#rather short post but I am both short on time and also there is just very little info on these guys

[critter-of-the-day]

30th of September 2024: Hypsilurus capreolatus

Apologies for the lack of colour, but as far as I can tell, this is the only picture of Hypsilurus capreolatus available online. According to an accompanying description, they are a dirty white with brown chevrons, the latter being their primary identification feature [1].

They are considered small for their genus, having a body length of around 10 cm, though their tails are over three times as long [1]. While they were described in 2012 (with very little comment on them since), a specimen from the 60s or 70s has also been attributed to them since [2].

They were collected from only a few localities, all of them on Papua New Guinea. They were found both in primary rainforest as well as secondary forest near villages [1]. As with other species of lizards in this area, it is almost certain that they are more widely and commonly distributed than has been recorded thus far, probably across the entire west coast of Papua, thus earning them a Least Concern rating by the IUCN [2].

Sources: [1] [2] [Image]

[skrunksthatwunk]

talking about the sword of destiny with my dad: incomprehensible edition

[arolesbianism]

The sadness and agony that emerges everytime I start a new oni save and am forced to remember what it's like to have a dupe without a hat only to put them in a hat because I think they'd look cute only to remember hats make half of them look bald but I spent this long maxing out a skill for them so Im too stubborn to back down and remove the hat

[lxkeee]

MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE

PART TWO

pairing: Lucifer x fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fanfiction

notes: lmaoo sorry it took awhileee I'm actually a very busy college student while simultaneously having so much brainrot for this man so... Be patient omfg, I just posted part one a two days ago 😭 also, don't mind the warnings too much as it doesn't specifically for this specific chapter but it can be future parts of the story. So yes, hand holding before marriage will happen between Lucifer and [y/n]

warnings: none except hand holding before marriage lmao.

PART ONE | PART THREE

The princess of hell along with her girlfriend was just settling in the guest room heaven provided for them temporarily as they had an important meeting with them.

Charlie and Vaggie stopped talking as their was a knock on their door, “Who do you think is it?” Charlie asked and Vaggie shrugged and Charlie decided to open the door.

There stood a rather tall female angel with three pairs of wings and a golden halo on her head, the short white dress accompanied by gold compliments the woman's figure beautifully.

Safe to say both Charlie and Vaggie were mesmerized, the woman before them was drop dead gorgeous. Though, Vaggie was still cautious, despite a former angel, she doesn't know who this woman is as some seraphim angels tend to not show themselves to the lower ranking aside from Sera.

“Are you Princess Charlotte? The daughter of Lucifer?” the woman asked with her [e/c] eyes sparkling in excitement, the woman quickly placed her hands over her mouth in embarrassment, “Oh! Sorry for the intrusion, I forgot to introduce myself,” she says with a small smile before giving the two girls a curt bow, “My name is [y/n], a seraphim. It's a pleasure to meet you two.”

Charlie gave her a big grin, giving the woman a curt bow. The princess of hell decided to trust her as she couldn't sense any bad intentions from the older woman and to her, the name [y/n] sounded awfully familiar, she just forgot where she had heard it before. “It is so nice to meet you, I am Charlotte but you can call me Charlie.” Charlie said and [y/n] just grinned as Vaggie decided to just watch the two, still cautious. The older woman's eyes landed on Vaggie and she gave her a grin, “And who might you be?” she asked her and Vaggie just glared at her before avoiding her gaze, “Vaggie.”

[Y/n] just grins, her eyes analyzing the gray haired woman before letting out a small hum before shifting her gaze to the princess. [Y/n]'s heart ached a little to see how much the girl looked exactly like her father. [Y/n] misses him, she wished she did something that could have prevented his fall. Regrets always comes last. She took a deep breath then once more wore a bright smile on her face. Charlie noticed the shift of her mood but decided not to question it.

“So Charlie, I came here as I was curious what your plan for hell is about.” [y/n] says softly, she wasn't there during the meeting Lucifer requested for hell and this time, she promised to be there for his daughter instead. Charlie's eyes sparkled excitedly, excited that an angel aside from that bitch ass Adam would finally listen to her. “Really?!” The princess asked excitedly and [y/n] can only let out a soft chuckle, “Of course, why don't we take a walk while you tell me about it? Your friend can join us too.”

Charlie calmed down and gave the older woman a smile, “Vaggie here is actually my girlfriend.” she says, expecting the older woman to judge her but she was surprised when [Y/n] just ruffled her hair. “My apologies, I didn't know.”

The younger girls were surprised, that an angel didn't show any disgust to their relationship and she even looked like she approved.

“Now then, how about that walk?”

“And that's what I'm planning, I wished for my people to find redemption and join heaven.” Charlie explained softly, taking a bite of her strawberry cheesecake. Both [y/n] and Charlie sat in a rather peaceful cafe in heaven, angelic sigils circling around them as [y/n] casted them for their privacy. [Y/n] can only smile as she listens to the younger girl who rambles about her plans for her people, [y/n] can't help but remember how similar Charlie is to her father, oh heavens... She missed him so much.

Vaggie didn't join them unfortunately, she said that she wanted to rest a little bit in the guest room.

[y/n] gracefully placed down the cup of coffee she was sipping and gently wiping her lips with a napkin, “That is truly admirable Charlie, to see you have so much hope for your people really reminds me of your father. I really hope it will come to life.” the compliment was almost enough for Charlie to burst into tears, to hear someone praise her plans and believe in it, it felt like a mother praising her.

Though, she was able to stop her tears as she realizes something. Reminds me of your father. [Y/n] and her dad knew each other.

Then Charlie remembers, the stories her dad told her about heaven and the stories he told her about his closest angel friend—the only one who believed in him. She remembers thinking that she felt her dad loved that angel in one way or another, with how fondly he spoke of her—with so much adoration.

“I remember now, you were my father's best friend!” Charlie gasped, a hand over her mouth and [y/n] can only chuckle, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Were? I still think of him as my best friend.” She chuckles softly, “Though, I don't blame him if he doesn't think the same way as I wasn't able to help him back then.” she continues sadly and Charlie had to wave her arms around to stop her, “Nonono, my father doesn't think like that. You're still his best friend.” Charlie reassured the older woman.

“Really now? How is he these days? I haven't heard from him after so many eons.” [y/n] asked softly with a slight chuckle and Charlie can only sigh with a small smile on her face, “Well... He's still how he usually is. Kind, trying his best for me, and lately he had an obsession with making rubber ducks.” she says with a small giggle making the older woman chuckle, “Thay sounds like him, though surprised that he still loved ducks. He used to ramble to me about random duck facts when he was still here. He was such a dork, I truly missed him.” [y/n] says with a chuckle, a longing look in her eyes.

Charlie was able to put two and two together, her father and this woman loved each other and she can only assume they didn't confess in the fear of ruining their friendship. Charlie loves her parents but a part of her is hoping in a different universe, her father and [y/n] are happy together.

Charlie decided not to mention it to the woman and just continued hanging out with the older woman. “I am sure he misses you too.”

“The meeting will start in a few hours and Charlie?” [y/n] says softly before summoning a wax sealed white envelope out of thin air, gold sparkling from where the envelope is as it slowly falls into her hands. Charlie looked at her in curiosity, “Can I ask you a favor?” [y/n] asked her hesitantly and Charlie just nodded, “Of course!”

“Can I ask you a favor of delivering this letter to Lucifer?” She asked and gently extended her hand towards the younger girl in which the girl accepted the letter and placed it in her chest pocket. “Of course! My father would be delighted to hear from you.”

“Thank you, Charlie. I appreciate it dearly.” [y/n] smiled softly as she stood up from her seat, extending her hand to help the hell princess up from her seat. “Now, let me walk you back to your room so you can get ready for your meeting.”

Now the princess of hell wishes the other angels were just as understanding as [y/n]. Even though the meeting didn't go as planned, she felt reassured as both Emily and [y/n] were there in the court room.

“What are we even talkin' about? Some crack-whore who fucked up already? He blew his shot, like the cocks in his mouth. This discussion is senseless and petty.” Lute sneers with an annoyed glare, putting on her mask. Though, Charlie can feel her patience thinning, her eyes glaring at the angels.

The other angels looking down on the scene happening below, [y/n] looking worried for her while glaring at Adam and Lute. “There's no question to be posed, he's unholy, case closed. Did you forget that 'Hell is forever'?” Adam and Lute sang mockingly and [y/n] could feel her anger starting to boil. She always hated Adam, that egoistical prick, she looked up at Sera as if asking her to stop this nonsense.

“A man only lives once, we'll see you in one month. Gotta say, I can't wait to—” Adam sang and [y/n] noticed Sera getting worried, “Adam.” Sera says sternly but it seems the man was too busy to hear her, “Come down and exterminate you!”

At that moment, loud ringing was only what [y/n] heard as she was shocked to hear him say that. Exterminate...? Don't tell me...? [Y/n] asked herself before glaring at Sera, the other angels were also shocked by the reveal.

“Wait!” Emily exclaimed, shocked by the reveal and Adam just noticed his slip up, “Shit.”

“What are you saying? Let me get this straight, you go down there and kill those poor souls?” Emily asked, horrified as she slowly flies down towards Charlie, holding her hand, “You didn't know?” Charlie asked and Emily shook her head. “Whoops!” Adam says, not a care in the world, “Guess the cat's out of the bag.” Lute says with a smirk, “What's the big deal?” Adam asked with a condescending smirk and [y/n] wished she could go down there and punch him.

“Sera, tell me that you didn't know...” both Emily and [y/n] asked simultaneously, though, Sera was just looking at Emily. [Y/n] was pissed at this whole revelation, human souls are killed in heaven by the hands that are supposed to be pure holiness. To think about blood staining those hands, fills her with disgust.

The whole courtroom was a mess, [y/n] doesn't remember what exactly happened. The reveal that Vaggie was an angel didn't surprise her, she can sense the girl's angelic blood but the reveal that Sera was the one who ordered for the extermination to happen, filled her with rage.

“Charlie! Don't lose hope! We will find a way to help you!” Emily says as we watched Vaggie and Charlie be sucked by a portal back to hell, “Don't give up! We'll find a way!” [y/n] added, making sure the two girls heard. Sera glared at her and [y/n] glared back.

That's what Charlie last saw, Emily looking worried and disappointed but what worried her was Sera and [y/n] started arguing, angelic powers starting to spark between them and that was the last thing she saw as she returned back in hell. Thankfully, the letter was safe in her pocket.

