#tumblr is trying to test my patience

[ayveestars]

tumblr you won't get me to pay for add-free by showing me t-shirts with unfunny transphobic shit on them. bring back the creepy pikachu

[monstercangirlofficial]

i did not watch the jacob geller video. despite me liking him a lot, he covered torture scenes in call of duty games. i do not watch torture scenes in anything if i can avoid it. Chile (the country where i live) was in a violent dictatorship from 1973 to 1989, where many people were persecuted, exiled, beat, disappeared, kidnapped, TORTURED and murdered. people in my direct family were tortured and have ptsd and extreme mental and physical trauma because of it. this is not taken lightly in my house. we skip torture scenes in every movie or show we watch together. so no, i did not fucking watch the jacob geller torture video

like, its a fucking hannah arendt quote, do u think a white guy made up the idea of "lesser evil" still being evil?

anyways, this fucking post is about americans not caring about foreign policy and what happens in south america, palestine, africa, etc, and the global south in general, specifically about american interventionism, what lead to, guess what, the chilean dictatorship

americans choosing the "lesser evil" tend to forget really often that they're still choosing evil

[hoshifighting]

lyla I love what you write!!! I spend most of my nights diving into your tumblr and i never get tired of it!! <33

now im putting my shyness aside but still hiding on anonymous lol to request a yoga/pilates princess reader × seventeen gym lime pls?? how they would take advantage of it 😮‍💨

thank uuu love u

seventeen gym rat line x pilates princess reader

WARNINGS: smut, mentions of toned body, dirty talk, flexibility and strength

seungcheol “fuck, how are you so damn flexible?” seungcheol mutters, watching you bend in ways that make his thighs burn just from looking. pilates isn’t his thing; give him weights any day, but the way you move? he’s obsessed. he loves how you can effortlessly hold a position, legs stretched out, hips open—shit that drives him crazy. every time you strut out of the studio in those tight leggings, he’s already planning how he’s gonna have you later. “c’mere,” he pulls you close, hands sliding down to your hips, his lips brushing against your ear. “gonna bend you just like that, baby, but you’ll be screaming my name this time.” later, when he’s got you pinned beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist, he’s using all that strength to make you tremble. “this what you wanted, huh? my strong arms holding you down while you can’t even think straight?” he’s panting, half from exertion, half from the way you’re squeezing around him.

joshua tries to join you in pilates once, thinking it’s all easy stretches—wrong. the burn in his abs makes him regret every gym session where he skipped core. but watching you? the way your body moves with such grace, he’s a goner. he can’t stop thinking about how it’d feel to have you on top, moving with that same fluidity, every roll of your hips calculated, perfect. “you really have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, pulling you into his lap after your session, his hands sliding up your thighs. “seeing you like that.. it’s fucking hot. now let me show you what it does to me.” he’s not shy about letting you know how you drive him horny, his hands moves to grind your hips on his boner, your legging a thin layer that makes you feel his hard cock.

woozi’s always been focused, disciplined, but pilates tests his patience in a whole new way. “how is this harder than deadlifting twice my body weight?” he grumbles, struggling to hold a boat pose while you casually chat, barely breaking a sweat. afterward, when he’s got you in a deep arch on the bed, your back nearly bending in half as he thrusts into you, he finally understands the appeal. “this… shit, you look so good like this,” he breathes, eyes locked on your body. the way you stretch to take all of him “all that fucking pilates… worth it just to see you like this.” he grips your hips, pulling you even closer, rolling his hips inside you.

mingyu’s the type who thrives on challenges, so when pilates kicks his ass, he’s frustrated. but seeing you in action? it’s like watching a masterpiece. every stretch, every controlled breath, it’s got him all kinds of turned on. especially when you’re wearing those cropped tops that show off your toned body, and your boobs—he’s obsessed. “you’re gonna kill me with those damn leggings,” he groans, pulling you into his arms the moment you step out of the studio, sweaty and glowing. “can’t stop thinking about how those legs would feel wrapped around my head.” so when he finally gets you in bed, he’s eager to try out all the positions you’ve perfected in pilates, his hands roaming your body like he’s trying to memorize every muscle, every curve. “show me what else you can do, princess.”

hoshi “how do you make it look so easy?” hoshi grumbles, trying to hold a plank while you’re effortlessly transitioning into some advanced move. he’s competitive, hates losing, but damn, pilates humbles him. every time he struggles, you flash him that teasing smile, and it’s game over. he’s down bad, not just for how you move, but for the confidence you exude. when you’re in those tight shorts, showing off every line of muscle, he’s barely keeping it together. “you know what i’m thinking, right?” he asks, grabbing you the second you finish your session. “thinking of how good you’d look under me, legs wrapped around my waist, using all that strength to hold on tight. let’s see if you can stay in control when i’m the one making you feel good.” he whispers in your ear, knowing the effect his dirty talk will cause.

chan, when you drag him to pilates, he’s game—until he realizes just how much core strength it actually takes. but damn, does he love watching you. the way you move, the control you have over your body, it’s enough to drive him crazy. and when you’re wearing those tiny shorts, showing off your toned legs? he’s struggling to keep his mind out of the gutter. “how do you make everything look so fucking hot?” he mutters, following you into the locker room after your session, his hands already sliding up your thighs. “you have no idea how hard it is to focus when you’re looking like that.” later, when you’re tangled up in his sheets, he’s determined to see if all that pilates training has paid off, “let’s see how flexible you really are.” he mumbles to himself.

wonwoo can’t deny the way his pulse races when he watches you in pilates, all hot and firm. he’d never admit it, but the thought of you being able to move so fluidly, so powerfully, has him imagining all kinds of things. especially when you’re in those high-waisted leggings, the fabric hugging your curves in a way that leaves little to the imagination. “you know, you could teach me some moves,” he says, trying to sound casual, but his voice comes out rougher than he intended. “like how you can stay so damn composed even when you’re about to fall apart.” when you’re in bed, he can’t help but test that theory, his hands guiding you into a position that leaves you breathless. “let’s see how long you can hold this one, babe.”

[cryptfile]

⋆౨ৎ˚ ࣪ over the moon [ benedict bridgerton x wife!reader ]

summary — based on a request but went slightly off with it aka when your husband starts to stay up painting till late you start plotting a good plan to make him go to bed with you and actually rest instead.

warnings — pure fluff, since the rumors of sophie being latina sparked, personally went crazy with the information so it’s implied that reader is latina also, mentions of sex (nothing explicit,,, implied as part of a establish relationship).

side notes — English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes i’m sorry in advance. this is for my latin girlies out here reading in tumblr, working extra hard to translate your works to bring new content to the page, tkm <3 reblogs, comments and likes are much appreciated,,,as brittany broski once said: i'm a benedict bridgerton believer, i'm a benedict bridgerton ally.

You really didn’t know what you were getting into when you accepted Benedict’s marriage proposal.

Nobody told you that loving an artist is a tricky thing, cause while you’re always giving Ben’s new ideas, you hate him at the same time when he’s at the art studio until late, painting as if the absence of light it’s not enough to separate him from the canvas.

God, it just drives you crazy. He lacks of a schedule so he’s able to keep on painting till the rays of light start to appear again in the window he leaves opened all night long, and you’re afraid he’s going to catch a cold if he continues with his bad habits.

It suddenly hits him, that inspiration he ends up being the victim of, kissing you quickly as he escapes so fast you aren’t able to say anything when he disappears leaving you alone, you tolerate it at first, but the second? The third? He's just testing your patience at this point.

Your marriage has never been a troubled one, your husband does not make you mad most of the time and you enjoy being in love, those little things that made your heart skip a beat. You enjoy talking to him at night, spend your day in his art room as he encourages you to keep on writing that mystery book you're so into lately, bickering about how unfair life is for women your age — Hell, woman of all ages.

You love the sound of his laugh when he's careless about everything else, when he admits he doesn't want to go that night's party cause he just wants to stay home and fuck you senseless, his way of seeing art and explain it to you as something totally opposite as what you really think it is.

Thing is, you choose to marry Benedict Bridgerton cause you're indeed, head over heels with him. You've fall for the charming smile and sassy attitude that made you finally settle after years of being called a spinster. He finds the way to intrude the walls of the maze that was your heart and managed to plant a flag in the middle of it when you're confident enough to talk to him, let alone be seen in public after all the rumors you've heard that he was looking for a wife that season.

Even when you try to avoid him, he makes you fall in no time, following you around like a lost puppy, going to your house to spend time with your family, convincing everyone he's desperate to try the food your nana makes, cause you've talked about how good it taste all the time.

It's almost like he tricked you into make you love him, to have you between the brushes dipped in a funny smell water. He has you hooked by the first months and soon after? God, he has no education when he makes you love him, how he obliges you to stain yourself with all the things he was his daily life mixed with yours functioning so well.

