#you can clearly tell who I watch the most

[beef-brisket]

Michael chuckled and sat in a nearby chair. He was obviously too tall for it, and the size difference was almost comical.

Michael: Now now, brother. Where's the fun in that? Besides, I doubt you'd hear me all the way up here.

Adam tensed as Michael's gaze shifted from Lucifer to him.

Michael: Adam. I like the new look. I had a feeling you'd be more bird like, it suits you.

Qdam: I- really? You think so?

Michael: Oh, definitely. And I see I have more nieces and nephews. I would have appreciated a card to inform me of their birth, but I don't expect such things of you anymore, Lucifer. Too used to your own company to remember anyone else.

Lucifer glared: I like to keep these things private, Michael.

Michael: Oh yes. I know. I trust the pregnancy wasn't to rough on you, Adam.

Adam: Uh- this litter was a bit bigger, so that was a struggle. But Lucifer was a big help.

Michael: As he should be. Well, now. Looking at your size, you should more than be able to carry a full litter. I'm assuming you two are far from finished populating the earth.

Lucifer: Brother, please-.

Adam: Far from it!

Michael smiled: Very good. I'm pleased to hear it. Your children are always so darling, aren't they? Now, brother. I've heard a few rumours through the grapevine I'm sure you would like to hear about.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow: Oh? What rumours?

Michael: ...Father is up to something.

Lucifer sighed: When isn't he. Is that really it, Michael?

Michael smirked: Aren't you impatient. And here I thought you'd want to know every detail and whereabouts of the man who wants to turn your children and mate into fertiliser. But no, I guess not.

Lucifer growled and crawled over to Michael, getting into his face. He rose himself to his full height, trying to intimidate his older brother.

Lucifer: Watch what you say, brother. Now, tell me what he's up to.

Michael smiled up at his brother, clearly not intimidated. Adam remembered that the first time he met Michael. As he left, his form changed into something more monstrous. It sent chills down Adam's spine just recalling it.

But he thinks there's more to Michael than he shows. He tries to appear more human, but Adam knows better. He always has an uncomfortable feeling looking at him. He's kind enough, but Adam can't help but feel there's something else just beneath the surface.

Michael: Oh, calm down before you make a fool of yourself. I believe father is planning on putting an end to your union with Adam. I've noticed a few things in the forest. The animals had disappeared a few weeks ago, like they knew something was here. Then, a few days ago, they returned.

Lucifer: How interesting, anything else?

Adam: Lu. Let him speak.

Michael: Thank you, Adam. As I was saying. A few days ago, the animals returned. Mainly deer and boars. Some rabbits. But their different. Their like a cheap mimic, and that mimic doesn't know how these animals moved or walked. I hunted a deer a day or so ago, and it attacked. It even started to change, but I killed it before that happened. It's not safe here, Lucifer. I believe father is making this location as deadly as possible, so when the time comes for him to strike, you and Adam will be outnumbered.

Adam: I'm one of you now- I can protect them, your dad shouldn't hate me now, right?

Michael sighed: I'm sorry, Adam. But father... he knows you were human. He'll see this as a mockery of our species. He's even gathering out siblings, Lucifer. Telling them lies about Adam, deadly lies. Turning them against him... Azael and Uriel are already geared up for a fight. A big one. They wouldn't tell me what was happening. It seems I've been shunned for the most part.

Lucifer: Shit... what do you suggest?

Michael: Well, that's the smartest question you've asked all year! You run, brother. Take your children, and run... but, at this stage, you'll be a danger to them.

Lucifer: I'm not leaving him.

Michael: I know. I wasn't directing that to you.

Lucifer slowly turned to Adam who was staring at Michael.

Adam: ...I'm the danger. I'm putting them in danger.

Michael: ...Unfortunately.

Monster under the bed au where Lucifer is a monster and "terrorizing" Adam?

And by terrorizing, I mean fucking. Grossly. Disgustingly.

Complete monster porn.

Oh no, are my kinks coming out again? Oh well 😉

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Don't tease me with a hot au lol

Oh, what if Adam bought a new house and that's when it starts?

[clesired]

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 | 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ! “can i request a fred weasley x slytherin!reader? with her being draco’s older sister?” thank you to the lovely anon who requested this <3

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ! your brother and boyfriend’s twin end up in a brawl, but fred considers himself the real winner.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! light!angst ( reader and draco argue ), fluff, slytherin malfoy fem!reader, established relationship, second person pov, 1.4k words!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You quietly sigh to yourself as you look at the two most important men in your life standing before you.

Both your brother and boyfriend look like they’ve been through the mud—or rather, the wet grass of the Quidditch pitch; but the former is clearly faring worse than the latter.

You’d watched the whole brawl go down—the whole school had, staff included.

The only reason Fred isn’t bleeding like Draco or sporting a busted lip like his twin is because his teammates had held him back.

Three of them.

He’s not hurt, but he’s furious—and while he’s been good on leaving Draco alone since you’ve begun dating, the look in Fred’s eyes right now tell you that he’s still reared up to go.

And you can’t say you blame him. Your brother had been out of line and you know it.

Which is why you cross your arms and focus on the blonde, staring into an identical pair of your own grey eyes as you frown.

“I don’t even know where to begin with you.” You say quietly. “Not only do you insult my boyfriend’s mother and his family home—but then you go and get into a brawl with his brother!? And then get them both banned from playing Quidditch!?”

Draco is immediately on the defense. You know your little brother. You see it in the way he stands up straighter, face growing contrite and indignant—he’s going to argue back.

And sure enough, “He hit me first! What was I-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” You cut him off sharply, and he instantly quiets. Years of being a big sister and essentially second mother for him during the school year has taught him when to back down.

“You deserved it, and we both know it. You insulted the Weasleys first. George might’ve thrown the first blow, but you threw the first stone.”

You shake your head slowly as you look down at him. “After everything our family has been through, Draco—I really thought you would know better than to attack another person’s.”

He swallows softly as he hangs his head, his fists clenching at his side—a habit he does whenever he’s angry at himself. And your father.

You can see that your words have hit home for him. Good. You know your little brother is an arse, which is putting it lightly—but you also know that there’s still good in him.

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly, and you shake your head.

“I’m not the ones you need to apologize to.” You say pointedly as you raise a brow.

Draco’s face morphs into an angry scowl and for a moment, you almost think he’s going to take it all back—but then he lets out a soft sigh and looks at Fred.

“I’m sorry, Weasley. It was wrong of me to attack your mother’s character and home like that. Or get you banned from Quidditch.” He says quietly. He looks like he’s just swallowed a sour lemon as he says it—but his tone is genuine and you know he means it.

You look at your boyfriend then, to gauge his reaction.

It’s his decision whether he forgives your brother or not, and you’ll support him in whatever choice he makes. Draco messed up, and you won’t allow your brother to get away with his wrongdoings like everyone else does.

What kind of a big sister would that make you?

Fred’s still angry, you can tell. His jaw is clenched and he’s taking deep breaths. He seems to grow taller as he stares down at the younger boy, and his fingers twitch at his side—like he’s fighting his body to keep still.

“I’m going to say this once, so listen up, Malfoy.” He starts, his stare growing more intense as he continues to look down at your brother.

“I don’t like you. I probably never will if you keep up the way you are—but I do respect you. You’re my witch’s brother, and whether you like it or not, I’m marrying your sister one day.” He steps closer, the height difference becoming more apparent as he does so.

Draco’s tall, but Fred is just simply taller.

“I’m here to stay, mate. We’re going to be in each other’s lives forever. So stay in your lane, and I’ll stay in mine.” He nods slowly.

