#thorn valentino

[flovoid]

"I, Thorn Valentino, named you after a historical figure, a mighty father to all of us, and yet... mere disappointment, Vladamir"

[your-ne1ghbor]

Okay, since you take drawing requests and I adored our starboys interacting.... (I'M GONNA BUG YOU SO MUCH NOW)

How about Bonsai and WG!Valentino? (At least my version of him isn't hideous? 😆) Your little Bonsai looks like he wants to tear apart TKOTAR!Star, while WG!Valentino wants to maul or bite WG!Star for getting too close to Asha. Or making everything come to life and scaring him. Little guy couldn't stand Star, and he's smarter than he looks. 😂 I think the goat and possum could get along!

(I'll save the Asha meetings and possibly Flazinos meeting for later. If your Flazino is even alive, lol)

(Omg I'm so sorry this took so long to reply @rascalentertainments😭)

To answer your question, yes I think they would be close friends. Probably like:

(I mean I think both of them understand animals so like what they're hearing from what these 2 are yapping about probably would be horrifying 😭)

[castoffyourcrown]

((Tag dump~))

[pickingupmymercedes]

Of thorns and blooms - Lewis Hamilton

request: "Can I request a Journalist reader, who lewis has his eye on and she interviews him and smexy antics ensue after the gathering. She wears a light up floral crown which lewis finds so cute and when they they celebrate an anniversary, he gives her an actual crown." - @omgsuperstarg

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Fashion Journalist! Reader!

wordcount: +3K

a/n: It took me sooo long to get the tone to this one right, but I hope it was worth the wait.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Y/n adjusted her dress for the hundredth time as she waited for the next person she would interview, the humidity in the air boiling them all in the enclosed paradise the famous steps of the MET. The buzz of the Gala was like a living entity. And tonight, she wasn't just a fashion journalist, she was a guest, courtesy of a hand-delivered invitation from Anna Wintour herself.

A small proud smile played on her lips. It had been a long road, from the early days working in college fashion blogs to the owner of her own digital media platform. She had conquered every step on the ladder the had envisaged for her career, and the MET Gala was the cherry on top.

Her gaze swept the red carpet, catching a flash of black that snagged on her breath. Lewis.

They'd met a few times before, most notably for his iconic Vanity Fair cover in 2022. Shot in pink, in none other than Valentino, it had been a bold choice, and she had made it justice in the interview. I was a peek into the soul of a man who rarely had let himself be seen that way. It was raw, honest, and had garnered her more praise than any piece she'd ever written.

On the human level there had also been something else, a connection beyond the professional aura, but it had remained just that – a spark.

Over the years, they'd stayed in loose contact. She would congratulate him on a good race, he would message whenever he read one of her articles, a selfie once, holding her printed fashion annual he'd found at an airport in Dubai.

It felt like a secret language, a shared appreciation in their vastly different worlds.

And that night, he looked…untouchable.

A vision in a custom Burberry creation. Although not far from the usual black, his overcoat was anything but ordinary, adorned with hand-embroidered floral motifs that shimmered under the camera flashes, the thorns in his necklace a powerful statement. Heritage and resilience.

As Lewis neared her corner of the press pen, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His eyes scanned the crowd, and when they landed on her, a flicker shone within them. He diverted his path slightly, heading straight for her.

"Y/n!" he boomed, his voice surprisingly warm for someone who always tried to maintain his stoicism.

"Sir Lewis Hamilton" she replied, offering a professional smile. "Looking sharp."

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. "You clean up nice yourself, Voltaire."

"Voltaire?" she raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Your floral crown. You quoted Voltaire on gardens being the only art that imitated nature in your preview of the met" He gestured towards her head, where a crown of intricately woven white flowers sat, each petal tipped with tiny LED lights that cast a soft glow. "It looks incredible by the way."

Her smile widened. "Maria Grazia Chiuri and I had a blast designing this piece. We wanted to honor the history of the floral crown, worn for centuries, but with a modern twist."

Lewis leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You always manage to find the hidden meaning, don't you?"

She met his gaze, the intensity surely not lost to her. "Fashion is all about meaning, Lewis. It's a language, a way to express ourselves." His gaze holding on to hers as she continued “Your statement in this Burberry. It's a powerful one”

He tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes, but just as he was about to answer back a microphone was thrust in front of them. A reporter, eager to get a quote looking impatient.

"Mr. Hamilton," the reporter began, "your outfit is quite…unexpected. Can you tell us the inspiration behind it?"

Lewis straightened his shoulders, slipping back into his professional persona. He launched into a detailed explanation of the Burberry design, his voice smooth and practiced. Y/n listened, captivated by his words and by the way his gaze flickered back to her every few seconds, a silent promise of something.

When the interview ended, the reporter scurried away. Lewis turned back to her; his smile warm. "They only gave me a few minutes," he said with mock disappointment.

"Well," she teased, "perhaps you could tell me the "real" story later," she finished, mirroring his playful tone.

A slow grin spread across Lewis's face. "Perhaps" he replied winking, a gesture that would have sent a lesser woman reeling. "I’ll find you later." He gestured towards the throng of celebrities and socialites milling about.

As Y/n wandered into the museum, she navigated the wave of guests with small talks and greetings alike. Her platform had gained traction over the past months, and her presence was becoming increasingly sought-after. But tonight, the glamor felt secondary as the show stoppers stood behind glasses of exhibitions.

As she stood and admired one of Balmain’s first collections, a familiar figure caught her eye. Lewis, leaning casually against a pillar, a glass of champagne in his hand. He was alone, just observing her, a smile breaking across his face as he saw she had noticed him, he made his way towards her, his movements graceful.

"There you are," a low rumble in his chest. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Hardly," she replied, a playful glint in her eyes.

"So," he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "tell me about this secret language of fashion."

"Where do I even begin?" she laughed, a genuine, carefree sound. "Every stitch, every embellishment, every cut – it all tells a story. A story of who you are, where you come from and how you want to be perceived."

The conversation flowed easily, a back-and-forth about the art of fashion, their contrasting worlds, and the subtle messages woven into every outfit. Lewis, she discovered, was surprisingly well-versed in fashion history, his knowledge going beyond the surface. He spoke of iconic designers, groundbreaking trends, and the evolution of style through the ages, his voice filled with genuine passion as he recounted how he had learned so much from her own words.

"You know," Lewis said, his voice softer now, "you're not like anyone else I've ever met."

" This one is not gonna cut it" she asked, her heart skipping a beat.

"Right…" he said, his gaze locking on hers. "But I meant it though. You look at the story behind people. That’s rare."

His words hit her like a sucker punch, laying bare a truth she hadn't dared to public admit. She had always craved for connection with people, and fashion, she had discovered, was her way to reach for those who held their stories and dreams in their eyes and heart.

Heat rose to her cheeks, and she looked away, breaking the intense eye contact. "Perhaps you see the same," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He leaned closer; his breath warm on her ear. "Tell me about your dreams, Y/n. What stories are you trying to tell?"

And then, when she couldn’t avoid his gaze on her anymore, when the silence of his question had almost drowned her, a booming voice cut through the air. "Lewis! There you are. We have to get going."

Lewis sighed, pushing himself away from the wall. "Right" he said, a touch of regret in his voice before he turned abruptly to Y/n, as if he had just decided to take a jump "I have a proposition for you."

Intrigued, Y/n raised an eyebrow. "A proposition? Do elaborate, Hamilton."

He leaned in again, close enough for his lips to brush against her ear. “Are you, by any chance, willing to pass on those other after parties and come to mine?”

Y/n seemed to be taken aback, but just like before, when she was about to answer him, he shot her a look “I’ll text you the details. I’d love to know your stories.”  And with a final lingering look at her, Lewis offered a charming smile. "Until later."

The afterparty held a low-key energy, a contrast to the frenzy of the Met. Y/n found herself at Lewis's expansive New York City apartment, surprised by the choice of venue. It wasn't the club she'd thought of, but a tastefully decorated space that felt more like a home than a celebrity crash pad.

Lewis had introduced her to a motley crew of people. Some of his friends, but mostly, a mix of young, up-and-coming designers, photographers Y/n knew by reputation, and even a couple of journalists she had came across an article or two. The air buzzed with conversations, a refreshing change from the interactions of the Met.

As the night wore on, the crowd thinned. Y/n found herself gravitating towards a corner where Lewis stood, deep in conversation with someone she remembered to have seen at some shooting before.

"That's Kelly," Lewis said, noticing Y/n's approach. "A design prodigy. Just landed a gig with Channel"

Kelly's smile widened as Lewis introduced them. "It's an honor to meet you, Y/n," she said, her voice brimming with excitement. "I've been a huge fan for a while now."