[captainreecejames]

Tale As Old As Time || My Ex is a Footballer OB38 Edition

links [masterlist] [my ex series masterlist]

summary you have a best friend and a boyfriend, too bad you're in love with the wrong one

pairings ex!cole palmer x reader, ollie bearman x reader

warnings cursing, hate to yn,

notes this was born because i realized that I hadn't written the classic friends to lover trope so here you guys go! also the next one will be george because I've had that one in the drafts forEVER so I want to get it out there for everyone!

july 2023

september 2023

liked by kimiantonelli, olliebearman and others

ynusername Ollie that's 3 wins this season!!! I'm so freaking proud of you but here's a reminder of what you looked like to keep you level headed

olliebearman did you really need to post that last one? ↳ ynusername yes bearboy

kimiantonelli 😃😃 ↳ ynusername be careful kimi

username1 ugh, i love their friendship! ↳ username2 yeah... friendship ↳ username1 she's got a boyfriend that's not Ollie ↳ username2 doesn't mean she isn't in love with ollie and playing with the new guys feelings

December 2023

ynusername posted a story -------

ynusername posted ------

liked by olliebearman, bsfinstagram and others

ynusername dates out with you

username11 so she goes out with ollie the night before and now her man... yn they could never make me like you ↳ username12 for real!!! that was clearly a date with ollie last night so she had to post with this mystery man

olliebearman does cole let you win like me? ↳ colepalmer nah mate ↳ colepalmer oh fuck ↳ olliebearman oh fuck ↳ ynusername you both are idiots

username13 COLE PALMER IS DATING YN LN????? ↳ username14 did not have that on my bingo card for 2023 ↳ username13 seriously does she go around collecting sports prodigies?

username15 wait, ollie lets her win in chess? (pouty face) ↳ username16 ollie bearman plays chess????? ↳ olliebearman only with yn ↳ ynusername and contrary to popular belief he only let me win once

username17 not ollie exposing yn and cole ↳ username18 and cole had to really back it up by commenting ↳ username17 if Ollie had just deleted his comment none of this would have happened and we'd still be speculating

january 2024

ynusername posted a story -----

march 2024

ynusername posted -------

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and others

ynusername HOLY FUCKING SHIT YOUVE JUST HAD YOURR FIRAT FORMULA ONE RACE AND YOU SCORED POINTS! I'm so proud of you and this whirlwind of a weekend. Nowhere I'd rather be than supporting you here.

username20 oH MY GOD YN JUST ADMIT YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH HIM!! ↳ username21 that hand holding picture???? that is not just best friends i am sorry

olliebearman thank you so much for flying out on such short notice YN! ↳ ynusername you know i had to when you're dad called me!

charles_leclerc congrats again to ollie ↳ ynusername charles!! you were amazing as well

carlossainz55 where's my appreciation? ↳ ynusername thank you carlos for getting appendicitis and then needing it removed so ollie could make his f1 debut and also thank you for showing him around ↳ carlossainz55 you're welcome!

kimiantonelli well done to Ollie, and you yn for surviving that race ↳ ynusername it was hard but I had david with me to help ↳ kimiantonelli ahhh, love david

username22 she really flew out on saturday to be there? yn please

username23 need cole palmer to realize that she really doesn't care about him

June and July 2024

ynusername posted----

liked by premaracing, scuderiaferrari and others

ynusername monza!!!!! featuring some race winners and prema racing or one direction, couldn't be sure

username30 not yn being online enough to know about one direction prema racing>>>> ↳ ynusername i sent that tweet to ollie, it makes me laugh every time

username31 the hand heart??? yn we know what you are ↳ username32 yeah but also she loves charles so idc she can do no wrong now

username33 at least we know that her and cole aren't together anymore

username34 yn magnussen got a race ban!!! is ollie gonna take his seat? ↳ ynusername oh kmags, the fia is just silencing him cause he's too good

ynusername posted----

liked by haasf1team, nicohulkenberg and others

ynusername ollie once again I'm so proud of you! and back in the points as well! couldn't be prouder to call you my best friend and boyfriend

username40 WHAT THE FUCK WE GOT A OLLIEYN CONFIRMATION??

ynusername also you raced alongside lewis hamilton can you get me an autograph? username41 you know what?? she's part of cultLH and I'm gonna defend her forever now

ynusername shout out to kmags for the race ban but I'm gonna miss you next year

username42 OLLIE ACKNOWLEDGE YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!! olliebearman

olliebearman i love you yn, and I'll get you that lewis hat don't worry ynusername best fucking boyfriend ever

francolapinto LEWIS ↳ ynusername LEWIS!!!!! ↳ olliebearman LEWIS!!!!!!!!! ↳ username43 your honor i love them all

[uwublr]

Pine's Ridiculously Long List of Free Japanese Study Materials

First Month Edition

All my current study materials, because sharing found resources is caring. These are not JLPT-specific and are for pre-beginners to beginners like me. I can't believe I have been studying for a month. Comparison is truly the thief of joy. I am a slow learner, but that's okay. Find a community because it truly does make a difference. Shoutout to Seitokai's Nihongo Discord, and to @tokidokitokyo whose post let me know about it and is just overall a great person too.

Main study material: Marugoto Online A1 Self-Study Kastudoo and Rikai with downloaded PDF and Wordbook (my original post about it)

Supplemental references:

A Dictionary of Basic Japanese Grammar (The only NOT free resource in this list, sorry! The e-book sold on Amazon does not have good reviews as it's a scanned copy of the book, rather than a properly formatted e-book. A free alternative to this is JapBase which also contains Intermediate and Advanced content.)

Marugoto Plus which accompanies the Marugoto courses and includes videos, audio files, etc.

Apps: Anki, Renshuu

Anki decks:

Tatsumoto's Kana (Recognizing and Writing)

Tatsumoto's AnkiDrone Sentence Pack V7

Official KanjiDamage Deck (from the creator of KanjiDamage, crude language warning for both the deck and the site)

Marugoto A1 Rikai Katsudoo 2021

Dictionaries:

Rikaitan browser extension (installed JMDict English V4, JMExtra, 日本語文法辞典(全集), and Kanjium)

Takoboto app (with offline access)

Other resources:

Sukiruma for practice writing sheets

Reader Ttsu for reading Japanese materials on a browser (used in conjunction with Rikaitan, since I couldn't find an e-book reader that I can install a Japanese dictionary in)

Sousakuba for downloadable genkouyoushi without watermarks

Youtube:

Favorites marked with a ⭐️.

Comprehensible Input for what it says on the tin, in bite-size formats

Daily Japanese with Naoko for vlogs with Japanese subtitles

Dogen for the funny videos that you can learn from and/or relate to

Game Gengo because Japanese learning through games, and has JLPT geared content if you're looking for it

Gino Kei who has shorts teaching Japanese in a not so serious way

Hiro - Food in Japan for cooking videos, not in Japanese, but these make me crave for Japanese food anyway so that counts

⭐️ Japan Eat for Japanese food commentary in English and also makes me hungry. So, yeah, not in 日本語 but it's delicious so that also counts

Japanese Koro mostly for kana reading practice which actually helps you get short serotonin boosts for when you do actually get to read the words correctly

Japanese Quest which plays games in Japanese

⭐️ Japarrot! for fun, animated comprehensible input videos

Let's ask Shogo for culture content

⭐️⭐️⭐️ Matcha Samurai for delightfully unhinged culture content, debunking Japanese misconceptions one video at a time

Namba Tsuyoshi for no narration Japanese walk with me style vlogs, very chill and relaxing

⭐️ NihongoDekita with Sayaka for fun, short grammar content

ShekMatz Japan has videos/playlists where she teaches Japanese in Tagalog, so if you can't understand Tagalog, you'd better skip it

Sora The Troll because why not

⭐️ Takashii from Japan is honestly one of my favorites, even before I started learning Japanese. His interviews are just really good!

Taro's Sewing because my toxic trait is thinking I can sew the cool things they post. Also comes with short Japanese commentary on screen

Tokyo Lens counts as uh, immersion even if it's not in Japanese, but it's in Japan so that counts? Yeah, let's go with that

もしもしようすけ for Japan vlogs/walk with me with Japanese and English subtitles

Yomii Japan Piano if you like piano and the occasional trolling

Japanese Calligrapher Takumi because my other toxic trait is thinking I can write this beautifully

[miumura]

💭 — GUNWOOK AS YOUR BOYFRIEND !

how it’s like having gunwook as your boyfriend !

pairing bf!gunwook x gn!reader genre fluff

💬 : finally a req done after so long .. why am i nervy posting this LMAO and it might just be me but this feels rather short compared to my other hcs .. idk maybe its bc i havent done these “… as ur bf” in a while HELP but anyways thank you soso much for requesting anons ! i hope you enjoy 🫶

— the type to be first to make a sudden flirty move just to get a reaction out of you. i think he would enjoy seeing you flustered just by the sudden gestures he’d make. but, once it’s reciprocated back, he is so definitely backing down and giggling at you he’s going to be thinking about it the whole day

— ^ that being said, i feel like he’s the type to easily get embarrassed when trying to express his feelings for you. it’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s just that since he’s letting you see the soft / vulnerable side of him, he thinks that it could be much sometimes. but he tries to not let that bother him because he truly wants you to see that you’re loved and you deserve it!!

— i think he’s a big physical touch person so he would he clingy. doesn’t matter what you guys are doing or where you are, he’s definitely doing it subconsciously since he does it so much. and hugs are definitely his thing.

— back hugs would fluster him. he’s just so used to giving you bear bugs and just wrapping you with his arms. so, having your arms wrapped around his waist would be so sudden to him. even so, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy it 🫡

— the type to COMPLETELY get lost in your eyes and just start admiring the features on your face. probably would caress your cheek while giving you a soft smile LIEK 😣

— he would find your little habits or gestures to be cute, which causes him to copy you 💔 so don’t worry, he’s not mocking you, he just finds you rather endearing and has to express it in a loving way ^^

— he would stay up with you all night to talk about random things. i feel like after a long day, he would definitely go on a debrief session with you. like without a doubt you two would probably come up with something that gets both of you either heated or on the same page LMAO or it could be you two coming up or trying to solve theories about ANYTHING.

— would definitely love compliments from you ☝️ especially loves compliments about his physique as he does work hard to keep himself fit and also would get flustered by them but he would also appreciate you giving him compliments about things he’s rather insecure about and would always use that as a reminder for himself when he’s having doubts </3

— would be extremely attentive to what you’re saying and what you want. he would want to listen to everything you’re saying, even if you’re not directly talking to him. i feel like he would take note of things in any conversation (with or without him in it) and make notes of what you like or dislike

— the type to carry all your things without any complaints

— would be such a great person to facetime !! you would definitely stay up with him at night just laughing at your inside jokes or anything in particular that interests you both

— would love if you were to go to the gym or just be active with him (bonus if you could play sports with him) ! i feel like he would enjoy the company and would work out extra since he’s within your presence (you’re his motivator!!!)

— would have “i love you” “i love you more” etc etc battles LMAO and as a competitive person himself, he is definitely not letting you win <3

— honestly would admire you. if you’re someone special to him, he would definitely treasure everything about you and every moment spent with you. i just feel like he would be so supportive of everything you do and would definitely work his hardest to reciprocate back all the love you give him (and if possible, even more than that). like he truly would not mind taking time out of his day just to be with you and give you all the love you deserve!

💭 — everything leaves my body when it comes to gunwook

PERM ZB1 TAGLIST (OPEN) — @dwcljh @ilovewonyo @jiawji @tzyuki @kpoprhia @flamiricky @misokei @lluvjjun @zzzhoonie @margoteboo-blog @lakoya

[yandereend]

Yandere Househusband

The wedding

P. 2/?

TW : normal yandere stuff, dubcon, reader is into it?, Tyler talks about children, both are like 18 or 19

Btw English is not my first language so please keep that in mind

🩵Also thanks to everyone who wrote nice comments under the first post🩵

You sometimes watched those trashy shows about the bridezillas who were obsessed with their weddings and made everyones live hell. Like many people you hopped to never be in a situation like this. But here you were sitting besides your fiancé while he discusses flower arrangements, acting like a giant brat.

Is it so hard to put together bouquets with ALL pink flowers?!