“But speak on my family like that again, disrespect the Weasley name—your sister’s future name; and I’ll show you why you should consider yourself lucky it was the other twin that got his hands on you today.” He finishes quietly.

Fred’s words even make the hair on the back of your neck rise. You know he means it, and from the way Draco swallows and casts his eyes to the side—he knows it too.

The blonde nods slowly. “Understood.”

Fred seems to ease up a little then, as he takes a step back and then another. He doesn’t stop until he’s beside you, arm securely wrapped around your waist.

Draco turns to look at you again and you instantly see the question in his eyes.

Are we okay?

You sigh softly and nod as you move to wrap your own arm around Fred.

“Apologize to the rest of the Weasleys by tomorrow.” You narrow your eyes, “I will know if you don’t.”

Draco lets out a quiet sigh and nods. “I will, Y/N. I promise.”

You step away from Fred to pull the younger boy into a hug—one he returns reluctantly, but within seconds he’s squeezing you tight and resting his chin on your shoulder.

He needs this hug. Deep down, your brother is sensitive—his craving for love and belonging steep. He always needs reassurance whenever you two have a row, always afraid that that’ll be the day you walk away from him forever. Thank you, dad.

“We’re okay, I promise. I love you, even though you’re a little shite sometimes.” You whisper softly, and smile when you feel him squeeze you tighter.

When you pull away, he returns your smile with his own—albeit smaller. “I love you too, Y/N.”

He nods to Fred and then begins to head to the dungeons.

You smirk softly as you make your way back into Fred’s arms, watching your brother go. “Staying with Fred tonight, cover for me with Snape! Thanks, love you!”

You hear a faint groan of complaint as he rounds the corner and you smile triumphantly.

Fred rubs your arm up and down gently as he chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours.

You tilt your head up to him and smile apologetically. “I’m sorry for what he did today.”

He shakes his head instantly as he rubs your back soothingly. “Don’t apologize for him, love. You did nothing wrong.”

“I know, I know, but still. He said awful things about your mum and got you banned from Quidditch!” You sigh softly as you loop your arms around his neck and begin to fiddle with his hair. “He’s my little brother. My responsibility.”

Fred grabs your hands and brings them to his lips, kissing them gently. “Your brother, yes. Your responsibility, no. But your efforts are appreciated, love.”

He smirks softly as he pulls your hands back around his neck. “You had the git apologizing quicker than it’d even taken for the brawl to get going.”

You shake your head in amusement as you roll your eyes playfully. Normally, you would gently chastise him whenever he makes a snide remark about your brother—but you figure you can let it slide for today, all things considered.

“I hope you didn’t accept his apology for my sake, though. You have every right to be upset and not forgive him if that’s how you feel, Freddie.” You say softly.

He shakes his head gently. “I know, love. I chose to forgive him for exactly why I told him.”

You melt as you recall his words about marrying you and someday giving you the Weasley name. “I can’t believe you said all of that.”

“And I meant every word of it.” He murmurs softly before gently pulling you into a deep but tender, lingering kiss.

When he pulls back, he smiles, thumb caressing your cheek as he cups your face. “Besides, the way I see it—the bloke hates me and I’m dating his sister. He can still play Quidditch, sure, but who’s the real winner here? And I didn’t even have to touch a single hair on his pointy head.”

You burst out laughing before leaning into his chest. “The real winner of the brawl, huh?” You play along.

He just smirks softly. “Damn right, love.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! angryfredangryfredangryfred 😵‍💫😵‍💫. i hope you lovelies enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©clesired - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

xoxo,

mila! *: ･🐚༄🫧*ੈ✩

[raineandsky]

This is for the lovely anon who requested the New Better Villain taking on the villain's hero and gettin a lil too violent with it :) hope you enjoy!!

tw: implied violence, blood

The hero, for lack of a better word, looks normal.

The villain isn’t sure what he was expecting. Most people look normal. But all those years under a mask, a charade… it kind of became all that the villain could see him as. The hero. Even now, looking him in the eye as the person he is—really is—it doesn’t seem real.

That and, well— the villain can’t deny that he’s pretty alright to look at. That was certainly an unexpected twist.

The other villain—the bastard he’s cursed to work with, the jackass taking his job, his nemesis, his city—has the hero in a death grip. It feels like it’s all moving in slow motion. The two of them are tousling, kind of, as much as they can tousle with the other villain raining hellfire on a hero that’s well out of his depth.

It’s strange, that the other villain seems to be the outlier here. The hero and the villain have danced around each other for years. It’s been some sort of unspoken rule that they never quite hit hard enough to truly maim. But the hero came here, probably expecting the villain, expecting their usual song and dance, and instead got met with an entirely different tune.

Does the villain want the hero dead? Does he want their game to end? He doesn’t have time to decide.

“[Other Villain],” he snaps, “stop it.”

The other villain leans back, his fist still balled in the hero’s shirt, his other pulled back for yet another strike. “Oh, sorry.” His chest is heaving, as if he’s the one losing here. “You want a go?”

The villain doesn’t know what his answer would be to that. “I think he’s got the idea. Leave off.”

The other villain doesn’t move. The hero wipes idly at the blood painting his mouth.

Like a child asking a genuine question, the other villain simply says, “Why?”

“Because you’re ruining my fun.” True. “You’re taking over on my nemesis.” True. “You’re on my watch.” Half-true, without the supervillain to take charge. “I know this life better than you. Let me do my job and stop butting in.”

“You’ve been fighting [Hero] for years without any progress.” The other villain’s brow knits, genuinely confused. “I’m doing you a favour.”

The villain glances down at the supposed favour he’s getting. Blood splatters the hero’s face, deep crimson painting his clothes. Something of a black eye is already appearing, and the villain hates that noticing that means he also notices that the hero is looking right at him.

He’s not sure why it’s so off-putting. Should he have caused that? Does he want it to have happened at all? His emotions are clashing together in a horrendous cacophony and deciphering any of them is impossible.

“Let go, [Other Villain].”

The slight frown turns into something more hateful. “No.”

“Your violence isn’t welcome in this so-called partnership. Pull it together, or go tell [Supervillain] you ruined his plan.”

“You’re generations out of date, [Villain].” It comes out of the other villain’s mouth as a spit. “Violence is the way forward. I’m helping in ways you’ll clearly never understand.”

The villain isn’t entirely sure why he lurches for the other villain, much like he hasn’t been sure of anything since the hero showed up here and ruined what was already a fairly shitty day.

The other villain has his work cut out for him with an opponent that’s not already half-dead, it seems. The two of them land in a heap on the ground, the other villain’s grappling for his partner’s throat and the villain’s grip tight on the other’s wrists and the air disappears from the villain’s lungs and the world seems so far away and everything is muffled—

The villain gasps his next breath, scrambling away unsteadily. The world slowly comes back into focus, the hum of the city below and his own haggard breathing tuning back in. He swallows nothing, the feeling a sharp burn in his throat, and whips around to look for the other villain.

The villain finds him on the ground, unmoving, the lightest trail of blood trickling from his nose. The hero is sitting next to him with a battered road sign lying at his feet, staring off into nothing.

“Did—” The word hurts. The villain tries to clear his throat and only makes it feel worse. “Did you hit him with a roadwork sign?”

The hero huffs a sort of laugh that melts quickly into a cough. He doesn’t look at the villain when he says, “Think it was about time I hit him back, wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t know you had it in you. You’ve never hit me quite that bad.”

The hero actually laughs this time, the sound choked. “You pull what he just did and I’ll consider it.”