They chatted for a while, the struggles and triumphs of breaking into the fashion world. Looking at the young woman's vibrant energy, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in the platform she'd created.

But as Kelly was whisked away by another group, a comfortable silence settled between Y/n and Lewis.

He gestured towards an empty stool beside him. "Mind if I steal you for a bit?"

Y/n accepted the invitation, a playful glint in her eyes. "Only if you answer a question for me first."

"Shoot," he said, taking a swig from his drink.

"This isn't exactly the afterparty I expected," she said, gesturing to the relaxed setting. "Why here?"

Lewis chuckled, a low rumble that made her feel inadequately naïve "Maybe this is the real me," he said. "The part that doesn't crave the constant spotlight."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conversational whisper. "I thought you'd like this kind of party. I like to distance myself from the buzz when I can"

Y/n nodded, a smile playing on her lips. "A safe space."

"Something like that," he replied, his gaze lingering on her for a beat too long.

"So," Lewis began, breaking the building tension "I’m still waiting to hear about your dreams"

And so, for some ungodly pull, at a rather uncomfortable stool, she opened up to a man she had never really expected to create any kind of connection. Maybe, exactly because she never so that coming, it felt so easy to tell him her most guarded hopes.

She spoke of her platform as a way to democratize fashion, to give a voice to those who felt unseen, unheard. She spoke of empowering individuals to express themselves through who they really were, regardless of social status or bank balance.

As Y/n talked, she noticed Lewis's eyes gleaming with genuine interest. He wasn't just listening politely, he interest genuine, his questions insightful and thought-provoking. And she wondered if it was really that unexpected to find this depth hidden beneath him.

"That's incredible" Lewis said, his voice filled with admiration. “You’re giving people the tools for them to tell their stories."

"Exactly" Y/n said, a sense of understanding as he smiled with her. "It's about self-expression, about telling the world who you are."

A thoughtful frown etched itself onto Lewis's face as she leaned into the counter. "You know," he said, pausing mid-sentence, "you're quite a puzzle, Y/n."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Me? A puzzle?”

"There's this incredible fire in you" he continued, his voice low and husky, "a passion for giving others a voice. But then there's this… " he trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

"What?" she scoffed playfully. "I always thought I such was an open book."

Lewis chuckled; a dark, sexy sound that surely didn’t go unnoticed. "You talk about empowering others, yet I get the feeling there's a whole story you haven't shared of where that desire comes from"

Their connection had been simmering throughout the night, unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Now, with Lewis's gaze holding hers captive, it threatened to tip over.

The conversation around them seemed to fade away, swallowed by the growing awareness between them. Y/n felt his unspoken questions echoing in her mind, a challenge she couldn't ignore.

As the night wore on, the guests gradually dwindled. One by one, they bid farewell to Lewis, leaving him and Y/n alone amidst the empty bottles and scattered laughter.

Y/n found her gaze drawn to him again. He stood by the window, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, his profile sharp and captivating. The urge to break the silence, to bridge the growing gap between them, became overwhelming.

She rose from the stool, her movements deliberate, and walked towards him. He turned, his surprise evident in his eyes.

"Everyone's gone, I should go" she said softly, her voice barely a whisper.

"Don’t. Please" he replied, his gaze still locked on hers. "I’d love if you could stay and"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. Y/n cut him off, stopping just inches away from him. The air crackled with electricity, the unspoken desire a tangible force between them.

She glanced at the faint outline of his abdomen in the fabric of his Dior shirt, her fingers tracing invisible circles on the soft fabric. Then, in a bold move, she let her nails lightly scratch across his chest, sending a jolt of heat through him.

Lewis's breath hitched. He pulled her closer by her waist, his eyes burning into hers.

Their lips met in a heated kiss, a clash of urgency and teeth. Lewis's hands roamed freely over her back, his touch numbing her to the surroundings. He was hungry for all of her.

Y/n found herself caught in the current, her own desire rising to meet his. His lips traveled down her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses.

A dark part of her, a voice fueled by the intoxicating aura of him, entertained the idea of becoming just another name on his long list of conquests.

But then, as his hand reached for her thigh, a wave of clarity put an end to the haze. This wasn't a one-night stand she craved. This connection, potent and undeniable, deserved more.

Y/n broke the kiss, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. "Lewis," she whispered, her voice husky.

He stared at her, confusion, concern and desire evident in his eyes.

"Dinner first," she said, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "Then maybe we can explore this mystery you see in me."

A slow smile spread across Lewis's face, the heat in his eyes softening to amusement. "Dinner it is," he agreed, his voice raspy. "But consider this a warning. I don't give up easily."

Sunlight danced across the Aegean Sea, glowing through the large round window of the yacht's cabin. Y/n stood before the vanity, applying a final touch of lipstick, her reflection a picture of contentment.

Five years. Five years since that MET and Lewis's afterparty, a whirlwind that had swept them off their feet and turned their world upside down.

A soft knock at the door startled her. "Come in," she called out, her voice filled with a hint of anticipation.

The door creaked open, and Lewis stepped inside. He was a vision in his crisp white linens, his hair free from the braids.

But it was the velvety box in his hand that held her attention.

"There you are," he said, a playful glint in his eyes as he walked towards her.

Y/n watched him through the mirror, her heart still skipping a beat whenever he was around. He stopped behind her, his warmth radiating through her back.

"What's that?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"A little something for my favorite fashion journalist" he replied, his breath tickling her ear as he leaned close.

He opened the box, inside, nestled on a bed of white satin, lay a breathtaking piece of jewelry – a floral crown crafted from delicate diamonds. Each petal was meticulously designed, some adorned with tiny thorns, others bursting into bloom.

It was both graceful and powerful. And it wasn’t quite a necklace, nor quite a tiara. It was a piece of art.

"Lewis," she breathed, her voice filled with awe. "It's…incredible."

He took the crown from the box, his touch gentle as he held it up to the light. "Anne Wintour helped me design it," he admitted, a hint of pride in his voice. "She said it reminded her of your outfit at the Met Gala, all those years ago."

Y/n held her breath as she looked at the jewelry. The floral crown, a memory of their initial spark, now reimagined with diamonds. The strength and beauty of their love that had blossomed despite adversity.

"The thorns," he said, her voice barely a whisper, "they represent the challenges we've faced, the distance, the different worlds..."

"And the flowers," he finished after clasping it to her neck, his voice husky with emotion, "represent our love, always blooming, even in the face of those challenges."

He adjust it to her skin, his touch gentle. "It's meant to be worn by someone who sees the world differently, who tells stories with every thread" he said, his gaze holding hers.

He cupped her hand in his, his eyes brimming with love. "Someone who wears her heart on her sleeve," he continued, his voice low and husky.

She turned and their lips met slowly, a lingering kiss that spoke volumes of their love and shared journey.

"Happy anniversary, Y/n," he whispered, pulling away but not letting go, his eyes shining brighter than any star.

"Happy anniversary, Lewis" she replied, the diamond floral piece catching the sunlight and reflecting a thousand tiny rainbows in their eyes.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf @priopp123

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[rubra-wav]

I had this interesting scenario where Vox one day becomes exhausted from his rivalry with Alastor after realizing that the one-sided interactions were becoming old. He later meets the reader (who can also be a part of the hotel) who starts hacking into Voxtech's database to troll the company for shits and giggles. This catches Vox's attention and he's pissed about it. You can do what you want for the rest but they continue to have this rivalry to the point where it's very well known around hell. From an outside perspective, there is just back-and-forth angry banter but there are moments where they're just;

Reader: *appears on screen* Hey Box head, guess who found some good blackmail with your name on it- Vox: *Is so close to having a breakdown, he had a bad week.* Reader: Oh shit- did something happen, are you okay? 😰

They hate each other but they don't hate hate each other. This can be taken as platonic or romantic. I sent this request to someone else but I wanted to share anyway.

Vox x troll/hacker reader: Why So Blue? (Oneshot/concept version)

Why So Blue fic Masterlist

A/N me when I get to write Vox getting utterly humiliated by a troll-y hacker demon 🫶

I changed about the order of stuff as things happen a bit and took creative liberties with this one - sorry if it's really different then the thought you originally had.

(REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, THIS WAS FROM THE LAST TIME THEY WERE OPEN)

Update: This was really well-received, and several people have requested a part 2. I've decided that I will be writing it properly from the start in a proper chapter kind of way rather than in this format so it makes continuity kind of work better rather then the drabbl-y format used here.

