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fatesundress · 7 months

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⭑ life of the party. tom riddle x reader

summary. when one game is ruined, another begins.

tags. explicitly fem afab reader, smut with as minimal plot as i can physically allow myself, minors SCRAMMM, loosely implied hogwarts university au as always, flirting via mutually assured jealousy, impeccable communication skills, established relationship, the guy the reader is talking to gets annoyed she doesn’t want him but he doesn’t do anything, religious undertones that might have accidentally become overtones, party setting (background drinking & general degeneracy), probably the meanest tom i’ll ever write and i still tried making him nice because lots of heavy jealousy tropes are misogynistic icks fo me, fingering, piv, a little degradation but that's life, fawwwk the weeknd but the song this is based on is so sexy, etc

note. Me writing this: nightguard: ON, religious themes: RIFE, shame: ABOUNDING. i am so embarrassed by this. have i mentioned smut doesn’t come naturally to me? i don’t even know how i got here. i’m on heelys at the proverbial skatepark and everyone else apprenticed under tony hawk. Do you understand? ok.

word count. 4.5k

request. yes!

He is what he is. Stoic, sacred, silent and then verbose. You knew he had his fixations before you knew him at all — no one made top of every class without a shadow of obsession to contrast the glint of their excellence — but you could not anticipate how that obsession might translate when applied to a person. You’re not sure he had either.

He is what he is. The muggle world taught him religion and in it he learned only the tenor of devotion. When his fingers take your jaw, trace slow at the stripes of your thighs, steady your hips from under you and hold tight, there’s reverence in it. His kisses don’t wane with the months gone by; they soften with purpose. They rouse with hunger. His eyes don’t waver. Should a good man gaze upon his altar? Should he smile like sin when he gets on his knees?

He does.

Tom Riddle is what he is and you solemnise in equal part.

You don’t come to these things often, taken aback by the sight of the Slytherin common room in ribbons and banners tattered within the first hour of the night. Bottles glow green in the lake-light on every available surface, scattered about the place and spilled in sticky puddles.

You’re a wallflower tonight, though not for lack of options. You observe from a comfortable distance the drunken antics of new adults, free to carry their liquor in hand rather than hidden away in pockets and pillowcases. There’s something vaguely entertaining about it, intoxicating where someone else might mind their business and actually get intoxicated, but you see no harm done. Whispers fall on your ears before the rumours make their rounds, couples slink away in the darkness where someone in the crowd might not notice, and the night’s first instance of someone hurrying up the stairs in tears comes barrelling right past you. You invent a story for why to keep yourself busy.

It’s all just buzz.

Now, if you don’t come often, he certainly doesn’t.

Tonight, he has, and for reasons explicable but few, you’ve found yourselves on opposite sides of the room.

It began on the green couch by the window with a chess set spilled across the velvet — a bet you made with him upon arrival; you find wizard’s chess trite, Tom finds it feckless, but it makes for a good challenge.

What else could convince a man so perpetually controlled to pour himself a drink? And you imagine, from his perspective: what else could convince a woman so determined to outwit him?

It’s for no nefarious reason — to slight him or see him stumble — but because you love the fractions of relief that colour him, soften him, temper him. It’s because he loves you in every shade, in every pliancy, in each and every fervour. But mostly it’s because you love kindly to best him, and he loves mirthfully to best you.

So you play. The game is slow and teasing, hard to see in the ripples of the lake, and toppled over in the final moves (which you’ll insist you were winning) by the same swaying body that spills its drink down the front of your dress. And so you’re up, brushing your index finger over the corner of Tom’s sudden scowl. You whisper like a joke not to kill anyone but he’s so quick to look like he might that you consider repeating yourself with more conviction.

You poke at the spot where his jaw is tense. “I’ll be right back.”

Drying liquor from lace is a matter of precision even with magic, and this is half-gelatinous like someone raided the kitchen’s supply of jelly and steeped it in something offensively alcoholic. You utilise the clearer light of the Slytherin girl’s lavatory, wetting your dress before evaporating the water from it. There’s the matter then of transforming the stained fabric back to its original colour, and you huff in the mirror at having a game you thought you didn’t care much for ruined so close to its end.

You care about Tom, though. The omphalos of your issue resides there.

(It is fair to say most of your issues reside there.)

With only minutes gone by, the common room crowd looks doubled when you return, and though you wade through you’re pushed back like debris caught in a tide, the bodies more stubborn rubble than you. So you retreat, stand flush at the wall with your arms crossed, and wait for Tom’s eyes to land on yours. To, perhaps, open your mind and let him in, tell him exhaustedly from afar that the game is at rest and you’re ready to leave.

But even he’s hard to find in the bodies unified in breath, flux like a big set of lungs — and nothing about Tom blurs into the background.

So you wait. You wallflower. You pour yourself a drink.

The moment stretches on longer than anticipated, and after many detached observations of the room, someone else finds you instead. He’s tall, blond to Tom's inkwell black, kissed by summer sun even as autumn soothes its blister. Your gaze wavers back to him a few times though his own is uncertain for all its focus. He seems to be waiting for you to stop, perhaps for the silhouette of someone else to slip by and prove you were looking at them instead. When no one else comes, he traverses the crowd with a straightened inch of pride, stepping through new colours until he’s close enough to you that the light settles emerald-black and you can see the great chasm of his beauty up close.

His freckles are carefully dusted, his structure strong, all squarish, rugged lines and shades of August.

The chasm is not a lack of allure, per se, it’s just a lack of him. One man’s August to your adherent’s December, the intention of his warmth, a thing that does not come to him like everything else but that he makes and makes and mends when it lapses because he does not want to see you cold. The singular reward of a rarity like that.

“Hi," you say, glancing over a broad shoulder.

“Evening," he responds. He takes you in with a look of (unappreciated) appreciation. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“No, we haven’t.”

He extends a hand. “Oliver Belby.”

“Pleasure.”

You don't offer much in the way of conversation. He’ll vie for your attention regardless of how much of it you offer. So you lean against the wall where the buzz of sound prickles your hair, let him talk, let his hand come up to rest beside your head, and you find Tom.

He’s right where you left him, a new clearing in the crowd making space for your eyes to meet.

His are ice even at a distance. As if you proselytise — as if you could — kneel for another man or let one kneel before you, all of your trysts together faithless.

They aren’t. He must know they aren’t.

But you put yourself here and standing at the target of his gaze has never been marred by the severity of it.

You decide then; when one game is ruined, another begins.

In truth, you can’t deny the element of theatrics in the way Tom denies everyone but you: his soft, penitent smile, the apologetic cant of his head, how his eyes can find you in any crowd and whoever is clinging onto his every word that night will follow his gaze and deflate when they discover you at the end of it. Sometimes it’s harsh. Final. He lacks the patience of pretence.

Sometimes, the week is dull. Sometimes, the whoever is undeterred. Sometimes you’ve pushed him here.

No — You’ve never done that before. This is new.

So it’s one of those weeks, and one of those whoevers, on an anomaly you may as well have directed the encounter yourself, and Tom is half-indulgent as he forces his eyes away and you force yours to stay.

You watch him from across the room as the woman drapes herself across the arm of his chair. There's a furious blush on her cheeks even in the dark, a pretty disarray to her shoulder-length hair, skirts pleated over knees she faces toward him. She smiles and offers him a glass of something, and you know for certain Tom understands this game because he accepts it, eyes flicking back to you as he swirls the glass in contest.

To that you take an inappreciable sip of your own.

“ — Which is why no one has even attempted to kill one in decades. And capturing one is another thing entirely. My mother works with the Greeks on occasion, and the nearest she came to a den was in the twenties. If she had gone any nearer I wouldn’t be here.”