Sir we dont have enough pink lillies for all your decorations. You should reconsider some of your choices-

I‘m surrounded by idiots!! My spouse wanted pink lillies so i don’t care if you don’t have them stocked!! Just buy them!

That would be even more expen-

Just do it !!!

And with that Tyler took your hand and you both exited the flower shop. It was almost comical how such a small thing could affect a grown man so much, but hey it’s his day. Tyler had a big pout on his face so that called for your attention and pampering.

Tyler don’t be upset.

But its our day my darling, everything should be perfect! We spend so much time picking out your (suit/dress/whatever you want its your wedding) and my suit. The flowers have to match or everything was for nothing my dear!

Not everything has to be perfect.

Oh yes it does! Have you never been on pinterest ?

That was the whole wedding planning in a nutshell , just an avid pinterest user placing together the wedding of their dreams( yandere style). Sometimes it was cute seeing Tyler being so invested in the wedding, other times it was more than annoying to cater to his perfectionism.

You also often thought about how quickly things progressed. I mean you just graduated high school and are already engaged and working for your fiancés father. Tylers father, Eric, was a great boss, you often wondered why people were scared of him. It’s just your nice father in law! Always explaining everything to you and hyping you up as the next in line of the family business. I mean you’re almost a part of it.

And Tylers mother, Ramona, was the same, always acting like she’s your real mother and caring for you. Not to mention Tyler himself. You were not suprised when he didn’t went out to look for a job or university, he always promoted the idea of a traditional family with you as the breadwinner in the center. And hey, his parents gifted you a house as an engagement gift, so its safe to say that you wont suffer in the presence of those saints.

At least that’s what you thought of them, little did you know that they were the reason why most of your friends cut contact and your family hardly called after you moved out. But hey who needs them anyways.

So while all these thoughts ran through your mind here you were, walking down the aisle with your father and finally seeing the man of your dreams in his perfectly tailored suit and styled hair, with tears in his eyes witnessing your beauty.

Your wedding vow was rather short but still packed with the love you felt for your husband. And after he put himself together, because of his happy tears, he read the most beautiful wedding vow you ever heard touching your heart and everyone else’s in the chapel. So when you finally get to put the rings on each other’s fingers you both stand up there with tears in your eyes.

And when you both finally unite in a grand kiss your fate was finally sealed. Tyler had you finally completely in his grasp, even if you didn’t realize it. And he,as well as his family, will never let you go. So enjoy your wedding party with your family and friends, you won’t get to see them any longer my dear.

Till death do you apart.

🩵Thanks a lot I hope you enjoyed it, I am planning on making this a series so please comment ideas for your life with your new husband 🩵

[loudclan-clangen]

So, here is the pitch:

AU where Siltsplash finds out they are pregnant around the same moon that Eklutna gives birth to the boys. (Rather than an AU where Owl doesn’t cheat because then we wouldn’t have Song, Dance, or Dash and that won’t do)

It makes the betrayal even worse because it’s even more pointless since they were going to give Owl an heir.

Anyway, meet Spindlekit

She will eventually go blind I imagine, but if Owlstar suggest she retire she tells him that he should retire for being old lmao.

Warrior name is open to suggestion

I love her and I’m so mad that she doesn’t exist now.

The fact that Song doesn’t have a little sister is a CRIME. This is what he was born to do.

Not only am I okay with it, I would love to see it!

You are so right, here's a flashback that was cut for time from Moon 28:

Erminepaw has had a crush on Songpaw since they were in the nursery together, he just never called attention to it. He honestly probably doesn't even register that it is a crush, he's doing that thing that kids do where they're like this is my best friend, of course I want to marry him that's how everyone feels about their best friend. Nothing out of the ordinary here! Just my best friend that I must be holding hands with at all times for best friend reasons!

Yes! This is Fox----, he has been causing problems since the literal day he was born. You've met both of his parents, but I would be a little bit surprised if you guessed them correctly. Parental drama is kinda part of his whole deal. He's one of the first 3rd generation cats born in Loudclan.

I have SO much advice, about the images, the recommended size is 1280 x 1920 pixels, that's always a little too short for my panels, so I try to aim for 1280 x 2000 - 3000. It still deteriorates them a little bit, but people can always click on them for better quality. Bigger text and variation in values also help for readability regardless of size. (value meaning how light or dark a color is. if you want something to stand out it's more important to change the value than it is to change the hue generally speaking.) As for grabbing attention, I would recommend making sure that the image you're trying to show is visible above the cut off for longer posts, posts with only text visible are a lot less likely to get interaction. That being said, the most important thing for the longevity of your blog is making sure that it's something you are doing for yourself. There's nothing wrong with liking when your posts get attention, but it's not likely to happen for a long while (I think moon 5 was the first time I got double digit likes which was three months after I started.) I appreciate all of the love that Loudclan gets now, but if I had started with that as the goal I never would have been able to reach the point of it happening. (I actually started posting Loudclan with the intention of proving to myself once and for all that posting art was not a viable endeavor for me, so... I'll consider that a successful failure!)

You CANNOT DO THIS to me anon- "the canadian city"- YOU MEAN JUNEAU? YOU MEAN THE CAPITAL OF ALASKA JUNEAU?!?! JUNEAU?!?! CANADIAN?!?! When I catch you anon- anon when I catch you-

Come here, anon. I just want to talk. I just want to have a word with you.

[nausicaaandhermouth]

Quandary & Retribution in F#

masterlist

professor!viktor x violinist!reader [6k] [AO3]

mdni

cw: nsfw, blow-job, piano witnessing oral sex i'm so sorry

summary: being neighbours mean being mindful of the noise you make - though, you'd been set on being a nuisance through violin solos, bringing Viktor to your doorstep to plead for silence. You decide to apologise.

tags: modern au, physics professor viktor, gn!reader, neighbours, nsfw, sexual tension, suggestive physics & music talk, blow job, fat set up beforehand, not betad

a/n never written comedy nor smut but at some point a girl's gotta try (why are both almost equally difficult) - but here ya go (plops down this mess). also, i'm more familiar w music than physics, i 3rd page googled the latter so there's def smth not quite right. if u know physics, no u dont.

and ty to an anon ask for pointing out a mistake in the pronouns. i intend one shots to be gn but i write back and forth from an f!oc fic, resulting in she/her ending up in one shots and they/them on the other :')) entirely on me for not catching those before posting though - but thank you for notifying me, i appreciate you!!

btw requests & taglist are open!

Viktor had repeated it ad nauseam—keep the overtures to a minimum.

His days are a gruelling marathon of lectures and lab work, stretching from the crack of dawn at 6 AM to the academy's closing bell at 10 PM. This self-imposed siege isn't mandated by the university—no, they frown upon such academic masochism.

Rather, it’s Viktor's desperate attempt to squeeze productivity from the fleeting moments of silence. The irony? The moment he shuffles home, key turning in the lock, his apartment transforms into an impromptu concert hall.

Attempting to grade papers? Constructing intricate lesson plans on quantum mechanics? Preparing for the department's annual "Explain Your Research to a Five-Year-Old" challenge? Hah. Another pipe dream of this beleaguered professor.

No, instead, he’s treated to a violin solo that would make Paganini nod approvingly in his grave, some overture to madness waiting to ambush Viktor the instant he dares to sit down and tackle his workload. And the cherry on top? The virtuoso had chosen the room directly behind his study as their personal rehearsal space.

Tonight, Viktor's reaching his breaking point.

One more pluck of that violin string, and he might just snap (hopefully with more panache than his freshman physics students' failed bridge-building projects).

He's hunched over his laptop, a harsh '02:24' glowing on his wall—a neon reminder of how little he's accomplished in far too many hours. And there it is again, that infernal violin leaping across frets, notes ping-ponging between octaves with reckless abandon.

This time, it feels personal. A taunt aimed squarely at his last shred of sanity.

Viktor's fingers rake through his dishevelled hair, tugging in sheer frustration. His other hand thunders against the wall—once, twice, thrice. Stop. Stop. Stop.

For a blissful moment, the last note wavers, then fades.

Silence descends. Relief washes over him.

But his reprieve is short-lived. The melody resumes with a vengeance—louder, closer, more petulant and frenetic. It's as if the laws of acoustics themselves have conspired against him.

God, if you’re there…

Viktor can feel his grip on rationality slipping. Perhaps it's time to conduct an experiment on the effects of sleep deprivation on a physicist's patience. For science.

Your paths had crossed in the hallways, a silent slide of avoidance. You’d exchanged fleeting glances, loaded with unspoken frustration, before hurrying on your separate ways.

Viktor had made the pilgrimage to your door three times, his voice dripping with forced politeness as he implored (bordering begging, not his finest moment) you to relocate your impromptu concerts or, at the very least, reschedule your sonic assaults to more reasonable hours.

You’d exchanged names, plastered on smiles that never reached their eyes—and yet, your solos persist.

In moments of weakness, Viktor's traitorous mind can't help but wonder what camaraderie you might have shared in an alternate universe where you weren’t the bane of his existence.

He finds himself muttering a desperate prayer to the gods of acoustics: "Grant me the strength not to bash my head against this wall." He pauses, another side of his brain kicking in. "Although, the resulting concussion might make for an interesting case study."

A groan escapes him as his forehead meets the desk with a dull thump. (Might you want percussions, he could supply his head banging against his desk)

His mind, addled by sleep deprivation and the constant assault, contemplates the unthinkable—actually standing up for himself. God forbid.

He envisions marching to your door, pride in tatters, ready to beg, plead, perhaps even grovel for a moment's peace.

The image of his students receiving paper feedback that reads like the ravings of a madman flashes before his eyes. No. Nope. This cannot stand. Something must be done.

Then another image invades his mind: your door opens and there you are face to face once again.

He grudgingly admits you’re… aesthetically agreeable. He supposes. Mathematically pleasing. Something about proportion, bone structure, genes, something, something, and—no, there is an undeniable artistry in your relentless dedication. Which he respects.

Even through the wall, he can discern the masterful control of your bow, a testament to hours of practice that simultaneously impresses and infuriates him.

If he could be granted such hours to achieve his own goals, he'd surely rule the world (or at least figure out how to soundproof his apartment).

There'd been one night—one treacherous, sleep-deprived night—when his exhausted mind careened off the rails of rationality into dangerously uncharted territory.

He envisioned himself barging into your apartment, a perfect storm of righteous fury and academic gravity. In this fever dream, he demanded silence with an authority cobbled together from an unlikely triumvirate: his stern Professor alter-ego (complete with imaginary tweed jacket), the ego-inflating gravitas of his hard-earned Ph.D., and the bizarrely suave confidence that only exists in the realm of 3 AM delusions.

But in this warped fantasy, instead of blessed quiet, he encountered something far, far worse—a scenario that defied even the uncertainty principle in its improbability.

Sharp gasps cut through the air. Delicate moans rolling against the nape of his neck that it sent shivers down his spine. And then—oh, sweet laws of thermodynamics—his name. His name in repetition, wearing the throes of... No. Stop. Abort mission.

Viktor's eyes snap open. Heavy breaths. His heart rate approaches escape velocity, threatening to launch his ribcage into orbit.

He shakes his head violently as if the motion could dislodge the inappropriate thoughts from his brain.

"Fuck off," he mutters to the empty room, to his unfaithful imagination, to the persistent violin notes that seem to mock his predicament. Fuck it all. And fuck you. Well… No—(he means yes (no)).