Cw: SFW, romantic, enemy's to lovers type beat, references to one-sided radiostatic, also references to staticmoth, mildly suggestive in one part 💀, gn reader, mostly light-hearted - idk if it qualifies as quite hurt/comfort lmao

- It was just a normal morning for Vox when you first showed up.

- As usual, he booted up for the day, got changed out of his casual clothes, and made his morning coffee.

- As he walked into his computer room, absentmindedly sipping his coffee while looking at his phone, he sits down in his desk.

- Then promptly spits out his mouthful.

- When he finally looks up at the screens around him, he's mortified to see a muted video of himself passionately (and very drunkly) singing and dancing horribly from last night while he was out with Valentino and Velvette.

- Posted on Sinstagram from his own account.

- Hundreds of comments flooded in underneath it; laughing, saying it's cute, complimenting his singing, and talking about the caption underneath with curiosity.

- The caption reads; 'For someone who talks so big about being ahead technologically, it was awfully easy to hack old Boxy here LMAO'

- Vox flips out instantly.

- It doesn't take long to take down the post, change all of his details, and post an official apology for his lack of professionalism with a hypnotising message to forget the whole incident occurred at all. He also does a massive comb over for any other breaches and changes all of his systems to be even more impenetrable to a potional attack.

- He calms down, and the incident fades away to the back of his mind.

- But then it happens again.

- Another morning, an employee is rushing into his studio as he wakes up properly, telling him this time that someone is somehow broadcasting Rick Astley's 'Never Gonna Give You Up' to the entirety of hell at 6 am, interrupting every one of the scheduled programs.

- There's a message in big letters on the bottom of every screen in hell, under the god forsaken video and song playing, saying, "What is love~? - U" Underneath them.

- And that's how it starts, the infuriating thorn in Vox's side that is 'U'. No matter how hard he tries, you're constantly undermining his efforts to keep you out of the system and tormenting him in ways that aren't necessarily malignant but are extremely damaging to his image as the overlord of technology.

- For some reason, he's the only Vee you seem hellbent on coming after as well. Vel finds your pranks funny or cute when they don't inconvenience her, and Valentino just likes to prod Vox into getting angrier further.

- He just cannot work out what your motivations are at all. Is it truly that you just want to piss him off? He doesn't understand why someone with such clear skills would simply use them to taunt him and leave him messages to unveil as he undoes whatever you do.

- It vexes him even farther when these messages from you that you leave for him to decode start to sound borderline flirtatious, which makes him feel all the more humiliated.

- He is a grown demon, skilled businessman and entrepreneur, an overlord, and yet you insist upon calling him things like Box, Boxbabe, Boxbitch, and even babygirl of all things for some goddamn reason.

- The back and forth goes on for months, and 'U' quickly becomes a long lasting meme, several people, much to Vox's horror, shipping you two together and even partaking in ship wars as to whether Vox x 'U' is better then Vox x Val.

- Theres one day where Vox quickly puts his phone down after reading a rather concerning expert from what is certainly explicit fanfiction between the two of you, even him deciding that that's enough internet for today while just sitting staring off into space silently for a solid 10 seconds.

- Vox's sleepless nights pouring over his code to try and keep out your attacks, him glitching out whenever he finds infuriating messages left by you, etc. Begin to become routine and he just anticipates the consistent blows to his pride you give him at every turn.

- A weird, unconscious part of him deep down begins to enjoy your rivalry, almost wanting to see what punches you pull out next to disarm his constant losing battle to keep you out, but it gets squashed down the second he becomes aware of it.

- The rivalry is always at arms length, but sometimes he has to stop himself from replying with the same vaguely flirtatious tone you take on whenever he experiences a small win against you.

- He fights to make sure he doesn't have any potential of getting too into it.

- Things take a different turn, though, with the double blow of Alastor coming back and his on-off relationship with Valentino once again going up in flames.

- After stopping his usual monitoring of all things going on in hell online and in real life as picked up by his cameras, he presses his face into his hands with a long, exhausted groan as he fights crying.

- All the people he was actually interested in were as unrequited as per usual. He always tried so hard with Alastor, but as always, he never got anything but met with the clear reminder they would never be anything more.

- And, of course, any potential of anything more happening with Val was completely off the table. It would be stupid to even think about anything real with him.

- He shut his eyes, putting his screen on the desk in front of him.

- Was he just not worth it? Was that it?

- He startled when he heard the familiar crackle of the speakers coming to life around him. It was rare he ever heard your voice coming through his speakers, you usually preferring to just leave messages, however you decided to surprise him tonight apparently.

- Your blurred out face appears on the screens, only showing the lower half of your grinning face.

- "Oh Boooooxybooooy! I found some world-shattering cringey shit you did 2 months back, i-" You begin singing out, before stopping, seeing by his expression.

- Vox was trembling, looking as if he was about fall apart at any second. His monitor was dulled, red eyes half lidded with pixelated bags forming under them, his bottom lip slightly quivering around his sharp teeth.

- "What the- fuck- ....are you alright?" You asked unsurely.

- Vox finally snapped out of it, realising that you were here witnessing him in a way that was very much not something he wanted you of all people to see him in. His mask slid back on, but it was hardly convincing.

- "Of course it is. What the fuck do you wa-ant. I've got shit to do." He inwardly cursed as his voice glitched slightly. God fucking dammit why did you have to show up.

- He watched your lips on your mostly blurred out face slightly curl as you hummed, clearly not buying it.

- "You wanna stop with the lying bullshit and tell me the truth, Boxhead?" You somewhat chided him, your hand coming into sight as you leaned your cheek onto it. Vox let out a growling sound, going to spit some vitriol at you, but was cut off as you absentmindedly made your next comment.

"Felt you once again have a fit about the radio demon going online. Lights in my house and the houses out my windows started flashing and shit. Is it hi-" your brows shot up and eyes widened, this hidden behind the censorship as you watched Vox, leader of the Vees, your rival, let out a shuddering breath and actually start crying comically pixilated tears right before your eyes.

- Vox's claws gripped into his desk as he grit his teeth as he let out a gasping breath he fought to stifle. He was so goddamn exhausted that he just couldn't be assed to keep it all up anymore. It wasn't like you hadn't seen rather unsavoury things he'd been trying to hide anyways.

- "No shit it's about Alastor. It's always about him. Does it get you off knowing I can't get with the guy I have always wanted no matter how hard I try? There. Are you fucking happy now?" His voice cracks as he snarls the words out at you.

- You let out a long humming sound, as if thinking. "I mean, not really. I'd only be happy if you were this upset over me, not some old hazbin radio announcer who fell off years ago." You shrug with a slightly sad smile.

- Vox squinted at you, confused.

- "I mean, come on, I'm your rival too. Why neglect me so much in all this?" You press your bottom lip out in mock sadness, tone mocking again. Your words are true despite the joking tone however, it did bother you that he always seemed so much more ready to go running after the most obviously aroace man you think you had seen in your entire fucking life.

- Vox couldn't believe what he was hearing, hot embarrassment caused his monitor to start heating up a bit, painting animated flush over his cheeks. "Oh, stop taking the piss, U. Fuck off." He scoffed, rolling his eyes, looking to the side in irritation.

- You chuckle at him, shaking your head and causing the thing blurring your face to shake with it. "Is it really that hard to believe I'm into what we have going on here?" Your voice is still lined with the usual tone you take on with him, but much less so.

- Vox looks back at your blurred, smiling face incredulously. "Yes." He growled, blinking his tears away as he regained his composure a bit.

- You sigh heavily, rolling your eyes. "Ooookay, well, once you're done riding the coattails of a man who will never want you, come hit me up, Boxhead." You say through smiling lips, before abruptly pressing 'hang up' on the call so he didn't have time to actually respond.

- Vox sat in bewildered silence, not able to react properly as his brain felt as if it was working on low resolution comprehending what you just said.

- His face heated up the more he thought about it, heart beginning to hammer in his chest as he laughed in disbelief. No way. No fucking way.

- But you had said it.

- Despite his usual pessimistic nature, he allowed himself to actually believe it, chuckling.

- He looked over to his phone as a notification sound rang out to see a photo of himself presumably just now; flustered, eyes wide in disbelief and unfocused while staring off into space, a crooked grin on his face.

- It was captioned as follows; 'POV: local pathetic radio simp finds out other rival actually wants him'

- "FUCK." He yelled out in embarrassment, knocking out several of his monitors with a surge of electricity.

I loved writing this sm omfggg.

There's definitely part 2 potential to this one, but it would have to be in a while w all the other stuff I'm gonna get to first.