“Hm?” You look back at the man in front of you. His lips glisten with having licked them between every phrase.

“The manticores,” he says, undeterred.

“Right. Five-X beasts, aren’t they?”

“That’s what I said. I heard from one of my mother’s colleagues that — ”

The woman is whispering something in Tom’s ear, her hair on his cheek. He’s looking at you as if you had said the words. You don't shy away when Oliver leans in to whisper too. It's a strange, fractured language. Too intimate while too detached. Whispers from across the room, desire from another in the place of desire for each other. But the strangeness should not surprise you anymore. This is Tom: beautiful and wicked and the one you chose.

“ — And Nundus are worse. Deadliest creature there is — ”

She’s laughing about something, the woman. Half-reserved, she’s angled toward the party despite her leaning on his shoulder and the dissipating inches of distance.

“ — They stalk in silence. Think of the size of one, right? They’re apex predators… so commanding and still they could be in front of you one instant and gone the next.”

You engage with detached interest. “Really?”

And now Oliver barricades your view, his other hand coming to rest on your other shoulder.

“Do we have any classes together?”

You blink up at him. “No.”

“No, right,” he says, eyes darting to your lips. “I’d remember you.”

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you wonder if for some men one-sided discussions of class five beasts qualify as foreplay.

You place a hand on his chest, eyebrows raised and half a startled smile curled.

“You’re not going to kiss me," you inform him.

His face falls, but with it, at least, does his hand.

“Did you hear me?"

“It’s loud,” he decides suddenly. “Can we go somewhere else?”

You’re not sure you believe that.

You duck under an arm and search the crowd again. The woman is on the arm of the chair looking thoroughly dismayed, and for good reason —

Tom is gone.

Your breath is caught.

“This isn’t… You’re not going to…?”

You flash Oliver with a glare. “So you did hear me.”

He makes a pathetically sad face, and you think: it’s a wonder he made it this far when his courtship evidently hinges on the subject of his affection not listening to a word out of his mouth.

“Goodnight, Oliver,” you say tersely.

“What was that for, then?” he asks, and it comes out practically whined.

“That was talking.”

“But you’re —”

“Belby.”

He is what he is. It shouldn’t surprise you when he appears beside you all fatal rage on a quiet lead, narrowly fixed to you.

Tom’s cold is his median temperature, yes, but in moments like this it’s as much for you as his handmade warmth. He’d pluck the fingers off a boy like Oliver. The digits would string eaves like icicles.

Oliver is looking between you and Tom like something terrible has dawned on him, hands urged to his pockets to soothe the flames your unveiled ties to a man seemingly singed him with.

“Riddle — Mate, I didn’t… I didn’t know she was…”

Tom’s voice is flat, edged with something that makes his monotony sound merciful. “Pity. If only you knew as much as you talked.”

Oliver’s mouth opens and closes and opens again, but wisely he settles on silence instead of excuses, and wastes no time fleeing slowly into the crowd.

The instant he's stolen by the wave Tom's eyes are on yours and they’re molten. You move to say something but his patience was for show — he’s dragging you by the arm out of the common room and into one of the dungeon's empty classrooms without giving you the chance.

“Tom —" You start to protest, mouth twisted in a scowl. “Tom, you're being —"

He shuts the door behind you and locks it with such delicacy your breath catches at the question of how badly he's holding himself back right now.

“I'm being what?"

“You're…" It's hard to formulate an answer when he's like this. “It was a game. Don’t pretend you weren’t playing too."

Tom inches in, chest rising with angry breaths. “A game, was it? Did he know that?"

“Did she?” you hiss.

“It certainly became apparent when she was discarded so that I might retrieve you.”

“It was as apparent to Belby, judging by the way he was left gawking.”

“And with great restraint I let him. A mercy I didn’t take his eyes so he was left without the ability.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, now I understand; the problem wasn’t the game, it’s that I played it better than you.”

He looks at you for a long time before casting a silencing charm on the room.

Oh.

Oh — your heart barrels off somewhere. You’re without it for a moment, breathless in the wake of the implication of a spell like that.

“Tom," you say politically, “It was hardly a matter of rescuing.”

He nods imperceptibly. “No, it wasn’t.”

“So we’re in agreement.”

He hums a non-answer.

Each step he takes forward, you take back. It's a peculiar way to have a conversation, but part of the game, you suppose.

Interesting he’s still playing.

You still gasp when you inevitably hit the wall, hands going to the carved edge of a windowsill.

“You’re terrible when you win,” he whispers. His lips brush your ear.

You shudder, mouth dry as you press against his shoulder. “You’re worse when you lose.”

His mouth drags down your jaw but he refuses to kiss you, still withholding something, still holding back in some terrible, electrifying way. Instead one of his hands starts to dip down your side. You shiver as he grazes the skin of your breast, exposed by the cut of your dress, and continues down your waist. His mouth traces your bare shoulder as his tongue makes a slow pass, skin beneath leaping at his careful ministrations.

With long, slender fingers he's pulling your dress off button by button, torturously slow, and you feel mocked to have cleaned it earlier. You feel foolish to have left knowing the night would have ended like this regardless.

“Tom,” you say. His name is followed by staggered breaths. Your fingers are clutching the windowsill.

The air is thick as he watches you, flesh exposed by each undone catch. And still he will not kiss you, even as his lips trail along your collarbone and you start to tug instinctively at his belt. He makes the barest sound of disapproval and spins you to face the window, your hands urged on instinct to press against the glass.

“Tom...”

He hikes your dress up your thighs. It clings to your hips, a meagre two buttons left attached to keep it from falling.

Your wand clatters as his fingers work the clasp of your bra and his teeth skim your shoulder, leaving little bites he laves at softly with his tongue. You shudder, arching into him, searching for friction. His touch traverses the shape of you and stops feather-light between your legs.

“Tom —”

“Quiet," he admonishes, a little tut.

Your skin jumps at the caress of his fingers tracing deceptively timid up your thighs, like he hasn’t done this before, like it’s care and not punishment. His favourite oxymoron: the gentlest torture, the cruelest succour.

His index draws upon the lace of your underwear and tugs it aside with a tenderness that makes you gasp. Is there a way to press harder to the glass without breaking it? Is there ever enough to grab onto when he gets like this — so singularly focused on ruining you?

One of your hands latches onto the arm half-disappeared in your skirts instead, clinging steadfast to the white of its sleeve, your body swaying as if at sea. He keeps you steady, but this is his crown achievement: that he is all there is that can do it when you’re so singularly focused on being ruined by him.

The sinews of his forearm work imperceptibly under your fingers as he appreciates the newly unfettered flesh, two digits sliding between your legs, and he makes a satisfied sound against your shoulder at the wetness he finds there.

You’re swallowing air with a moan stuck in your throat; too dry, you realise, and feel like you’re choking when he starts to move, gripping his arm somehow tighter.

As a rule, you know how much he loves this, but it’s tenfold under his jealousy and you think deliriously, probably wrongly, that for how much he enjoys pushing you you enjoy pushing him to get here. You’re his and he’s yours, there’s no doubt in it — but what he can reduce you to — this desperate creature, writhing and panting, trying in vain to satiate herself with a simple finger — this is the translation; the fruition of his fixations put to a person rather than a subject. This is what it is to be his.

Tom’s mouth opens in a smile at your throat, and there it feels more like bared teeth, a smile that is as animal as it is pretty.

And still he whispers with all the affection of a lover, your name peppered between kisses.