It's a thorn nailed in the palm of your hand, those moments of privacy when the moon evolves you and your lover completely that are now being taken away. It's selfish, surely it's something childish so you don't want to say anything to your friends, or even Daphne Basset when she visits you to have an afternoon of tea free from her kids, asking you about how everything's going days before you came up with this great idea.

You can take the matter by your hands, that's why the next time Benedict's painting at midnight your mind works like a machine.

After all the time together you happen to know him more than you know yourself, the things he enjoys what he dislikes the most — So it's not very hard to plot against your husband.

Benedict doesn't seem to hear you when you silently glide through the half-open door, unaware as the light of the candle lights is not enough to illuminate the whole room, the fire he kept close to the canvas he was currently working on. He looks handsome all concentrated. His brows furrowed as he takes the pigments with his bare hands and mix them in his wood palette to get that exact color he was looking for. A shade of pink for a piece he hasn't shown you officially yet.

"What are you doing up so late?" you ask coyly when you are close to him, hearing how his breath hitched for a second before noticing it's you, your hands coming from behind just to intrude in his space close to the easel. He's taller than you, but it doesn't stop you from standing in your tiptoes, pressing your cheek against the crook of his neck as you hugged him.

You cannot hide that you're tired. You lost the track of time when you got out of bed, so when you have your husband close and finally smell that nice and subtle aroma he carries with him, you relax in his back, the sound of his heartbeat loud against your ear.

"You scared me for a second," he says with a grin, muscles relaxing under your touch. "Didn't hear you coming in."

He has dry paint on his neck, so while you're cleaning his skin with one hand, he leans into you, back pressed against your chest seeking for your warmth, that contact he always seems to enjoy, your attention in all the ways he can get it.

“Bed’s cold without you” you say, fingers on his recently trimmed hair. "Done waiting for'you."

He has the nerve to laugh at your words, slowly at first, the sound of it making your skin shiver. He's going to defend his choices, you know it, and you hate how much you enjoy it, the way he always seems to find an excuse making you totally offended as you retort something equally ridiculous.

"Just thirty more minutes I promise," he says pressing a kiss in the palm of your hand he so gently grabs. "If you stay with me like this, can do the work in twenty."

"You can fool anyone else with that Ben, not buying it" to be honest, you're just trying to contradict everything he says, far from what you thought doing first when you plotted against him. "You said the same last week, amor. Not falling for any more lies."

"Not falling huh?" he asks, lowering the wood palette to look at you, his eyes meeting yours when you're so comfortable pressing your chin on his shoulder, looking at the painting he was doing — "You've learned the lesson then?"

"Twenty more minutes mean an hour in Benedict's language," he's the one that's now offended when his mouth opens in disbelief "Turns out I know my husband, and we both know that’s way more than twenty minutes.”

He loves it. It’s almost a secret, but he loves how you demand his company, the way you don’t fold against anything and you stand for what you believe. He loves how you claim to know him, your lavender smell filling every single space available in the room as he smiles happily in response. He was so unsure of marrying you at first, but now he doesn’t know what his life would look like without you in the picture.

“Ah, I’m guilty as charge” he says, his own hand going to his chest like it saddens him to hear you talk like that. “Thought you wanted me to paint more.”

You've been encouraging him to show his art to more people, a small gallery that displayed his talent, but that’s using your words for his advantage.

“You little bastard, that’s unfair coming from you.”

“Woah woah, you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Kiss you even” you stick your tongue out, and he’s suddenly turning you around to place a kiss in your forehead, making you move in front of him instead — “You wouldn’t even imagine.”

Benedict’s a romantic. A poet at heart, so he doesn’t let any opportunity slip to show his affection, his infinite devotion to you. His heart flutters in his chest and suddenly he’s kissing you, staining your white nightgown with the fresh paint of his hands and not caring about it at the slightest. Kisses you like he missed you, like he didn’t see you the whole day when in reality you’ve spent all day in the same house, baking cookies cause you’ve suffered from a burst of love to the kitchen.

“You’re not convincing me” you say between kisses, hands pressing you closer to him. “I’m not leaving this room without you.”

He chuckles at your words — “Not even ten minutes?”

He’s devastatingly handsome in a way that makes you stare at him, wonder what you did to make him so interested in you, so attracted to the point he has to marry you.

"No Bridgerton. Ni diez minutos." To be honest, the accent just makes him go weak at the spot. It's pathetic, but he cannot help it, his brain melts at the sound of your voice, even if he doesn't understand much of what you're saying. "Let's go to bed."

You know it's a weapon, your lips are on his face, and he forgets about everything else: How he's supposed to continue on working when your lips are kissing every inch of his face? Seems like an impossible task now that his hands are on your waist and all he can notice are your pink lips, how you're looking at him through half-lidded eyes cause you're sleepy, an smile that eclipses the rest.

Benedict's no longer worried of his painting. Hell, he cannot seem to remember what shade of pink he was so invested in finding before, but he don't care at all when he's the one now leaning in, kissing you with fervent love as he traces the outline of your lips, almost asking for permission to invade you before deepening the contact, tangling his fingers in the strands of your hair cause he simply cannot get enough from you.

"Take me to bed then, my beautiful wife."

He does not protest next. He loves every second of it, the slight force, your gentle touch when your guiding him through the cottage you two share in Wiltshire, the goosebumps in his own skin when you managed to get what you want.

You win. It's a war that Benedict never intended to win, a disaster he knew it would end up with the result of him leaving his work half done cause he cannot resist to the idea of being tangled with you in such an intimate way. He sleeps so well with you on his arms, burying his head on your hair as he relaxes beneath the sheets, the contact of your skin enough to make him have the best night sleep.

Can he resist it? He's neck deep. Talked about it with his brothers before, drinking too much as the words slurred together and he admits how you got him wrapped around your finger, so in love he would do anything to please you, let alone have your full attention — They surely made fun of him, but is it his fault? Being so in love with his wife?

"Can't say no to you," he says defeated "You know it."

In the privacy of the room you two share, you're washing his hands with a wet cloth, preventing him from getting the sheets dirty before pulling his linen shirt to the floor. It's so quickly, he don't seem to realize what you're doing until he's already in bed, covered with the thick duvet as he searches for you.

He realizes now he should have listened to you before, cause his back is surely happy now that he's able to rest, the weariness of being standing so many hours now falling over him as his eyes began to close by themselves.

"When are you going to stop working so late?" You ask, pressing your cheek against his chest as you hugged him, getting closer to him even when you stole more than half of the bed in the process. The second son of the Bridgerton family does not say anything about it, but instead, enjoys how needy you are of his touch, how you want him around.

"Inspiration always come late, angel" he tries to defend himself as you rolled your eyes. “Maybe it’s a curse.”

"Then i’m afraid i’ll have to drag you to bed every night," you protest. "Cause i'm not letting you stay all night in that studio, crazy man."

"Miss me too much in bed?"

"Hm, what if I do?"

"Cannot blame you," Benedict admits later, using the only traces of force he has left to caress your hair, fingertips against your scalp in a gentle massage. "I'm always missing you when you're not around."

Your heart skips a beat: How could you not be head over heels with this man? He always find the right words, what to say exactly.

Gently, your face come up to press a soft kiss against his lips, a quick one that’s not enough for Benedict when he makes you stay in the same position as he steals a much longer one.

Life is simple with him by your side, you know it cause you might as well be over the moon when you’re alone with Benedict Bridgerton.

Every. single. day.

my masterlist.

[rcsea]

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑* & 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐘*

Twin single muse carrd templates based on the recent palette poll.

✧ Features: A more in-depth carrd design prioritizing information, so you'll have plenty of room to write all the important stuff about your muse. Comes in a light version and a dark version based on the winner(s) of the latest palette poll I did. Highly customizable but may require more patience when editing due to the amount of unique elements. Tested to be mobile friendly but that may vary by device. Contains a customizable sticky header, a page for guidelines, a stat page, a biography page, a page for verses, and a page for connections & npcs. There are small quad-style image galleries in different sections, and there should be plenty of room for you to resize images to fix the block style of presentation when your text runs over. If you have any issues or questions about editing the carrds, you are more than welcome to ask me here on my tumblr and I will try my best to help you!

✧ Terms of Use: Like / Reblog if you use, please. Do NOT use this for illegal content or to promote hate (this includes "burn books" and callout / vent blogs). Do NOT remove the credits or make them invisible somehow. Edit as you wish, but no matter how much you change it, do NOT claim it as your own!

✧ Price: $5 for early access , both are now FREE / pay what you want as of October 14th. If you want to help a girl out with a tip, I'd greatly appreciate it 💗 ( Important Note! This template requires Pro Lite or higher to use due to the number of features included ! )

DARK ─【 DREAMER DEMO ✧ DREAMER DOWNLOAD 】 LIGHT ─【 GHOSTLY DEMO ✧ GHOSTLY DOWNLOAD 】

[saylor-twift]

“he loves you, but he would never say that to your face.”