Masterlist

[zep-zep-blog]

If I had a nickel for each time I made a oneshot based off a prompt from @timeslugarts I would have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird it happened twice.🧍🏼‍♂️

Vox x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Cw: Talk of sex, mentions of feeling not good enough

The last red rose🌹

Reader feels like Vox is ashamed or embarrassed by their relationship and a drunk Valentino only solidifies those thoughts.

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You were Vox's prized diamond, a rose surrounded by thorns, the last unicorn in his eyes. You were kind, thoughtful, funny, tons of stuff the average sinner wasn't. He went to several lengths to make sure your beauty was safe and protected from the several news channels and overlords that were looking in. Unfortunately, his actions came off as him being ashamed of your relationship with you. It made you feel like you would never be enough to be seen with him in public.

Valentino had made another borderline porn film and Vox chose to go to the red carpet premiere with Velvette to support his friend and fellow overlord. You sat in your shared bed, wanting to stay in and not watch the smutty movie Val produced. The silk sheets rubbed comfortably against your skin as you settled into a more comfy position. Watching as the camera panned over other famous demons, hellborn, and overlords. The camera then focuses on Vox, bringing a subconscious smile to your face as you see him answer questions and look into the camera.

"Are you seeing anyone?" The journalist asks, shoving the mic into his face. Before he could answer a drunk Valentino takes it and giggles, "We are like rabbits." This made you sit up, shocked as he went on and on about different bedroom acts. This felt like a red, hot iron strike your heart. How dare he just let him speak like that when he knows you're watching. All for an image to sinners that he said were less important, less worthy of his time, less worthy of him.

His laugh was what broke you, that nonchalant chuckle he made when he tried to escape awkward situations. Warm tears started to roll, muffled sobs escaping your mouth as you covered it with your hand. You were angry. The man you loved, cherished, and planned on marrying one day just betrayed you after his actions made you think you were nothing more than some toy he could play house with.

When he comes home he's shit-faced drunk, removing his jacket and throwing it to the floor, expecting to cuddle with you. Unfortunately, he was only met with a cold bed and messy sheets, a clear sign you were here, but you were nowhere to be seen. This sobered him up a bit, he did everything to protect you, but he failed. That is until he found the note, at first he thought it was a ransom note or something, but it was your handwriting. He read the scribbled ink;

'I went somewhere else. As I know you're probably embarrassed by me, so I hope you're happy with Valentino'

This shook him to his core, he tried everything to keep you out of the public eye for your safety only to be the reason you left. He crumpled the note, cursing under his breath. He did this and now he has to fix it. He collected all the photos he had and wrote a script up for his nightly talk show.

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He addressed the journalist's question and Valentino's response. Stating that his relationship with Val was only friendly and platonic and that he was very much in love with someone else. Pictures of your first date, birthdays, holidays, even one of Vox sleeping faded in and out slowly on the screen as he talked about his genuine feelings and how he felt about your relationship, and his reasons to keep you hidden.

He talked about how your nose scrunched when you giggled and how you held his hand when you felt nervous.

"I fucked up. I tried so hard to keep you out of the camera that I pushed you away. I know words can't fix actions, but please come back to me so I can make things up to you. Please." He said while looking directly into the camera.

This was broadcasted all over hell, even on the radio in hopes you would hear it and hear it you did. You had went to Charlie for advice and help, sobbing on her couch when the broadcast came on. You were touched, hell genuinely thinking about fully forgiving him, but a small part of you was still angry. It took you to leave for him to wake up to address the rumors of his and Val's relationship that spread months ago and finally speak the truth about your role in his life. You ultimately decided to go back, apologizing for leaving. "Darling, don't apologize. If anyone should apologize, it should be me. I made you feel like nothing, but you're everything to me." He stated, hugging you tightly when you walked into his office.

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Cameras clicked as the limo rolled up, shouts of questions and excitement started up as the door opened and Vox got out, giving the cameras his signature smile before turning back and holding out his hand towards you. You grab his hand nervously, stepping out and giving a shy smile to the crowd. Finally, you both felt like you were his only thought.

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Carpal tunnel core <3 /j Hope yall enjoy (^^)

[helpallthenamesaretaken]

My Head Canons on the Pjo Character's Middle Names (bc every one of these is so fun to read) [Part 1]

Percy: HEAR ME OUT. I feel like Sally was kind of obliged by her love for Poseidon to name Percy a Greek name. But I feel like otherwise, she would have named him after a famous name in literature, since she loves lit so much. So I feel like his middle name would def be something related to literature. A character, an author, anything. Here are some random examples of names I have so far: Perseus Woolf Jackson, Percy Conan Jackson (bc of Arthur conan doyle AND conan gray cuz she's a livie)

Annabeth: I'm sorry. I can't get Annabeth Rose Chase out of my head. Rose is such a pretty yet such a strong name. It stands for strong feminity, cuz a rose has thorns too!

Hazel: The first thing that came to mind was Hazel Lorelai Levesque. Partly because I liked the name after listening to somebody talk about a show I didn't know about called gilmore girls. BUT it's very her imo. It sounds right

Grover: This was easy in terms of themes. After narrowing it down, I present to you; Grover Rowan Underwood

Leo: Leonidas Valentino Valdez has a nice flow to it ngl, but if someone has better names, please tell me because im not 100% on this

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

le dragon rouge: rosquez [e]

“Grandmother,” Valentino drawls out. Marc’s fangs gleam, wicked—he can’t stop staring. They’re smaller than he had imagined. Sharper, very white. “What big teeth you have got.”

Marc lets out a snort. Doesn’t smile and doesn’t blink either. “All the better to eat you with.”

It’s—disquieting. It is also disquieting when he does it in press conferences, or when he’s listening hard to whatever bullshit Valentino is saying, but nothing softens the blow here. Marc’s attention falls over him intensely, scrapes along his nerves.

Hungry—which happens to be the crux of their current issue.

Valentino is thinking about it—Little Red Riding Hood. Being eaten. Same difference. Marc’s mouth is close, is the thing, and bitten pink. Almost pretty enough to distract him from what it hides, how his voice comes out lisped through his teeth.

It sounds a bit goofy, except everything Valentino can see is how ashen his face looks, the marble motionless of his posture.

He’s acutely, unfortunately aware of his heartbeat on his jugular, also.

Valentino is not surprised by anything that has happened thus far. It was right there on his files— MÁRQUEZ, Marc: vampire, 21 years old . So no, not surprised.

And he caught Marc feeding, once. On a fucking club bathroom, a girl in a mini green dress pressed between him and the grimy wall. She was screaming, but no, not that away. Less like she had teeth on her throat draining her dry, more like she had a couple of fingers in her cunt.

So sue him, he is a little curious.

“Valentino,” Marc says, doing a terrible job of trying to look steady with his huge, liquid eyes and the pinched tight press of his lips, like he’s salivating and wants to hide it. “Are you—ok?”

“Yep,” he pops the p obnoxiously. Makes himself grin. “Come on, food is getting cold.”

“Hmm—okay.”

It doesn’t sound very certain. Valentino is pretty sure he should be offended.

Marc bends down to hover over him anyway, pressing Valentino against the bed, chest on chest, worse than chains. His thighs had been cold, braced around his hips, but he’s fucking freezing —like metal left out in the winter. He can feel the hair on his standing on end. His little flinch, trapped under him.

It’s June in Spain, he shouldn’t burn like ice. It makes no sense.

The cold is better than looking at Marc, though. Easier. Kid’s—whatever, a predator species, something bad and wicked, but he doesn’t usually look like that. Doesn’t usually look like much of anything unless he’s up on a bike and taking them all for idiots.

And he’s terribly sweet for Valentino too.

He isn’t sweet in this bed. Eyes too dark, with an inorganic, lifeless glint to them. Body too still, never fidgeting, every move deliberate, seamless.

Valentino had read about it once—uncanny valley. That there had to be a reason for humans to be afraid of things that look like them but aren’t them.

Marc’s nose brushes against the hollow of his throat. Valentino swallows around nothing—mouth dry and sour. His pulse spikes. He wonders how much of that the vampire nuzzling him can feel, smooths out a scoff before it bursts out of chest.

“It’s alright,” Marc aims for soothing and misses it by a mile. He’s panting, and each word sounds like it was pried laboriously from his mouth. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Valentino laughs. Can’t help it, or how gravelly it sounds. “I thought that was the point.”

Marc huffs. The chill of his face pressed on the side of his neck is like a naked blade. 

“No, it isn’t.”

There’s this something tugging under his skin. Not fear—well, not only fear, Valentino has an alright sense of preservation for a moto rider, and he isn’t exactly thrilled by pain—but still there. Prodding like thorns.

Annoyance, except he doesn’t know why, doesn’t know anything other than the fact it makes him itchy, restless. He’s a pinned butterfly, the sheets creaking under him.