His fingers inch inside you and curl. You’re wedged in the perfect balance of his discrepancy; your disciple and your devil. He worships you in white. He ruins you in it too.

Now his name comes out in a babble, wet, half-drooled. A nip pinches the little space beneath your ear and you clutch impossibly harder to his wrist, your free hand squeaking down the window pane as you grind on his palm. He crooks his fingers against a spot that has you seeing stars, thumb pressed to your clit in a subtle motion, and you feel yourself tip off into an unknown he aquaints you with often. In a blurry, flickering moment, the light gleams somewhere beyond the stained hues of the window. And that should be it. The edge is at your heels and you should be falling. But the sinful press of him at your back commands you to lurch against him, and when you moan for more he pulls his fingers free.

You stumble weakly into his chest, startled.

“What… What?”

“Ask me for it,” he says, his voice hoarse, markedly wanton in spite of himself. But there is hunger and there is greed. There’s a sacrificial lamb and there’s a hunted one— there’s religion and there’s Tom. He invents something that demands greater devotion.

And the sound of leather rasping serge and metal clinking metal reels your conscience in. There are no stars. There’s just him. His belt is coming undone.

“Tom.” You swallow. “I told you —”

“And I want you to ask.” He cups your jaw in his hand, thumb tracing your lower lip. “Nicely.”

Your mouth opens for him and you shiver, pressing further back for contact he doesn’t allow. Instead another small tut is whispered at your neck, relinquished to a kiss.

His finger brushes your teeth when you speak. “I want you.”

You feel him shake his head and you all but whine.

“I want you inside, Tom — need you — please.”

“Please?” he echoes mockingly.

“Please,” you say in an uneven voice, and when your tongue grazes his thumb he eases it further into your mouth with an appeased hum.

And so his zipper comes down and you hold your breath with the weight of your dress at your hips.

He pushes inside you with minimal pause, slow still, to relish the way your little pants hitch, stop, and shudder out in a broken moan; the way your breath is guided by his rhythm, how you’re shaped by him, fitted around him. You careen forward and your palms flatten on the window, trembling at the first thrust. Your fingers quiver down the glass.

Tom pulls you into him on the second, patience abandoned. His lips chase your pulse. His grip on your jaw tightens as his thumb pops free with a string of spit. He nudges deeper at a new angle, your body forced as far as it can lean back, gasping heavenward when your head falls helplessly onto his shoulder.

It’s profane. Your ears almost dull to the sound of his hips snapping against yours, the obscenity of your skin on what he offers of his, but you waver between earth and something else, brought back to him by the torturous sight of the edge he stole you from. Always brought back to him.

He’s gripping your jaw in one hand as he pushes deeper, and your fingers are lost for purchase on his forearms, trembling to hold onto something.

When he pulls out of you at your brink again, you practically cry out. But you understand when he spins you around again, hiking you up against the windowsill, your shoulders hitting the cool glass with a gasp you barely register in the fog of your desperation. His eyes are dilated to midnight rings. The weight of his desire is frightening. The insistence to claim you better yet.

He wastes no time before slamming into you again, pausing at the hilt to watch your eyebrows wrench together before resuming his pace. When your mouth falls open, he swallows the noise that tries to come out of it.

It doesn’t feel like a kiss. It feels like the prolusion to a bite.

His fervour is all the reminder of how you got here in the first place; the teeth, the force, the grip on your waist. There’s a rough sound he makes in your mouth that you taste more than you hear. The vibration of him is everywhere. You’re too hot and it only occurs to you because your fingers are clawing at fabric instead of skin that he’s fully dressed and your last button has finally snapped, lace pooled on the classroom floor as he fucks you. The thought is consigned to oblivion as quickly as it came. It doesn't matter.

You're clutching at his shoulders, the nape of his neck — trying to kiss him back, but you feel torn in two by the intensity of his ministrations, a low, immolating pressure building in your abdomen. He’s proving something with you, and his is a relentless, unending appetite. You don't really stand a chance. You think you've known that from the start.

Tom is all-consuming. Tom is a force of nature, a whirlwind that sweeps over you. He leaves you breathless and somehow needing more as he wraps his hand around the small of your back and seizes you in place.

Still you find yourself wanting to be held tighter.

“T-Tom —" you sob through the kiss but he doesn't give you enough air to do it. He pushes harder, a rasp at the back of his throat, some carnal thing. He’s not withholding your release now; he’s spurring you towards it.

When he withdraws his lips from yours, his brows are furrowed in concentration. There’s a fine lustre of sweat on his forehead, stray curls pulled across dark, wicked eyes. The sight of him alone is condemnable, but it isn’t for you.

He likes to watch you like this. When your moans dissolve to the torn syllable of his name, again and again. The veneration. Your choked litanies.

You give them to him.

Sleeves drawn up by your body’s baser instinct for skin, you’ve carved a canvas of praise into his arms, marked up to his elbows where your fingers had jerked upward to rake at his back. This time, when you find the cliffside, nothing stops you from teetering off its edge. Flames dance across your skin in an explosion, your collar damp and bitten, your waist in Tom’s vice-like grip. One hard thrust and you’re falling.

The stars are blinding. You decide then they were made by him.

Your head lulls back as shocks of pleasure course through your body, the coil snapped, the hard shape of him inside you demanding impossibly for more. You stumble through the light, vision blurred, praying and praying and praying. His grip comes to find your jaw again.

You keen, addled through the ecstasy, barely conscious of the way his panted breaths hitch at the sight of you in his hands, soft-eyed and puddy.

He always comes apart soon after you, but it happens rarely that your body is so taut on the wire of rapture that his twitching inside you takes you with him.

This time it does.

You sink against him, thighs numb and wet, one hand slipping dumbly from his figure and swiping across condensation-foggy glass. The second orgasm is an aftershock of the first. It’s slow. It feels like being caught from the last fall. You land in Tom’s arms and they’re holding you through whitened knuckles. His eyelashes flutter, ink-dipped twines of quills, and he steals the shaky sigh from your mouth by pressing it to his.

You kiss lazily and softly. The room feels sheeted in static. The electricity lingers on both of you.

It’s hard not to fall against the window when he slides out of you. You slump on quivering legs into his chest instead, heaving, spend trickling down your legs.

Tom holds you close, adjusting his trousers before sinking down to settle you on his lap. He wipes the sweat from your face and presses his lips to the feverish skin it plastered. Forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, whispers of your name down your jaw like a prayer answered. Your eyelids flutter shut and he kisses you there, too. His lashes tickle.

You love him more than you worship him. You think he likes that more.

He grabs your forsaken dress from the floor and slips it over your bare shoulders, summoning the snapped button back in place before he begins to meticulously clasp the rest together again. His mouth leaves a path at the skin under each one before it closes, and you hum in dizzy gratitude.

“That was,” you say in a very worn voice, “a terrible way to reinforce not making you jealous.”

He glares at you from one of the lowermost buttons and you giggle sleepily, curling a hand into his hair. “Don’t look at me like that. You liked it too.”

He leans back up at that, tipping your chin with his fingers, gaze darting over the wrecked state of you with a pleased gleam in his eyes. “You liked it? What a modest interpretation.”

Now it’s your turn to glare.

He is what he is — pursuit of buttons forgotten as you’re laid down on the moonlit floor to be reminded just how much you liked it.

taglist. @lyis @indimoss @poddzi @esolean @d1anna @maripositanoctruna @mentally-in-northern-italy @ronniemaximoff1234 @moobell55 @jaerang @ramayantika @saltwaterbythesea @acube07 @togenabi @adazito @kitcat334 @blaurghhh @shutupfinn @jaymeeshayden @lilu842 @leaosee @garfunkelworld @definitely-not-captain-america @multiplefandomstan @mangoesareorange [ note: inexplicably, a bunch of my tags aren't working. i tried to fix it but if you didn’t get a notif i’m sorry! ]

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle smut #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle oneshot #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

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incorrectbatfam · 9 months

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In honor of Tim's birthday, what does every batfam member gifts him?