A few times since your initial encounter, Viktor had been subjected to a different kind of midnight sound through the walls. These weren't the familiar strains of a violin, but rather... a more primal composition. Something more akin to pleasure than anything Stradivarius could have conceived. 

The truth was, these… vocalisations had rearranged his synapses, had opened up an entirely new neural pathway in his brain, one he had staunchly refused to acknowledge before. It was a new theorem of attra—intrigue he wasn't quite ready to solve.

Each breath, groan muffled, was a data point on his imaginary graph. To study the patterns, the crescendos, the duration. The other man in him... well, that was a variable he dared not allow to factor into the equation.

He found himself both dreading and anticipating these unintentional (at least he surmised so) performances. He'd catch himself straining to hear, then immediately feel a rush of guilt and self-loathing.

He reaches for his coffee mug, grimacing as he swallows the cold, bitter dregs. Clearly, this is what happens when a brilliant mind is deprived of its required REM cycles. Yes, that's it. Just the cruel tricks of an overworked, under-rested brain. Exactly.

His mind kicks into overdrive, frantically scribbling a mental grant proposal: "The Effects of Sleep Deprivation on Auditory Hallucinations and Improbable Fantasies: A Case Study." Purely for academic purposes, of course. (his mind lingers on improbable)

It's not like he's terrified these forbidden thoughts might return, more vivid and enticing than a perfectly aligned experiment. And it's certainly not because he's afraid he might enjoy—no, no, no. He minds. He minds with the intensity of a supernova. 100%. No, make that 100.1%, just to be safe. Exactly. Precisely. Quantum-mechanically determined.

Now, if only he could convince his subconscious of that irrefutable fact…

His eyes dart to the wall—that infuriating barrier of plaster and wood—separating him from the object of his des... deliberation. No, that's not right. The source of his frustration. Yes, frustration. A frustration so profound it could light up a small city.

He groans, burying his face in his hands.

The things sleep deprivation does to a man. It's enough to make even a rational physicist question the very fabric of reality.

But admiration be fucking damned—his frustration reigns supreme.

Viktor straightens up, a manic glint in his eye. Perhaps it's time for a little experiment in human behaviour. After all, every action has an equal and opposite reaction, right? Let's see how you’d like a taste of your own medicine—played back at 3 AM through a wall of subwoofers tuned to the resonant frequency of your floorboards.

No, no—Viktor, don't stoop. Just knock on their door.

A grin spreads across your face when a comically polite knock interrupts your crescendo. Ah, the sweet sound of success—or is it the dulcet tones of a professor’s patience snapping?

Oh, he's ever so gentle, even when he's one decibel away from a meltdown. You can practically hear his teeth grinding in perfect harmony with your last note.

You settle your violin and bow on the couch like a general laying down arms after a victorious battle. One palm reaches to massage your jaw, soothing the tender spot where your instrument has been resting. Who knew revenge could leave such visible marks?

Note to self: next time, consider a less physically demanding form of payback. Maybe take up the theremin? Start haunting him.

Though you're getting the creeping suspicion he doesn't know what he did—and it's entirely plausible that you just look like a nocturnal nuisance with perfect pitch and an impressive bruise. But hey, what's a little psychological warfare between neighbours?

Besides, it's fun crossing him in the halls, eyes following each other like two notes slowly coming in accordance, like a particularly flirtatious harmony. You're both knowing, sharing a secret thing. Well, as secret as a loud violin solo at 2 AM.

You reach the front door and turn the lock, swinging it open with a dramatic flair.

Leaning on the frame, you plaster on a grin that could outshine the brightest spotlight—and is sure to make the dear professor's blood pressure skyrocket. "Viktor," you greet, your voice a perfect pizzicato of feigned innocence.

As expected, he's the very picture of academic despair: dark under-eyes that could rival a raccoon's, hair ruffled in a way that screams ‘Sleep? What sleep?' (who knew sleep deprivation could be so becoming?), and a brow so furrowed it could host its own mountain range.

Huh. Interesting. Seems like the composed professor facade has taken an unexpected intermission.

You force yourself to keep your eyes on Viktor's face, resisting the urge to conduct a full-body visual scan. Tonight, you're oppositions. Stubborn ostinato. O-ppo-si-tions.

Oppositions don't ogle each other's physiques or linger on sartorial choices. That would be absurd, a complete discord in your carefully orchestrated revenge. Which is why you don’t see that he’s wearing a thin tank top, and why your eyes don’t hopscotch across the vague outlines of his chest.

Viktor grumbles your name with a frown, his accent turning the syllables into something between a growl and a plea. It's music to your ears, really—a different kind of melody, but no less satisfying than your midnight sonatas.

You wonder what else he could do with that voice. No—you don’t wonder. O-ppo-si-tions don’t wonder.

Rather, you flatten your lips, desperately trying to hold back a laugh that threatens to escape.

"Please," he breathes, the word carrying the weight of a thousand sleepless nights.

You cock a brow. "Please?"

He glares, his eyes boring into you with the intensity of a conductor silencing a wayward orchestra. Not finding me funny, you note mentally.

Well, tough crowd. But then again, you didn't take up the violin for the standing ovations, did you?

"How can I help you, Professor?" You smile sweetly, crossing your legs. "You're looking positively... nocturnal," Your eyes dance over his dishevelled appearance, drinking in every delicious detail.

You know that he knows that you know what you're doing. It's a duet of mutual awareness—simple, really—and satisfying.

He squeezes his amber eyes shut, his mouth a taut line of frustration. You half expect his hair to stand on end. Orchestra on their heels after a baton’s click-click-click.

That little mole above his mouth twitches, and you imagine it as a staccato note. There's a twin on his right cheek. You wonder, idly, if they'd dance a jig if you played just the right jaunty tune.

"Why," he begins, his voice a crescendo of exhaustion, "Are you doing this? I can't keep my head in tune with you behind that wall, turning my brain into jelly with your... your..." he gestures wildly at your apartment, as if trying to conduct your imaginary orchestra into silence.

"Oh? And what's wrong with exploring some alternative fingerings now and then?"

His eyes lock onto yours, widening slightly. He blinks, frozen—a maestro who's just realised he's forgotten his baton.

Ah. Are there actual discordant thoughts lurking in that brilliant mind of his?

What's a little push? You lean forward. "Care to demonstrate these unconventional techniques of yours?"

A gulp rides down Viktor's throat. A nervous glissando. A viola quivering. His eyes suddenly find your front door fascinating. "Look, I just want to be able to do my work, finish what needs to be finished, and get some actual sleep. Aren't you tired of this too?"

Your mouth pitches downwards in mock contemplation. "Mm... I get plenty of sleep in the day. Unemployment generally gives you a lot of time. Besides, payback is payback. This is simply the retribu—"

"Payback?" His face contorts into a mask of confusion that would make Picasso proud. Ah. So the maestro doesn't know his own composition. Tsk.

You straighten yourself, arms still crossed sternly. "You—" you sigh, brows pulling together.

"What," he huffs, clearly lost. His mouth slightly gapes open, eyes glancing to the side as if somehow the answer will appear.

lLast month. Seven PM. You're home with what I assume were your students," you gesture at his door. "Don't know what you were doing, none of my business. However, it does become my business when they stay over until four," you hold up four fingers at his face like a metronome gone mad, and he backs away. “In. The. Morning. You try sleeping with rowdy, hormonal young-adults screeching about the universe and quantum-this, quantum-that,"

He brings his hand up and rubs at his neck, looking everywhere but you.

"And I, not having slept in god knows how long at that point, had an audition for an orchestra later that morning," at this point his expression is completely soured, realising where this is leading. "And guess who bombed that and missed a potential orchestral debut?" you point at yourself with both thumbs, "First chair of the Insomniacs Anonymous Symphony,"

He brings his thumb and pointer to the bridge of his nose, worrying at his bottom lip.

You can recall a few times you’d burrowed your teeth in such a manner. Recitals. A particularly tricky passage in a Paganini caprice. On your couch with hand at the crux of your thighs rubbing gently to some fantasy. Nothing specific.

You stare for a moment, mentally composing a scream for the cosmos. How dare he look like a dishevelled maestro when you're trying to channel your inner fury? Not the time, brain. Not. The. Time. File that image away for later...

“I..." he begins, but the words seem to have gone on strike, leaving his mouth hanging open. Forgotten fermata.

A furrow grows on your brow, deep enough to nest a whole string section. His guilt-ridden silence gives you ample time to become distracted. Truly not the fucking time. But your eyes—oh, what rebellious instruments.

But fret not (hah), as you don’t discern much of his arms—not lean, nor precise. Not those fingers either, no. They’re not that long. You didn’t even notice. And not the slow rise and fall of his chest, rhythmic as a metronome in a world where time has suddenly become very, very interesting.

He says your name—it’s a baton raising in the air—and it wrangles your attention. “I truly... I apologise. I do admit... that night was foolish. I'd lost control of my class. I'd invited a few over since they wanted a discussion on quantum entanglement,"

Yeah, I know entanglements. What.

Your brain performs an emergency shutdown and reboot. “Uh-huh," you manage, trying to sound like you absolutely know what that means and aren't at all imagining him demonstrating the finer points of entanglement. Because you aren’t. O-ppo-si-tions.

You shake your head, imagining your thoughts like shaking a tambourine. Focus. Revenge. Missed opportunity. Right. But why does righteous indignation have to be so hard when he's standing there looking like Einstein's hotter, sleep-deprived cousin?

“And the discussion just… I wasn’t careful with the time,” he leans forward, mouth downwards in apology. His fingers tap on his cane, mouth sucking on one side of his bottom lip.

He looks miserable. And worse, genuine. Two things that never sit right with you when they happen at the same time. A string just slightly off tune that it settles as unease in your stomach. It gives you the itch to fine-tune it, put it back how it should be.

You give Viktor a resolute nod, blinking away. “I accept your apology,” you say shortly, gaze lounging on the hallway and making sure they don’t linger on his misery.

But he searches for you eyes first, and by obligation you look back. “And have you, has there been any opportunities after then?” he asks, leaning forward, brows tilted in genuine, apologetic curiosity (your heart decides it’s now a great time to perform an accelerando. 95 bpm, if you’re counting). “Auditions and… orchestral… things? Sorry, I’m not too knowledgeable on these,”

What’s good: he’s genuinely apologetic, which may herald the end of your musical tyranny.

You lean your head backwards, aware of the distance (What’s not good: he seems unaware of the distance he’d taken up). “Uh, no. Well,” you shrug, shoulders bobbing in reminder. “Not since then. But there’s one next week. Piltover Grande Hall,”

His brows raise, seemingly in recognition. “Oh? Highly-esteemed,”

“I know. I’ll probably need a good sleep before then,” you grin, watching his face go from confusion, to apologetic, to relief in mere seconds.

“I also… I assigned some heavy research work last week to my class, which’ll be submitted tomorrow, so I’ll be grading those next week,” he added, now fully leaning on your door frame as if his upper body were trying to slink inside slowly. “We’ll both need much rest before then,”

Your eyes meet his. Face fully facing face. “Mhm,”

Prelude: “An observation of observation of observation”. String section, sweet, curious, and swelling with playful remarks. Interrupted by staccato heartbeats, conflicted by seductive cello whines.

You don’t move. Not an increment. You stay as still as your body allows, suspended in time. So does he. His eyes flicker between your left and right, expressing nothing but obvious observation of you. Your stomach breeds a butterfly when you catch his gaze dropping briefly to your mouth before flicking back to your eyes.