Marc’s lips skim over his carotid, icy, a little cruel—which is new. Horrible. And horrible in the way it makes his stomach clench. Valentino sucks in a rattling breath. His tongue might as well be glued to the roof of his mouth.

“I can find someone else.” Marc inches away from him, tries to get up.

Valentino clamps his hand on the back of Marc’s neck, watches him jolt like a live wire. “You don’t want to,” he says, thrumming, runrunrun instinct screaming at him—he sounds catlike still. A little steelier than he’d planned to. “I think you want to eat me real bad.”

Marc makes a noise—helpless, half-choked, amused. “Yeah, I do.”

“Well. It’s polite to ask.”

“Please, please,” he mutters, a laugh threaded into it. Because of course Marc wouldn’t be ashamed of begging—Valentino chews on the inside of his cheek until it aches, something white-hot pulsing through him. “May I bite you?”

May I . Proper little boy, isn’t he?

Valentino lolls his neck to the side. “Be my guest.”

He sounds very magnanimous. It’s almost a joke, another one, and Marc—

Marc grabs his chin. Bears down on his shoulder to keep him in place. Valentino thought—he thought he’d hesitate a lot more. He doesn’t know why he did.

Then there are teeth.

It hurts. It really fucking hurts. Valentino makes a noise, strangled, like he’s sawed off a chunk of his tongue. Cold sweeps over him—worse than an ice bath after Sepang, the shock making his body seize and spasm.

Marc might as well be raking teeth over his raw nerve endings. Injecting him with poison.

Too much to feel, and barely anything he can untangle. Barely anything he wants to untangle. Valentino’s head goes taffy thick, fuzzy around the edges. His vision blurs, breaking in blocks of color and little else.

He would flinch if he could. Maybe. Or maybe not. As that haze rises, Valentino relaxes muscle by muscle, and he might as well go down a drain, bones liquid, that jolt of nauseous fear bled out of him along his consciousness. Ha .

Marc moans, a quiet, wrecked little noise, halfway to a sob, like he does when Valentino is mean to him, pushing in his spit-slick cock after quali and pressing his face against a wall to keep him quiet.

Everything about him is still cold , glacial, except his frantic tongue on his neck. That feels scorching, and Christ, Valentino isn’t sure about pain anymore. It’s a blurry, feverish thing crawling under his skin. Too much. Too big. Valentino isn’t sure about pleasure either.

There’s only Marc, and that wet sucking sound right against his ear. He laps Valentino up, hungry and fucking shameless about it.

He feels his heart pumping, feels his blood moving the wrong way inside his veins—into Marc. It’s the most in-his-body Valentino has ever been.

A high, keening groan echoes between them, through the pounding in Valentino’s head. It has to be coming from him. He can’t stop it, or close his mouth, or think about moving. Valentino sinks— ah , ah , ah , dizzy when he tries to figure out he’s hurting, or not hurting, or feeling good.

He’s shaking. Like that one time when he brushed against a live wire by accident and couldn’t unclench his hand, stood there jolting until Stefania pushed him.

It sizzles inside—that feeling he can’t name, like an orgasm that just won’t quit until Valentino can’t decide if it’s great or worse than a knife between his ribs.

Valentino drifts on nothing. Time drips around him, and his blood drips into Marc. Marc who’s starving, who doesn’t ever care about stopping. Valentino is getting wrangled like his Honda on the corners, bent to his will. He laughs about it. Tries to.

Marc would eat him whole. He would.

And it isn’t great , but Valentino lets himself be taken over, fights to keep his eyes open—so he can look at the ceiling. At the tanned sliver of skin on Marc’s nape.

Everything spins. Loses meaning.

It all comes crashing down when Marc lets go of him. Valentino blinks, his eyes gritty—shudders, too. Entire chunks of his body are unresponsive, numb.

Marc presses his face against his chest, stays there. He’s panting, shoulders heaving with it, fever-hot to the touch and thrumming with wild energy. Can’t seem to stop fidgeting above Valentino, his fingers restless on the bones of his collar, back and forth and back and forth, right where it pushes against his skin.

Slowly, with Marc keeping him pinned to the bed, Valentino realizes his vision has focused again.

His senses come back to him one by one—the cool, smooth sheets under him, the rancid yellow lamplight, Marc’s strong things braced around him, the staleness in his mouth, the metallic smell thick and soupy in the air.

Marc leans back. Still fucking disquieting—except not quite. His cheeks are flushed pink. There’s red all over his lips, all over his chin, messy like when Valentino hooks his fingers into the babyfat of his cheeks and makes him show the come on his tongue, tells him to not swallow. He isn’t stone, or cold metal, or motionless.

And his eyes. They’ve gone from unnatural to searing, dark as pitch.

Alive. Hard to miss it when he was so other before.

It’s pretty. Reminds Valentino of that one time he saw an eagle pluck a kitten from the side of the road in Tavullia, the glossy blackness of its feathers.

Marc shifts again on his lap. It hits him like being highsided into the asphalt. Valentino scrambles for air, his cock oversensitive in the cooling stickiness inside his underwear. He had—

“Uh.”

“I’m sorry,” Marc snorts, not sounding sorry at all. He’s rubbing himself against his thigh, Valentino realizes. Looking fucking obscene about it, his budge fat and heavy, straining against his shorts. “It happens sometimes.”

“Alright,” he says eloquently, in an ugly jumble of syllables. Lets his eyes linger. “Aren’t you going to do anything about it.”

It isn’t a question.

So Marc immediately shimmies out of his clothes—awkward, overeager—and wraps a hand around the big cock he doesn’t fucking use for anything because he acts like he’s going to die without Valentino inside him.

He’s flushed dark, wet . Valentino isn’t sure he wants it—but he’s thinking about it anyway, Marc’s thick dick in his ass and Marc’s teeth on his throat, all at once. Being eaten. Consumed. All of it. If he could, he’d scorch that thought to ash, and his tacky underwear too.

His next breath comes out funny, a little choked. Marc, uncaring godling that he is, throws his head back, opens his mouth to moan.

He works his hand like he’s on time attack, no finesse—ruts against it, in this ugly, brash desperation that Valentino can’t help but stare at. It’s too soon, and he might not have enough blood for an erection, but his own cock twitches anyway. The pain of it is like being pricked with a needle.

Marc didn’t want to stop—he knows that. Would’ve loved to drink him dry, keep him for himself, hishishis in the gore in his stomach. It makes Valentino clammy, jittery. It also makes Valentino think about cutting him open, burrowing in.

All the way up to his elbow. Or mouth first—have them match.

“You needed it,” Valentino hisses. It’s easier to say than you could’ve killed me .

“I did—fuck, you’re so—l don’t how you let—”

Valentino doesn’t like what Marc is about to say. He hooks his fingers inside his gore-splattered mouth, right over his retracting fangs. They’re shaking, chilly, an uncoordinated weight. Marc clearly doesn’t care—garbles out this reedy noise, eyelashes fluttering low over his cheeks, and tries to sink his teeth in.

“Don’t,” Valentino hisses.

Marc goes wide-eyed, nods. He’s sweet like this, almost.

“Can I—,” he asks frantically, in a slur of words, leaking all over his hand.

Valentino toys with saying no , just to see if he’d cry, or get angry, or ignore him and keep going. Lets it shine through in his face. Marc whines, his dangerous mouth wobbling pitifully. That smooths the unkindness unfurling in his chest like an overgrown rose bush, all thorns.

“Of course,” Valentino croons, remarkably gentle, in rehearsed showmanship.

Gentleness comes easy with Marc’s leash in his hand. Easier at his harsh, stuttered, “ Valentino ,” when he sweeps a calloused thumb over the head of his cock.

Marc topples forward, curled above him, the blood on his chin drying brown and stark against his skin, the pale scar running there. The blood on Valentino’s throat is fresh, though, still dripping sluggishly on the sheets. His head is light, untethered, running in manic racehorse circles around Christ, Christ, Christ .

Each time he blinks, his eyes feel sandy, and his skin is clammy, underwear scraping along his dick, but he’s wired wrong under Marc’s second-hand heat—hungry too. Reckless with it.

“You’d take anything I gave you, no?” He hums genially, the words cracking like a whip between them, Marc scrambling to nod. “Whore.”

It drips honeyed from his lips— puttana .

When Marc comes, he does it with a small, wounded noise, jaw twitching. But Valentino told him no, so he doesn’t bite. Just shakes, pants open-mouthed and wanting, with his come trickling over Valentino’s chest. His eyes plead, and he clings to that, to the uncomplicated cruelty that this opens up.