The villain hums a sort of laugh as well, settling on the floor opposite, and the two of them fall into silence. They’re both too tired to say much anyway.

This is another strange experience. The hero and the villain usually fight and go their separate ways. This sort of… hanging out is new. Different—and thankfully not the type of different that got them here in the first place.

The hero smiles at him, and even through the bloody face paint and the blooming bruises, the villain hates that he still looks good. Looks normal. Looks like a nice civilian that the villain would end up curiously following for a couple blocks because his half-decent face caught his attention.

The hero is, the villain supposes, a person too. Another civilian that looked at the state of the world and took up a side, just like the villain did.

“Thank you,” the hero says through the daze of annoyance, “for saving me.”

“Eh.” The villain waves a nonchalant hand. “It’s not like you were going to do it.”

That earns another choked laugh. “Ah, you’re funnier than you like to admit, [Villain].”

The villain scoffs in offence and quiet falls over them again. “Thanks as well, I guess, for…” He gestures vaguely at the other villain lying next to them. “Hitting my colleague over the head with a road sign.”

The hero’s smile grows. “You’re welcome.”

The hero reaches for his mask, just as stained red and tattered as its owner. He turns it over in his hands for a moment, slow and thoughtful, before carefully putting it back over his face. “Back to the heroics, then,” he says lightly.

The villain nods, but he’s not really listening. He finds that, now he’s seeing the person he’s familiar with, he preferred the hero without his mask after all.

[elytrafemme]

ok yeah im done watching fucking tubbo but yeah. my last thoughts on the dream thing are that if someone as an adult is making heavy sexual jokes around minors that is a warning sign if not actually definitive itself of grooming. not to pull this card for the thousandth time (though i am in a better headspace now, before people worry) but i always feel like i have to for the sake of making a point, like. that is HOW it got started for me. it was jokes about sex, and then it was sending sexual fanfictions back and forth, and then it was him telling me an anecdote about his sex life because it was "funny", and it just snowballs from there until we're having the "you're going to make me catch a case" talk when i was fucking fourteen, maybe fifteen. and even though what happened to me wasn't "major" i've stopped thinking about it as lucky because no i wasn't lucky. i didn't make it out unscathed clearly. dream (and also wilbur!) joking about sex around minors, doubling down as soon as they turn 18, etc-- that is creepy. that is weird.

there are conversations that can be had about sex with minors. sometimes there are sex ed questions! and most of the time that sort of thing is like, you redirect them to scarletteen or something, but i'd be insane to act like it never comes up sometimes, right. but joking about sexual anecdotes and making explicit sexual jokes around minors like... that is so fucking creepy. and like there's a tiny line there i GUESS of like some sex jokes being so disambiguated and vague and pop culture-y that it's fine but most sex jokes are like, why would you make that to kids.

(also not to mention like... dream calling tommy's mom and that display of power over him? nonsexual but that is still manipulative behavior. it all folds together.)

i haven't looked back at dream's allegations, all i know was that a lot of allegations were made and dream is a notorious liar and i believe victims so i think my position is clear. but i need to express that even if in the rare sliver of a case ALL of that was untrue, dream is STILL a creep for the way he interacted with minors. i'm not going to explicitly call him a pedophile, i will call him a groomer though. i won't state that he groomed tommy or tubbo because that is not something either of them have said, but i am just drawing conclusions and relating it back to my experiences that lead me to believe he is overall a groomer.

i don't have a lot of minors following me nowadays because i was on the younger end of mcytblr when i was into it, at least in my circles. so i won't speak to that audience i will just speak broadly when i say that if you take ANYTHING from this, it's that grooming is not a cookie-cutter kind of trauma or situation. i never physically interacted with my groomer, and i have left with the impression that he wasn't attracted to me personally. but what he did to me was him doing powerplay, it was him trying to use my idolization of him as a way to justify all of his horrible actions. as a fun side note, while he was emotionally manipulating me, he was also telling me freak sexual shit. but at the core of it, he love bombed me because he needed someone in his corner who, even when he fucked over every last person we knew, would want to believe him so bad. and in a way, he succeeded. i never rekindled my friendship with those other people in the group, and it just gradually dripped away over months. i'm glad that hasn't affected some of the ex-dreamsmp creators, with regard to... what was tubbo calling it, brighton crew? whatever.

the day the internet realizes the nuances of grooming and sexual assault is the day that people like me can finally be at peace online. it's easy to pick away at screenshots and argue that it was only second or third or whatever degree whatever, but all of that goes away when you are actually having the experience. because you realize then what it can do to you, even if it's no-physical contact, even if the person isn't directly attracted to you, even if it wasn't for very long, even even even. and i'm glad none of the minors-at-the-time dsmp ex-creators seem to have left with substantial trauma on the sexual front, but i am always going to talk about it because i think it is important. and as much as i bitch and moan about the ex-dsmp content creators who were minors (or barely 18) at the time, and the gripes i have with some of them now, i will always be sympathetic to all of them because i understand what it feels like. thanks for reading. & you're never alone, as a survivor, as someone going through this, ever. lots of love everyone.

[dirt-str1der]

WHY DID YOU FEEL THE NEED TO TELL ME ABOUT YOUR AROACE SENKU HEADCANON ON MY GAY SENKU AND TRANS REI POST

Just finished Dr Stone Reboot

[lostintransist]

Chiseled Heart | Part 4

AO3 | Part 1

Some days he hated Feather. If killing her would have solved the problem König might have considered it. However, he had been the idiot who failed to notice the provision of his contract with the gallery that required his attendance for at least one hour each show. The buzz of his phone in his pocket alerted him to the end of his contractual time.

If your brain could make sound effects appear in the real world the dial-up tone would be playing as you processed the fact your gym buddy stood in the art gallery that was hosting a show for your favorite artist. He wore a black surgical mask here like he did at the gym, his hair taking on a slightly reddish cast in the lights.

Danielle had come with you to the art show this time, as she is always down for a reason to wear a pretty dress. But how did you explain to your friend that you and your gym buddy had never actually exchanged names? He’d only saved you at least three times and you hadn’t remembered to ask his name. Fuck. You couldn’t believe you had been so inconsiderate!

“Oh! Hi! I didn’t know you liked sculpture,” you smile up at him to cover the realization that you didn’t know how to address him.

At your elbow, Danielle speaks up, “Who’s this?”

You gesture to him, “This is my gym buddy, the one I’ve been telling you about.”

She steps around you, all elegance and grace as she extends her hand.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Danielle.”

He takes it, hand swallowing your smaller friend’s fingers.

“König,” he shakes firmly before returning his hand to his side.

“And obviously you know,” Danielle gestures to you.

Your mind drifts as she continues to talk as your mind drifts. Tasting the sounds of his name on your tongue you savor the flavor of it. A touch on your arm clicks you back into the present moment.

“You like King’s Healer, König?” You blurt out the question before you can think to reign it in.

Danielle and König both look at you. Danielle’s face reads ‘I love my friend but you were clearly not paying any attention’ and König’s brows are pulled together slightly, blue eyes looking a tad watery.

“I am done looking for tonigh-”

You cut him off, sadness rising through you like water creeping through a paper towel.

“You’re leaving? Oh,” you give him a small, sad smile. “I guess I will see you at the gym then?”

If deer had blue eyes they could be called König. You winced at the stab of guilt that bounced between your ribs.

“I can stay a bit longer if you don’t mind company?” He offered, hand gesturing back into the room where people mingled.

Danielle sent you an appraising look when you couldn’t prevent a smile from forming.