Interesting.

100 bpm.

No. I, “Where The Gaze Lands Will Determine The Night’s Fate”. A languid 4/4. A lone marimba begins—blithe. The chirp of a güiro.

“And what do you propose?” you tilt your head up. Are you challenging him? Depends, you suppose. Depends if he tilts his face down.

But he stays in position. Instead, brings a hand out, palm open. “A truce,” his breath brushes against your chin. Hot. Temperaturally. Temperamentally.

Does he know what he’s doing to you? There are desperate sax whines in your head. Supposedly they sound similar to the human voice.

You take his hand and shake firmly. But you don’t let go. “What are the terms?”

A soft huff of a laugh escapes him, eyes slightly narrowing. “But you’ve already agreed,” his fingers tighten slightly around your hand. Warm. Long.

“Confident in the final piece,” you assert, letting your eyes drape with leisure between his eyes and to the bone of his cheek, the mole, the mouth. And you hope he notices.

The sax is breathy. It’s now a smoky jazz riff, painting dimly lit rooms, whisperings of sweet-nothings, a daring foot hiking up another’s thigh.

Your travelling eyes seem to catch his breath.

No. II: “Where Silence Is Relative”. Strutting 2/4, beginning with a sultry glide of an accordion. A conversation between the cellos and violins.

“Does that mean you’ll rest your little concertos?” his head tilts. “Giving me peace, finally?”

You play up a pout. “Shame, I thought you were a fan,”

“As I am of quantum tunnelling through a brick wall,” he responds, the brief questioning curve of his brow indicating this was not a good thing.

“Surely my playing isn’t that bad?” a smirk.

“Not the quality, no,” he gives a small shake. His thumb softly brushes your hand. “It’s the quantity. And the timing,”

You soften your fingers, letting the tips of them brush at his wrist. “I was trying to be helpful. Heard scientists appreciated background music while working,”

A glint of something playful in his eyes. “We do. Just not at 3AM when we’re trying to grade important papers,”

“Grading?” you quirk your brow and smile. At this point, it’s far from grating to him—he’s even looking at it. “I thought silence was overrated in the pursuit of knowledge,”

“Silence is relative when you’re next door,” he gives back. His hand is now shameless, inching your closer and closer to your wrist.

You wet your lips and hum. “Relative, right. Like, whose is that—like Einstein’s?”

“Like the relative pitch of a jackhammer compared to your violin,” his expression flattens sardonically, still maintaining that disarming smile.

“I’m touched,” you lean your head on the door frame. “You think I’m as powerful?”

“Enough to redefine my understanding of ‘noise cancellation’,” he retorts, eyes rolling. What a pretty expression that is. You wonder how else you can evoke that same reaction in other contexts.

“If you ever want a demonstration…”

He laughs. “I think I’ll stick to my textbooks. Much quieter,”

You feign a mask of disappointment, gaze sharpening and hooking his eyes in for your next few words. “Pity. I was hoping to show you how good I am with my fingers,”

His mouth parts. Surprise? Temptation? But he’s hooked in and it’s all you care for. “I… uh,” he blinks, hand still around your wrist. “That’s…”

His face fills with a slight impassive contemplation, thoughts seeming to run amuck in his head as he looks down at your growing, teasing smile.

“You’ve been hearing me practise, no?” you smirk. And you can tell he knows that you know that he knows what you mean. “The violin’s not an easy instrument. Unless you’re thinking of something e—”

He diminishes the space between you with his lips on yours.

No. III, “A Swing in A#”. 113 bpm. A confident, gritty trumpet reels you in.

The door shuts and is immediately faced by Viktor’s back. His neck bends to accommodate the difference in height, his free hand at the back of your neck to press you closer to himself. Your hands find purchase around his shirt, curling around the fabric, pulling and pulling—but as he’s leaning, only his hips jut forward. Good enough.

Your mouths move in tandem. He’s occupied with your bottom lip in a sort of desperation that speaks of practise—or at least imagined practise.

You nudge upwards, hip bone meeting his in soft collision, which coaxes a filthy, back-of-the-throat grunt from him. You smile. And as you feel his other hand snake around your waist, you hear the metallic thnk of his cane against the floor.

You jerk away to look down at it. Briefly, you assess its importance and his dependence on it. “Your leg,” you breathe, breath barely allowing your real voice to pierce through.

He’s nuzzling at the side of your face, gaping mouth at your cheek as he catches some air. “I’ll manage,”

When you turn to him, your heart jumps at the sight of him. Dishevelment caused by your hands, a slight flush from arousal, eyes rounded and trained on your mouth. You don’t look but can’t help noticing the hardness pressed against your lower belly.

“It doesn’t hurt?” you ask.

He shakes his head and finally draws his eyes back to yours. “A… discomfort. But not pain,” he dips in for a kiss, hand sliding up to tilt your jaw towards him.

A smirk becomes of you. “Mm… about the, uh… retribution. I do admit, I took it too far,”

His eyes widen in mock surprise. “Did you? All those unproductive nights, I truly didn’t notice,”

You roll your eyes at his quip. “But I was thinking of how to properly apologise,”

He quirks a brow, thumb tracing at the border of your lip and chin. “And how will you show your remorse?”

“Ah, well, I’m just like you,” a soft laugh escapes you, and you lean towards him to hide the slight embarrassment rushing to blush your cheeks. “Thinking all about… entanglements,”

“Do, please, demonstrate your version,” his accent noticeably makes ‘demonstrate’ even sharper and more pronounced.

“Only if you talk about yours,”

With a swift kiss, you silence him, lips capturing his words. Your hands grip his body, gently guiding him away from the door. Viktor's eyes, intense and unwavering, remain locked on you as you lead him a few feet to the side to the upright piano.

In one smooth motion, your foot hooks around the piano bench, sliding it out. Your hands, warm and certain, travel up to Viktor's shoulders, guiding him down onto the seat with a gentle and firm pressure. His gaze never falters.

For a breathless moment, you tower over him, drinking in the sight of him. He's even more deliciously undone—hair tousled, shirt askew, lips slightly parted.

The room seems to shrink, the world narrowing to just the two of you. You're minutely aware of every shallow breath, every subtle shift of his body, each time the muscles in his neck form a 'v'.

Something all-consuming takes root in your core, to hear his voice wearing your name—not just spoken, but gasped, moaned, worshipped.

“So?” you prompt. “Begin,”

No. IV, “Viktor’s Recitative”. An accented voice searching for focus. Punctuated by gasps.

“It’s, ehm, quantum entanglement. Imagine two dancers, perfectly in sync no matter how far apart they are. When particles become entangled, they share a quantum state. If you measu—”

With your leg you push his knees apart.

“Uh, if you measure one, you instantly know about the other. As if… as if connected by an invisible thread of… mm, cosmic intimacy,”

You kneel slowly, gaze locked onto his as he searches for his next words. “Rather romantic,” you add.

He swallows. And you take it as a suggestion.

“I think so, too. Two particles, forever intertwined,” his eyes fall to your hand as you palmed one knee, your head resting on his other leg. “Fates… linked across the, the vast…ness of space and t—time,” he jerks forward as your hand pressed a little too near his centre.

The sound makes your breath hitch. More. Your cheek’s brushing against the cotton of his pants, your other hand cradling around his calf. The hand on his knee roams further upwards, thumb applying more pressure on the ins of his thigh.

“Regardless of distance, still they influence each other in ways we can’t f—” he breaks off with a whine as your palm grazes the growing swell beneath his pants. It takes every ounce of self-control not to grasp him fully, to feel the entirety of him at once. “Fully…” his eyes follow where you press harder, your mouth curving into a smile. “Comprehend,” the word falls with more breath.

He leans back against the piano, elbows weighing down keys and sending a jarring, discordant chord alongside his sighs.

You straighten, bringing your other hand to the knot of his waistband. Your finger hooks onto it, thumb caressing the single button. Your gaze travels upward, admiring the sight of him leaning back, his shirt riding up to reveal a tantalising glimpse of hair trailing downward.

His breathing slows, becoming deep and measured as your finger grazes the skin of his stomach, the fine hairs tickling knuckles. For a moment, you imagine yourself above him, watching him squirm as his eyes fixate on the point where your bodies would join. Another day.

With a deft movement, you pop the button free. Leaning in, you catch your lower lip between your teeth as your hands gently guide him from the confines of his boxers.

His form arches slightly to one side, living sculpture of desire. Delicate ridges trace his length, and at the apex, his glans gleams like a ripe cherry. Tempting fruit begging to be tasted.

Deep, methodical breaths, you remind yourself. Deep and methodical. And oh so deep. You wrench your thoughts from this enticing path, lifting gaze to meet his. Your eyes seek permission, finding his half-lidded stare heavy with want.

Your palm, warm and inviting, glides along his length with exquisite slowness. The motion elicits a shudder that ripples through his hips, a breath catching in his throat like a trapped butterfly. His head falls back, unveiling the elegant lines of his neck.

Emboldened, you repeat the caress, this time allowing your grip to ascend until it reaches the pinnacle. There, with deliberate tenderness, you gather the pre-cum with a slight swipe. The touch brings a cluster of stuttered gasps and half-formed words. His body, as if magnetised, curls towards you, hands grasping the edges of the bench, white-knuckled, anchoring himself.

Your name escapes his lips in a plaintive groan, lust renewing his voice with a gravelly quality.

Responding to his unspoken plea, you stretch upward, capturing his mouth with yours. A reward. A prelude. Your lips, soft yet insistent, trail a path down to his chin, then along the sharp line of his jaw. He tilts his head back, an offering, granting you unimpeded access to the column of his neck. You accept the invitation eagerly, pressing a kiss to his bobbing Adam's apple, and leaving a trail of lilac.

Your hand torments him with a slow ride down, grip tightening incrementally with each kiss. But there's a yearning for more, craving something more substantial. Not that this isn't intoxicating—the pulsing in your core is evidence enough.

The moment a more desperate whine unfurls from his lips, a ribbon of pure need, drawing you in. It's the tipping point. As if thanking him for the sinful sound, your lips abandon the canvas of his neck, attention now wholly focused on his full, flushed hardness.

You level with the sight of his arousal, standing eager, tip glistening. Your breath ghosts over his sensitive skin, eliciting a shudder that courses through his entire body. You hear the complaint of squeezed leather beneath his grip.

“Show me how you like it,” you breathe, letting the little puffs of air tickle at his reddened shaft.

Seemingly overwhelmed, he remains answerless, eyes resting on your blushed mouth. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, as if reciting an undeniable truth, akin to the blue of the sky or the firmness of his length. His thumb traces the contours of your mouth with gossamer lightness. “Indulge as you please,”

At that, you smile, gently guiding his hand away and pressing a kiss tender on his knuckles. And with a final, heated glance up at his face—flushed with want, eyes dark with need—you lower your head, lips parting.

With a delicate grace, you envelop him, your lips forming a perfect crescent around his crown. Slowly, deliberately, you welcome him into the warmth of your mouth, one hand gliding to his base with tender precision. The other, seeking purchase, finds his chest, gently urging him backward to grant you greater freedom of movement.

He yields without resistance, acquiescence punctuated by a cascade of desperate, breathy whimpers as he reclines against the piano. The instrument protests beneath his bones, dissonant notes plunking out objections at the sin unfolding before it.