Tomorrow, Valentino will get rid of everything—the bloody sheets, his clothes, the ache in his veins at Marc’s wicked, white fangs and the fat weight of his soft, come-tacky cock.

Tomorrow, for sure.

[fletchingbrilliant]

Well, hello there, nasty little bitches! Your favorite EVERYTHING is back, Katie Killjoy, and boy do I have a juicy update for you!

After the inital bloodbath - which could have used a LOT MORE BLOOD if you ask me! - all the teams have branched off to gather their bearings, but it's not going as smoothly as they'd like...

The day got off to a great start for King Lucifer and the admittedly ambitious imp Blitzø, but things soon unraveled as soon as Blitzø started setting up camp, while Lucifer learned that basic labor might be beyond his royal smallness, as a single thorn on a berry bush has stricken him crippled.

Meanwhile, the hardass angel Lute attemped to encroach upon the Cornucopia, only to be discovered by Valentino, who scared the shit out of the divine destroyer. And Niffty has managed to construct a slingshot, and appears to have aims to build up an entire arsenal.

And Lute's partner, Velvette, received a huge donation of supplies from an unknown sponsor, which she is more eager to show off than to share with the angel, who was frightened right down a steep hill by the porn mogul.

Vox has successfully erected his impressive camp, but Angel Dust made a daring theft. Vox was only left confused, but not as confused as Adam, who somehow found a map but seems utterly incapable of understanding it.

Loona found cover for herself and Vaggie in a hollowed out tree, for some reason eager to defend the woman who appears to actually BE AN ANGEL PEOPLE AM I GOING CRAZY.

Sir Pentious managed to find a clean water supply, and the tiny angel thing decided to try its hand at fishing... Looks like Mammon has managed to extend his advertising to this competition in spite of having no official affiliation.

Fizzarolli fled from the Radio Demon and managed to find a cave... but it looks like Alastor beat him to the punch.... and picked some flowers.....

Good question, Fizz.

It appears that Cherri Bomb survived her encounter with an explosive at the bloodbath! But her partner Octavia has taken to higher ground in an attempt to track down wherever she was blasted to.

Husk is being TEDIOUSLY responsible, cooking a meal and putting out his fire before any of their enemies can track them down. The pampered Prince Stolas is no help, and their twee little exchange is nothing short of fucking nauseating.

As evening continued to set in, Vox and Moxxie went hunting, and found a pair of potential targets...

Ooooh, are they going to finally give us our first kill? I'm SALIVATING!

They did not know they were overheard by our idiot of a Princess. Looks like she's finally figuring out how stupid this is. Too bad we're not gonna let her shut it down until it's done, are we, bitches????

Who knew the King of Lust was such a pansy?

Let's see how everybody's holding up!

That's all for now, my lovelies!

When morning comes, I hope we finally see some bodies hit the floor! Katie Killjoy, signing off!

**special thanks to @zaebeecee for concept and writing assistance**

[rascalentertainments]

🌟Wish Granted AU🌟 👩🏾🌟🐐✨

(Wish Rewrite Currently in Progress, so this'll be updated casually)

Official Story Synopsis

Chapters: 📖

Chapter 1: Once Upon a Time... 🏰

Chapter 2: Into the Woods 🏞

Chapter 3: This Wish ⭐

Chapter 4: You're a Star?! 🌠🎵

Chapter 5: Welcome to Rosas 🌹🏙

Chapter 6: Welcome to Rosas (Part 2) 🌹🔥

Chapter 7: Royal Pains 👑⚡

Chapter 8: Trouble A-Brewin' 🌩🌟

Chapter 9: In the Dark of the Night 🌘

Chapter 10: Hellfire 🔥🌳

Chapter 11: (Not So) Jolly Holiday 🐮🐎🐔

Chapter 12: Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Doom 🔮✨🌟

Chapter 13: Poor Unfortunate Souls 👸🍪🐂

Chapter 14 (Coming Soon)

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Ao3

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Characters Bios/Desgins 👥

Asha

Star

Valentino (Coming Soon)

Magnifico, Amaya and Sabor

The 7 Teens

Gabo (Individual)

Flazino: The Sorcerers' Apprentice

Sabino (Coming Soon)

Sakina and Tomas

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Locations: 🌎

Star's Home: The Startopshere 🌌

Asha's Home: The Hamlet (Coming Soon) 🏞

The Kingdom of Ross (Coming Soon)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Bonus Features:

How Asha got Valentino (Short)

How Star Came To Earth (Short)

What Happened to Tomas? (Coming Soon)

Wish Granted Ship Dynamics

Magic System of Wish Granted

Magic System of Wish Granted (Part 2)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Fan Art Gallery (Coming Soon)🎨

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Wish Granted Askbox!: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

Here's some more Wish rewrites created by awesome writers if you want some more Wish content!

"Kingdom of Wishes" by @annymation

"The Fallen Star" by @signed-sapphire

"Reach for the Stars!" by @oh-shtars

"The Assistant and The Star" by @tumblingdownthefoxden

"The Wishing Kingdom" by @chillwildwave

"The Girl and the Star" by @mythartist21

"Wish: Rewrite the Stars" by @gracebethartacc

"A Home in the Stars" by @ahomeinthestars-wishrewrite

"The Kingdom of Thorns and Roses" by @your-ne1ghbor

"Upon a Star" by @snackara

"Kingdom of the Stars" by @thisnameisnotspokenfor

"The Last Star" by @yurikalonesome

[discardead]

HII ! can i request names and users based on the song 'strange love' by halsey ?

also new anon, i hope that's okay !! we requested the hurt feelings nptu awhile ago :3 ~ 📹🪦

Strange Love by Halsey themed Names & Usernames

taglist ·· ✦ ·· @phantasyze @lvrlady @destinationyaoricentre @floraeth @princefrail @starrylitte @hauntina @murd3rh0rnetss @scythidol

I hope you like that NPUT I made, and this one too! /nf

Names ✧ ·· ✦ ·· ✧ Ronan. Caius. Delphine. Mallory. Lilith. Valencia. Riven. Dorian. Salem. Beau. Rune. Runa. Rumor. Lovely. Honey. Darling. Chelsea. Valentine. Valentino. Valen. Val. Rose. Rosette. Rosetta. Roseline. Rosaline. Thorn. Thorne. Romeo. Juliet. Scarlett. Rhett. Hyde. Florence. Corey. Casey. Aster. Grant. Alonso. Alfie.

Users ✧ ·· ✦ ·· ✧ strangelvr. mystrngelover. mystrangel-ve. mystrange-love. loveristrange. loveris-strange. lovedstrnge. strangerlvve. lovesecret. loveswcret. loves-asecret. mmylover. memylover. justmylvr. mlover-strange. mlover-strwnge. ourssecrecy. secretsw-mylover. strangestlve. strangesth-lvve. beautifulssecrets. beautfwlsscret. secreciful. secrecyful. secrecyfwl. rumrrdlove. loveruemors. rumorsful. beloverdth.

[oh-shtars]

✨Reach for the Stars! AU✨

(Title Post)

Synopsis:

After discovering a hidden and horrid truth about their ruler, King Magnifico, an ordinary servant girl named Asha, must take a great leap of faith to save Rosas from his clutches before time runs out for everyone she cares about.

Her fate is sealed once she stumbles upon another of the royal’s secrets. A celestial being held captive, believed by many to only be from myth: A Wishing Star.

With the star’s magical aid on her side, the duo discover new dangers, old friends, hidden secrets, and most importantly: The true power of a wish when one chooses to believe with all their might….

(I’m eventually going to change the above into a proper thumbnail. For now, this will do.)

………………

Story: 📖

(To be added. This rewrite is still in its outlining stage.😅)

Character References:

Asha: [1] [2]

Star/Sueño: [1] [2] [3]

Magnifico: [1] [2] [3]

Amaya: [1] [2]

Valentino: [1] [2]

(More under the cut ⬇️)

…………….

🌟 RFTS!Au AskBox

🌟 RFTS!Fanart Gallery! <3

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Miscellaneous: 🔮

Flicker’s Sona Design (Aka Me~): [1] [2]

“This Wish” Rewrite

‘Celestial,’ The Language of the Stars: [1] [2] [3]

Colour References for the 2 Main Couples (+ Some Fun Analyses ^^) (<— Will update soon)

Magic System Basics

RFTS!Starsha Dynamic :D

RFTS!Cast Dynamics

The Roles of the 7 Teens

Random Things that I’m excited to explore in the RFTS!Au

The Astral Realm

Dark AU >:3

………………….

