graypaw swears he will do anything to keep Riverclan safe, and follow Splashstar's every order.

In return, Graypaw is immediately given his warrior name, Grayclaw. In honour of his beloved father, who would be so proud to see him. Splashstar tells Riverclan to yowl loud enough that Jayclaw will hear his name being honored. Funny that he left out any mention of 'Curlstar'.

Grayclaw becomes one of Splashstar's enforcers, quickly climbing the ranks. Grayclaw, Duskfur, Shinetoe, Brackenpelt, Foxnose, Shadenose, Wavesplash, Spikeleaf, and Mallownose all support him. While Mallownose is made deputy, Splashstar creates a second position. Head Enforcer.

Grayclaw is placed in that decorated position. He is in charge of enforcing Splashstar's rules, and making sure cats are compliant with them. He buries his head in the sand when it comes to complaints. The only one he'll listen to is his sister. Mistpaw, denied a warrior name for not singing Splashstar's praises, doesn't complain, but... She does make suggestions. She saw a lot of salmon in the stream, maybe they could do more hunting patrols today rather than making everyone go over battle moves for the 5th time in a row?

Grayclaw grieves his missing sister, presumed dead, he cannot stop thinking about how much of a failure he must be, that the only hope he has left is to keep Mistpaw safe... If she keeps looking upset, Splashstar will get angry...

He forces Mistpaw to bow to Splashstar, calling him Riverclan's true leader, and that the only reason she'd held off was due to her own grief for her mother. Of course Splashstar understands, he's so generous, so wise.

He gives her the name Mistwillow instantly, a beautiful name, and seems to settle down. Grayclaw sees this as having been the correct thing to do. It kept his sister safe and in line, and Splashstar approved.

Then, when the dust seemingly settled during a horrible battle with Windclan, Frostpaw appeared in the moonlight, silver fur shining and curled ears framing the crescent moon. She had a small group with her that was growing quickly, leading a rebellion against Splashstar and his enforcers. Grayclaw at first was enraged, he had mourned her so badly, fought so hard for the peace he had built for Mistwillow and himself, and now she came in trying to tear it all down. He fought like hell at first, going after the River Rebels and doing his best to destroy them.

And then he grew desperate. He begged Frostpaw to join them. They'd be a happy family again. They wouldn't have to be alone anymore. They could just go back to the way things used to be. She just had to give all of this up...

Frostfeather refuses, and The River Rebels make another push back into their home.

Grayclaw can't take it. He can't handle his sister abandoning him again. He needs to be better, to keep what he has left together as it slips through his claws like feathers in a hurricane. He resolves himself of one thing...

He'll always have his sister's memory.

Grayclaw catches his sister, crashing into her after a long chase up onto the highest cliff of Sun-Drown Place, the two rolling over each other, almost off the edge of the cliff.

As thunder cracks deafeningly above them and lightning shines in Frostfeather's star-filled eyes, Grayclaw pins her against soaking wet rock, sharpened claws raised high, dripping from the torrential rain around them... He knows if Frostfeather perishes, the rebellion will too. Splashstar needs him to do this.

He has to do this.

Why can't he do this?

[ghostchilismoothie]

I took my friends on a vacation to this nice desert town and it turns out there were big worms with a desire to kill (Sat 9/30 7 pm est)

i have described Last Train Outta Wormtown in a variety of ways.

its like if dead by daylight was tremors and also cartoony goofy

like Jackbox but worms

and also like King of the Castle in you get more customization options if you buy it

and you have Among Us tasks

what it actually is without comparing it to other games is that it is an asymmetrical Sandworm vs cowboys game where the Pardners have the goal of fueling the train, finding the key, and destroying the leftover train cars on the train track to escape the canyon. The worms have the goal of chomping on the Pardners and keeping them from completing their tasks. the worms can only see the pardners when theyre moving on the sand (like dune!) featuring (l-r): @flagninja,@malatruse,@idkhowtomakeaname, @theshitpostcalligrapher, @hexfruit, @jarpened

its sure to be a chaotic and fun time! come worm with us!