You savour him—heady salt and warmth. His velvet glides across your palette, your lips tightening in counterpoint. Your tongue laps and flattens against him in a rhythm that plucks a brief grunt from him. Curiosity compelling you, you lift your gaze to meet his. In that fleeting moment, his eyebrows arch—whether at the feeling or the sight, you prefer the idea of the latter—a wordless expression of awe at the vision before him.

This silent exchange ignites a fervour in you. You increase your tempo, sound of saliva blending seamlessly with his escalating pants. His voice, once controlled, now tumbles in a torrent of incoherent, keening pleas. His fingers now tangle gently in your hair, curling and uncurling in unconscious rhythm. When you dare to take him deeper, his grip tightens ever so slightly.

A deep groan reverberates from the depths of your throat, setting off a cascade of reactions that ripple through both your bodies. The raw sound triggers an involuntary response in him; his hips stutter and twitch forward with barely restrained urgency, cock brushing dangerously far back in your throat.

This sudden intrusion causes your body to react instinctively. Your grip on him tightens, fingers digging into the soft flesh of his thighs, pliant tongue pressing fully against him, cheeks hollowing with increased suction.

The sensation brings tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over. Yet, you hold them back, your focus entirely consumed by the incoherent, mangled words tumbling from Viktor's lips. His loss of composure only serves to fuel you, ushering more strangled moans from you.

With a deliberate leisure, you pull him out of your mouth, slight, wet ‘pop' punctuating the action. A grin plays across your lips as you lick them slowly, savouring his taste and the way his eyes track the movement of your tongue.

Leaning back in with renewed purpose, you flatten your tongue against the sensitive underside of his length. You drag it upwards, feeling every ridge and vein. As you reach the tip, you linger at the frenulum, that exquisitely sensitive spot just beneath the head. Your tongue dances there, teasing and tantalising, while your hand presses firmly against his abdomen, pushing him back slightly, maintaining control.

This calculated move elicits a pleased hum from him, a sound that vibrates through his body and into yours. Encouraged by his response, you repeat the movement, each pass of your tongue a perfect mirror of the last, building a rhythm that teeters on the edge between pleasure and sweet torment.

You revel—the choked desperation emanating from the back of his throat, the frantic rise and fall of his chest—tempestuous sea. His jaw, slack, burns into your imagination, conjuring tantalising visions of how it might feel nestled between your trembling thighs. Pure masterpiece before you.

A thought dances through your mind: how differently might he approach his little entanglements if it were you sprawled across his desk instead of the mundane paperwork? The notion trails a delicious shiver down you.

The tip of your tongue traces feather-light around his sensitive crown. Slowly, teasingly, you envelop his tip between your lips. Tongue, emboldened, finds its way back to the frenulum and lingers there. Your hands continue to glide in smooth, quickened motions, descending and rising fluidly. His breaths grow increasingly laboured as you continue, his hips jutting and twitching. You apply gentle pressure, guiding him downward.

With a filthy cry that escapes him, you feel the hot release at the roof of your mouth. Encouraging him further, you draw him deeper, welcoming the spill into your throat with a rough hum. His voice breaks as he calls out your name between ragged gasps. It sounds almost like prayer.

Further sinful whines fall out of him as you continue to swallow and lap him from inside.

As you feel his tension finally easing, you slowly withdraw, your tongue tracing the pearlescent spill. His sharp, staccato breaths punctuate the silence, and he brings his hand to your chin, lifting your attention to him.

You smile, swallowing, though proving futile, his release unrelentingly coating the back of your throat.

“Will I get to demonstrate?” he breathes, voice hoarse.

He smirks. The fucker.

You shake your head. “Not tonight. Tonight’s my repentance,”

[makuzume]

Toge Accidentally Uses His Cursed Speech on You (Part 4)

🔅content: Light angst/light comfort; gn!reader; no pronoun mentions

🔅synopsis: It's been 2 days since you last seen Toge... How do you go about this? What are you supposed to do? You wonder how to address the situation at hand...

🔅a/n: "What happened to posting part 4 soon" I ended up scraping the entire part 4 draft and remade it because I didn't like it :'D Thank you everyone for being so patient and putting up w my bs aaa Let me know if you want to be in the tags list and enable ur tagging :3

[JJK Masterlist] [Part 1 & 2] [Part 3]

🔅Word Count: 2.2K

"...Should I... open it...?" You asked yourself quietly, looking down on your phone as you stared at the multiple notifications you received from Toge.

13 missed calls

31 new messegaes

All unopened, all unanswered.

Slowly, you hover your finger over to his chat box, however, you hesitate- quickly shutting off your phone and plopping down on the soft mattress where you sat.

While the rest of the Okkotsu family went out to watch the movies, you decided to stay in the house by yourself. "You should come...! I'm sure it will help lift your spirits." Mrs. Okkotsu offered, to which you kindly declined her offer.

You figured you needed some time to be alone for now, but the lack of presence in the house ended up cauing a deafening silence to fill the halls, creating more opportunities for you to overthink the recent events between you and Toge.

'...I wonder... what did he say...'

'...why am I so scared to read it...?'

Over the past two days, you've been comfortably staying over Yuta's family home in the city. But since Yuta wasn't there at the moment, his parents and sister have been kindly accomodating you the entire time.

You were incredibly embarassed and reluctant to stay over, afraid of becoming only a nuisance to the Okkotsu family, especially since current situation between you and Toge was not at all very dire, just an arguement between two lovers.

Fortunately, Yuta and his mother were understanding and very insistent that you were welcome for as long as you'd like. Afterall, you were also one of Yuta's closest friends.

Trying your best to not cause them too much trouble, you help out with minor chores like the dishes, setting up the table, throwing out the trash- but each time you do so, you were met with gentle scolding.

"We told you to rest! You're still very hurt!"

"No no no, you're a guest, put that down!"

"We are not letting you wash the plates. Go back to bed and lie down for a nap! We'll bring you some snacks later."

"Nonsense! You are not a burden! You are a good friend of Yuta, and he asked us to take care of you, so sit down and don't worry about us."

Though that did seem to reduce the amount of guilt you felt, you were still rather embarassed for staying over someone else's family home just to hide from an ongoing dispute with Toge. So, you figured you shouldn't overstay your welcome, at least.

You look at your phone once again, staring at Toge's contact name as you remember your last encounter with him.

Staring at the ceiling above, you allow the memories from the incident flood your mind once more- remembering the sorrow, the pain, the sadness....

The entire time you knew Toge, he had always felt like the safest person to be around with, and you trusted him more than anyone- be it about your safety or your feelings. Naturally, the shock from accidentally getting cursed would shaken you up quite a lot.

You were badly hurt, both physically and emotionally.

And even for a short moment, you even felt afraid of him for the first time.

A feeling you knew would devastate him if he knew.

As shy as you were to admit it, all you did the entire day after the incident was quiety cry inside the guest bedroom in Yuta's home.

You can say that you rather had mixed feelings about the whole thing. Not a moment has passed in which you weren't thinking about it.

At first, it was shock, then fear, followed by pain before sadness, eventually leading to worry- the feeling you were experiencing right now.

Why 'worry'? You think to yourself, curious as to why there was this sense of longing to see him despite the accident.

It was a strange feeling in your chest. Most certainly, you were still very much upset and hurt about what he had done to you, but still-

"...I wonder how he must feel right now..." You hug the pillow nearest to you closer to your chest, unable to stray away the concern you felt for him.

Perhaps it was the way he looked at you the moment he misused his speech on you. The way Toge's eyes expressed so much shock, the way his voice was filled with so much guilt and fear... You have never seen him act in such a way before, especially considering the fact that he was always the more calm and composed one between the two of you.

You couldn't get the desperate tone of his voice out of your head, and you frequently find yourself vividly remembering the panicked expression he displayed on his face.

"...He must be worried..." You whisper to the pillow you held tightly, your eyelids closing as you replay the events of the accident.

More than anyone, you understood him the most, and you knew that this must be really messing up his mind right now.

It was one of his deepest fears, hurting someome he loves unintentionally with his speech, and you knew how deep this sort of wound would cut him on the inside.

More so, there was also the fact that Toge had personally witnessed the tragic events that happened to his allies in Shibuya... not to mention the fact that he had also been heavily pinning the blame on himself for the death of innocent civilians' lives.... lives which he felt responsible of protecting, all because he led them to take shelter to the same area Sukuna had unleashed his Malevolent Shrine.

'Truly...' you thought.

'this must be really messing up his mind right now....'

You turn over to your side, eyes staring blankly into the empty air in front of you.

"...He was distant and acting different from what happened in Shibuya afterall... I know he didn't mean to hurt me..." you whispered quietly, trying to think of how to address the situation.

You sat up, your hand firmly grasping your phone, a hesitant but concerned tone evident in your voice "I... don't want to make him feel any worse than he already does..."

Without a doubt, Toge was always so good to you. So protective, so understanding, so kind, so loving...

He was always there for you at your lowest points... and you never even had the chance to return such comfort to him before, so you think to yourself:

'...it's my turn.'

Your previous attempt to aid his sorrow didn't end up so well, but that's why you were willing to try again; To try again for him.

He probably hasn't been consoled ever since the incindent in Shibuya either. You, Panda, Yuta, or even Maki hadn't heard from him the entire time, and that's considering that all of you are his closest friends.

You ponder about it, and then you realize he probably wouldn't have ended up hurting you by accident or behaving so distant towards everyone if he had just allowed himself to be comforted- to be held and be told 'it's okay.'

...And you couldn't help but want to be that person who does that for him.

The more you thought about this, the more you wanted to see him.

You already released all the shock, hurt, and sadness for the past few days through a few weeping sessions in the small guest room before, and you think it's about time to come out of hiding.

You try to gain back your composure.

"...I wonder where he is... I hope... he's not pushing himself." You glance at your wallpaper, looking at a picture of Toge holding up a silly little peace sign while he sat next to a cute little dog you randomly met on the street.

You couldn't help but chuckle softly for a moment, then, your smile slowly fades back to form a serious expression on your face.

You miss the smile in his eyes like in the photo.

The idea of him in such sadness, worry, and pain ended up hurting you just as much as well.

"...I should talk to him."

So, you unlock your phone, open messages, and look for his contact name once again.

His contact nickname and his silly little photo appear.

'Bonito Flakes'

"...There."

Just when you were about to tap his name, you paused.

"Uh... wait... what should I say...?"

You pull back your thumb from the screen, suddenly having a bit of a panic on how to address the situation.

"..How do I reach out to him...? What... did he text me..? Is he upset with me? Is he looking for me...?"

His last text was from yesterday night, so you weren't sure what should be the best mood to approach him at this moment.

Just then, as if fate had timed this moment perfectly, a notification suddenly pops up on the top of your screen.

1 new message from Bonito Flakes

You gasped, completely taken aback from seeing his name.

'Wait... I'm not ready...!!'

You panicked slightly, causing you to drop your phone on the hard wood floor by accident, a loud thump echoing throughout the room. Fortunately, the Okkotsu family still hasn't returned from their outing yet, otherwise, you'd give them another reason to be worried about you.

You sigh, picking it back up as you lightly shook your head to gain back your composure.

As you check your sceen, you see another text from Toge come in.

Then another.

And another.

It made you slightly nervous but curious as to what his multiple texts were saying right now, and it sort of made you even more worried to know what he sent.

Is he sad? Does he need you? Is he just reaching out? Is he leaving the school? Does he want to distance himself from you?

"I'll... wait a little..."