“-but he would never admit that.”

“-but he would never tell you.”

???

Are you sure? I am an avid tumblr stalker, and I’ve read so many things on silly little hat man in my time. I’ve seen things that tore my heart to pieces, that patched it up, that made me want to rip my guts out and throw up, that made me feel on top of the world.

And yet this is the one thing that bothers me so very much. I know, everyone has their own interpretations and opinions on different characters. So let me share my own.

The Wanderer is such a deeply written and intricate character, strung together with deep fears and insecurities, tragic backstories, and a beautiful story of change, healing, and moving forward. (I hate hate hate it when he is forced down to the level of nothing but oversexualization and “uwu sexy anime boy”, but that’s a conversation for another time.)

I’m sure if you’re reading this, you’re probably acquainted with Wanderer’s backstory, so I’m not going to explain. A lot of shit happened that made him who he is, and ever since the events of Irminsul, he has taken on a new path that he cannot go back on. Not like he’d ever want to. He said it himself, he never had any intention of returning to the Fatui. (And also- why choose to go backwards when you’ve got such a nice path set ahead of you?)

Anyways, point is, he’s changing. Notice how I said changing. He’s not changed, he’s just starting to. He’s getting there. Which brings me back to my argument. In the case that Wanderer ends up with a partner, things are certainly not going to be like a normal relationship. (He’s got plenty of red flags, don’t even try to deny it. But he’s a fictional character, so I suppose we can let this one slide.) Is he going to make the first move? That depends on if you make him desperate enough. Otherwise, it’s all on you, babe.

He’s not going to take it well. He’s going to deny it as hard as he can. You don’t love him, how can you? He is the furthest thing from loveable as you can get on this godforsaken planet. (His thoughts, not mine) But he certainly loves you, and, albeit with some likely pressuring assistance from Nahida, he’s come to terms with that terrifying knowledge.

“But he wouldn’t admit that to you.”

STOP. STOP RIGHT THERE.

Here is where my controversial opinion comes in. Most people tend to portray Wanderer as this cold, cut-off, aloof and irritable man, even in a relationship. And before you say anything, no, I absolutely do not think he would be the lovey-dovey, sappy, overly caring and romantic type. He’s not on either end of the spectrum, but I do think he’s somewhere in the middle (but probably leaning towards the former side).

Love is so, so very scary to him. And downright unknown. He’s traversing into uncharted waters here, give him some space to figure things out. That being said, he’s testing these waters. He’s not going to say he loves you at the beginning of a relationship. He has to make sure this thing is going to work. Your relationship is a newly built bridge, and those three words are the heavy cargo passing through. Without a strong foundation, the bridge is going to collapse, no questions asked. The only problem is, it’s going to take a long, long time to build that bridge. It’s going to be more expensive, more time consuming, and cost more materials than you had originally bargained for.

But that cargo can’t sit on one side of the bridge forever, can it? No, it has to get to the other side at some point. So if you have the patience to give your time to this bridge, the cargo will find its way to the other side. The foundation may wobble, the planks may shake, but the bridge isn’t going down.

He loves you, and he would admit it out loud. He would say it to your face. Just maybe not as soon as you want it. It’s going to hurt, and you’re going to wonder if he actually cares for you or not. Fear not, because if you pay attention to those little things he does when you’re not looking, it will feed you those little crumbs you need till you can finally be satiated when the full meal is done cooking. He mends things for you, things you had given up on because you’d never have the time nor energy to do it yourself. He cooks, and surprisingly, it’s always your preferences. He collects things that remind him of you, some he keeps out of embarrassment, and some he leaves on your bedsheets whenever you’re not home.

He’s been hurt, abandoned, and betrayed far too many times to immediately let himself fall into something as complicated as a relationship. He’s going to be distant, you’re going to disagree, probably fight a bit. He’s just seeing how far he can bend the lines, how much you really want him. (red flag maybe!! but he’s working on it, it’s going to be okay. mayyyybe you can look past just this one…) If you won’t leave even if he does this, then he thinks, maybe you’re the one. Maybe fate decides to treat him benevolently for once.

And when you finally, finally get to that point, he’s going to drown you so deep you can never get out. He’ll say he loves you, does everything in his power to make sure you never forget it. (no, he’s not going to read you love poems in the moonlight and call you darling. sorry if that’s your thing, that’s not who he is.)

This relationship will never be perfect, but relationships never are. Just as long as the two of you are willing to be patient with the other and get through your differences and clashing personalities, you are going to mold together perfectly. And even if he doesn’t say it often, (which he probably won’t. he’s certain you know it. why repeat something already ingrained into your mind? he doesn’t use those words lightly), it’s not like he’ll never say it. He won’t leave you in the dark for too long. He loves you, don’t worry. He’ll say it, but he prefers to show it.

[relax-and-read-on]

I have not made made a generic hc post about the primarch in a LONG time. I miss it, and it's good for the warhammer tumblr ecosystem. So, without further waiting....

Primarch, and the absolutely shitty gifts they give each others for a White Elephants gift exchange

Roboute: A classic coffee mug (primarch sized!) Filled with sweets and a indestructible fancy fountain pen. The mug say "World Most Okay Dad" on it, and he joke that it apply to them all.

Lion: a stuffed bird. The number of eyes on it is vaguely unnerving. It's unclear wich way is the head suppose to go, and all agree that it's probably an awful mutant bird. Lion is too proud to admit that it's just a really shotty taxidermy he made himself.

Alpharius Omegon: They give a series of mysterious CD in blank case, wich is a very rare and hard to read format on most ship! It's the entire series of MLP:FiM, famous lost media in the 30th millenium.

Rogal: A thick, sturdy, and perfectly elegant multi bit screwdriver, with extra standard bits put in the handle. Give a proud presentation on it, explaining it's superior design and all it's ergonomic features. It's 45 min long.

Perturabo: it's a coupon that say "one (1) construction from me and my legion, free of complaining. Valid until the 31th millenium." It's the most popular gift of the night.

Corvus: slipper and kigurumi, all crow themed. They are *adorable*. Sadly, the size is a bit tight and vaguely indecent on the more muscular primarch.

Lorgar: a traditional colchian tea set, with hand dried craft teas! The set is beautiful, and the teas prove to be only mildly hallucinogenic.

Konrad: A very, VERY pretty embroidered set of throw pillow! They have delicate pattern of flower and nature imagery... And are made with human hair. Konrad is very proud of himself, and even more of the absolute bloody screaming his gift create when he explain it.

Sanguinius: put out by Konrad's gift, but he also made a pillow, but this one filled with his own feathers. Has surprising property against nightmare.

Vulkan: He was actually sweet, and brought homemade hot sauce, his mother's recipe! The problem is that the stuff is so strong, it's considered a dangerous chemical in most of the galaxy. Can be used as jet fuel.

Horus: Edible sexy underwear. Insist that whoever gets it has to wear it, and jokingly say that, if they are too shy, he can do a demonstration himself.

Mortarion: a succulent growing kit. Even his most dumbasses of brother should be able to keep a succulent alive, right? Doesn't mention that it's an highly invasive species that will colonise the entire ship of his poor victime.

Jaghatai: a foal. Yes, he carry a whole ass live animal to the gift exchange, and keep insisting that it's an appropriate gift. The horse is chewing on Magnus' hair.

Leman: Mad that he didn't think of bringing a puppy, but he has the most amazing looking collection of smoked salmon, caviar and preserved fish to offer.

Magnus: his patience is wearing thin, but he still offer a perfectly beautiful robe, that act as an honest to good mood ring and change color depending on the person's aura.

Fulgrim: A painting of himself! Wich is actually a joke, it's just a thin and hand painted decorative paper covering the true gift: a painting of all their family, together. Get called a try hard.

Ferrus: a collection of very pretty crystals and fossils! Wich he arranged in a chocolate box, and explain that those are his favorite flavors.

Angron: A punching bag that even *he* find durable. He made sure of it, by thoroughly testing it before giving it out, wich explain it's used appearance.

I know exactly who gets what..... Yall want to know in a part 2 ;)?

[recycledmoviecostumes]

i don't know why you've changed up your post style so much (did someone else take over?) but it's abrasive enough that i've unfollowed you after years of being a fan of the blog

I'm sorry to hear that, but I totally understand! I wish you the very best, and I appreciate you being a follower many years.

_________________

Hello all! I've been testing several different ways of posting (so if you all see random posts at random times, that's what is happening!)

I'm actually trying to get more content on this blog. One to two costumes per day instead of just two on the weekend. But this includes other social channels as well. Honestly, running the website and all social channels and inputting posts manually is just incredibly, incredibly time consuming. This isn't my job. It's a hobby that I like to share with people. The website and social channels costs me an incredible amount of time and money to maintain and run.