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 22/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

I totally forgot to post this yesterday alksjdlksajkl

It's literally in my drafts but the day was too busy I honestly forgot. So here's a treat!

Also, I know there's a lot of mystery and questions of what's going on but I never planned to fully stay on the POVs of those in Heaven. I just wanted to give you guys a glimpse but I didn't want to tell it all.

You are all as clueless as Luci. Just as I intended hehe

------------------------------------------

Lucifer feels cursed. He can sense it. Even without Roo, he's certain that all this misfortune is deliberate. Given everything that has happened in the past few months, he didn't think it could get any worse.

He should've known not to jinx it.

Everyone jumped up, alarmed by the cannibal demon's frantic cries for help.

Outside, they were met with a chaotic battle as sinners and Hellborns fought against the supposedly dead angels. Both side have bodies that lay lifeless on the ground amidst the pandemonium.

Lucifer: What the fuck is going on?!

Cannibal Demon: We were piling the bodies up in the Embassy for burning, as you instructed, Your Majesty. But then—a body suddenly sprang back to life and attacked one of our workers! The next moment, we were all being attacked by the other bodies! They don't seem conscious, sire. They were snarling like rabid animals.

At that moment, an angel turned in their direction and charged straight at Lucifer. He extended his hand, and the angel burst into flames, collapsing to the ground and writhing in pain until it died.

Charlie, the hotel residents, and the other Overlords sprang into action, fighting to kill as many angels as they could.

Lucifer saw what the cannibal demon was talking about. The angels didn't seem truly alive. Instead, they screamed and attacked blindly, targeting anything in their path. Their forms were as mangled as the one that had fallen before him.

Then an angel was tossed at his feet. It twitched but the body was too destroyed to attack again. It looked up at him with blank eyes, black liquid streaming down its face like tears. The angel reached a hand towards him and tried to speak.

Heaven Angel: K-k-ki- me. P-ease

Lucifer was too petrified with shock to even register what the angel was trying to say. Was it begging him to kill it?

The angel gasped and attempted to crawl closer until an axe buried itself in its head, instantly killing it. Lucifer looked up to see Adam standing there.

He wondered when Adam had arrived.

Adam: Dude! Snap out of it! The fuck are you doin'?? And what the shit is happening?

But Lucifer couldn't answer. He just stared at the first man blankly.

Lucifer: I thought you were at the palace?

Adam: Seriously?! Gah!

Adam swung his axe again, killing an angel that had gotten too close.

Adam: One of these fuckers got in and I'd rather not die in your stupid house!

Another swing, another fallen angel.

Lucifer: They're angels....

He saw Adam's gaze harden but he does not falter one bit.

Adam: Are you just gonna stand there and stare or are you gonna do something?!

Lucifer snapped out of his daze, the reality of the situation sinking in. He looked around, seeing the chaos unfold as his allies fought for their lives. Taking a deep breath, he summoned his strength and stepped forward.

Lucifer: Let's end this madness.

He extended his hand, conjuring flames to incinerate the embassy, illuminating Pride like a giant flaming beacon.

Lucifer: Toss them all into the fire!

Lucifer's voice boomed across the city, echoing with authority. Soon enough, angels were screaming as they were engulfed in flames.

He took to the sky, setting fire to every zom-angel he could see. Reminding himself that they were no longer their normal selves, he saw this as an act of mercy.

Lucifer flew higher, his eyes scanning the chaos below. He could see Charlie, the hotel residents, and the Overlords fighting fiercely, holding their ground against the onslaught. Each flame he conjured was a prayer for the end of this madness.

As he incinerated bodies left and right, a troubling thought gnawed at him: Was this still Roo's doing? The state of these angels bore a striking resemblance to the infected creatures he had encountered in Sloth.

Roo: Not me, fallen. Looks like someone upstairs messed with something they shouldn't have. How thrilling~

The voice startled Lucifer.

Lucifer: What are you talking about?!

Roo: Hell's not the only one harboring a dark entity.