“We wouldn’t mind the company at all! This is my favorite artist and I’m mostly here to see some of his newer stuff. I am on the email list for the gallery specifically so I can know when his new pieces arrive,” you start further into the room.

You came by nearly every other week to look at the sculptures. King’s Healer captured evocative emotions that ran the gamut. Spinning you sent a grin at your friend and König.

“They put his new things in the big room, he is a major draw. I asked one of the staff once why they put him there. They said that is the room with the most reinforced floor and it pulls people past all of the other artists giving them exposure and boosts sales for everyone on display.” Turning back to watch where you were walking you pull in a deep breath to combat the need to run.

Danielle appeared at your side as you stepped into the large room. Bright lights highlighted the pieces on display. Sucking in a sharp breath you count twenty new pieces.

“Does he ever sleep?” You ask to no one.

“Why do you use he?” König’s voice comes from above your head.

Tipping your head back you see him peering down at you, confusion etched between the hairs of his brows.

Spinning to face him and relieve your neck you consider his question. Danielle squeezed your arm. When you nodded in acknowledgment she drifted off to look at all the displays.

“It’s mostly a feeling.” Movement from behind him alerted you to more people trying to enter the space. Without thinking you laid a hand on his arm and guided him to the side, leaving the doorway free. “Here let’s shift out of the doorway. It’s mostly a feeling I get when I look over all the work. I’ve been following this artist for a few years now.”

Pulling your hand back to yourself you notice König starting at his arm as if you had burned your fingerprints into his flesh through the long sleeve of his shirt. Ignoring it, as every interaction with this man led you to believe that he did not have enough kindness in his life, you go on.

“Whether or not King’s Healer is a man isn’t the point, the art has this,” your fingers curled and shifted as you thought of the word, “Masculine feel to it. Yes, he depicts awful things sometimes but the things that he creates don’t showcase the fears seeded into women’s nightmares like I would expect if he were a woman.” You shrug to end your small tirade as if you hadn’t dumped all your thoughts on this man.

“Do you,” he dragged his eyes up from his arm as he shoved his hand into his pocket, “Have a favorite piece on display?”

Rolling your lips between your teeth you look around, none of these pieces seem familiar.

“I’m going to be so sad if it was bought already,” biting the inside of your cheek you start moving around the room, observing and dismissing each new work of art until you finally duck out of the main room into a smaller, more dimly lit space. There it sat, like a child sent to a corner.

Most sculptures focused on what to leave behind as one created an image. This one did the opposite; the negative space told the story. Nested inside a boot print, large enough that it would require both hands to hold it securely, was the naked footprint of a child. When you had first seen it you had wept. The weeping more came from the story the gallery told by the placement but it still ripped at your heart.

The first time you wandered through these rooms and found King’s Healer’s art this footprint sat opposite a woman being dragged into a thick chunk of stones by many grabbing hands. Her arm stretched out, agony and fear etched across her face and in her eyes. You had studied her first, taking in the craftsmanship and the skills in every hand, different. Some had missing parts of their fingers above a certain knuckle, or the impression of hair on another. When you finally studied her, the woman in pain, you followed her eyes and found the footprint. A child. Her child? The nature of humanity is to tell stories, and the story you told yourself that day brought you to tears. You vowed that day to care for the memory of her child if you could. You saved money each paycheck for this single treasure.

Letting out a sigh of relief you turn and see König staring at the boot print. His shoulders are hunched as if he isn’t allowed by gravity to stand upright.

“Why this one?” His head turns first, eyes still on the art.

When they connect with yours the slut in the back of your mind starts panting. Fuck. You were attracted to him. Mmm. Were you attracted to him or did he just listen to you ramble about art? You could dissect that later.

Shrugging one shoulder you trap the tale behind your teeth. There had to be a lighter way to explain the heavy feelings this caused for you. Directing your eyes back to the boot print you fold your arms as if they could hold back the sea of emotions. His presence at your side settles you, as steady as the moon.

“It’s one of his first works. There is something special to me about it. He’s never done another piece in this style, using the negative space. All of his art tells a story and this one keeps me up at night.” Glancing up at him you find his eyes on you. König looks away, as if ashamed to be caught. “Do you have a favorite bit of art you have seen tonight?”

“Ja, but nothing from King.” His shoulders curled in ever so slightly more than before.

“Really? Would you show me?” You are curious to know what drew his attention.

König straightened so fast you swore you heard something in his back pop. He stared down at you like he had never seen a person before, confusion and awe warring through his eyes.

“Ja,” he nods his head once and strides away. You nearly need to run to catch up to him.

When he notices you take a few seconds to settle next to him before the painting a tinge of pink spreads above his mask.

“Entschuldigung,” he says bashfully.

You wave away what you assume in an apology.

“I’ll take excitement over keeping up most days.”

The painting takes your attention as you glance at it. A lush meadow ringed by great mountains is dotted with flowers.

“Dis reminds me of my oma’s home in Austria,” his tone nostalgic.

Glancing at him and back to the painting you ask your next question.

“Do you miss it?”

König let out a long breath before his answer.

“Sometimes, I doubt the flowers would recognize me if I returned though.”

With your period incoming you couldn’t prevent the rush of tears to your eyes. Trying to be discrete you fanned at your eyes.

“Mm? What is wrong?”

König tilts his head to look at you, alarm evident when he sees your watery eyes.

“Sorry, don’t mind me. Your poetic grief just caught me in a soft spot is all.” Your smile does nothing to remove the worried panic from his brows. “Thank you for showing me. I think though, even if the flowers don’t remember you the trees and the earth will.”

Now König looks like he might cry and to save both of you the embarrassment of being weepy fools you grab his free hand and drag him through the crowd back to King’s Healer’s room. Danielle finds you there as you examine each piece and discuss it with her, König still at your back.

When you have seen everything Danielle turns to you.

“You ready to go?”

“If you are. König, it was delightful to see you. Would you want to walk out with us? I know I delayed you leaving earlier.”

“Ja, I am ready to leave.” He gestured to the door, “I will walk you to your car.”

König leads you and Danielle outside, the balmy weather welcoming you after the heat in the gallery. He opens the door for Danielle who slides in behind the wheel and then follows you to your door.

You chat and laugh with him a moment more before climbing in.

“What was all that laughter about?” Danielle questions you as she pulls out of the spot.

Watching König disappear in the side rearview mirror you fight to form words.

“I bucked up and got his phone number.”

“Damn girl, I didn’t know you liked them so beefy,” she shot you a glance as she commented.

Smacking her arm lightly with the back of your fingers you fight down the mortification that she might be right.

“Neither did I.”

<Got home safe!

>Gut. Rest well.

<🥰

Masterlist | Chiseled Heart Masterlist

@demothers-empty-blog @ang3lc @warlike-morning

[baambastic]

Since @im-not-buying-it-ether tagged me for WIP Wednesday:

The rules: Post an excerpt from your most recent WIP and then tag a bunch of people. Enjoy this snippet of “Stray Little Tiger”.

She wouldn’t have noticed him behind her until he spoke, if not for his less-experienced tagalong’s not-quite-silent landing.

“Selina.”

This was the last thing she needed right now. She needed to get back home, and James would kill her if she got him caught out. Plastering on a smile, she lazily turned to greet the new arrivals. “Batman,” she drawled, “you know it’s ‘Catwoman’ when we’re on the clock.”

Bruce stood a dozen or so feet away, as stone-faced as ever. Robin stood just behind and to the side of him, chest puffed out in what he probably thought was an intimidating pose. It mostly just came off as adorable.