Dick: a signed skateboard from Tony Hawk

Jason: he offered his spleen but Tim said no so instead he regifted a bar of motel soap

Damian: a painting of Red Robin on a skyscraper

Duke: half-roasting half-praising slam poetry

Cullen: a donation to Ao3 in Tim's name

Stephanie: post-patrol midnight breakfast with a view from the top of Waffle House

Cassandra: a drive-in showing of his favorite movie

Barbara: a hint to a case he's been stuck on

Harper: the last part he needs to build a secret Batcomputer replica in the Nest

Carrie: a piñata full of his favorite carnival candy

Kate: his first Pride flag and registering him to vote

Alfred: a 6-month therapy subscription plus a bonus psychiatric evaluation if you refer a friend

Selina: a bucket of "free" arcade tokens

Bruce: skipping work for a father-son day

(bonus under the cut)

Bernard: a night at a haunted hotel

Kon: takes him to unreachable photography spots

Cassie: customized Red Robin DND dice

Bart: goes back in time, records Tim's best fights, and makes a short film

The kidnappers: a free pass to foil their next kidnapping attempt

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sanb3rry · 11 months

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can u expand on suna being a silly bf please 🙈

totally can omg !!!!!!!

suna totally has like domo-kun charms on his backpack or his 3d, he gave you a matching pink one,,,,

he collects old ps and nintendo games. he probably went to a thrift and found some and started collecting them cause they look cool.

also collects yugioh cards, it's in a pokemon themed tin-can under his bed. ironic, i know.

he def played tony hawks pro skater when he was a kid, he tried doing a trick from the game and broke a bone... his little sister made a joke about it in front of you and he was pouty for the entire day.

he plays doll house with his sister. OH! totally the type to make two dolls kiss obnoxiously while teasing his sister about her crush.

would totally let you practice makeup on him, and he will somehow look prettier. don't ask how, it just happened. he let's his sister braid his hair and but sparkly butterfly clips on it.

has those stupid ironic t-shirts, some of them are his dad's that he took. he once forgot to change when you came over and got so red, it was very cute.

binge watches cartoons with his sister, he first complains on how she's hogging the tv and then he actually gets invested, asks too many questions, his sister gets annoyed and leaves and he's left there flabbergasted on how she could leave him on a cliff-hanger like that.

knows everything about the fnaf timeline, also watches wendigoon. he def plays roblox with you and bullies kids on there.

once on halloween when he was younger, his sister was a princess and insisted he would be a prince. he tells people how that experience was horrible but he secretly enjoyed every second of it.

loves taking 0.5 pictures of the both of you, has a whole album filled with it. also loves taking pictures and videos of you liekke, and they also look so good. your personal photographer fr.

he has a small cactus in his room, jokingly calls it his and your kid.

does not like kids, but he's really good with them.

he likes pinching, poking and squishing your cheeks like a grandma, lolol. randomly comes up to you in the hallways or during break and does it with no explanation.

i've written sm ofmfkejdns, tell me if you want more!!

#✿ san rambles !#✿ san's work !#✿ fluff #suna x reader #suna headcanons #suna hcs #suna fluff #suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou headcanons #suna rintarou fluff #suna rintaro drabbles #suna rintaro headcanons #suna rintarou hcs

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 6 months

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Can I have Tony’s younger sister x Loki? Tony is not okay with this — obviously. Reader is not some soft sub like most loki fics, she is strong and has a smart tongue and stands up to Loki. He likes a strong woman. Maybe they sneak off somewhere during a gala or ceremony tony is organizing? smut plss

With the return of Loki season 2, I couldn't not write about my favorite MCU character. Please keep sending more Loki requests <3

Warnings: 18+, bathroom quickie, p + v, unprotected sex,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Loki Laufeyson had some big reputation, both on Asgard and here — on Earth. After causing trouble on both planets, he earned a spot on Tony Stark’s list of people he hated with a burning passion — and his name was in red underline. Why the red underline? It seemed that the heart of Iron Man’s younger sister had been stolen by the God of Mischief, which made Tony hate him even more.

And what could Tony do? Absolutely nothing.

A few months passed since the news dropped and you had hoped that your brother would have accepted your relationship by now, but he still wished Loki would stay the Asgardian fuck away from you.

To make the situation worse, Loki adored to kiss you right and whisper the dirtiest things to you right under Tony’s nose, just to rub it in his face. After all, he was the God of Mischief.

Tony's jaw clenched and his hand tightened around his glass of scotch as he saw you and Loki in the corner of the room kissing. It wasn't just a smooch. One on the low back of your dress, touching your bare skin while kissing you passionately. You’ll need a lipstick touch-up — and another drink — after that. The sight was making any pair of eyes jealous, wishing their man kissed them like that.

Loki generally didn't like public displays of affection, but he loved to play with Tony’s nerves.

Gently, you broke from Loki’s kiss, keeping your hand on his jacket’s sleeve. ‘’As fun as provoking my brother is, let’s not make him too mad tonight.’’

‘’But you look absolutely delightful in this dress, darling. Pardon me for being unable to keep my hands off you,’’ Loki said, proving his point by lowering his hand down the curve of your back and stopping right at the top of your ass.

You flashed a mischievous smile at the Asgardian God, wishing you could just leave this event without anyone noticing and finish the night in your bedroom, but it was almost impossible to escape your brother’s gaze.

As if he had read your mind, Loki leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered. ‘’Do you think anyone is going to notice if we elope for a few minutes?’’

‘’Unfortunately, there's a hawk watching us.’’

Across the room, Tony's dark eyes were glaring at Loki and you — especially Loki — as he watched the scene unfold before him, his expression a mix of anger, disgust and frustration. He took a sip of his scotch, trying to calm his rising irritation, but it didn't do much to soothe his nerves.

Loki rolled his eyes back in annoyance. ‘’Does he know you are a grown adult and don’t need a chaperon?’’

Tony’s behavior was overbearing, but he had his reasons — besides strongly disliking Loki.

‘’He's overprotective — always has been. But he got worse after Mom and Dad died. All we had was each other now, so he stopped seeing me as his annoying little sister and gave himself the position of protective figure in my life. He scared so many of my past boyfriends away,’’ you explained with a chuckle.

Losing a parent was a pain Loki knew. It gets easier with time, but never goes away.

‘’I’m sorry about your parents,’’ he said, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss it gently. You gave him a soft smile. ‘’His tactics are not gonna work on me, though.’’

You exchanged a sly grin with Loki, then reached for his hand and led him away.

The second the bathroom door was closed — and locked —, your back found the wall and Loki's hands went to your hips, pulling you against him as his mouth found yours, kissing you with a passion and hunger that was reserved for private moments. You didn’t mind being kissed in a crowded room, but some kisses were just too intimate for an audience.

Loki groaned against your mouth and shifted his hands lower, having been holding back from grabbing your ass through your dress all evening. As much as he loved it, he wanted to rip it off your body. But that would be problematic when it would be time to get back to the party. You couldn’t exactly go back in just your panties and high heels. That would be highly inappropriate — and embarrassing.

Without separating your mouths, you reached between your bodies for Loki’s belt, jostling with the buckle to undo it and unfastening his trousers. You pulled them down just enough to uncover his ass, making him smile into the kiss as his hands left your hips to grab your thigh. He hooked it around his waist as his other hand slipped underneath your dress to slide your panties to the side.