Anyway - the point is, what I have been doing is trying to set up each costume via a social posting program, so that I only create one post, which then posts to all of my social channels automatically. Tumblr sadly seems to be odd man out for social posting schedulers, which is really a shame, because Tumblr is AWESOME (as we all here know!)

But, because of that I've had to do some workarounds, and basically whatever gets posted to Instagram gets posted to Facebook and whatever gets posted to Facebook gets posted to Tumblr (oof!) meaning I can't keep the format that I wanted for Tumblr, which is admittedly a bummer.

But - my choices at this point were to abandon Tumblr completely, or make some changes to the post format (which is not final at this point). I chose not to abandon Tumblr, because Tumblr is awesome, and my followers are awesome and I didn't want to just leave you all high and dry after so many years.

Please know I tried about fifteen social schedulers before making this decision.

Thank you all for your patience and understanding, and hopefully someday soon...here is to more content!

[kazutora-kurokawa]

HELLO! How are you? I'm glad your requests are open again

This is the 367473 time I try to make a request but Tumblr just couldn't-

Anyways, I wanna make a request for Tr boy with a Musician S/O (Baji, Draken, Mickey and Izana) to be more specific, a classically trained Pianist.

I'm a Pianist as well, so I would like to know how they would react to their S/O being always busy with rehearsal and recitals

Thank you so much, and I'm sorry for my bad English, it's not my first language 🙏

TokRev x Pianist!Reader

♡ SFW, gn reader, fluff, arson, reader is a busybody with a flooded schedule ♡

Characters: Baji, Mikey, Draken, Izana

note: thanks for requesting and trust me, your English is perfectly fine 🩷 also sorry for the delay lol

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Baji

🔥 Thinks that you playing the piano is super cool because he could never do it (he doesn't have the patience)

🔥 He'll show up to your recitals loud as hell and end up getting kicked out (he'd bring Chifuyu with him too lol)

🔥 He doesn't mind you being busy, as long as you actually make an effort to spend time with him

🔥 If you don't make time, he'll make time for you by burning down the recital hall 🤭 (nah but seriously don't test him because he will do it)

Mikey

💠 He's so clingy, so your tight schedule gets him mad sometimes

💠 He'll whine about it and beg you to reschedule whatever you have going on (he hits you with the puppy dog eyes and the lip pout 😭)

💠 He'll pop up at a few of your recitals and either fall asleep because it's so peaceful or tear up because it's so beautiful (he'll bury his face in his jacket if he starts feeling teary eyed though)

Draken

🐉 Draken loves listening to you play the piano, he'll come over just to hear the sweet melodies and watch your fingers gracefully navigate the keys

🐉 He's at every recital, sitting quietly and cheering you on when it's over (literally everyone in the audience is intimidated by him at first because since when did gang members like classical music? 🤨)

🐉 He doesn't mind your schedule, he even drives you to and from practice

Izana

🎴 He already plays guitar so he knows how consuming learning an instrument can be, albeit not to your extent

🎴 He doesn't mind your schedule, but he makes sure to always keep an eye on you, whether that be showing up at recitals or stalking you to and from practice

🎴 He'll take time out of his schedule to try to learn piano just to impress you

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe

[yanderenightmare]

heya! do you have any more writing tips for writing on tumblr? like, any tips to get as much attention as you, kinda

Sure!

♡ Post in different lengths!

Or, more precisely, don’t only post long full-fics with multiple chapters.

I know it sounds weird, but the more effort you put into something doesn’t actually guarantee more payoff. Why would anyone read your hour-long fic if they have no previous experience with your writing that gives you credibility? In other words, how can they know spending an hour reading your writing is worth it?

More people are likely to grab a bite-sized appetizer than they are to sit down for a full five-course meal.

But! The more people like those bite-sized appetizers, the more likely they are to want to sit down for that full five-course meal, you know?

Think of those bite-sized appetizers as taste tests—kind of like commercials that bring more people in to give your actual meals a try.

Also, writing in different lengths is good for you! Only writing hour-long stuff makes you burn out quickly, which brings me to my next tip:

♡ Post often!

If you can, try posting something every day. Of course, you can’t post full hour-long fics every day, which is where writing smaller things such as drabbles, headcanons, and tiny prompts come in. Think of them as flings you have in between your long-term relationships. They’re fun little things good for your health!

But anyway, here’s a tip for when you do have those long-term relationships—as in, when you want to write full-fics or longer posts in general:

♡ Start with a hook! 

My attention should be seized by the first paragraph, if not the very first sentence I read. This is so important.

I’m a very picky reader sometimes—so if that first line doesn’t interest me, I’ll be fast to scroll to find something more enticing. And you can be sure a lot of readers are the same.

Under are some examples of my own start-liners.

Something foreboding:

There’s something very off about your roommate… something eerie that makes you keep your distance.

The plot:

Thinking about the big and burly behemoth Omega finally finding himself the cutest little Alpha to breed with…

Something catchy:

Give a brat an inch, and they'll take a mile. 

Something snappy:

You’re his favorite whore…

Dialogue:

“Feels like you’re luring me into some trap.”

A prompt:

Yanderes who keep you higher than a kite…

In medias res:

You lay on your belly on the bed.

Anyway, they don’t have to be groundbreaking—just anything that will spike interest in the reader.

♡ Write for different characters! And try writing inserts!

Inserts are when you don’t name any specific character in the story but either give options for what characters your audience can imagine or leave it completely up to them. This works best if you have a nice starter-line that tells you what kind of character this is without naming them.

Examples:

Bruiser boyfriend

Ex-military Yandere

Benevolently sexist boyfriend

Creep Step-bro

You can go further and identity the reader as well:

Big, brawny, chubby-muscled Boss and his perfectly bite-sized assistant

In other words, people like to know what they’re about to read before they start.

Otherwise and lastly:

♡ Something logistic you can have in mind is making your writing accessible. 

Say I like one of your posts, and I click your profile to check you and your other posts out, but all I see when I scroll through your blog is endless reblogs and one-off comments about this and that. My second instinct is to check out your Masterlist. If you don’t have one, my mission is fraught, and I’ll be out of there quickly. If you do have one, but it’s messy, then my patience will wane, and again, I’ll be out post-haste. 

The bottomline is to have a neat pinned post that makes it easy to navigate your blog, with all your relevant stuff easily accessible. Check out mine for reference. But the most important is for it to include your rules, how to request, and your masterlists.

Then, of course, this is obvious, but:

♡ Remember that things take time

I’ve been running @yanderenightmare since 2020. Back then, it took me half a year to get my first 1000 followers. And most of my posts would only get about 500 or so likes. And, that’s another thing—if I was doing it for the likes and follows I probably wouldn’t still be here, so make sure you enjoy what you’re writing and stuff. If you have that conviction, then the rest is just a nice bonus.

[alistairsmonstercafe]

SFW Dragon of the East

NOTICE GN Lung Dragon / Eastern Dragon Hybrid Reader

CHARACTER Price X Reader

ADDITIONAL I don't mind Fem/Fem aligned readers reading but don't feel insulted/complain that I strictly don't do Fem reader, not my cuppa tea mate.

INSPIRATION @/Bluegiragi Monster AU on Twt and Tumblr & @/thegnomelord

NOTE I have tried my best to include many traditional aspects of the lung dragon in my own way, and will take any criticism if its not up to date to the history of the actual, lung dragon/chinese dragon culture, although I am asian, input is always perfect.

In the midst of the bustling 141 headquarters, you, had been their newest recruit. A Lung dragon—a different kind of dragon from his European heritage, Price noticed. And whilst there was quite the fascination of a different yet similar species, he couldn't help but find himself intrigued yet lucky. There was something about your calm demeanor and patience that caught Price's attention.

In most cases, dragons are considered fierce, strong, quick, easy to anger, and anything that isn't patient. And yet there you sat, your long, seemingly unscathed scales and beautifully fluffy tail laid lazily across your lap as you spoke to Soap. Not an ounce of anger or aggression to someone so close to you as the usual European dragon would be when first meeting new people.

Curiosity sparked, Price observed you, trying to understand your customs and ways, which seemed a bit different from what Price was used to. You had a knack for being seemingly the most grounded. You words flowed like water and your advice seemed endless. You didn't seem rookie, either, and he wondered for how long you had roamed the earth for, and your presence exuded a sense of tranquility, much like the calm after a rain shower.

Acknowledging their differences, Price aimed to show you his strengths—leadership, courage, and wisdom earned from experience as a way of perhaps, courting you. Testing you, seeing if you would rise to the challenge. He respected your background, trying to learn about the values and traditions that shaped the Lung dragon's approach to life.