“What are you doing here, Catwoman?” Bruce Bat-growled.

Best to get through this as quickly as she could, then. She sauntered closer to the duo. “I’m frolicking, Batman. You really should try it sometime.” She slid a hand down Bruce’s armored chest. His stoic lack of response was a good sign.

Selina pointedly glanced at Robin, who looked mildly nauseous. “You know, Bat,” she stage-whispered, “if you ditched the half-pint, I’m sure you and I could have some fun frolicking.”

“Hey!” Robin cried indignantly. Good.

Selina very obviously let her hand trail farther down. On cue, Bruce grabbed her wrist and held it away from him. “What are you up to.” Spoken like a demand rather than a question. Also a good sign.

Time for the misdirect. Selina sighed dramatically. “Nothing, I suppose, now that you’re here and being oh-so-very cold. No sense in chasing my prey while being chased myself.”

“Aw, you won’t get to steal anything valuable tonight?” Robin cut in mockingly. “That’s so sad.”

“Robin,” Batman intoned warningly.

“That’s rich, coming from someone with no appreciation for fine art,” Selina bit back, pretending to rise to the kid’s bait. “You couldn’t tell a Vermeer from a kindergartner’s macaroni art.”

Robin eloquently rebutted her with an inarticulate noise of rage. He moved as though to leap at Selina, but Bruce held him back with his free hand before he could. “Keep yourself under control, Robin.”

With a huff, Robin seemed to settle down. He very pointedly turned and marched away, leaving Selina and Bruce alone.

Selina smirked. “Well, Bat, he’s not as far away as I’d like, but if you’re game…”

As expected, Bruce pulled away. “Not the time, Cat.”

Selina let out a world-weary sigh. “Fine, I suppose I can wait a day or so. Even for a non-gentleman like you.” Misdirect achieved.

The eyes of Bruce’s cowl narrowed, and he released her wrist. “Hrn. We’ll be watching you.” Turning, he called to his protégé. “Robin! We’re leaving.”

Robin came stomping back over, clearly unhappy. “C’mon, boss, we’re not even taking her in? She’s totally up to no good!”

Selina raised her hand to her chest in mock-offense. “But I haven’t even done anything yet!” She grinned. “Good luck getting me convicted when I haven’t committed a crime, brat.”

@stupid-boy-here @coolbeesbro @lena-thinks-too-much @suspiciousbluejay

[enjithequeer]

Ok hear me out....

Jimmy, Joel and Lizzie team up in the next life series.

1. cause seablings

2. We need more of the Pillager Trio

3. Distrack duo

4. Husband and wife need to be together in the life series. (Please)

5.Yes.

Thank you for listening.

[cappuccinoandglitter]

[I restarted this this morning and the muse actually did latch on so this will be a full-length thing now and I'll post it when it's done. But here's the intro, per the prompt above. I think this is all because I missed out on the Ren Faire last year and I miss it.]

Tommy Kinard grins broadly at the gold dollar coins the patron deposits in his hand. While most of the 'tourists' coming to the Renaissance Faire pay with dollar bills or even 'Master Card or Lady Visa', a few of the old timers and die-hards come prepared from the bank with actual dollar coins. These days you have to order them special, so he admires the commitment to the bit. He bounces the coins a little in his hand, enjoying the clinking metal sound, the weight of them, and then puts them in the register. "Howie, one Seafoam for the gentleman," he calls over his shoulder.

His business partner, Howie Han, already with a pint glass in hand, starts pouring from the tap. "Aye, m'lord! Comin' right up!" he replies in an exaggerated Irish brogue, which sounds all the more surprising coming from a Korean man.

Tommy chuckles. The tavern at the heart of the Faire has been doing really well since he took over five years ago. Back then, he wasn't sure the gamble would pay off, but so far, it has. He never saw himself as a front-of-the-house guy before, preferring to focus on the brewing process and the business side of it. But putting on his 'innkeeper' garb every Saturday and Sunday morning works like any uniform, putting him in a mindset he wouldn't normally be in. In his brown breeches and dark green shirt with the lace-up collar he leaves untied, he kind of feels in character, even if he doesn't actually have a character to play.

He pulls a washcloth from the pocket of his apron and starts wiping down the counter between customers. The current crowd is an even mixture of 'rennies', the regulars who dress up in period-accurate garb and usually purchase season passes so they can spend every weekend here, and the tourists in their street clothes.

And someone he recognizes. "Hey, Miss May," he says, smiling at the young woman. She's in what some call 'closet garb', a long skirt and peasant blouse that straddle the gap between modern clothes and costuming. "What can I get for you?"

"Scotch eggs are coming out of the frier in a minute," Howie tells her.

Tommy winces. He hates those things.

"Oh, no thanks," May Grant says. "Can I have an apple cider?"

"Absolutely!" Tommy says. While Howie is busy retrieving the Scotch eggs from the frier, Tommy pours May's drink and charges her only half the regular cost.

"Thanks, Tommy!" She takes her drink and wanders to an unoccupied table.

"Who's here for the Scotch eggs!" Howie crows.

"All right!" "Me!" come the various responses. A pair of tourists buy two eggs a piece and mill around for a moment, before zeroing in on May's table.

Tommy frowns, but just watches. Maybe she knows them. But the line for the eggs keeps growing, demanding his full attention, distracting him from what's happening at May's table until he hears her voice, raised slightly above the din. "I'm sorry, but you're invading my personal space!" Her table sits by the wall, and it looks like they're blocking her escape.

"Hey!" Tommy shouts, coming around the bar to intercept.

"We're just making conversation," one of the men say. He's clearly been trolling the festival grounds buying alcoholic beverages at every available opportunity, because he's well past the point Tommy would have served him anything.

"Yeah, my guy, we're jus' bein' fren-frenly," his companion slurs, and puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder.

Tommy reacts before thinking, knocking the hand off his shoulder and twisting it behind the man's back. "There's such a thing as too friendly."

"Ow! Ow! You're hurting me!" the man whines. Not such a big guy now.

The other guy seems to decide this is a bar fight now, but before he can get a blow in, a gauntlet grabs on to his forearm and holds him back. "My lords!" the knight booms theatrically. "Do you have any idea who the lady's mother is? If ye do not wish to face the wrath of Pirate Queen Athena herself, you will leave this establishment now."

Tommy looks at the knight, and his entire body freezes in place. There's no shortage of good looking actors on the cast, and Tommy is sure this guy is part of the cast, even if he hasn't seen him before. No mere rennie would have this kind of stage presence. Or know who May's mom is.

"Now, apologize to the lady," the knight says. His hair is a slightly sweaty mess of brown curls, and his eyes are a piercing sky blue, but Tommy's gaze keeps getting drawn to the lips that are on the redder side of pink and look like they would feel so soft against his own.

"Ow?" says the guy in Tommy's grasp that Tommy somehow managed to completely forget he was still holding onto.

Tommy tears his gaze away from the knight and lets the tourist go. "Yes, apologies are in order," he says. He can't do an accent to save his life, so he doesn't try.

The two men give May meek 'sorrys', and Tommy shoves the one against the other on the way out the door.

May looks fine, if a little shaken. "Thanks, Tommy," she says. "Thank you, Sir Evan." She says the last with a little smile and curtsy.

'Sir Evan' gives a small bow. "If you'll excuse me, I must escort these villains out of the shire." So he's going to make sure they get booted out of the faire entirely, good.

Tommy watches the knight walk away, briefly admiring the curve of his ass in his breeches.