Your time was counted. Soon, someone will come knock on the door to use the bathroom.

‘’Ahh, Loki,’’ you sighed, your arms around his neck as he pushed inside of you. Your nails dug into the back of his neck, feeling the pleasure from the pressure and fullness of him.

He wasted no time before pulling back out and trusting back in. ‘’This is much better than the buffet, isn’t it?’’ he asked, already knowing the answer.

You threw your head back and closed your eyes, breathy moans leaving both of your mouths as he kept his movements quick but precise, hitting the perfect spot every time. It always surprised you how well he knew your body — your needs.

‘’Fuck,’’ Loki hissed in a drawn-out swear as you clenched around him so good. He kept an iron grip on your thigh, fingertips surely leaving bruises. ‘’If you keep squeezing me like that—’’

You cut him off, covering his mouth with your hand. ‘’Less talking, more fu— aah. More fucking. We have to get back soon.’’

You could feel your standing leg weakening at each of his deep trusts, forcing you to grip his shoulder with one hand to stop you from falling. The height and style of your heeled shoes was going to be planned accordingly next time.

Soon, you felt the coil in your stomach tighten, climax building inside you. ‘’I…I'm about to cum,’’ you warned, your mouth close to his ear as he mouthed at your neck and shoulder.

Understanding the message, Loki’s free hand expertly found its way to your clit, skillfully rubbing it as you tightened around him, drawing nearer to your climax. He maintained his movements, his lips back on yours to catch your final moan.

A few more thrusts and he was there too, barely able to register his own orgasm approaching when he shot rope after rope of his cum inside you. Loki growled into your mouth, feeling his own orgasm ripple through his body, fucking into you as deep as he could go until he was finished.

You shuddered when he pulled out, feeling the dribble of his cum down your inner thigh and on the floor, making you regret not using a condom. It was too late now, the mess was there.

Forcing yourself to quickly recover, you and Loki took a few minutes to fix your appearance in the bathroom mirror, smoothing clothes and re-applying your lip gloss, doing your best to make sure no one would be able to tell of your and Loki's little escapade.

You went for another kiss before slipping out of the bathroom together, his lips tasting like cherries and the expensive liquor he had been drinking.

‘’How mad do you think Stark be when we walk by him?’’ Loki asked, approaching the room the buffet was held at.

With the way Loki’s shirt was slightly wrinkled and the smudge of your lip liner, it was impossible he wouldn’t pick up what you and Loki had been up to.

Instead of answering, you grabbed a chute of champagne from the nearest tray and took a long sip. Tony could be pissed all he wanted. He’d be a liar to say he had never done this in his younger playboy days.

—

Marvel taglist: @xenasolos @chrizzierbsstuff @ayamenimthiriel @alina02 @turtleshavesoulmates @staygoldsquatchling02 @daemonslittlebitch @wetwilliam02 @haileyismoo @manofworm @rhydianissuperior @supersanelyromantic @nicangel13 @mxxny-lupin @sweeterheartxamerica @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @arunaposeidondottie @liidiaaag @katsukis1wife @amithesimpoffandoms @acornacreacure @chaotic-fangirl-blog @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @youdontneedtoknowthisinformation @aabananaa @starrrslove @angeliod @nmedina8611 @1stevelacyfan @yourfavdummy @laylasbunbunny @slytherhoes @pedrosprincess @luvvtxinityy @Eddiefrickenmunson @wandaswigglywoos @mikaelsonsstuff @tcddszn @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @popeheywardssecretgf @kattybug @loverofdrewstarkey @sl4sh3rfuck3r @luci1fer @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @t-candy @adaydreamaway08 @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble @straberryshortcake143 @mymultiveres @hopeurokays @not-liah @beth-gallagher22 @lonelywitchv2 @lausley336 @arinexeisnotworking @rubyliquor @Danniackerman

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1 @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @Idkwhattonamethisblogs @grxnde-dwt

#loki marvel #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki odinson #loki #marvel #marvel imagine #loki odinson x reader

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airplanned · 11 months

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By popular demand:

Don't get me wrong, I'm really enjoying Tears of the Kingdom. Parts of it are fun in ways that I never felt during Breath of the Wild. And I really like the story itself, just not the execution of that story. And actually the storytelling is fine, but Breath of the Wild did some narrative things that I have been praising for years, so to have less than stellar storytelling in the sequel feels jarring.

I have three points.

Point 1: Amnesia and the Time Skip

In Breath of the Wild, Link begins the game with amnesia. Therefore, even though this is the country that Link grew up in and has explored, it's still understandable that he has no idea what kind of environment is going to be around the corner. You the player are able to discover the world along with Link.

Meanwhile there is also a 100 year time skip, which means most of the characters you meet have never met you before. (The characters you did meet in the past completely understand that you've been gone a while and have amnesia.) You start knowing no one and are able to build relationships from the beginning.

Tears of the Kingdom has something like a five to six year time skip. But instead of being in a comma during that time, Link was apparently up and about, helping to rebuild Hyrule. Link ought to know significant portions of what's going on, but the player does not. So we have our first disconnect between game play and story. It's hard to tell what's a new development since the upheaval and what has been an ongoing process that Link ought to know about.

This is muddled even further because Nintendo wants the game to be accessible to people who haven't played Breath of the Wild. They made the decision that instead of having all the NPCs greet you like an old friend (which all of the Zora do, so this is a thing that is possible), most NPCs will greet you as if you've never met before. So what am I the player supposed to know? What is Link supposed to know? It's unclear.

And as funny as it is to think that Link is like Tony Hawk and no one recognizes the Hero, or that Zelda drew so much attention that no one noticed Link standing behind her, it's strange to me because Link made friends with these people not as the Hero, but on a personal level. Link introduced couples. Link attended a wedding. Link helped a guy move out of his mom's house and start his own business. Link helped couples in rough times. These people should greet you with a, "Hey, Link!" even if they don't know that you're over a hundred years old and defeated the Calamity.

The theme of botw was isolation, so it made sense that Link started the game alone. The theme of Tears of the Kingdom is working together. So there's a disconnect, because instead of starting the game with a boatload of allies, Link begins the game having apparently lost a lot of the friends he made in the first game. Once again, he's isolated, which is not what the game play and the co-op fighting is implying.

Point 2: The Stated Objective

The story in botw was straight forward. At the very beginning of the game, Rhoam’s ghost tells you how that story ends: Zelda is using her powers to hold back the Calamity. Rhoam also gives you the game's objective: Defeat the Calamity. The memories that you collect fill in the story of Zelda’s struggles to activate her powers and her changing, growing relationship with Link. They deepen your understanding of where Link come from and what happened, but none of it is plot essential and none of it affects your objective. There’s no shocking twist. There’s nothing that would change the way you play the game (other than maybe not picking the silent princesses).

TotK on the other hand at the very beginning presents you with the objective: Find Zelda and solve the mystery of what happened to her. Learning what happened is not presented as some deepening of understanding, but as the point of the game. You don’t get the objective to defeat Ganondorf until much later on.

There are several story threads working at the same time, all of which lead you to where Zelda is. The hyroglyphs tell you what happened and where she is. One of the sage quests tells you what happened and strongly hints where she is. The Deku Tree strongly suggests what happened and where she is. You know where she is. You know what happened.

And you cannot tell any of your allies.