Yet in your interactions, Price was surprised when you didnt go against anything he'd bring up to you, opting for agreeing and even adding to his plans, he was left dumbfounded, leaving him as he subtly expressed his admiration for your dedication to the team. While their cultural backgrounds differed, there was a mutual respect growing between them.

Ghost could only watch from a distance a smirk on his lips beneath his balaclava at the way Price's scales would shift as he spoke to you, the way he'd try to puff out his chest a little or even stretch his wings to prove the size of them.

Around the first month, Price noticed your fascination with pearls, large, almost black shiny pearls, he subtly tried to engage in your shared interest, albeit in his own way. He occasionally brought his jewels or rare treasures from his hoard in his office. Almost hoping you might reciprocate or rise to the occasion. When asked, you had called it a "Flaming pearl." Leaving him confused. Had you of blown flame into it? Was it something that was often kept warm? Yet your soft chuckle left him once again, in the dark.

His attempts at courting had backfired in a way, revealing your calm demeanor and willingness to foster understanding rather than competition.

Little had he knew that his attempts were seen by you more then he would have thought. Only smiling at his little attempts.

Slowly, Price began to realize that your approach to courting wasn't about winning or being superior but about mutual respect and cooperation. It dawned on him that your patience and willingness to aid him were gestures of camaraderie and a desire to build a connection rather than engage in a contest would be better. So he went for something softer. After all dragons could he as delicate or as rough as they wanted to.

The way your scales in certain parts would glow, to the way you formed clouds from your breath rather then breathed fire, the way you disappeared into water as if you were, water, made you all the more interesting. Watching even as you sparred, against someone like Soap, your fluid and quick movement, kept you from being hit easily.

In this realization, Price's approach to courting shifted. He began to appreciate your supportive nature, understanding that their connection wasn't about outdoing each other but about nurturing a bond that thrived on mutual respect and understanding, something that be was well familiar with.

Little did he know, that you wanted to court him back, a collection of finely polished pearls from the ocean had been building up in a glass case. Wrapped in a strong, seaweed bow.

The day you had given it to him was during a beach day with the 141, you were all having a late night barbecue. And you had given the case to him, the moonlight illuminating your figure and the warm fire lit up your face. You scales glowing in an intricate pattern. Soft and slow.

He accepted the gift, marveling at the beautifully, perfect yet imperfect pearls.

"Your actions aren't as hidden as you think." You joke, gently cupping his face, you feel his cheek warm up like a blaze, watching as Price turned to the side and coughed out a few puffs of smoke in embarrassment.

You were bad for his health, thats for sure. But with all the cigarettes hes used as a substitute for flame? He'd take you over any kind of drug.

[devil-in-hiding]

tumblr is testing my patience trying to post this lmao, first my app stops working and now the site is glitchy

anywho working on part 2

[raysrays]

Bust Your Kneecaps Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku

Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku X GN! Reader Oneshot

Warnings: Kidnapping, Torture, Stockholm Syndrome, violence.

-this is my first time writing on Tumblr. Hope I didn’t do terrible.

It was never supposed to be this way. You were on your way to moving up, to becoming a Hashira. Everything you have worked for years seemed so close, only for an instant. So how did you get here? How exactly did you end up with your hands and feet bound in the Flame Hashira’s quarters?

You sit there in silence, trying to figure out exactly where this had all gone so wrong, remembering when you first arrived at the Demon Slayer Headquarters, facing the master and all the other Hashira. And then, of course, meeting him: that smiling ball of joy, the sun in its purest form, Kyojuro Rengoku, the Flame Hashira.

You recall that day just like it was yesterday: his kind smile, the gentle touch of his hand shaking yours. He was everything you could have asked for, so why would you ever say no to being his tsuguko? Being trained by the tall, charming Flame Hashira. You’d be stupid to refuse. He had you fooled, he had you all fooled. Behind that seemingly genuine smile was nothing more than a sick and twisted man, interested only in having complete and utter control of the people in his life.

Unfortunately, now you were on the receiving end of his descent into madness. And here you are, bound on the floor.

“My little flame! I’ve returned from training,” his booming voice immediately catches your attention. You feel your body tense from his presence. Just being around him has made you feel uneasy. As he approaches, you keep your eyes lowered, staring at his feet. After a moment, you feel his hand pull your face up to meet his. His bright eyes staring down at you make your heart race.

“Why do you look so scared, sunflower? It’s only me!” His bright, happy smile feels so disturbing now. You pull your face away from him. “I’m not scared. I just wish you’d let me out of here.” Your voice was harsh. You’ve always been a little defiant but nothing Rengoku thought he couldn’t handle.

Just then, he kneels right in front of you to be eye level with you again. You see his sword peeking out from his Hiaori. It makes the hairs on your back stand. His smile has fallen and his eyes look sad. “You needn’t be so upset, sunflower. I’m simply keeping you here for your own protection. You have no reason to be angry or frightened.” His voice is stern but caring. You roll your eyes at this statement. Protection? You were a skilled swordsman worthy of becoming a tsuguko. Why would you need him to go so far as to lock you away for your protection?

“I don’t need you to protect me. I can take care of myself. Besides, this is overkill. You need to let me go.” You turn to meet his gaze. His face was completely different this time. He looked so serious and somewhat angry. “You aren’t going anywhere. Do you understand?” His voice was stern and cold. His state was enough to make you completely freeze. He looked crazy. He was crazy. There’s no way you could stay here. You wonder how many people have seen this side of him? How many have lived?

Past the fear was anger. You’ve always been used to being ahead of your peers, used to success and right now the one you wanted to lead you to the top was keeping you from becoming everything you were capable of.

“You’re sick, Kyojuro. You need help. Let me out of here.” You tried to remain calm but he was really testing your patience. All it took was one swift second to feel your breath getting knocked out from under you. Laying on your back, coughing, you look up meeting eyes with a pissed-off Rengoku.

“I’m sorry I think you misheard me, my little flame. I said I’m doing this to protect you… Surely you understand it’s your job as my Tsuguko to obey my orders.” His eyes narrowed and he put his face close to yours, whispering in your ear.

“Don’t make this difficult, Y/N. You have an obligation to me and me alone. So why would you ever go against my orders?” His point was irrelevant. You had no obligation to this psychopath. Your frustration finally got the best of you. Once you finally caught your breath back, you tried to shove him away from you even while your legs and hands were bound. It wasn’t as effective as you had hoped but it made him fall back onto the ground with you.

You took this opportunity to try and stand, hoping to at least be able to hop towards the door. Maybe someone would notice you if you screamed for help or made enough noise.

“Someone help me-!” After what felt like five seconds of hope and victory, You felt a sharp pain in your legs. So bad you immediately hit the ground. The pain was excruciating; all you could do was lay on the ground trying to fathom what just happened. Then you noticed a shadow standing over top straddling your body.

“I told you to not make this difficult, sunflower…” he let out a sigh and bent down next to you. He noticed you staring off at the ceiling, trying to process the immense pain you were currently in. He then took his hand and turned your face to look at him. There he was again. That sweet smile and those bright happy eyes.

“There isn’t a line in the world I would not cross for you, Y/N.” He then leaned down to kiss your forehead gently.

“Try and run all you want. I’ll always find you. You’re mine. Mine alone.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying; he really had completely lost it. So why, in the middle of all this pain, did you feel your face heating up? This man is crazy. He’s insane. So why? Why does a part of you want to see how far he’d chase you?

You stare up at him mustering up what strength you had left. “You’re crazy…” you finally breathe out.

He smirks and caresses your cheek. “Only for you, sunflower.”

[onyxrosess]

You Have a Way With Words

vergil x reader

Hello! First time posting on tumblr, it’s definitely testing my patience- but here I am.

・warnings: n/a

( + cross posted on ao3)

The evening had dragged on, ever so slowly. It was to be expected when waiting for something— someone— time did move so terribly slow. Vergil had been gone most of the day, usually, jobs went fairly quick for him, as he is the strongest half-devil you know, and probably is the strongest half-devil. That being, he’s now been gone since 11:00 am, it’s now, you glanced over at the clock on the wall, 9:48 pm. And you are exhausted. Finding anything to do at the shop was a challenging task, there weren’t any books. Vergil didn’t even keep books, or well very many. You didn’t feel it would be appropriate to read his chosen literature, as it seemed quite personal to him. 

You’ve now retreated to your bed—Vergil’s bed. The neatness of the room was still a little alien to you. Not that it was just clean, there was practically nothing in his room. A dresser, two nightstands, a hook to hang his coat, and his large bed. That was it. Maybe it was instinct, a decorated room was a human trait. Though Vergil’s gotten better about his humanity, it is nowhere near perfect and never will be. You slithered under the comforter, laying on your side. Half of you wanted to tape your eyes open just in case Vergil got home so that you could greet him. The other half wanted nothing more than sleep. And one ended victorious, sleep.