Renaissance faire meet cute between tavern owner Tommy ("I brewed this ale myself") and a knight ("Sir Evan" he introduces himself as; only later does Tommy hear "Buck" but it's too late, he's registered that cute knight with the bisexual color flag as Evan in his head)

A couple of drunk faire attendants try to harass Tommy's friend's teen daughter and he steps in, and Buck steps in too. Two big strapping guys tend to convince people to back off, especially when one is built like a tank and the other is literally armored

Tommy gives Buck a free mug of ale, and they talk, and throughout the day Buck keeps coming back to the tavern and Tommy watches Buck at the joust

And instead of a girl's handkerchief as a favor, Buck takes the checkered handkerchief in Tommy's apron as his favor and ties it around his wrist

Buck wins the joust and canters over, hopping down to wink at Tommy, then kissing the piece of cloth around his wrist. Tommy can't help leaning over the fence to kiss Sir Evan for real.

[edwinisms]

I know how it sounds at first, but I really gotta feel bad for the boys that sacrificed edwin; I mean even the term “sacrificed edwin” paints them in a more sinister light than they really deserve– considering that wasn’t really, actually their intention.

they were bullies, they were homophobic (and/or were self loathing gay boys themselves taking it out on edwin, or were equally likely peer pressured into acting a certain way), they planned something stupid and mean to do to an innocent, anxious boy with the goal of scaring the shit out of him, all because he was effeminate and an easy target. but they didn’t know or expect any of the ritual stuff to be real. they were all laughing and joking during the ritual because it was just that to them– a joke. a cruel joke, but a joke.

teenagers can be mean and stupid and they usually regret it as adults and grow out of it / grow from it. they were stifled the chance to grow out of it, at least while alive. none of those boys deserved to be instakilled and sent to hell; they’re really not that much less deserving than edwin himself. they were all just kids, after all.

[todayisafridaynight]

what makes minedai even sadder is that we never rlly see daigo try to build a bond with anyone else like he did with mine it rlly shows how badly it effected him like yeah he reached out to shinada in y5 but that’s rlly it and he probably would wanna leave him alone after that and not involve him in any yakuza stuff so i don’t think they would’ve hung out or anything like that afterwards. All he rlly had were saejima and majima but they were more like babysitters than anything, wish we saw more of their dynamic tho like we did with majima and daigo in dead souls since that was fun and we were lowkey robbed but in canon he’s just as lonely as he was before majimas promise to kiryu. And mine is the only person he really had a meaningful relationship with romantic or not they were still really close and we don’t see that again with daigo ever (from what i recall after y3) ok sorry for rambling LMFAO

even with shinada, he reached out to him more so out of 'duty' and trying to make up for the misfortune that befell him because of yakuza than wanting to rekindle any kind of friendship they might have had in high school (though it sounds more like they were just acquaintances if shinada needing a second to remember who daigo was is anything), so yah i doubt they really had any kind of bond afterwards

dead souls really was the only time after Y3 where we got to see daigo be more sociable with someone, but its as you say majima and saejima are more like retainers than close friends

[the-cooler-king]

One of those texts I kind of need to sit on before I decide how I'm going to word it.

I never know how to start these, but I always have an idea on what to say. Your opinion of me actually matters a lot & the implication that you believe that I lie to you or I'm not doing enough is kinda hurtful. It comes across to me like my effort is worthless to you & that what I want doesn't matter at all. I wouldn't bring it up if I didn't think you cared, and I know you're going through a lot and shouldn't have to worry about me, but I'm getting mixed signals that are really throwing me off. What do you want from me? Am I asking too much of you and you don't know how to tell me? I sincerely want to be there for you, regardless of what it looks like to get to that point, but if you don't want me there you can tell me! What you want matters just as much, if not more, to me. I'm not the kind of person to be hostile about things if they don't work out. I don't want to be another source of stress or negativity for you, and I don't want you to be afraid of being honest with me. I constantly question if you're just too nice to tell me you aren't interested anymore, and even if you are, I might need more reassurance than you can give me because I don't think I'm very worth it to anyone for anything. If you don't think I'm trying hard enough then tell me what I need to do to change that! I'm at the point of just not knowing what I bring to your life, if anything at all. You don't need to deal with me on top of everything else, so, I'm sorry for this. Even if you don't text me back I'll feel better once I get it out there. The only thing I've ever been afraid of is not communicating exactly how much I care about you & how much you mean to me - even if it doesn't matter to you, or you don't believe me. If there comes a day where we aren't in each other's lives anymore for whatever reason, I don't want either of us to question what could've been said or done differently or regret not doing more.

[classyrbf]

PART 2 OF PRISONER!GETO

prisoner!geto who can’t stop thinking about late at night, getting so worked up and horny, the most horny he’s been in a while. He’s pulling his pants down, closing his eyes while he pictures the way your scrubs clung to your body and showed off your ass. He thanks god he doesn’t have a bunkie or else he’d be in a real awkward position. He purposely gets into another fight a week later, the wound on his lip opening back up. He’s smiling to himself as he gets walked to the infirmary knowing he’ll see you there.

“Not you again,” you sigh.

“Told you I’d see you soon, doctor.” He sits on the small bed, watching as you put on gloves and examine his busted lip. He can tell you’re avoiding eye contact with him, trying your hardest to ignore his stares and slight touches. “Have you thought about my offer yet?” He asks.

You gulp, blinking as you rub the ointment over his wound. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You play stupid, but you remember your last conversation so clearly. It makes you nervous. All he does is laugh.

“Come on. I’ll even beg.” He grabs your wrist, slowing pulling it down, a smug smirk on his handsome face. “You telling me you haven’t thought about it once since we last seen each other?” He whispers. He parts his legs, pulling you in between them. And god, you smell so good. So sweet. He could just eat you up right here.

You stand there, unable to form words because as much as you want to say no, you want to say yes. He makes your heart race and your pussy wet. What a sly bastard. With his stupid tattoos, muscles, hair and chiseled face. You hate how much effect he has on you.

“Listen,” he rubs a hand down your waist, “meet me in the supply closet by the showers during lunchtime if you’re really down.” He flashed a smile before standing to his feet and walking out the infirmary. “Bye, bye, doctor.”

Come lunchtime, you walked through the halls of the prison, mentally cursing at yourself. It’s just one time, one time. You bet he won’t even be there, that he’s just playing a stupid joke cause he’s bored with himself. And as you reach out to open the supply door, your heart beats against your ribcage, looking around to find the halls empty. You step in, seeing him leaning against the wall, the faint rays of light allowing you to make out some of his features. “Well, look who it is,” he chuckles. “Came here to help me out, doc?” He walks over to you, trapping you between him and the door.

“Shut up already and let’s get it over with.” You smash your lips on his, kissing him with such urgency and fervor. His large hands grab at your ass, squeezing and groping it as he pushes you against the wall, knocking a few things over. You both pull away, breathing heavily, lips swollen. “We gotta be quick,” you whisper, undoing his jumpsuit while he pulls down your pants.

“More eager than I am, huh?” He teases, earning an eye roll from you. “Come here.” He bends you over the small wooden table, snatching your panties off and getting a good feel of your ass. His dick jumps, pre cum already leaking from the swollen tip. He’s already so worked up, so ready to feel your wet and tight cunt. “Fuck,” he grunts, running his head over your sopping slit, nudging your clit slightly. “Already so fucking wet.”