There are other characters who are “helping” to solve this mystery. With the theme of working with other people, it would make sense that I would share my breakthrough findings with them and we would work together towards the next step. I’m thinking specifically if Purah (who explicitly tells you to search for Zelda by doing X even after you know where she is and that that while it would be nice to get another sage, it won’t solve the "find Zelda" problem) and Paya (who won’t let me into the floating ring even though she’s clearly working with bad information), and to a lesser extent the sages (Looking pointedly at Yunobo, who has apparently usurped my himbo throne???).

Even if you've done all three of these quests, the game play treats you as if you don’t have this information. It’s frustrating in a game that advertises itself as open play where you can do anything in any order. It’s another disconnect when achieving what is expressly stated as the goal of the game is not acknowledged within the game.

Part 3: Lack of if-else statements

Honestly, this is the thing that pushed me over the edge into writing this.

I went and helped the monster squad with a mission. We killed some monsters. It was a great time. Side adventure achieved!

At the end, the team leader pulled me aside and said that he noticed that I didn't have my legendary sword. In fact, my equipment looked less than legendary. Har har.

...My good sir, not only do I have the Master Sword, but I am holding it in my hand, and I used it to defeat the monsters we just fought. Maybe you don’t recognize it because I have fused a dragon part to it.

Why is there no if-else statement coded into this event to prevent this from happening? There were if-else statements in the dialogue in botw when people talked about the sword. They responded differently if I had it. Elsewhere in totk, there are elaborate conditionals about the weather. Having the Master Sword is kind of a major plot point. But the game is uninterested in if I have done the plot, even while directly addressing that plot point.

Again, it's fine. Just disappointing after botw worked so well.

#Zelda #totk #botw

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aroacesetitoff · 3 months

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Infinight Interns Reference Sheet + Headcanons

Bartholomew Finn

-Vest of Slow Descent-i made it green based off his canon design and then gave it "feathered" hems to allude to its ability

-pre-Draconic Transformation Bart-gave him silver jewelry and the only draconic traits are gold freckles, fangs, and shorter horns

-post-Draconic Transformation Bart-gold jewelry to match with his dad (Simsun), and of course claws and scales and larger horns

-boatswain's call whistle-a reference to the Jebediah + Capt. Marge

-gave him the thigh dagger sheath-cause why not. I think Bart's that character in movies that has a shit ton of knives hidden in the most improbable places

-he's got a 17 string lute, but lets be honest i aint drawing 17 strings. painted a wave design on the body and the soundhole/rosette has a dagger design

-Breath Diagem/lute pick ftw

-scars on his hands (from doing hot boi sailor shit)

-not shown but i think he's got a bunch of tattoos (like "I <3 Mom" for Marge, flowers for Gum Gum, crossed anchors, etc.)

-pupils are slitted like dragons and a very dark shade of blue

Kyborg the Mighty/Kydelius of Everwinter

-Fun Fact: i used to do archery! so some of his gear is based off of stuff I had. But you know cooler

-Canonically his hair pretty loose, and its pretty but my god its gonna get caught up in his bowstring man. braided/tied it back for practicality

-thigh highs. no notes

-gave him an armored version w/ fur because his current design didn't feel like Everwinter-y enough

-its not terribly visible but he has the Belt of Sick Trick so i put a bird on it (vaguely Tony Hawk reference)

-the Longer Bow Krystallina-gave it a snow fall design + red accents

-scars from archery, since this guy shoots barebow

-the left (flesh arm) side is the most armored and unscarred, and the right (metal arm) side is scarred + unprotected (bc u know its metal)

-pupils are really dark shade of red as a reference to the Source Diagem

-metal arm-i took an anatomy class not a robotics one, so the structure is based off human musculature (kinda) and i put the Source Diagem in his shoulder instead of his hand

Gum Gum Galindor

-star boi 🌟

-constellations on the inside of the brim of his hat that Bart sewed for him-(Bart's a sailor, he knows his constellations)

-the flowers (orange @ blue) on his hat represent him & Bart. The orange ones bigger bc u know thats his big bro right there

-the hoodie+pauldron+cross body strap combo is a direct copy of Bart's design bc thats what younger siblings do u know

-made the patches to repair his coat stars bc why not

-Random Axe of Kindness-the cute lil heart does not detract from the fact that its an axe

-timeskip design i went for a gardener vibe bc he works in the Orchidnage now-i think despite having the worst dad of the group, Gum Gum would be a pretty good father figure

-Staff of Flowers-i wanted to reference Dia w/ this one so I tried to have this be the most colorful part

-Bart pierced his ears at one point

-i gave him constellation freckles that showed up post Dia reveal

-he has his manacles yeah but i wanted to design friendship bracelets for the rest of the team

-Mudd's-green thread with pink & white flower beads-the charm is Gumbo

-Bart's-leather cord with blue & gold beads and an anchor charm

-Kyborg's-brown leather cord, green beads, and a red arrow charm

-made his pupils a lighter shade of blue that glows when he uses Wild Magic

-edit: lots of scars, some from fighting, a lit from just tripping and shit. Also a dog bite from that one time

Mudd Bramblecrack

-i love him but it was so hard to come up with a design

-the pink streak keeps moving bc im inconsistent and also bc he has to redye/cut his hair constantly

-the "fur" cloak is the Cloak of the Secluded Garden, and its actually pine leaves & grass

-gave him a very simple tunic w/ a bramble design bc we would try to disguise his noble bg

-i put Mudd in a kilt bc i have free will and also he's Scottish. I dont think he would ever wear one unless for formal occasions tho bc i think they take a while to put on

-Gumbo :) + badger armor -this ones very specifically inspired by Lonna Bowstripe from the Redwall series

-originally had the purple gems on his tunic, made em earrings instead bc thats cooler

-Bramblecrack signet (?) ring-also the Virtues Diagem. Both this and his earring are purple bc its an ace reference (for me). The ring is definitely an ace reference bc i made it a black metal and put it on his right middle finger (ifykyk)

-pink paw pads + talons-less of a firbolg thing, more of a Moon Druid thing

-eyes are a rlly dark shade of green but glow a brighter shade when Wildshaping

-pupils are a rlly dark shade of purple (Diagem ref) and also horizontal like cows

Okay I think that's everything. If not ill just come back and edit it 🤷. working on the OG Infinights next so stay tuned or whatever

#my art #tales from the stinky dragon #tftsd #bartholomew finn #stinkydragonpod #mudd bramblecrack #kyborg the mighty #gum gum galindor #headcanons

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bullet-clubs-bitch · 1 month

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Maybe a Jay white x reader where they are married and she is apart of the bullet club gold and they are so affectionate towards one another and Jay is always cheering her on and she does the same for him. Maybe she is a Gunn sibling and always wins her matches but prince Nana keeps harrasing her because of the bang bang scissors gang and they all come out there to protect the reader. And maybe swerve trys to get involved.

Bang Bang Gang

This one's a bit short but I hope you enjoy it! (This has not been proofread!)

@saramusazzi99 asked to be tagged in this :)

Mentions: Of Prince Nana being a perv

Main Masterlist Jay White Masterlist

One of the main reasons I signed with All Elite Wrestling was so that I could be with my wife Y/n. It had been so long since we were in a promotion together. Instantly the two of us were put in a faction together, the fans loved seeing us together and I coudn’t deny getting paid to spend time with my wife. Both of us were hesitant at first to create Bullet Club Gold since I just left Bullet Club in Japan but Tony Khan assured us everything would work out just fine. I trusted him up until this very moment. Currently, I sat in the Bang Bang Lounge trying to calm down my clearly upset wife. For some odd reason, Prince Nana of all people had been coming out and causing Y/n matches. I didn’t have anything against Swerve and The Gunns and Juice had nothing against the Moguel Embassy. So why was Y/n getting harassed by them?