He cursed her silently but the Root of All Evil just laughed.

Roo: Corruption is such a wonderful thing.

The battle continued, and it didn't take long for them to rid the area of the reanimated corpses. However, the toll was immense. Everyone was on the verge of collapsing. The relentless series of events in the past hour had drained their remaining strength. If Heaven were to attack now, they would be fighting for their very lives.

Lucifer landed, breathing heavily, his mind racing. The angels’ corrupted state pointed to something far more sinister than he initially thought. If Roo was telling the truth, then Heaven itself was compromised.

Charlie: Dad!

Lucifer: Char-char, you guys okay?

Charlie: We're all fine.

Adam: Speak for yourself, girlie.

Charlie was only slightly surprised by Adam's appearance but didn't question him.

Lucifer: Are we sure that's the last of them?

Charlie: Alastor has his shadows canvassing the city right now.

Lucifer looked around at the carnage, wondering how much more they could handle. Before he could think further, Adam spoke up again.

Adam: I know those angels.

Lucifer: What?

Adam: Most of these are my girls.

There was a hint of sadness in his voice. Despite being a misogynist douche, Lucifer realized Adam genuinely cared for the angels in his army.

Lucifer: Exorcists?

Adam: Yeah... shit, what the fuck is going on up there? Why did they turn into these things?

Lucifer had no answer, so he remained silent.

They see something twinkle in the sky, followed by a beam of light. Lucifer quickly raised his hand to create a barrier just in time to deflect the blast. Even he struggled against Michael's powerful weapon. Multiple blasts rained down, but they were erratic, not aimed directly at Hell.

Something in the distance was getting closer and closer, dodging left as another blast exploded nearby.

Was Michael aiming for that?

They couldn't tell what it was until it drew nearer. It was an angel, struggling against another as they plummeted. Soon, more angels came into view. A particularly strong blast from Michael shattered Lucifer's barrier, and they could only watch as more angels fell into Hell.

The war had arrived.

And there was nothing they could do to stop it.

Roo: Play time~

Lucifer should've known not to jinx it.

[captmickey]

Hurricane is suppose to make landfall sometime later tonight... It's still developing and it's still updating and I want to say "If things are not as severe, I'll stream more Epic Mickey at 8:30pm EST", and I stand by that. But we'll see. I don't want to jinx anything.

For context: I'm on the east coast of Florida, not the west where the real beast of the matter is going to take place and everyone there has every single right to Not Be Okay because this is a historic storm and they need all the help they can get because it's that intense. And while I'm not in the direct path of the hurricane, that doesn't negate how absolutely monstrous the storm is because it does envelop the entire state.

That being said, for those who aren't familiar with hurricanes, the cone/path is the trajectory of the eye of the storm/eye wall. That is baaaaaaaaad. But equally bad is the "dirty side" which is the right side of the hurricane as a whole. That's the side I'm gonna potentially get bodied with if it doesn't decide to chill out.

But as it stands right now, thankfully, I didn't get an evacuation notice and this morning the flood warning went away.... in exchange for potential tornados but it's not a frequent thing (or regular for that matter) in my neck of the woods.

So yeah, if things are chill, I'll stream. If not, well, we know why.

I'll keep ya'll posted!

[antisocialmastermind]

Chapter 11

Chap 1 Chap 2 Chap 3 Chap 4 Chap 5 Chap 6 Chap 7 Chap 8 Chap 9 Chap 10 on Ao3

Day 11: SONUEGL = lounges

As June unfolds into July, Kurt is a cat in the sunshine. His whole existence is warm and gold-dipped and he feels obscenely grateful and lucky. He doesn’t even mind Elliott’s constant ribbing about how happy he is. Because he is.

The inaugural show at Muse is drawing to its close and has been by all accounts a great success. The gallery is in the black, which is unheard of in these early days. Several artists have asked about exhibiting and there seems to be an ever-increasing stream of patrons with means and enthusiasm. 