It had only been an hour since you had fallen asleep, the silence of the building was not to be disrupted, especially by Vergil’s light steps. A habit he gained from the hells. However, the bedroom door opened with a prolonged squeak. Vergil’s eyes fell on your sleeping form, though he was not surprised. He had already been listening to your heartbeat from the other side of the door before making his entrance. Vergil momentarily propped up the Yamato against the wall as he methodically hung his coat on the hook attached to the drywall. Now walking over to his bed, which you are claiming one side of. Resting the sword against the nightstand, he sat down on the mattress. His weight made the mattress dip, and you remained unaware of his presence. Vergil’s first thought was how weak , but he was quickly overridden by human reason, reasoning he had been taught, especially by you and Dante. Vergil’s gaze settled on your features, ones he could barely see due to your position facing away from him. His hand, which still had his weathered gloves on, moved to grab a section of your hair, feeling it between his fingertips.

Maybe it was to check if you were real. Not many lowered their guard around him, well, those who knew of his strength. Regular civilians would always have their guard down, they were oblivious. But you who showed him patience granted it didn’t come without its respective frustration, but you still did it. You still trusted him, as stupid of a decision he thought it was at first: to trust blindly. Over time he realized it wasn’t blind, you saw something in Vergil he couldn’t see himself. His ability to be a man, and maybe you two had a different definition of a ‘man’, didn’t stop you from trying. Even when he would be covered in gore and carnage, and no regard for human life, you still saw him . It was buried down so deep there was only a sliver showing. But you knew it was there.

Your body shifted in your slumber, switching to the other side. The hand previously tangled in your hair quickly retreated, he observed your micro-movements. How your chest rose and fell slightly, your lips slightly parted. The dim lighting didn’t allow for many details of your face to show, but Vergil’s eyes saw you perfectly clear, thank you demon genetics. Vergil slipped his boots off before sitting up against a pillow on his bed, though you did slowly awaken. You didn’t see him at first, but you smelt him, it was nothing bad, it was just him. Something you had grown very accustomed to. His once cold blue eyes turned warm, at least that's what his gaze felt like on your skin. Vergil’s hands sat idly in his lap, “I apologize if I woke you.” You shook your head and pulled your body closer to him, “I don’t mind, I wanted to see you anyway.” Vergil didn’t respond, your head laid on the pillow next to where he sat. His eyes trained on your face and you couldn’t help but do the same. Admiring his sharp features, his eyebrows were more relaxed, and the shadow that they usually cast over his eyes was lightened. 

Vergil wasn’t extremely well versed in affection, barely versed at all. You settled for the small touches he gave you in private, it never extended beyond. You would usually wake up alone or Vergil faced away from you on the other side of the mattress. Though the man was very possessive, he rarely touched you. As if you were made of glass and the smallest thing could send you shattering. Regardless if you fought alongside him or he simply observed you, he would still treat you so carefully. Fighting your inner turmoil, you shifted your weight closer to him. Moving ever so carefully, lifting your head to lay on his thigh. Your actions were immediately met with his muscles tensing, yet again, he remained silent.

You didn’t dare move to look at his expression, admittedly feeling nervous, though if Vergil was not comfortable, he would have no problem voicing that. A few long seconds later, the muscles of his thigh slowly relaxed under your head, and you released a small breath that had been held captive in your lungs. Then minutes passed, and Vergil remained still, but calm, or so you hoped from the few clues you could gather together from your current position. Your eyes began to close shut once again, without your permission of course. 

A slow hand came to your hair, pushing the pieces back behind your ear. You couldn’t help but crane your neck up a little to maybe get a glimpse of Vergil’s face. His expression was blank as ever, till he caught your eyes. His lips twitched into a tiny smile, that was reward enough.  “What took you so long to get home?” You questioned, your neck still in an awkward position to see him. “I had an errand to run before returning home.” You hummed, he was being vague. Your heart told you he was being truthful, but your head said there was something else- no matter. He would tell you, or at least that's what you told yourself.

Resting your head back down comfortably on his lap, you pondered what his ‘errand’ was. He didn’t need to buy anything, he had food here and he wasn’t very materialistic. Maybe he was seeing someone . The thought made your chest burn, trying to put out the flames you tried to think rationally. Vergil and yourself were not officially dating, you know he cares about you. But the situation is so unique you don’t know if proper dating applies to him. But then again maybe he just needed to get off, he was human after all..well part human. The water you tried to pour on your fiery thoughts was not enough, and the heat from the raging flames morphed into jealousy. Was he with someone else? The thought of Vergil sharing the tender moments you have with him made you boil. 

Maybe Vergil heard your heart begin to beat faster, or maybe it's a demon’s 6th sense. One of his hands laid idly on your back, and you were quickly pulled out of the burning house that was your mind. “What's on your mind?” Vergil broke the silence of the room, you bit your tongue. You could not bear to admit jealousy over an imaginary woman you created in your head, it was ridiculous.  “Nothing, it’s stupid.” You turned your head farther away from his gaze,  “If it was nothing, you would not call it ‘stupid’” Vergil tested you, why must he be so nosey ?  You groaned, lifting a hand to cover your face.  “I’m…I’m just thinking too much, it’s fine.”

That answer was not sufficient enough for Vergil. His hand pried yours away from your face, though it wasn’t much of a struggle for him. He tilted your head with his hand towards his face, he was staring at you, and a couple of his white strands of hair fell out of their place.

“Tell me.” Vergil demanded, he wouldn’t just let it go. “I… I just was…” Jealous wasn’t the right word, what were you jealous of? Vergil was not exclusive to you.  “wondering what your ‘errand’ was, and… I thought you might’ve been with someone else.” Vergil’s expression was back to normal, a deep shadow cast over his eyes, his brows knitted together.  “I could tell you, but I’d prefer not to.”  Now you were fucking confused, what does that mean?  “If it would put your mind at ease, I would.” Vergil’s expression softened slightly. If he was so willing to tell you, maybe it wasn’t anything bad.  “No, it’s okay, I trust you.”  Your own words were not a lie, you did trust Vergil, with your life and your secrets. Vergil nodded, as his body relaxed against a pillow. Now you were curious, not as jealous anymore, maybe a little still. 

Vergil shifted now to laying down, so rudely making you move. He laid on his back as he stared at the ceiling, the air was beginning to feel thick with tension. You managed to scoot your body closer to him, your eyes following a muscle in his neck that twitched as he clenched his jaw. He moved his arm, making way for you to cling next to him. It wasn’t often he felt comfortable with contact like this, it was usually directed by you. Your head now rested on his chest, as it calmly rose and fell. 

Just like that, your worries slowly seeped out of your mind, discarding themselves. Everything felt like it was going to be okay. Even just for a moment, maybe just for tonight, but it was enough to make you smile. The comfortable warmth that radiated off of Vergil made your body lax, while his hand played with a strand of your hair gently.  “What are you smiling for?” Vergil asked, his fingers lacing through your hair, and before your brain could filter the words that slipped out your mouth, they went rouge;

“I love you, Vergil.”

“Foolish girl.”

Thank you for reading! - onyxroses

[froznwater]

im so sorry this is incredibly random but if i dont write alenoah i WILL die but i cant think of anything to write. do u have any simple ideas. ignore if not

HI!!! tysm for your ask <3 i hope you can find something to write amongst all the ideas. These are a bunch of ideas have written down in my notes/google drive/tumblr posts and have not got gotten around to. I still might at some point in time but feel free to use them. I will still do my own take if I get the time/motivation. There's simply so many, why not share and inspire some fics :)

----

General ideas:

Noah knows/learns spanish. Bonus points if Alejandro isn't aware until the perfect moment.

Alejandro thinks he can get away with flirting with Noah in spanish. Noah starts shit talking in spanish. Noah learns so he can hear all the little comments Alejandro keeps making under his breath. etc. so many possibilities.

Now that the show is over and Noah's off to college, he realizes he’s missing something in his life. Maybe it’s his friends, maybe it’s a lack of ever-looming danger, OR maybe it’s Alejandro. Who fucking knows. He’s too busy trying not to be in love with Alejandro to figure it out. 

Their group project is failing, horribly. There’s one thing Noah knows for certain: Alejandro's to blame. At what point does slippery eel turn into a term of endearment?

They have never ever fallen asleep next to each other. Let alone in each other's arms. Never.

Time loop where Alejandro is stuck on the episode where Noah gets voted out and sticks himself to falling in love because he can’t let go of his pride long enough to simply let Noah stay in the game and move on.

Noah loses his contacts and starts wearing his glasses more often. Alejandro notices. Everyone notices Alejandro notices.

Alejandro and Noah team up to get their friends together (insert whatever ship you like) and end up together in the process/the other two were trying to do the same thing for them.