“So tell us what happened one more time,” Austin asked “Well, I was just having my match with Willow Nightingale when all of a sudden Prince Nana appeared. He asked me if I wanted to see his ‘royal jewels’. When I told him to fuck off he reminded me that he was always watching” My blood was boiling once I heard Y/n explain what occurred moments ago once again.

I know it didn’t sound like much but this Prince Nana thing had been happening for weeks. Normally I would be ringside for all of Y/n’s matches but every now and then we needed a break from the other. Not to mention our matches happened to be booked back to back. “Do you want me to do something? I can talk to him?” I asked “No, can you just be ringside for my next match? If I’m trying to become AEW Women’s world champion I need to be focused on my matches. How can I focus if I’m constantly thinking of Prince Nana” Y/n had a point. She needed to be completely focused on capturing gold. “I promise, next week Prince Nana will regret even breathing in the same room as you”

Just like I said I would keep my promise. Next week Y/n would get her shot for the number one contender for the AEW women’s championship and I would do anything to ensure she would be victorious. As Y/n made her entrance Juice, Austin, Colten and I followed close behind. We watched the ring like hawks, one of us stood on each side of the ring. Just if on command Prince Nana appeared out of nowhere. “How much do you want boss?” He asked me “What? “ “How much?” “How much for what?” “How much for Y/n?” did this psycho just ask me how much I would sell my wife for? I was sick to my stomach at his comments. “Excuse me?” “I think she would make a great addition to the Moguel embassy” I was distracted from my conversation with Prince Nana when Y/n asked “Is everything okay out here?” to which I responded cheerily “Everything is fine my dear”

I waited until Y/n won her match before I started to beat the bloody hell out of Prince Nana. Soon the Moguel embassy and Swerve joined the mix and we were now at war. This was a bloody brawl.

Security tried to pry us off each other but it was no use. This was personal, I was going to make them regret everything. I knew I had taken it too far when they sent the entire locker room out to separate us. Reality set in when Y/n looked at me like I was a madman. I looked down to see the Moguel Embassy lying in a pool of their blood.

I didn’t care about the consequences, I didn’t care that the Gunns and I could get our ROH trios titles taken away. All I cared about was making sure Y/n was okay. I wanted to send a message to the locker room. If you mess with my girl you’ll breathe with the switchblade.

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moremousewrites · 1 month

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What the modern au! companions listen to

A (slightly unserious) list of my headcanons for what the companion's music taste is

Gale

as previously established, he's a diehard TOOL fan. He'd probably make his students write an essay about the pythagorean theorem and how it applies to their music for extra credit. Tara cannot stand it.

Shadowheart

Yes she likes goth music. But she's gonna be niche about it and say she's into dreampop and protopunk. She loves Nico and Nina Hagen. Don't try to talk to her about it

Lae'zel

I'm very convinced she likes visual kei. She listens to it while she trains MMA and Brazilian jiu jitzu. She just has a huge playlist of songs she's ripped from sharing sites so she doesn't have a favourite band.

Astarion

You bet his ass listens to postpunk exclusively. New Order is his favourite band. He should be in the club.

Wyll

His daddy issues makes me believe he really loves prog rock. Especially RUSH. I think his fav song would be Free Will (no pun intended)

Karlach

I think she loves skapunk. She got into it bc of tony hawks pro skater and eventually started listening to the Planet Smashers as one does

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate imagine #this is dumb im sorry #gale dekarios #shadowheart #lae'zel #astarion ancunin #astarion #gale of waterdeep #wyll ravengard #karlach #karlach cliffgate

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grim---auxiliatrix · 3 months

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i often think about kidswap aus and how theyre all doing it so wrong. like just because theyve been placed with a different guardian doesnt mean theyre entirely different people. if that was the case, they wouldnt be the kids we know. theyd still have their original character traits and stuff, but the dynamic with their guardians & story would be different, and no, i dont think their class & aspect would change, because its not jade if shes not a witch of space, its not dave if hes not a knight of time, et cetera SO! picture.. jade lalonde for example. she really likes science and botany and her room is full of plants & has an acute rivalry with her mom because "wizards are scientifically inaccurate", and she has the desire to go outside and adventure but her mom always encourages jade to stay inside because theyre in the woods - which according to jade is one of the best places to observe natural wildlife - and also next to a skaianet owned lab. jade & her mom always get into little feuds in such cases & finds it a bit annoying that her mom has leaned into her liking to animals, and plants, and general agriculture, opting to turn the observatory into a mini atrium, so jade can stargaze & tend to her plants. jade spends most of her time in the observatory, hoping one day she will tend to the stars like she tends to her plants and then, like, dave egbert. he makes sick beats, has his whole persona built up about being a cool guy, with a sword, and all the rage and makes himself out to be this guy living in a bustling city and going to raves whenever he can when the most exciting thing in his life is the odd cake or two his dad bakes everyday and its annoying, but he doesnt let it phase him, he will continue to be an ironic coolkid with cake. cake is cool, right? hes still not over how his dad printed & framed his comics and placed them proudly all over the house. its a fuckin SBaHJ museum up in this bitch. because of this, he spends all of his time in his room, or at the mall, or at a skatepark. he cant skate all that well, but all the tony hawk games he's played, he's quite good at it. he wont ever admit it, but he loves his dad. he can tell he got the love of baking from daves nanna, and dave can appreciate that fact. and then rose harley.... being constantly pestered by both her grandpa when he was alive & now her canine companion, becquerel to go outside, she brutally refuses, being more inclined to remain in her room and pursue the macabre. she turned the atrium into a library. she has no interest in "adventure" in the more common sense, but finds a small adventure in psychoanalysing those she cares about endlessly, for it's better than experiencing the outdoor world. sure, she does take bec on a walk or two every day, trying to accept nature, even taking time to learn how to swim in the nearby lagoon, refraining from entering the adjacent frog ruins. sure, not one for adventure, the mystery behind it is just so tantalizing. june strider. she is a goofball, a wise'guy' & a shitty game dev. despite all the ongoing strifes she has with her bro, she doesnt let that get her down! she always watches a shitty movie or indulges in her fantastical interests to try and not let the clear as day abuse get to her. shes never really phased by anything, and thinks the puppets are, a bit weird, but very cool. she sometimes catches her bro off guard and begins annoyingly rambling to him and even occasionally showing him the code she's constructed, asking for genuine criticism and help. shes sweet, and wont let anything necessarily get her down.

can anybody hear me

#homestuck #kidswap #jade lalonde #dave egbert #rose harley #june strider #/#john strider #<- that ones for reach its june in this au #idk what im doing

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sirfrogsworth · 3 months

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My First "Viral" Post

Like, 20 people told me to submit my Brady Bunch GIFset to @world-heritage-posts and hundreds more tagged it #worldheritagepost.

So I was like, "OKAY OKAY, I'll submit it!"

And they never posted it.

Which is completely fine!

WHP, it's cool. We're cool. I don't need World Heritage Post reblogs.

I have reblogs at home.

(my reblogs at home)

I am definitely *NOT* going to do the "DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM???" thing.

I only do cool and funny "Don't you know who I am?" interactions like Tony Hawk.

But when I submitted the post it reminded me of an even earlier time on Tumblr when there were only a few people who could make a post go viral.

The main one was called @thedailywhat. If something got posted there, it could get HUNDREDS of notes.

HUNDREDS!!!!

Oh, that's another funny thing. Several people commented "Why does this only have 20K notes!!???"

There are currently 135 million active users on Tumblr and the site got roughly 2.4 billion visits in 2023.