Ultimately, you decided to let him finish sending his messages before you view it.

He sent quite a handful of texts, and it took a while before the messages stopped coming in. But just to be sure, you waited for a few minutes in case he had any late follow ups.

"I'll.... wait a little more..." You whisper to yourself as you stare at the phone in front of you, hoping to view his messages during a time when he's offline- You just wanted to make sure there was enough time for you to process and react to his texts without the pressure of him waiting for your response.

But the green dot next to his profile picture was still lit up, meaning, that he would be able to immediately see your replies the moment you send it.

But you would prefer he only sees it AFTER you're done sending your responses.

Sighing heavily, you whisper once more '...I guess I'll wait again...'

You check again after a few minutes, it was still green. So you wait again.

More time had passed but still- the green dot remained.

You wait again.

It was all you could think about for the past few hours as you move back and forth from checking your phone to lying down, staring into nothing...

Untul finally, at hour three, the green dot turns dim.

And with that, you were left with no excuse to delay opening your inbox any longer. "...alright... here we go.... I guess..."

With a hefty sigh and a single tap of your finger, you open his inbox.

Your eyes widened suddenly, immediate shock at the realization.

With a quickened pace, you hurridly limped towards the nearest window, the cast on your leg creating a slight scratching sound as you drag it across the floor.

Pulling away the curtains, you scan the street below in search for the white haired boy.

You squint your eyes slightly, trying to adjust your eyes to the darkness of the night.

Then, you see him.

"He... he's still there...?"

On the opposite side of the street, there sat Toge on the small pavement across from Yuta's house.

His head rested on his arm and his head hung low, perhaps taking a bit of a nap as he waited for your reply.

A wave of guilt suddenly washes over you as you realize how long you've made him wait out in the cold for a single reply.

You text him.

Toge???? Why did you wait for me?

You look drenched, what happened???

How long have you been there???

But your messages didn't seem to get through, not showing a mark of it being delivered.

"His phone battery must've died...."

Instictively, you hurried out the room with a more detemined expression, carefully treading the stairs with your injured leg, and rushed out the door.

Unintentionally, the noise of opening the door a little too quickly echoed across the dead silent street, casuing Toge to immediately jolt himself awake.

He made eye contact with you while he remained seated across the street, shocked at your sudden appearance.

Embarassed for startling him, you slightly lose your confidence and shy away from his gaze, a small lump in your throat preventing you from voicing out any words.

Toge stood up slowly, his eyes widen but his chest beated out of nervousness.

He doesn't expect anything positve, but still, he remained hopeful, as much as he felt like he didn't deserve you.

"...um...." you started, hoping to break the akward silence that filled the air.

"...I-...."

"....."

"....p-...please, come in...."

....

[Back to JJK Masterlist] [Part 1 & 2] [Part 3] [Part 5]

a/n: So happy I finally finished this :')))))))) Shoutout to anon that poked me abt this that genuinely helped me lolol I just really needed a little push to finish this

NOTE classes are back ^^ and I'm doing some part-time comms sooo I'll be a lil busy but ofc I won't abandon this I luv this series <3

Credits to @makuzume on Tumblr || Do not steal, translate, modify, reupload my works on any platform.

tags list: @zhenyuuu @cowcreamers @mushroommorgue @yunho-leeknow @lemonnotade @exodiam @an-ever-angry-bi @cirieria @chifuyufirstwife @strxbxrrylover @sturns55

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt XVI good omens season 2 (still not traumatic) episode 3 EDINBURGH

HELLO IT'S ME IT'S THE OFFICIAL GOOD OMENS MASCOT WHY DO I STILL KEEP INTRODUCING MYSELF IDK. If you don't know who I am, thank God and Satan for their mercy and flee. Also, the day after I post this, I'll be watching the last three episodes on livestream for the first time so. You know. I'm hyped on the energy of this being my last day not enveloped in tears. Take the summary:

Before the episode starts, someone asks why Crowley said in the last episode that Aziraphale couldn't fall because look at him, all angelic when Crowley looked the same as starmaker. I reply that "Crowley thinks he deserved it, he sees Azi as something beautiful and untouched while he probably sees himself as idk marked in some way so god kicked him down."

I am told that I am learning too fast to weaponise the narrative to induce angst. So then I say oh, I go too fast for you. Tears ensue.

The episode begins! Everyone shrieks about Edinburgh, David Tennant, how it is their favourite episode, and SCOTTISH CROWLEY.

We open with lesbians being gay, and then Muriel enters as Inspector Constable! They are very sweet and very determined to do their job right, and they are adopted by Crowley and Aziraphale just like Jim.

Crowley sits on Aziraphale's chair's arm. The maggots all swoon.

Fine, I also swooned.

Aziraphale gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss-mansplain-manipulate-manwhores his way into getting Crowley to give him the Bentley keys (BOUNDARIES. BOUNDARIES.).

WHAT PLENTY OF USE DO BOTH OF YOU GET OUT OF THE BOOKSHOP?

The really ineffable plan is whatever the fuck was happening in Aziraphale's brain when he somehow went from London to Edinburgh via Loch Ness (check the map) and then proceeded to disguise himself as a detective who pretends to be a journalist.

Crowley slays in sleeve garters and a cardigan keeping house in the bookshop meanwhile, does not sell books, instead cleans with Jimbriel and periodically yeets book stacks into corners when distracted.

Aziraphale reads his old diary entries about Crowley, a (6000+) 13 year old with a crush.

MINISODE MINISODE. They are in Edinburgh during the mid 1800s. Victorian outfits, check. Scottish Crowley, check. Capitalist Karen Aziraphale, che-wait what.

Huh. Well. There's a wee bit of body snatchin' going on, to sell to doctors for medical research because there aren't enough murderers, and to make enough money to survive.

Aziraphale channels his inner capitalist judgemental Karen and ruins that plan, come on Aziraphale you have religious trauma but you're better than this, and long story short, Wee Morag dies after Aziraphale realises his error, her friend Elspeth has to sell her corpse for pennies, and is about to commit suicide with laudanum. Azi, oh god. I'm glad you underwent character development at least.

NOW CROWLEY HERE SLAYS. I KNOW THIS IS AZIRAPHALE'S PERSPECTIVE AND IS BIASED. BUT WITH THIS POV, CROWLEY SLAYS.

He calmly educates Aziraphale about how his whole "the poor have more opportunities and you shouldn't give them money or they'll lose the virtue of poverty" is absolute bullshit, and he does this understanding Aziraphale's situation and not losing his temper.

The framing. The framing of the shot when they see Wee Morag and Elspeth sitting down on a step and explaining their situation. Aziraphale stands above, bustling with righteousness, and judges them. Crowley sits down. He sits down next to them, rather than taking the high ground. He meets them where they are and empathises. It is the fact that he is fallen and damned that makes him behave really divine and sorry I wrote a whole hymn on him have it I'll stop rambling just know I love him.

I think his amusement is a facade so hell won't think he's genuinely being good. I think he's morally grey and incredibly brave and kind.

When Elspeth is bouta kill herself with the laudanum, Crowley grabs it and drinks it himself, and grows tiny and then huge, absolutely high off his head. David Tennant takes the opportunity to travel Scotland from east to west in terms of accent variety.

He gives us the good message of NO DYIN'. NO MORE DYIN'. IT'S NOT ON. And then forces Aziraphale (who doesn't want to ruin her virtuous poverty) to give the girl all the guineas he has in his pocket, and tells her to go off and start a farm or something. BUT NOT JUST PRETENDY GOOD, BE PROPERLY GOOD.

He then gets pulled into hell. To be punished for this. Aziraphale is frightened and heartbroken for him, looking around desperately, and we find out that Crowley didn't meet him for a while after. And later he wanted holy water. To protect himself? He got punished by hell. For how long? The whole month in between the incident and the diary entry? There can't be anyone better at punishment and cruelty than hell.

Sorry I'm just screaming here.

Never mind fuck I started this summary really happy and bouncy and listening to a dance playlist. Dionysus by BTS and Italian pop is still playing and now I'm crying.

Is this the natural progression. Fuck I'm crying. Sorry guys something else happens with Aziraphale politely talking to a phone and Crowley smiling really beautifully while unsuccessfully trying to manipulate two lesbians into a relationship and something about a visit I don't care everyone's being morally dubious as usual and then lovely Scottish music outro I CAN'T FUCKING ELABORATE I'M SITTING HERE CRYING OVER CROWLEY.

right summary done, time to go sob, lmao i thought i wouldn't cry today over good omens HAHAHAHA still not traumatic eh HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

[the-s1lly-corner]

can you do slashers x s/o who is cruel to others but nice to him

Michael, Jason, Brahms x reader who is mean to everyone but them

have to bake a cake soon and i am lowkey not looking forward to it- though i may be thinking that now because at the moment i am bone tired LMAO notes: reader is gn, short post cws: none

MICHAEL

you two are made for each other, being in the same boat- youre the only person hes really nice to, and hes the only person youre nice to

sure, calling his behavior nice is a stretch but hes yet to kill you or harm you in any way... leagues better than anyone else who has crossed paths with him

vaguely finds you amusing and interesting when you switch from being sweet with him to snarling at someone who dared to look at you wrong

there isnt much to say here! the two of you share similar energy, sometimes you both kind of just silently bristle over someone who was rather... irritating that day.. whether it be a victim or someone at the store

JASON

doesnt quite know how to feel about it but youre never nasty to him so ultimately hes not too concerned about it

depending on whats going on he may lightly disapprove some of the things you say but hes not going to stop you

though if he agrees with some of the nasty things you say to someone who deserves it... hes silently agreeing, assuming hes not already marching over to put an end to them- more likely than not theyre not supposed to be anywhere near the camp in the first place... so they have this coming! your words are just added punishment for not staying away!

if youre on the vulgar side he may pause for a moment, especially if this is a new side to you hes never really seen... its just a bit of a shock is all!

BRAHMS

it makes him feel special and the fact that you treat him so well in comparison to others goes to his head- like a lot

sure you dont interact with many people outside of him, really you just talk to the grocery boy if youre not talking to brahms... but hes more than pleased when youre so obviously not interested in wasting your time on the man

watches from the wall with a satisfied smirk as you let a hiss slip through your teeth as the man tries to strike a conversation with you

now does he think you sometimes come off as rude and have no manners? yes, but that first bullet overshadows those thoughts, besides brahms himself can be a bit... rude himself as well so really he doesnt have much room to talk

also gives him reassurance that youre not going anywhere because why would you be around those you hate?

[parvulous-writings]

Could I request headcanons for Wyll, Rolan, and Zevlor react to being stuck in close proximity with gn crush?

Warnings: None!

Notes: These may be a little short/uneven, but these were so cute to write!! Anon, you've become such a prominent asker, that I'd love to give you a nickname of some sort, if you're comfortable with that! <3  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Wyll

Wyll is a gentleman about the whole situation - or at least he tries to be. He gives you as much space as he is able to, even though he's squishing himself into a corner, he's more than happy to do that so that you're comfortable.

He tries to keep up conversation with you, to try and distract from the somewhat uncomfortable situation; mostly mundane questions, like 'What's your favourite...' or 'Have you ever...' It's also partly to distract you from the fact that his cheeks are burning hotter than the hells. Who'd have thought it'd be easy to fluster the Blade of Frontiers, even if it were only slightly, by being so near to him?