A commentary timeline on how Alejandro's charisma turn into exploitation, how Noah's patience turned into indifference, and how they parallel each other. (I've written a few hundred words for this one lol.)

Each thinks the other doesn't like them. Cut to third party POV that watches and witnesses them completely a mess for each other.

Noah, once voted out in I See London, learns about Alejandro's family. Who have been very vocal since the show started airing.

Exploration of how Alejandro tries really really hard. Yes, He's at the top of the class, but so is Noah. Noah who sleeps through classes and doesn't turn in homework and shows up late or simply not at all and is still right up there with him.

“I would kill to be like you. To just absorb all the information fed to me. If I were you I might actually- “(beat my brother) “Might actually what?” “I told you. I don’t want to talk about it, Noah.” - "Do you know how long I studied for that test? Hours. And you- You got a 96 with no effort at all." It was a 98. But this seems like a bad time to correct him.

Dialogue one-liners prompts i've written down:

"If we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kiss you."

“Why do I feel like I cant say no to you?”

"I know you don't actually care about me, but thank you for trying to pretend that you do." (Said by Noah is joking. Said by Alejandro is bitter.)

"You can't win against someone who has nothing to lose."(Alejandro OR Noah angst.)

Soulmate aus:

My big two: Telepathy/Mentally linked.(imagine this one as a wt rewrite omg) And Whatever you draw on yourself shows up on your soulmate. Matching tattoos.

First words on each other. (I've done this one already here. but feel free to do it as well!!)

Communicating through dreams. (If you know cardcaptor sakura; like that.)

General AUs:

Until dawn AU.

Gakuen Alice AU.

My Babysitters A Vampire AU. Zombie Apoc AU.

Harry Potter AU. Reality Dating Show AU.

Infinity Train AU!!!!!!

Veronica Mars AU!!!! (i wanna do this one ALOT noah is sooo veronica LMAO) OBLIGATORY IDEAS:

seven minutes in heaven.

wrong number.

trapped in a closet.

movie night. noah is sitting under alejandro and lol they are physically, platonically touching for awhile. (leads to finally getting together).

one gets injured, the other fixes them up in the nurses office :P.

short "prompt-ishs" i've started writing:

“What the hell is your problem, Alejandro?” And this time, the tone was so disgusted, so bitter, that something snapped, deep in Alejandro’s chest.

Fuck it.

“What’s my problem?” He asked, incredulous. “What’s my problem? You’ve got to be kidding me, Courtney. I almost died. I almost died, paralyzed and alone, and the only friend I thought I had didn’t give a single shit! The only person who cared was Noah, of all people. I quite literally come back to life and the only thing you can do is whine about your girlfriend problems.”

Courtney takes a step back.

“I was stuck in a robot for months, my legs barely work, my family moved on- actually, I don’t know if they ever actually even noticed,” He laughs, broken, “- and you have the audacity to ask me what my problem is?!”

Alejandro is over playing nice. He’s had enough.

-

this one is a rivals team up to get out courtney blurb

little idea about Alejandro getting into zodiacs.

moments where alejandro questions why Noah is so attractive

-

SEND MORE ASKS IF ANYONE HAS ANY QUESTIONS ON ANY OF THESE IDEAS!!! / IF THEY HAVE ANY IDEAS OR CONCEPTS TO ADD OR EXPAND ON :)))

[caapsiizzereads]

Freedom felt like summеr then on the coast

Jamie Tartt x f!reader

Summary: just summertime fluff, you and Jamie having the time of your lives in Brazil and falling in love along the way

Words: 2,9k

Warnings: language, as usual

A/n: sorry to everyone who already saw this post yesterday, but tumblr was really testing my patience and i accidentally deleted it😀😀 so i’m reposting it now and if it glitches again i’m deleting my whole account🥰

Sunset on the coast is always a great view, even more so if you’re watching it from a boat smoothly gliding through the ocean. You can feel the tiny sprinkles of water landing on your skin, the ocean breeze blowing through your hair, and Jamie’s fingertips lightly moving on your thigh as he’s comfortably leaning against your side. Despite having spent the day just hiking around the island and relaxing on the beach, you both feel a bit tired, so an hour-long boat ride is actually a good opportunity to rest before you have to drive back to Rio for another hour.

You get off the boat and walk back to the shore. Jamie’s hair is a mess, wavy from all the humidity (he says it’s annoying, but you actually find it adorable) and tangled from the wind. You run your hand through it, trying to somewhat fix it, and he smiles softly at you.

You’re walking towards your car, and Jamie puts his hand out palm up.

“Oh, come on!”

“You’ve had four caipirinhas!”

“And I’m good.” You’ve driven in worse states…

“You drove here, only fair if I drive back. Just to be safe.” Jamie is still holding his hand up, now looking at you expectantly.

“Fine.” You roll your eyes, but put the car keys in his open hand. “But I’m still picking the music.”

“What happened to ‘driver picks the music’?” Jamie asks teasingly, even though he really has no intention to argue with you on that.

“It changed to (Y/n) picks the music anyway.”

You are waiting for your drink by the bar, mouthing the words of the song and your body slightly moving to the rhythm. The bartender passes you your drink, and you happily pick it up and start making your way through the dancing crowd back to Jamie. Jamie is vaguely aware that someone is trying to pull him into a dance, but he can’t take his eyes off you. You have a carefree smile on your face, your body keeps gracefully moving with the song, and you’re clearly enjoying yourself. Another girl sways in your way, and you take her hand, making her spin as you smile breezily at each other. It reminds him of the first time he saw you two days ago.

Jamie can’t believe he’s only known you for two days. He’s not much of a believer in love at first sight, but what he felt for you that night is definitely real. Desire? Infatuation? Awe? Whatever it was, it’s only been growing stronger.

The moment you hinted that you wanted to take Jamie home with you that night, he felt like he won a fucking lottery. He wasn’t oblivious to all the eyes that were on you that night, and so weren't you. Yet you still chose him. And not even in his wildest dreams could he imagine where that would lead him.

—

You’ve never heard an accent like this before, so you ask him where he’s from. Jamie tells you that he’s from Manchester, England, and he’s in Rio to shoot a commercial for Nike.

“Are you like a model or something?” you laugh.

“A football player.”

“Ooo, are you good?” you looked at him, intrigued.

“Fucking great,” he declares proudly.

“Good. Imagine if I slept with a shitty football player… That would be embarrassing.”

—

The following day was supposed to be Jamie’s last in Brazil, but he just couldn't get the idea off his mind. So after the shoot was over, he told Keeley that he was going to stay there for a few more days. She was there in the bar with him the previous night, so it didn’t take much for her to figure out what that dreamy look on Jamie’s face was all about. She gave him a cheeky smile and wished him a good time.

And two days later, here he is, having the best fucking time as you make his way back to him, give him a kiss, and pull him into a dance with you.

—

“So what do you do?”

“I’m an engineer.”

“So you, like, build machines and stuff?”

“Almost,” you chuckle. “I build bridges. Well, not by myself. I’m more of, like, an architect but for bridges.”

“That’s cool. Bridges are cool.” Now that he thinks about it, Jamie realizes that he has no idea how those things are actually built.

“Women in STEM,” you mouth theatrically.

—

Back at your Airbnb bedroom, you both are lying on your sides, your head on the pillows and Jamie’s head on your thigh, facing each other.

“What do you wanna do tomorrow?” you ask.

“I don’t know. Whatever you want.”

“We’ve been doing what I want for two days, tomorrow we’re going to do what you want,” you insist. “Come on, surely there’s something.”

Jamie hasn’t really thought about it. You’re good at navigating your way around and you know what you want, and Jamie has been happy to just follow your lead.

On your first full day together you wanted to go to the Tijuca National Park because you wanted to see the waterfalls. You were definitely right about that because the nature here is absolutely spectacular. Then you spent the rest of the day just wandering around the city and then watched the sunset from the Sugarloaf Mountain because that view was absolutely insane.

—

“Yep, looks good,” you decide after a quick look. You stole Jamie’s sunglasses earlier today, and you have no intention of giving them back until the end of your trip. They look better on you anyway. And these plasticky green ones seem like a totally good replacement. “Or…” you switch the glasses on Jamie’s face to a pair with a yellow frame. “Do you like these better? They have pink ones too,” you grin at him.

“Okay, I’ll get it if you get…” Jamie’s eyes stop on arguably the ugliest t-shirt in the store, “this.”

You know what he’s trying to do here, but you’re not letting him win that easily. You pick the t-shirt a couple of sizes bigger than yours, roll up the sleeves, and tie the bottom in a knot. “So, how do I look?”

Jamie’s mouth falls open. He doesn’t know whether he’s impressed or disappointed because you are still annoyingly attractive. “You could pull off a potato sack.”