He pushes his throbbing tip past your folds, a small gasp leaving your lips when you feel how thick he is. Inch by inch you feel the stretch, you mouth agape as you try and grow accustomed to his size. Geto’s entire body shivers, his fingers pressing into your skin so hard you’re sure he’d leave marks. “Ohhh shit,” he lets out a shaky breath. God, it’s been so fucking long since he’s had some good pussy and he can already tell he won’t last long. He finally bottoms out, feeling your walls clench around his length, sucking him in. “My god,” he laughs in your ear. “Lemme just enjoy this feeling—fuckkk—for a moment,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut.

He finally starts moving his hips, feeling his tip press against your cervix with each thrust. With each passing second, he gets faster, fucking your harder and rougher, your pussy has got him in a trance. “Pussy feels so fucking good,” he grips your hips, pulling you back towards him so you can meet his thrusts. One of his hands reach around your throat, gripping it just enough as he pulls you back against his broad chest. “Do you fuck all of your patients or am I just special?” He jokes.

“Mmmm…shut—ah—up!” You cry out, whimpering when he presses up against you, finding a new angle that makes your eyes roll back. “Just keep fucking me,”you say with a raspy breath.

“Doctors orders.” He can feel the way your pussy leaks, your juices dripping down his shaft and make his cock ache like never before. It almost hurts. He hold you tighter against him, the sound of skin on skin filling the small room. “You take it so well,” he breathes against your skin, pressing wet kisses to your neck. “So fucking well.” His thrusts grow sloppier, chasing his own orgasm. But in the distance, he hears the guards walking down the hall. “Shh, shh, shh.” His hand covers your mouth, his thrusts becoming slow and deep, letting you feel every inch of his cock, every vein, every pulse before hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you.

Your eyes squeeze shut, trying your hardest to keep quiet, the guard getting closer and closer. Their keys jingle with each step and their voices grow louder. “Atta girl. You feel how fucking deep I am…shiittt. Keep fucking squeezing me like that—yeah, yeah you’re gonna make me fucking cum.” His brows furrow as he bites down as his bottom lip in attempts to contain his moans, but his abs tense up and his entire body shakes before he’s filling you up, stuffing you with his sticky, hot cum. “No, no, don’t you dare move. Just like thattt, oh yes!�� His eyes roll back, still cumming. His pushes his cum deeper inside of you, feeling it leak back out before he finally pulls out.

Geto truly wishes he could’ve had more time with you. His mouth drooling over the mere thought of how you taste, wanting to make you cum on his tongue, but for now he’ll have to settle for this. “You came inside me, asshole!” You pull your pants back up, turning to face him.

“Couldn’t let it go to waste.” He reaches out and stroke your cheek. “Right?”

“Whatever.” You swat his hand away. “Where are my underwear?” You look around the dimly lit room before realizing he was holding them.

“I’ll be keeping these for later,” he swung them in your face before stuffing them in his pocket.

“You’re such a pervert.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You have my cum running down your leg right now.” He places a finger under your chin, tilting it towards him as he leans down and kisses you slowly, his tongue sliding over yours before catching your bottom lip. “Mmm, thank you, doctor.” He smiles before kissing you once more.

You push him off of you, trying to process everything you just did right now. It was so wrong but it felt so right, so good, so intoxicating. “If it makes you feel any better, I get out in six months.”

“No. This was a one time thing.” You place a hand on his chest, shaking your head.

“Was it? Cause I don’t think it was. Not with the way your pussy was squeezing around me. It was almost like she was made for me.” He cups your face, forcing you to look at him. His eyes searches yours, a smile forming at the corner of his lips. “Yeah…it definitely isn’t the last time.”

[deathbxnny]

Arcane characters when someone flirts with you. | Viktor, Jayce, Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Sevika x Gn!Reader

I am the brain rot. The brain rot is me.✨️

Content: pre season 2 Viktor/Jayce!, Jealousy, pitfighter Vi, established romantic relationships, angst, threats of violence/death threats, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He always struggled with self-esteem issues, mainly due to his sickness and disability that made it difficult for him to do much. A part of him forever will believe that you could easily do better than him, yet that doesn't stop him from getting terribly jealous anytime someone gets too friendly with you. Especially when they can see him standing next to you clearly being your partner as well.

But despite his insecurities, he doesn't allow anyone to harass you either on his watch. He lets you defend yourself for the most part until he has enough and lets his more sassy side handle the flirtatious person for you. He may not be able to do anything in a physical way, something he very much would rather avoid. But his tongue is sharp, and it takes little to make them quickly scurry away with a nervous apology for the disturbance.

He'll never admit to being jealous, however, and denies any teasing accusations you send his way. But he'll secretly ask for reassurance as he starts feeling embarrassed over his insecurities rather quickly after. A couple of hugs and kisses from your side will fix that right up, though.

》JAYCE

He has a reputation to keep up. And so, technically, he should always handle things professionally no matter what. People are watching him after all, and his public image can not be tarnished under any circumstance... or so he says. Things change in his mind when they are about you. In general, people know who you are and who you belong to since he rarely shuts up about it.

But every now and then, someone who is somehow unfamiliar with this concept will come up to you and attempt to woo you right in front of his very eyes. Now, Jayce tries to let you handle yourself, but doesn't hesitate to step in either if the person doesn't get the hint. His rather intimidating frame and position as a councilor help him out Immensely with this. He chases them away with a tight smile and a kiss to your head, as he casually asks how he can oh so graciously help them.

Once they leave, he'll pretend not to hear you, of you teasingly asking him if he was jealous. Him? Jealous? Hah! Impossible... okay, maybe a little. But don't tell anyone that.

》VI

As a pitfighter, Vi doesn't hesitate to get violent with anyone who comes close to the only good thing she has left in her life, which happens to be you. She's extremely protective and makes sure everyone gets the hint regarding who you belong to. But alas, there are always the couple strays that refuse to comprehend that fact and therefore attempt to "steal" you away from her. Something that never ends well for anyone.

Her temper is shorter than it used to be, and that becomes quite clear when she's quick to loom over the person that was pestering you. She knows that you can handle yourself just fine, too. But that doesn't stop her from grabbing their shoulder and asking them if she can help them out instead. Or maybe they want to talk it out in the pit? All the same to her, but the message is clear. She'll win if it comes to you every time, and that's enough to make the person scurry away in terror.

You'll definitely have to calm her down and reassure that you had everything handled. She's just looking out for you, though, and doesn't want you to get hurt, too, like everyone else in her life. The last thing she wants is to mess up again, so her overprotective tendencies will probably never lessen. Not that you kind anyways.

》CAITLYN

Your role as her partner is crystal clear to absolutely everyone in Piltover, especially after she takes over the troops as their new ruler. She's much more cutthroat and cold than she used to be before her mothers death, which made her extremely overprotective of you and your safety. She may even be suffocating at times with her security measures, but she finds it absolutely necessary. This also means, however, that those who try becoming a bit too friendly with you are always at risk of facing her wrath.

She doesn't hold back with her dismay and is quick to stand before you with a dark, stern glare directed at whoever was flirting with you beforehand. Caitlyn doesn't care if you can take care of yourself or not either. She'll take full advantage of her new position and power too, not hesitating to give the person that was pestering you a professionally worded threat that leaves them as pale as a ghost.

Admittedly, it's hard to tell if she's jealous or just worried in her own way. Before her mother's death, it may very well just be her being a bit jealous... but with her current position, she may also just be afraid to lose you too deep down. And she couldn't handle that.

》JINX

After Silco's death, Jinx's temper is milder than before due to her deteriorating mental health (if there was anything left of it to begin with). She's a lot calmer when handling situations and seeming more calculated than before, but that certainly doesn't quell the extreme abandonment issues in her at any rate. If anything, they've become much worse than before. This means that she'll cling to you and snap at anyone who nears you. No one is allowed to steal your attention away from her. No one can take you away from her. She just won't allow it when you're all she has left.