Wish Rewrite Discord Server:💡

For any of you who wants a place to chat to other Wish rewriters to your heart’s content! You don’t even need to have an AU at all, this is a place you can really just chill and talk to people. ^^

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If you’re looking for anything in particular, try using the search option on the top right. I always try to tag my posts appropriately. ^^

Note: I want to say that some of my older posts may or may not be canon to my rewrite anymore. I did start this side blog when the RFTS!Au was still in its brainstorming stage. So try to keep in mind that some minor details might change and update as I go along.

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May I present to y’all some recommended Wish Rewrites on Tumblr if you’re lurking around Tumblr for more ;))

- Kingdom of Wishes: @annymation

- The Fallen Star: @signed-sapphire

- Wish Granted: @rascalentertainments

- The Wishing Kingdom: @chillwildwave

- The Girl and the Star: @mythartist21

- Wish: Rewrite the Stars: @gracebethartacc

- The Assistant and the Star: @tumblingdownthefoxden

- The Kingdom of Roses and Thorns: @your-ne1ghbor

- Upon a Star: @snackara

[leoisstillalive]

not by big thief is a rosquez song thank you lesbians.

"not the hunger revealing" valentino's hunger. his hunger for marc. his hunger for that tenth title. all hunger- so much of it.

hunger is what shaped his career, it brought him to great heights, never before seen. that passion, the raw need to win and make such a spectacle about it, it was moreish.

and the hunger to leave something behind- to not be forgotten. that is why he made the academy, that's why he loved marc so much from the go. he loved that there was a rider where, even when it wasn't valentino winning first-hand, he could still take credit for it because marc grew up idolising him. and he liked that when marc was winning, valentino wasn't really in contention for the championship- so it was a substitute and didn't hurt so bad. a situation where vale could still dominate, even by proxy, while not losing anything.

and the hunger for marc, which came after the hunger to be remembered. something thick and familiar- metallic, magnetic like flesh and blood. beyond that picket fence of mentor and mentee because marc did not need mentorship, didn't want it. beyond a metre's distance of friendship- never too far to reach and touch one another. far beyond love. beyond obsession? perhaps. maybe so far, even, that they toppled over the other side. missed the landing pad and soared into the ocean below. a two year free fall. but it was fucking good, whatever it was.

and that hunger revealed far more about him than i believe he ever wanted it to.

particularly in the fallout of it. when the disaster struck, valentino showed such fucking. brutal, cutting ferocity as he had never shown before. it was far beyond humiliating marc on track, it was beyond jerez 2005, laguna seca 2008, catalunya 2009. it wasn't punching max biaggi in the face.

it was a show of utter, brash cruelty. wherein he wanted to destroy marc personally. he wanted to ruin him.

that hunger ate itself- a fucking zoochosis where vale chewed his own leg off. maybe not leg. maybe arm. marc was valentino's arm. to fight and to hold.

but the hunger revealed that, for all vale's show at NOTHING- at absolute ease and effortlessness- he cared. he cared so much that it destroyed everything snagged on his bristled spines.

shrike by hozier is also a rosquez song. shrikes skewer their prey on thorns and pick their bodies apart with sharp, precise beaks. do you think the prey fights to the last breath? or does it find some comfort in knowing where it stands in the food chain? did marc?

[cielos-pintados]

I’m so proud to introduce Asha’s companion. This weirdo is Chispa! He’s a European Polecat. His name means spark, which is perfect because he sparks a lot of feelings. Usually joy for Asha, but for the other residents of the Hamlet... ehhhh... annoyance. Anger. Sometimes a real fire. But he doesn't like when you talk about those. It took way too long to settle on an animal. Bounced between keeping Valentino, then a mouse, then a bird, and discovered polecats while digging through Google. Asha found him after an extremely overconfident leap left him injured. Despite Sabino's protests, she brought Chispa home to recover. He never left. He's been a thorn in Sabino's side ever since. But Asha loves him, so Sabino lets him stay.

That’s it! Say hi to Chispa!

@thesafireartist @rascalentertainments @snackara @cerulean-crow @ishadow246 @chillwildwave @your-ne1ghbor @spectator-zee

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

#FF0000: rosquez [t]

Valentino had been—thinking. He is having fun, really, this season despite Jorge’s general existence a few meters away. And he likes races in the US, its plastic artificiality, people’s way, way, way too white teeth and loud laughs and exaggerated sports passion. Bringing home a podium is always good.

A little less now, sure, because he knows he can win again. Knows he’s going to, eventually; it isn’t like he can do anything else with Yamaha. But Valentino won’t forget Ducati kicking his legs from under him—wishing that the bike would just fucking work for one weekend over two fucking years.

So, he’s happy. Enjoying himself, even if the club is gritty and cheap and stuffed, sweat sticking to his throat and dripping down his back to his underwear, his beer lukewarm.

Until he catches Marc weaving through the crowd, that is.

Getting up is a split-second decision. One moment, Valentino is sitting with his mechanics, ignoring them shouting over the music. The next, he’s prowling, drink abandoned, his crew calling after him.

He ends up catching Marc close to the bar. Grabs him by the wrist. Marc’s skin is fever hot, and he sways in place when he swings around to look at him.

“Honda is being stingy with you. This place is shit,” Valentino says, flashing a smirk.

Marc—honest to God—cackles, and the pulsing lights wash over his face, over the ugly openness of his honking laugh. Like this, Valentino can see him, really see him. The fritz of champagne and beer sizzles in his stomach, heavy out of nowhere.

Marc had been with a girl, is the thing. Maybe more than one. It’s there, on his bottom lip, on his chin—smeared lipstick. Red and very bright. Bit waxy.

Cheap, probably.

���No, no, it is fine,” Marc leans in to shout into his ear. “We’re barhopping!”

He says it in English, clumsy, his accent rolling each r hard, cutting sharp on the ing. It’s, frankly, ridiculous.

And his breath is hot, damp. Reeks with alcohol where it brushes against his cheek. Marc is swinging with the beat of whatever shitty synth pop they’re playing, so Valentino needs to steady him, a hand on the small of his back, fingers hooked on his belt loops. He feels mean, though—suddenly. Not a pleasant sensation.

His smile turns harsh. It’s like holding a knife between his teeth.

“Are you even old enough to drink here?”

Valentino wants Marc wrong-footed, wants to prod at him until he winces or—well. But Marc only shakes his head, beaming, crucially still covered in lipstick. There’s some on his collar too. And another drippy, blurred mark on his throat.

“Nope! But Honda, ah—” He makes an exaggerated gesture for passing money around, almost trips over himself.

Marc ends up knocking into Valentino, all wild-eyed, sloppy with drink. Their chests are brushing. Valentino—it hasn’t moved an inch, that prickly, unkind feeling, thorns going down his throat when he swallows.

This close, he can smell Marc—sweat, champagne, something sticky and too sweet and overly feminine. It’s cloying. Nauseating along the stench of way too many people packed together, writhing or dancing

It grates on Valentino’s nerves for the first time in his life, that there are so many people out on a Sunday night—Monday morning, whatever, it’s even worse if it’s already Monday. He has no idea why.

“Ah, ah, underage drinking, bribery?” Valentino waggles his eyebrows in mock reproach, counting on his fingers. Marc immediately straightens—tries to, at least. Christ, alright. “You’re being bad. Very naughty.”

There’s something about Marc, in his too shiny eyes, in the stubborn way he juts out his jaw. His bottom lip wobbles, though. “It’s my first win.”

“First time going out without your dad too, I guess.”

He mouths along Valentino’s words before they dawn on him. Blinks. Scowls.

Valentino doesn’t give him time to answer. It’s easy now, to try and make him squirm. “Allora, did you sneak out of your hotel room? Told your dad you’d stay with your brother—what’s his name—and play video games?”

Marc ducks his head to the side, lips pressed together. It’s hard to say for sure, but Valentino thinks he’s flustered. Blushing. A nice, girlish pink—a lot more proper than the red on his mouth. Goes along with his tanned skin better.

It needles under Valentino’s skin. Everything does—Marc, and lipstick, and the club, and the girl, maybe girls, and Marc again. He can feel his hands prickling.

“Can’t miss out, hm?” He slides his tongue over his teeth, watches Marc watch him with his usual shamelessness. “When will you get the chance to get sucked off in a dirty restroom again, right? The smell of piss is, ah, an experience.”

Marc warbles in a breath. “It isn’t like that,” he protests weakly.

Valentino raises an eyebrow. It is very much like that—he remembers Donington Park well enough, in 2000, how he’d crawled back to his hotel room at 8 in the morning horribly, horribly smug.

He reaches down between them. Marc jolts, sucks in his stomach on an instinct, his eyes huge, like a baby deer’s. His belt is done all wrong, crooked, too loose, the lip hanging out. The button of his jeans is open. At least, he thinks, less amused than he makes himself look, he remembered to zipper up.