He cannot take his eyes off of you. Not even for a moment. He tries, at first, but finds it astronomically difficult, and eventually just gives in. He loves gazing at you - your presence brings him such peace, even in such a compromising position such as this.

Once the two of you are found/make your way out of the confined space, Wyll apologises - even though it was not his fault - and offers to make it up to you at some point, by however you see fit.

Rolan

Rolan is entirely speechless. He cannot find the words to say anything to you, not even a half-handed snappy quip. His eyes rarely meet yours, and are rather more often aimed off to the side, or somewhere above your heads. It's... Quite awkward.

You try anything to break the silence between the two of you; "Can you move your leg, please, Rolan?" Followed by a quiet shuffle as Rolan tries to move a little bit further from you but still remain comfortable. It is of little use on either front, but he tries. Any question of "how are you feeling?" Or "You okay?" is met with either complete silence, or a quiet grunt of acknowledgement.

Rolan doesn't know what to do, he's never been in a situation like this before - much less a situation where he can't find the words to express himself. His heart is pounding against his ribcage, harder than he can recall it ever being in his life. He's entirely tense, and he has no idea what to do; his normal confident facade has completely crumbled away, leaving little besides anxiety, and a slightly fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever you speak.

The first chance he gets after the pair of you can separate, he all but disappears from view - for several hours. You had wanted to talk to him about it, but couldn't find him anywhere. Eventually you do find him, but as soon as you bring up the situation, he turns his gaze from you; "I... Would rather not dwell on the situation... If it's all the same to you." He's just too flustered still to be able to process any of it.

Zevlor

Zevlor is constantly asking how you're feeling. "Are you sure you're well?" followed a few minutes later with, "Is there anything you need? ... Yes, I am aware I can't go and get anything, but I'm sure you understand the sentiment..."

He constantly asks you if you're alright, comfortable, etc. Neither of you know how long you're going to be stuck in this situation, so is completely understanding of the constant need to shuffle to keep your limbs from going dead. This being said, he'll always tell you if he's going to try and move himself, just so that he can try not to kick you, and you can brace yourself just in case of this outcome.

He tells you of his time in Elturel before it's descent into Avernus, his time as a Hellrider, all sorts. He finds it very easy to share things with you, since he's so sweet on you - it would usually take some probing for anyone to get that kind of information out of him. But, since he would like to establish more of a relationship with you, he's willing to part with some of it.

Once the two of you are out in the open again, Zevlor double checks that you're okay. "I would have hoped to have had some of those conversations in a more... Traditional way. But, I suppose, one cannot deny the deft hands of fate, hm?"

[bokutosbabe]

I have no idea if this is where asks are sent but I am CRAVING some Oikawa or Ushijima figs rn 😍 OR EVEN DAICHI IM DESPERATE ID EAT UP ANYTHING YOU WRITE I BEG

AHAHA YOU FOUND THE PERFECT PLACE TO COME i love literally ALL of these characters but i chose to do ushijima since i’ve been wanting to write for him😻 i can always do the others if you want!!

Greatest in the League

a/n — i def put my own spin on this so i’m so sorry if it’s not exactly what you imagined😭🫶🏼 also made reader gn since a gender wasn’t specified . ALSO YES I MADE USHIJIMA OBLIVIOUS HE LITERALLY THOUGHT HINATA WAS GRIPPING ONTO BRAZIL BC HE WAS ON THE “OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD”

content — ushijima x gn! reader, ushijima and reader are married , fluff, set in time skip (at the olympics actually), secret relationship, honestly not much to talk abt, i think that’s it- lmk if i missed anything!

synopsis — Ushijima Wakatoshi, wing spiker and outside hitter for the Olympic men’s volleyball team, has a secret. Something only two people in the entire world know of, including him.

✿.｡.“ where’s the trophy? ”.｡.✿

one point.

one point was all that separated Japans men’s volleyball team from the champion title. a singular point that rested on Japans side of the net. Ushijima watched as the other team served

one. komori’s perfect receive- no one expected any less

two. atsumu’s terrifyingly beautiful set, every spiker they had running for the ball.

three. straight to ushijima wakatoshi.

the ball smacked against his palm, and boom. The other team had no time to even react as the wing spiker all but slammed the ball onto the other side of the court.

23-25

“AND JAPAN TAKES IT ALL!!” the announcers could be heard from the booth they were seated in. While the other team had shuffled off the court, the japan’s team was celebrating- many arms thrown around Ushijima, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

where were you?

The paparazzi had flooded the court, taking pictures of all the players while the giant trophy of the world’s best team was brought out, and yet ushijima needed to see you first.

“good job wakatoshi!” the males ears caught the three words, turning around as he heard your voice- spotting you standing at the railing that separated the many onlookers from the court.

“hey ushiwaka we need to take a pic with the trophy- hey where are you going?” he heard hoshiumi’s voice loud and clear, but his focus was on a familiar face in the crowd—yours. Without a second thought, he pushed through the throng of reporters and fans, his powerful strides carrying him swiftly toward you.

if there was one thing you hadn’t expected from ushijima after all the years of being together, it was this. you watched in awe as he came running over, the determined look on his face softening the moment he reached you. He didn’t say a word, simply enveloping you in a tight hug, causing many eyes and cameras to be turned towards the both of you.

After getting married two years ago the two of you had decided to keep your life out of the public eye, i mean- ushijima wouldn’t want his beautiful partner to get bombarded with all the questions that were sure to come their way, but as of right now he couldn’t care less.

ushijima wakatoshi was not a man of words, much rather showing his feelings through actions, so that he did. the star player leaned down before pressing a kiss to your lips, the camera flashes going off in the split second the two of your lips were connected.

“what’s with the photos?” he asked you as his hands rested on your waist.

ushijima wakatoshi was not a man of words, so when he had a post game interview with many bombarding questions about the person he had kissed, he’d decided actions would speak louder than words.

let’s just say, twitter and all news articles were buzzing about the outside hitters showing his left ring finger being adorned with a silver wedding band during the interviews.

✿.｡.“ he just comes running over to me ”.｡.✿

it’s super short and i actually hate it. i’m so sorry it took this long😭

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[ovaryacted]

TOUCH

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x gn!reader

CONTENT/WARNINGS: 18+/MDNI. Slight NSFW at the end! Kissing. Light Handjob. Just Leon craving your touch because he's a needy softie and he gets clingy.

WC: 1.1k

NOTES: Just a little drabble I worked on at 3 am for absolutely no reason lol. A little inspired by this one post made by @wherenymphsroam that got me thinking about this particular interaction and I wanted to build off on it a bit. I also didn't think of a specific version of Leon, so insert whichever one your heart desires!

Leon is cute when he’s needy, his constant affection a sign of his intensely growing attachment to you. He always needs to touch you, always needs to be near you, both as a form of reassurance and out of habit.

He’d hold your hand whenever he could, especially when participating in the domestic duties that came with being in a relationship, like grocery shopping or heading down to that cafe two blocks down from his place. He liked to gently rub his thumb over your hand, making sure your fingers were intertwined together, and sometimes absentmindedly kissed your knuckles and palm. Something about your hands brought him a sense of comfort that’s convinced him he couldn’t live without feeling them in any capacity.

In reality, Leon is just addicted to you, it’s that simple. You filled all of his senses completely, each in their regard a sign of his everlasting devotion to you and only you. You never complained, knowing that your boyfriend would rather show you his wants and needs over vocalizing them.

When he gets handsy it doesn’t take you by surprise anymore. If he didn’t find you in his bed in the morning, he knows you’d probably be in the kitchen drinking your coffee at the start of your day. He’d come up groggily behind you, head full of bed hair as he wrapped his arms around your waist, digging his face into your neck. Placing soft kisses against your skin, you’d merely hum at him, realizing how touching you seemed to be part of his daily routine.

He’s a cuddler, enjoying being in your arms and resting with you when you both have the time to indulge. You don’t think he’d ever admit it, but he loves it when you run your fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp, his chest rumbling out a deep sigh as his head rested on your chest.

You also noticed how he was rather fond of your chest as a whole, using it as a personal stress ball or a pillow, same with your ass. Wearing a T-shirt in the apartment? He’d slip a hand underneath it just to give you a squeeze or rub. If you wore shorts or any baggy pants, he’d simply squeeze at your behind whenever he could, providing a soft pat when he walked by you.

There wasn’t a time of day where you didn’t find Leon touching you. The consistency of his behavior only warmed your heart more, knowing that if he ever stopped touching you there was something seriously wrong.

But what you loved most was just how pathetic Leon could get when he was desperate for your touch. It would always start the same, with you feeling his presence against your back. He’d start to kiss at any visible skin he could reach, breathing in your scent from behind your ear. You didn’t have to verbally ask him what had gotten into him, you already knew, but you still liked to tease him anyway.

“You need something?”, he’d hear you say, in that same tantalizing voice that would only make his dick throb. With a hum, Leon would softly bite your ear, sending a shiver down your spine at the touch.

“Need you”, it never amazed you how his voice would betray him so quickly, dropping an octave and raspier than before. It always lit the fire deep in your gut when you heard him like that.

You turned around to face him, looking into his eyes and noticing the growing blush on his cheeks. He took your hand in his, placing it on the growing bulge in his sweatpants and exhaling when he felt your touch.

“How long have you been like this?”, a silly question really, fully aware that all it took from you was a glance for Leon to get hard.

“A while. I was just thinking about you”, he muttered, hips pressing into your palm to gain more friction.

“You’re always thinking about me”

“Yeah, and I never hear you complaining”, he said, making you roll your eyes at the grin he had on his face.

You palmed Leon’s hardening cock through his sweats and took a glimpse at his pretty face. His eyes were already growing hazy, nostrils flaring out the slightest bit and biting at his bottom lip the more persistent your groping became. God, you could stare at him for hours whenever he got in the mood, just watching over every reaction he gave you with hungry eyes.

“Always need me to touch you, right?”, you moved closer to him then, one hand on his chest, and the other moving to trace the drawstring of his pants.

“All the damn time”, Leon nodded dumbly, taking your hips into his hands and squeezing gently, moving down to your ass and beginning to knead. You could only call his actions endearing, wanting to be touched so much that he didn’t know what to do with himself when it came to returning it.

Tilting your head up, you kissed him, holding on to the back of his neck and hearing him moan in your mouth. His growing need for you was evident in the way he kissed, eager for more and not satisfied until he felt your tongue against his. You pulled away too soon for his liking, forcing himself to swallow the whimper that settled in his throat.

You smirked at him, sneaking your hand underneath the waistband of his sweats to grasp his length fully, the groan he let out causing your underwear to dampen with your growing arousal. This was why you liked having Leon home, where he could go commando and you’d reap the benefits.

Pumping him slowly, you left kisses on his neck, soft and gentle in contrast to the intense way you made him feel. Leon threw his head back a bit, letting your lips graze over his pulse point and bite, his large hands clutching at your body to ground himself.

“Wanna feel you baby”, you whispered to him in his ear, your tone making his cock pulse in your hand, desperate for more attention.

“Please…”, he said, pulling his head back to look at you once more.

He kissed you again, walking you clumsily until your back was pinned to the kitchen counter behind you. You could feel your lips curl up in a smile as the blonde kissed you greedily, knowing that you had him wrapped around your finger. Not that Leon had any gripes about that, there was no other place he’d rather be than to the mercy of your touch. That’s where he belonged, and that’s where he’ll stay for as long as you’d let him.

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