And so, she won't hesitate to use her gun on anyone who is pestering you. A death threat or two usually gets the point across anyway. Jinx will also let you handle yourself first, however though, knowing you can easily do that. But if things do get out of hand, she will step right to scare them away at best. She'd never kill anyone infront of you after all. She doesn't want to scare you away.

You'll have to reassure her of your loyalty a lot afterward, however, as her insecurities and issues can make her spiral fairly easily. Giving her a lot of attention and love makes everything go away, though, luckily.

》SEVIKA

She's very secure in your relationship and trusts you perfectly fine, which is why she rarely ever gets jealous. Why should she, anyway, when you'll always come back to her at the end of the day? Besides, people in the lanes know who you are and who you belong to, and most importantly, what will happen to their faces once she bashes them in if they ever harass you too much.

With that said, though, she typically lets you do your own thing and chase the person away yourself first before bothering to step in. If things get out of hand, then she'll suddenly be right behind you and tower over whoever it is that's not getting the hint. Blowing smoke right into their faces, she'll ask them if they have a problem, and if yes, then they should take it up with her outside. Although everyone knows she's the only one back afterwards. This usually does the trick.

Don't expect her to ever say that she is jealous, though, and hopes you know better, too. She knows you're loyal, as she certainly is for life and therefore doesn't worry about a thing regarding the strength of your relationship.

No one is better than her anyway.

[nonasuch]

it's that time:

Miss Universe National Costume 2024

is Here!

that's right! Everyone's favorite justification for the continued existence of beauty pageants has returned. with Looks!

Some of this year's top Themes include:

foliage!

gold!

weapons!

giant birds!

letting seventh-graders make your costume, apparently!

I did watch the video, but the most complete version I could find is missing a bit at the beginning. So I can't tell you what the inspiration was for anything before Bolivia; on the bright side that's fewer shitty rhyming couplets I had to suffer through.

Let's begin with:

Miss Angola! Tone down the color palette a little, and this honestly could have worked for that year the Met Gala was Catholicism- themed.

Miss Argentina, looking just thrilled about the sparkly toucan on her head. I feel like this is supposed to read as some combination of jungle/river/waterfall but this is from the part that I couldn't find on video.

Miss Aruba, I don't know if your giant spangly bird headdress was supposed to look like a potoo, but I am choosing to believe that it's on purpose and I love that for you.

(okay I checked, it's an endangered Aruban burrowing owl. even better!)

This is like the fourth year in a row Miss Australia has just worn a regular-ass gown. Do better!

You know who's doing better? Miss Bahamas, is who. Look at that giant fish. I wish I had video of this, I bet it moves.

Ah yes, when I think of Belarus I definitely think 'verdant tropical foliage.' also is it just me or is does the bodice fit very weird.

Holy shit, Miss Bolivia. This is where the video kicks in, so I can tell you that she somehow managed to dance in it. I'm a little afraid that this costume is going to eat Miss Aruba.

Miss Bonaire is from a Caribbean island that I don't think has ever competed in Miss Universe before? They have a national marine park that this costume is based on, which is is nice!

Miss Botswana's costume is made of leather and cowrie shells, and she is clearly having a great time being able to move freely without 75 pounds of headdress or platform heels. She did a very cute dance that kind of felt like a flex on her more heavily encumbered competitors.

Miss Brazil is wearing a tribute to Brazil's mineral wealth, which is something that basically every country with a mine in it has done at some point. I like the pannier-esque things, I guess.

Love a Tribute To A Weirdly Specific Thing, and Miss British Virgin Islands' mail-themed costume is a wonderful example of such.

Miss Bulgaria showed up dressed as a supervillain, her outfit is vaguely themed around 'the strength of women' and she just spat out a MOUTHFUL of BLOOD? on stage??? No idea how to react to that, frankly.

I'm going to pause to get the next batch of images together, and also to recover from the 'spat out a mouthful of blood' thing, because I was NOT prepared for that.

[mywritersmind]

THEY DONT KNOW IT - LN4

summary : She’s a popstar who’s being oggled by the same grid who doesn’t believe Lando has a chance with her. In a simple quiet conversation, Lando fixes that.

listen up : lando norris x popstar!reader. mentions of sex. reader wrote bed chem!!

word count : 629

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“You hear who’s in the paddock today?” Oscar eyes Lando as he joins the group of drivers. They all look suspiciously giddy.

“No…?” Lando eyes them, It’s Carlos who’s grinning and speaks up first.

“Y/n L/n.” the spaniard whispers.

Lando raises a brow as Alex nods to his girlfriend talking to you, “She’s a super famous singer right? Lily loves her.”

“Very pop.” Charles adds in.

“Very hot.” Franco says as they all turn to him, “What? You were all thinking it.” a surge of jealousy goes through Lando. Obviously he knows people think you’re hot, he’s the fan club president. But Franco saying it makes him want to go over there and kiss you in front of the young driver.

Lando watches you move your hair behind your ear, assessing the little black dress you’ve got on. “Fuck.” is the only think Yuki can say.

“Hasn't she been to a couple races?” George adds, “For any reason or…” Lando wants to yell at them that you’re there for him.

“She’s a fan.” Charles says, “Hangs with Alex in the garage sometimes.”

You wonder if they know how obviously the group is looking at you. You turn and give them a little smile. Most of the guys look away except Lando, who waves.

“What the fuck?” Carlos makes a face.

“Dude-” Max laughs as Lando looks around at the group.

“What?”

“Give up now.” Alex shrugs.

“Excuse you?” Lando crosses his arms over his racing suit, “You think I don’t have a chance?” They all start laughing, “Fuck you, lot!”

Alex grins, “Don’t let netflix hear.”

Carlos slaps his hand onto his friends shoulder, “Mate… she’s just so- and you’re so… it’s not made to be.”

Lando just scoffs, “Don’t pout!” Max laughs, “I’m pretty sure she’s the only girl out of your reach.”

“You don’t know about Nadia?” Alex grins.

Max gives him a confused look but turns back to Lando, except when he does, he realizes he’s already gone and walking towards you.

You smile when you see Lando, he slips his arm around your waist and pulls you in for a quick hug, “Hi.” His eyes linger on you before smiling kindly at Lily.

“I’ll be back, Y/n. Lando keep your distance.” She points to the driver before walking away.

“The guys don’t think I have a chance with you.” He whispers into your ear, his hand still on your waist.

You laugh a bit, glancing at the men who are all staring at you two. “So naive.” he laughs a bit, tilting his head down.

A curl goes into his face and you resist the urge to push it back. “I’m happy you’re here.” this makes your cheeks go a bit pink. Funny, you’ve been sleeping together for months and he can say the tinest thing to get you to blush.

“I’m happy I'm here too. Win for me?”

“What do I get if I do?” His hand backs off your waist a bit, clearly aware of the eyes on you.

You look up at him, his eyes greener than ever, “Whatever you want?”

His brows go up, “Whatever?”

The corner of your mouth quirks, “Within reason.”

“Not much reason between the two of us.” You roll your eyes and back away from him so you’re no longer touching.

“Go run back to your friends and giggle about how a pretty girl kissed you.”

“But you didn’t-” He gets cut off by your lips on his cheek. He’s grinning ear to ear as you walk away, waving a bit.

When Lando walks back to the guys they’re gobsmacked, “Tell me you didn't just meet her today.” Charles practically pleads.

He laughs at their faces, “Have you ever heard the song, bed chem?”