Serena Mbali’s name and Rachel Berry’s notoriety have done wonders in a very short time. Serena’s works have sold well, three of Elliott’s paintings have little red stickers on their title cards, and Kurt has sold every piece on the gallery wall. His head spins when he thinks about it.

He’s dropped his Thursday shift at the restaurant entirely, feeling cautiously optimistic that he can get by, now that Elliott’s able to pay him for his gallery shifts. He uses the extra time in the studio, caught in a spiral of inspiration-creation-bliss-inspiration that he’s never experienced before.

And then there’s Blaine.

Kurt’s had his share of relationships, ranging from a couple of one night stands, when the mood was right, to Eric, who lasted a year and a half before his career took him to the West Coast and out of Kurt’s life. But he’s never had anything like this. He’s been utterly swept off his feet. By a lawyer.

On Fridays, they go out. Usually to somewhere fancy that Kurt never dreamed he’d see. They’ve ridden through Central Park in a horse and carriage like tourists and on a gondola while Blaine fed Kurt sugar-dipped strawberries. They’ve had dinner at the Empire State Building and Kochi and seen Broadway shows and Kurt’s first opera at the Met.

It was awkward at first. He was uncomfortable with the ostentation and wealth that seems entirely unremarkable to Blaine. But Blaine never seems like he’s preening or bragging or even concerned. He does things because he wants to and he can , and Kurt just needs to relax. He feels pampered and adored and giddy with it.

On Saturdays, Kurt lounges in Blaine’s bed for as long as he can before heading to Muse for the day. They lie there and talk lazily about nothing and everything, kissing and giggling and dreaming. They take turns making each other breakfast or dance around each other in the kitchen as they cook together.

And of course, between Friday nights and Saturday mornings, they fuck. Heated and intense and gentle and nuanced, loving and frenzied. It’s pure ecstasy and Kurt can’t get enough.

****

He feels stupid talking to Elliott. Like he’s a kid or naive or both. But if he doesn’t get out of his own head and get some perspective, he’s going to explode. Or eat an entire cheesecake. Or something. They’re in the living room drinking wine when Kurt brings it up.

“Do you think I need to ask Blaine if we’re exclusive?”

Elliott looks mildly confused when he replies, “Why are you asking me?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt sighs. “I don’t trust myself? Like, what if I ask and he’s insulted that I even had to ask, because of course we are. Or what if I don’t ask so he assumes I don’t want to be? Or what if he just laughs at me because I’m making a big thing out of nothing –”

“Kurt,” Elliott interrupts gently, ‘does it feel like nothing?”

“No,” Kurt tells him. “It kind of feels like everything.”

Elliott’s lips tighten into a tiny, repressed smile. “You need to talk to him,” he prods. 

“I know,” Kurt groans. “I know I do. But I just … I don’t wanna jinx it. It’s been so perfect I just don’t want to make waves, you know? I’m ridiculous.”

“You love him?” Elliott’s voice is quiet and his eyes are intent on Kurt’s face.

“I don’t,” Kurt replies. “Not fully. Not yet. But I’m starting to. Or I could. But sometimes it feels like he has all the power and that’s – Oh my god, never mind.”

“Kurt, that’s not okay.” Elliott suddenly looks concerned. “You guys need to be on equal footing if a relationship is going to work. You can’t be feeling less than. And he can’t be in charge all the time. That’s not right.”

“Oh god, no.” Kurt rushes to reassure him. “It’s just me. My head. It’s not anything he’s doing. I guess I just feel… inferior sometimes. Because he’s able to give me so much. And I can’t give him anything.”

Elliott’s eyebrows shoot upward and his face is earnest when he says, “Kurt, I’m pretty sure you’re giving him something he wants. He’s still here, isn’t he?”

“Was that a sex joke?” Kurt asks.

“It really wasn’t,” Elliott says, in that plainly honest way he has. “I mean, if you’re being truthful that he’s not lording it over you or anything, then it sounds like you just need to come to terms with the fact that you’ve got yourself a boyfriend who can spoil you if he wants to.”