“Bet.” You take your phone and start scrolling through your camera roll. In a minute, you turn your phone showing Jamie the picture. It’s from a few years ago, when you went to a Halloween party dressed as Marylin Monroe in her iconic potato sack look.

“Fuck me.” You were, in fact, rocking a potato sack.

“Already did,” you wink at him.

—

Today, you went to Ilha Grande. It was quite a long way, but it was totally worth it: the island had this very calm and relaxing atmosphere, the locals were very friendly, the beach was great, and the food was as good as always. It was a nice break from the busy Rio.

Jamie thinks about where he wants to go. There’s one thing that immediately comes to mind.

“Maracanã Stadium. We don’t have to go to a match, can just walk around. You know it’s one of the largest stadiums in the world?” Jamie gets visibly excited.

“There are matches?” You thought he said it was off-season.

“Yes. The Brazilian League has a different schedule, they are playing now. But we don’t have to go.”

“No, let’s go! If you want to. And if you don’t mind explaining what the fuck is going on to me.” You’re not much of a football fan, but the excited look on Jamie’s face is totally worth it.

Perk of a huge stadium: you can get tickets to the upcoming match literally the night before.

—

“How did you get into football? Like, did you always know that it’s something you wanna do professionally?”

Maybe it’s the knowing that in a few days he will probably never see you again, maybe it’s the fucked out state of his brain, maybe it’s just you and that thing about you that makes it feel safe to talk about things, but there, in the security of your dark bedroom, Jamie finds himself telling you the full history behind him and football. He tells you about his father and the impact he made, about his failures and regrets, about his accomplishments and dreams.

You don’t speak up much, just letting Jamie talk and use your hand as a fidget toy, and when he’s finished, the room goes quiet.

You squeeze his fingers, which are laced with yours. “Are you happy?”

He thinks on it for a moment. “Yeah.”

“You’ll be alright, then.” You smile at him, and it makes him feel so warm and content on the inside that he has no choice but to believe you.

—

The stadium is really fucking impressive and really fucking huge, and Jamie looks like a child in a candy store. He supplies you with an endless amount of trivia about the exhibits at the Stadium and the 2014 World Cup, which apparently had its final here. Your contribution to this conversation is that Pitbull and Jennifer Lopez wrote the theme song for it.

After the match, you go to the local Aquarium, which, according to Jamie and confirmed by Wikipedia, is the biggest in South America, but in reality, it ends up being pretty mediocre. Really makes you crave some seafood for dinner, though. This is a little bit barbaric, but at least you’re in it together.

You’re walking down the streets of Rio de Janeiro. They are filled with music, partying crowds, and friendly smiles – a carefree atmosphere all around you. Tomorrow is your last day here, and then you will go your separate ways.

Never in his life has Jamie felt this way. It’s like being in the spotlight of your attention is addicting. You are a lot, but he can never get enough of you. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to just pack up his stuff and move one with his life now. He pushes the thought out of his mind. That's for him to worry about later. Right now, the air is warm, and your hand is in his, and life is fucking mint.

—

“So where are you going next?” Jamie asks while mindlessly tracing invisible patterns on your skin.

You pick up your phone and show Jamie a digital drawing of a bridge. “Budapest.”

“You're gonna build this?” Jamie’s eyes go wide.

“That’s the plan.”

“This is fucking insane.” He looks at you in fascination. “Do you have pictures of the other ones you did?”

You show Jamie the pictures of the three other bridges that you’ve worked on. In between, there’s a photo of you on a construction site, wearing a shirt, a skirt, and a hard hat. Jamie giggles when he sees it and takes your phone in his hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Sending it to myself,” he grins, pressing the AirDrop button. He accepts it on his phone and looks at it thoughtfully for a moment. “I can’t imagine you doing all of this. Not ‘cause I think you can’t or anything, just, like, you being all serious and wearing pencil skirts.”

You laugh. “Okay, first of all, pencil skirts are not required, but I look fucking hot in them. And second, you’d be so disappointed. Daily life me is so lame. I’m a terrible workaholic. My ideal night off is just staying at home with food, wine, and TV, alone. I thought about getting a dog, but I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever bought. I don’t even have hobbies, I just either work or do fucking nothing,” you chuckle.

Jamie looks at you dreamily. “I would’ve loved to get to know the lame you.”

A part of you wants to indulge this scenario, but you quickly push it away, not letting the moment sit for too long. “Okay, I showed you mine, now show me yours,” you smile eagerly.

Jamie opens a picture of the team, telling you a little bit about everyone. He tells you about his rocky history with Roy, about Sam and how you would totally love him because everyone does, about Isaac and his barbering skills that Jamie is still yet to use, some funny stories about the players and coaches. Your conversation only quiets when the sun starts to rise and you slowly doze off to sleep.

—

“C’mere.” You stand by the edge of the bed where Jamie is sitting, and he tilts his head to look up at you with a pleased smile as you start applying spf to his face like you’ve been doing it every morning. Jamie always wears his spf, but he just likes it better when you do it for him.

“I was thinking…”

“I don’t like this already.”

“Oi!” he pokes at your thigh, and you grin teasingly at him. “I was thinking…” he starts again. “Maybe we could, like, exchange numbers? Instagrams?”

“Jamie.” You stop him. You’ve mentioned once briefly that it’s not your first vacation fling, and you don’t do the whole exchanging contact information thing. He knows this.

The wistful look in Jamie’s eyes doesn’t help at all. “But I like this. Don’t you?” He affectionately runs the back of his hand along your leg.

“Oh, I fucking love this. But the expiration date is exactly what makes it so good. We don’t have anything to worry about, we don’t owe each other anything. We just have a really good time, and then we go back to our lives.”

Maybe Jamie doesn’t want to just go back to his life, but he knows that arguing here is useless and it’s better to just enjoy your last day here together.

You go to the Botanical Garden and have lunch at Parque Lage, beautiful sceneries. The night, as usual, ends with getting drunk at the bar and then going back home and having some mindblowing sex.

—

“Does it always feel like this?” He doesn’t need to explain, you exactly what he means. This is an answer in itself.

“No.” You can give him that much.

—

You get up and get ready together. Your flights are only a couple of hours apart, so it makes sense for you to just go to the airport together. There’s some heaviness in the air between you that hasn’t been there before.

You arrive at the airport, go through all the regular procedures, and settle in the waiting area.

The boarding for your flight is announced, and when most of the crowd disappears, you get up. Jamie stands up too.

“It was really nice to meet you, Jamie Tartt,” you smile tenderly at him.

“Yeah, you too.” He envelopes you in a tight hug.

“Come on, London boy, keep your head up.” You kiss him on the corner of his lips before you turn around and walk away through your gate.

Jamie smiles to himself. You were still wearing his sunglasses on the top of your head.

It’s been six weeks since Jamie was back in London. He would say that everything has gone back to normal and he doesn’t miss you at all, but that would be one big dirty lie. Because the truth is that not a day goes by that he doesn’t think about you. He looks at the pictures that he made of you a bit too often, he checks every new person who follows him on Instagram, hoping to see your name, he keeps the sunglasses that you jokingly bought for him in his drawer. Everyone on the team has heard about you at this point. He even googled that fucking bridge in Budapest, how pathetic is that.

Today is Richmond's first match of the season. It’s a home match against Leeds United, so it shouldn’t be that hard. The team is in great spirits, and everyone is feeling very optimistic about the match.

They were right because they win the match with a final score of 3-0. Great start to the new season.

Jamie’s talking with Sam on his way from the Stadium, when Sam interrupts him and nods ahead with a mischievous smile. Jamie turns to look, and he’s met with a familiar face looking back at him. He knows he’s staring, but he just can’t believe his eyes.

“So you didn’t lie, huh,” you smile smugly at him. “You are pretty good.”

“You’re here,” he mutters, mostly to convince himself that it’s real.

“I accidentally stole your sunglasses. Thought you’d want them back.”

Suddenly, Jamie recalls a news headline he saw not so long ago. “They are making a new bridge in West London.”

“We are.”

You burst into laughter when you got the offer a day before you were supposed to sign the Budapest contract. You don't usually believe in stuff like fate, but if that’s not it, then what is?

“You’re here,” Jamie repeats excitedly now. He closes the distance between you and pulls you into a hug, slightly lifting you from the ground. When he puts you back down, he still keeps his hands on you, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear again if he lets go.

“It’s a big bridge. Gonna take a while.”

“Good,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours. “Hope it fucking takes forever.”

A/N: the alternative title for this fic was ‘I just wanna burn this bridge to see if you’ll come right back to me’, but we’re sticking with Taylor themed titles for now

A/N 2: reader’s job is a reference to Jamie’s line from s2 if you haven’t figured by now… and there are two(?) Taylor Swift references in this fic too

A/N 3: yes, i totally did an excessive research on Rio’s landmarks for this