In all of 2010 the entire site got 50 million visitors. Not users. Just people who went to a Tumblr address during that entire year.

In any case, if you thought you created something cool and you wanted more than 10 people to see it, you had to submit your cool thing to The Daily What. It was the first Tumblr to reach 100,000 followers which was more than the actual founder of Tumblr had at the time.

It was run by a single person but he was very private and never revealed his name.

His emails were very cryptic.

I'm pretty sure he sold the site and went to live on a beach or something. But whoever bought it did not understand how to run the blog and the final post was in 2013.

I'm not surprised the new owner crashed and burned. Johnny Internets was irreplaceable. He really understood what would connect with people. Nearly everything he posted would gain decent popularity. I'm not sure people realize how much of a skill curating content can be and how hard it is to post popular things with consistency.

He would reject a lot of content outright and was very picky about what went on his Tumblr. But when he actually posted something you made, it was almost guaranteed to go viral.

Well, viral relative to the time period.

I suspect I submitted nearly a hundred things before he finally agreed to reblog me. And I still remember the first thing I submitted that he liked.

I posted this in 2010. How many notes do you think it got?

Probably a million, right?

No less than 100K.

I mean, look at how cute that panda is!

SONOFABITCH!

Back then, that was enough.

But that was just me putting words on something. My ultimate goal was to get him to post one of my original photoshops.

And do you see how he gave proper attribution? That meant a lot during a time when other curators were cropping my watermarks and claiming things as their own.

A real mensch, this Mysterious Stranger was.

These two posts got me enough traction to grow my following and before I knew it, I was The Daily What for other people. I was able to help other artists and content creators get traction and grow their following.

It was a beautiful Tumblr version of paying it forward. Only not as awkward as those weirdos who do it in drive-thru lines.

I ONLY GOT A SODA AND NOW I GOTTA PAY FOR 40 MCNUGGETS?

It's fine.

Enjoy your nugs.

#tumblr history with Froggie

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marksbear · 1 year

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Cry, no Tony Stark requests? Saaaaaaddddd. How about Tony Stark x Idiot Twink Healer boi (maybe a poly with Spidey or perhaps healer boi is a sugar baby??) (Could be dirty haha, up to ya, bro)

Well Anon you are the first person in my blog to ever request Tony stark thank you for requesting! Im going to do sfw headcaons plus nsfw! And headcaons with sugar baby

Hope you enjoy it! A/n= Age name! but for the sake of this fic young 20s!

TONY STARK X IDIOT TWINK READER

🤖 He was beyond shocked when he founded out you were the healer of the team. I mean he was so surprised. You didn't look like you belonged in the Avengers he really thought someone brought their younger brother to work.

🤖 When Nick gives you a proper welcoming Tony was the first to ask how old are you. "I'm twenty two!" (or A/n but the reader has to be in his young twenties)

🤖 Tony wasn't the only one who was wondering about your age since he heard other gasp in the room.

🤖 "But everyone Y/n will just help yall with only the missions I choose for him. Since he is way too young to be going out there with y'all and he doesn't have too much experience fighting aliens like Spiderman. So Stark he's under your care.

🤖 At first he thought you were gonna be a pain in his ass like Peter and he was far from wrong. You were far from a genius like Peter some may even call you dumb.

🤖 "So thats your heart? Can I hear it beep please? Or does it race when you see someone you like?" You ask him looking at his chest with no shame.

🤖 Thats when he realized your gonna be a handful.

🤖 He always finds you with Hulk or Thor. Since Hulk is an idiot like you y'all two click instantly even Bruce is only mad for a while you found your ways to enjoy Hulk's loud and dumb presence

🤖 With Thor hes always injured from his mission so you see him in the medbay quite often so you make an effort to know him more. One time Tony walked in the medbay seeing you on Thor lap listening to his stories as you clean up his wound.

🤖 Since that incident with Thor. Tony never lets you out of his sight when y'all two aren't even dating yet

🤖 He always ask Nick how the hell did you become a healer when you sometimes forget how to add some easy numbers or when you forget your avenger and you get paid a whole LOT and you ask to borrow some money from others.

🤖 Thats actually how he founded out you were a sugar baby. One day him and Nat went to a cafe just to hangout when they saw you with two men times your age. One of them had envelopes with cash in them sliding you one every once in a while as you talked to the other man.

🤖 They watch you like a hawk across the whole cafe. They see the man you're talking to and place his hand on your inner thigh too close to your crotch and kiss your cheek bye. As he leave the other man he was with hands you the rest of envelopes kissing your forehead bye.

🤖 You check the envelops making sure its all of the money before stuffing all of them in your bag paying the check before leaving.

🤖 Before you could leave Nat pulls you by your arm sitting you down at her table. "Oh. Hi Mr Stark! I just finished reading the math book you gave me!" "That's good, but we have a question." Tony says gesturing to him and Nat. "What is it?" "Who were those guys you were just sitting with?" Nat asks not pressuring Y/n. "That's my sugar daddy Ben with his husband! Great couple." The two freeze and spare each other a look. "Lets finish this conversation at Stark tower'" Nat says paying for the bill.

🤖 Tony takes you into his room sitting you down on the bed ask he sits on a chair across the room. "What do they want from a young guy like you?" Tony asks with a hint of jealousy. "Mostly company. But sometimes group sex. They pay extra if I let them double penetrate me." Y/n answers way too honestly having no dignity to hide anything.

🤖 "Y/n why do you need the money if your Avenger?" Stark asks.

"Well because i'm a part time avenger y'know? Nick knows my parents well and promised to protect me no matter what. That's why I never go on big missions with y'all... Most action I got on the field was trying to calm down Hulk. Kinda sucks. So I don't get paid like all of you." The room became silent until Y/n says something again.

"Its not that bad. I get to help all of you and it makes my day better. But i'm a sugar baby so I just have food and water and money for clothes and extra things. Lots of people tell me they would pay to fuck me or just pay to spend time with me. So why not net them."

"Be my sugar baby."

"Wha?"

🤖 Y'all's relationship was strictly sugar baby and daddy sometimes more like friends with benefits. He didn't ban you from seeing other people just gave you rules. Like no more fucking they can only watch you fuck yourself or touch yourself. He grew possessive of you always marking your neck just in case another sugar mommy or daddy tries to make you theirs.

🤖 The thing that changed your little agreement when you gotten to badly injured you might had died. It was supposed to be a simple day watch when you got attacked by powerful villains and almost found dead. You were able to take them down but almost got yourself killed.

🤖 You gotten lectures from everyone in the team even Thor lectured you and Nick was busting your balls. But no lecture compared to Stark's. One minute he was going off on you about being safe and prepared next minute you two are naked making love.

🤖 Yes making love.

🤖 It wasn't your guys typical fuck and quickey. No this time everything was emotional. The kisses lasted, the gentleness with every thrust, the long lasting words of affirmation. This time Tony helped Y/n to see he was more than just a sugar baby. This time the sex meant something deeply to the other.

🤖 A few days after that was a bit awkward for the both of you. Nick even gave Tony the longest talk about what he would he to do him if he breaks your little dumb heart. Finally the both of you get officially together and Tony is quick to show you off to the world posting and talking about you with every chance he gets.

🤖 Sometimes you'll forget your dating and asks people is he single like your drunk or something but your completely serious and sober.

🤖 "Hey is Ironman single I have a crush on him and I wanna ask him out..." You ask Hawkeye and he gives you "are you serious look."

THE END!

#x male reader #marvel x male reader #tony stark x male!reader #tony stark #ironman #ironman x male reader #tony stark x male reader #the bear club #male reader

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