“Is he my boyfriend, though?” Kurt whines.

And now Elliott does laugh. “Oh my god, Kurt. Talk to him.”

****

Kurt doesn’t talk to him. The timing hasn’t been right. He will. He’s going to, but right now Kurt’s still waiting tables and making art and helping Elliott change over the show in the gallery.

Several of the pieces from the first show, including all of Kurt’s except one, were sold online to anonymous collectors. In the sales records for each of them is a note reading, ‘ agent will call ,’ so those need to be packed up. 

Elliott’s unsold pieces will stay. He’s the gallery owner and it’s a good conversation starter to have some of his own work on display. But they move it further back.

The modular walls are moved into a new configuration and artists for the next show are coming in to hang their work. Posters and fliers and press releases are designed and typed. Kurt feels like a professional artist for maybe the first time in his life. It’s a strange, wonderful, giddy feeling.

Blaine sends him flowers. Or has lunch delivered for both him and Elliott. Or texts let me know the minute you're free, and Kurt is just over the moon with how perfect his life feels right now.

Which is why it’s such a dizzying fall when it all goes wrong.

Chapter 12

[aliamor]

So I don’t really know if req are open if not sorry ! But I was wondering if you could do where reader has two cats and a dog of her own and is really good with animals and like each time she appears on cases stream she always has like two cats in her arms and both dogs and other cat following her, just animals straight up adore her. And spends a lot of time outside to be with jinx as well and just is like the straight care taker to all of them. (And all the animals sleep in bed with her and case) thank you xx

OFCCC

Literally any animal in the world adores you, which case finds perfect because his love for his kittys and dogs is unmatched.

Once you made an appearance on cases stream hold your kittys and soon you can the pitter of dogs followinh into cases streaming room, and they lay their chin onto you knee/ leg as this look up at you for pets.

Kitty knows you have left your normal spots in cases house so kitty soon enters into the room and on to the table like she does in cases stream and she meows at you and case.

Chat loves seeing you and the feature of all your guys pets was always a yes. Chat would say

“Them pets love Y/N”

“Y/N is such a good pet parent”

“KITTYY”

Case always loves to say “i swear our pets only love them” as he giggles at you, totally in awe of the safe nature you have.

Alot of the time you and case get no room when yall sleep because 70% of the space is taken up by your guys pets.

“Stop cuddling them and cuddle me” case would tease out as yall giggle.

In the end both of you are very good pet parents.

MWAH,

I missed yall so muchh, and i hope you all are doing good and safe🤍

[kosmoos]

Okay, after my rewatch of “Arcane”, I can finally say that it is worth rewatching a couple of times before coming to the studio that did nothing bad to the fans—all the blame can and should go towards Netflix for not giving them enough time. The fact that we were cut out of so many details and explanations does piss me off, but I don’t hate the show entirely. Just baffled that they left some things like that. I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t shit on the production and everyone I could because Jinx died—@fortunxa will confirm—but rewatching everything gives you a moment of doubt and clarity about some important nuances.

Like mentioned before here (please, read it!!), please, give it a shot again, even if it makes you angrier or more confused than you already are. “Arcane” is complex, as the VAs themselves say; nothing is black and white, as in the real world. That’s why it left us so divided—the world is already at war and fights against itself, don’t let a show stop you from talking to your friends because they might have a different opinion. Or do, it’s no one’s responsibility, after all.

Is the anger and hate at some moments deserved? Totally. Should we act on it because a commercial streaming service didn’t let us have our well-deserved 5 seasons? I don’t think so, and more so at the VAs or the directors or the artists who did all this work for over 9 years, only to have their fans shit on the final product because it didn’t meet their expectations. Season 2 was written and produced even before season 1 aired; it wasn’t influenced by the media either.

Does having another opinion pisses you off because your fav was killed? Well, news for you—not having the same media literacy as your moot won’t make you a war criminal, and less destroy your own life. Grow up.

I really recommend giving it another try, because it’s worth the heartache, if it means you’ll turn off your emotions and grudges, and really, really watch the show.