Valentino tsks. “I think it is,” he says, shaking his head, pretending to be oh so disappointed. “You’re being reckless. What will the journalists say when they catch you like this? You don’t want a scandal.”

Marc is frozen in place. Valentino catches his throat bobbing when he plays his button hole, threading his finger into it.

“You’re making fun of me,” he manages to say. It’s a reedy, sullen thing.

He barks out a laugh. “Not too much, you’re still here.”

Maybe it’s the waste of it all getting to him, scratching under his skin. Marc is heavier than him, already more muscular. With the right bra, he might look like he has a nice pair of tits. And there’re his eyes, almost demure, long lashes fanning over his cheeks. And his mouth, too—pretty, insolent. Stained with some random girl’s lipstick.

So Valentino thought about it. Only a bit, in his defense. Hard to not, when you have something so eager one step lower than you on the podium. All that adoration…

The cut of his jaw is too sharp, and his voice too deep, but if you look at him right, or gag him with something, it’s just like fucking a woman in the ass.

Valentino clicks his tongue. Taps low on Marc’s stomach, feeling it jump under his touch. “Am I making too much fun of you?”

He speaks slowly, almost thoughtfully. Whiplash hits Marc like a slap on the face, and he hesitates for a moment, scrambling for words. His gaze keeps sliding down, to where Valentino is touching him. It’s not hard, to figure out what he wants.

“No, it’s—I’m having fun,” he says, almost too quiet to hear.

The words are scorching against the side of Valentino’s face.

“Odd idea of fun.”

Marc laughs again, like Valentino is absolutely hilarious. Or like he’s drunk. Valentino isn’t—drunk, that is—but he isn’t thinking, either.

He licks his thumb, then has do it again—his mouth tastes dry, like something has died inside it. Marc stops laughing. It’s the easiest thing in the world, to brush away the sloppy kiss mark on the hollow of his throat. Straighten his collar. Rub at his chin until it’s clean too.

The lipstick was cheap. It comes off just like that.

“What are you doing?” He asks, breathlessly, in a rattle of Spanish.

Doesn’t move one inch away, of course. Valentino grins.

“You had a little something on your face,” he shrugs, “I’m looking out for you.”

“Thanks,” Marc manages to croak out.

But there’s still—on his mouth proper. He wonders, idly, out of his own body, how easy it would be to wipe that off too. With his tongue, maybe. How easy it would be to go from that to getting his hand inside Marc’s jeans right there.

He doesn’t want to. In this light, now that it isn’t so smudged, Marc could be in makeup. Really. The waxy red glints.

“There.” Marc is trembling in his hold, like a live wire. Valentino trails his finger over his lips, too light. “You don’t want to meet Honda looking like a whore, do you?”

Marc makes a strangled noise—Valentino thinks he does. He can barely hear anything through the pound of blood of in his ears, over the thrumming line of heat between the pad of his thumb and his cock.

“I—”

“You should go. Enjoy your night,” Valentino cuts him off, very magnanimously. “It is your first win, no?”

Marc nods, dazed. Maybe—maybe when he wins again.

[fanofstuff01]

Making a proper intro post

Rules (and other mildly important stuff)

-Minors do not interact. This account has 18+ content and I often use swears in casual talking. Here. Even if you stay you are warned.

-I am not very online, so asks/rbs/replies can wait for even weeks, but I’ll get to them as soon as I can, promise.

-I’m not exactly comfortable with chatting/getting personal DMs from people I don’t follow/don’t know due to an experience I went through before, so if you have anything to ask about me just send it through the ask box.

-I do have some ships I hate, and I may speak of them badly or mock them in the account, but I still don’t mind if you ship them. You do you and I do mine.

-I do not want controversies unless they're directly tied to me. Other than that please do not drag me into them unless it's actually needed.

-Okay, so just adding this cause this is my pinned post, but Turkey is currently closing a lot of apps to access cause of reasons I don’t know. If one day I go completely offline, know that I can’t access Tumblr.

With that’s out of the way,

About

-So, hey :] I’m fanofstuff, a bland person who finds her stress relief in her Tumblr, and this is my dumb little account about my ship ships, aus and fandoms.

-I happen to be alive but gay (bi) 😔. Also I’m in the ace spectrum and use she/her.

-This account is mainly focused on Hazbin but I just post whatever I feel like lol

-ADAMSAPPLE BITCHES!

-Multishipper for most.

-My English is not the best cause I’m Turkish, sorry for possible stupid grammar mistakes.

-I do rps with people, stories can be found below.

-I sometimes write ass fics because I fucking can.

-I have two rp accounts for Adam and Lucifer, @the-original-dick-1 and @the-king-of-hell-66-6. I also have a Charlie and Vaggie ask blog, @chaggie-askblog and an Angel Dust one, @ask-angel-dust-4

RP Storylines (for now)

Check the newest reblog of the post to have the full story!

Finished:

Lilo and Stitch AU Christmas Edition

Hanahaki Disease AU

Continuing:

Evesworld AU (Another)

Marriage AU

RadioStatic Swap AU

Lilo and Stitch AU

Second Man Lucifer AU

Fluffy Whore Adam AU

Paused:

Matchmaking Alastor AU

Satina AU

Boxing Ring AU

Will Make Into a Proper Post Soon:

Stolitz Swap AU (Another)

Ultimate Swap AU

Lilo and Stitch AU

Trials of Apollo AU

Temptation AU

Guardian Angel AU

Fandoms

-Hazbin Hotel (Main)

Favorite characters: Lucifer, Adam and Charlie

-Ninjago

Favorite Characters: Jay, Cole and Lloyd

-Eddsworld

Favorite Character: Tom and Edd

-Percy Jackson

Favorite Characters: Percy, Nico, Hazel and Leo

-Gravity Falls

Favorite Characters: Dipper, Bill or Grunkle Stan

-The Owl House

Favorite Characters: Willow, Luz and Hunter

-Slay the Princess

Favorite Characters: The Voice of Cheated, The Thorn Princess, Happily Ever After Princess and The Spectre Princess

-Murder Drones

Favorite Character: N and Uzi

-Ramshackle

Favorite Characters: Skipp, Vinnie and Stone

-Night in the Woods

Favorite Characters: Gregg and Mae

-Helluva Boss

Favorite Characters: Fizzarolli and Octavia

-Mouthwashing

Favorite Characters: Swansea, Daisuke and Anya

-Tangled the Series

Favorite Characters: Varian and Rapunzel

And more but I’m on these rn

Does Eurovision 2024 count? lol

Main Ships

-Adamsapple (Adam x Lucifer, Hazbin Hotel)

-Fallenstar (Vaggie x Charlie, Hazbin Hotel)

-Emilute (Emily x Lute, Hazbin Hotel)

-Holygates (Abel x Saint Peter, Hazbin Hotel)

-Cherrisnake (Cherri Bomb x Sir Pentious, Hazbin Hotel)

-Radiostatic (Alastor x Vox, Hazbin Hotel)

-Serapherd (Emily x Abel, Hazbin Hotel)

-Staticmoth (Vox x Valentino, Hazbin Hotel)

-Tomtord (Tom x Tord, Eddsworld)

-Mattedd (Matt x Edd, Eddsworld)

-Tord x Tom x Edd x Matt (Eddsworld) (Don’t kill me pls)

-The Player x Princess (Slay the Princess)

-Percabeth (Percy x Annabeth, Percy Jackson Franchise)

-Solangelo (Will x Nico, Percy Jackson Franchise)

-Nuzi (N x Uzi, Murder Drones)

-Lumity (Luz x Amity, The Owl House)

-Huntlow (Hunter x Willow, The Owl House)

-Raeda (Raine x Eda, The Owl House)

-Lava (Cole x Kai, Ninjago)

-Hydroelectric (Nya x Jay, Ninjago)

-Plasma (Kai x Jay, Ninjago)

-Pixane (Pixal x Zane, Ninjago)

-Dipcifica (Dipper x Pacifica, Gravity Falls)

-Rapunzel x Eugene (Tangled Franchise)

-Varigo (Varian x Hugo, Tangled Franchise)

-Fizzozzie (Fizz x Ozzie, Helluva Boss)

-M&M (Moxxie x Millie, Helluva Boss)

-Stolitz (Stolas x Blitz, Helluva Boss)

And more

Other social media

AO3: @/fanofstuff02

Tiktok: @/fanofstuff03

Twitter/X: @/fanofstuff04

Bluesky: @/fanofstuff05

Instagram: @/fanofstuff06

Here I’m unoriginal

That’s all, enjoy!