#and this is no shade to anyone in particular just something i see EVERY day and im over it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kotohq · 18 days

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##. MY HEART'S GOING LUB-DUB

♡ things he has said that flustered you.

♡ contents and warnings: established relationships, mentions of making out (nirei), mentions of marriage (sakura), reader’s ears are pierced in suou’s, mild, mild, possessiveness in suou's but not really 🐧

♡ characters: sakura haruka, nirei akihiko, suou hayato (x gn! reader)

Anyone who knows SAKURA HARUKA probably knows that contrary to the delinquent facade he puts up, he is actually quite innocent. A little naive, if you will, blushing at every show of romantic affection. And everyone in Boufuurin knows that’s why he’s become subject to Suou Hayato’s teasing when the brown haired boy needed a good chuckle. And of course, you, as his very lovely partner, had to also jump on the bandwagon of endearingly poking fun at your boyfriend.

“Y’know, Haruka, you should stop me or else I’m gonna get carried away and keep teasing you even after we get married!” This was a sentence you often say for laughs after you had yet again successfully made Haruka agitated and his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red, all the way up to his ears. Granted, the first time he heard it he couldn’t look you in the eye for two whole days at the mention marriage (it’s not that he doesn’t like it, in fact it was because he likes it a little too much that he couldn’t even make eye contact without imagining you in fancy white attire). But now, he barely bats an eye at it now with how often you say it. But today, it’s evident that that particular sentence had poked at someone’s curiosity as you can sense someone staring at you as you banter with your boyfriend.

“You know, Sakura-kun, I barely see you reacting to... that. You’re really planning to marry them in the future, huh?” Ah, it's Suou again. His soothing voice drips with mischief, the purpose of his question is obviously to tease his heterochromatic eyed peer yet again. Haruka’s features morph into one of confusion, brows furrowed as he turns to face his vice captain.

“Hah? What are you talking about?” Haruka inquires like suou’s question is the most ridiculous question in the world. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought suou was asking him if he believed pigs could fly, or if the earth was actually a hexagon.

(Of course, you can’t lie, suou’s question made you nervous despite how lighthearted he said it. Your self consciousness has already prepared itself for a heartbreak trip as you await your boyfriend to continue his response.)

“Why would I date someone I don’t intend on marrying?”

Ah, now it’s your cheeks that are heating up.

“Are you done?” The only answer SUOU HAYATO offers to your inquiry is a focused hum. His hand fumbles with the earring, his earring, as he tries to carefully slide the hook into the small hole on your right earlobe. Though, you have to say, you have nothing particular to complain about as you wait for your boyfriend to put the earring on you. After all, you’re getting the privilege of being in the front seat staring at Suou Hayato’s face as he carefully tries to put the earring on you. Lips pursed and eyes squinted a little, he looks extra handsome when he’s focused, you note.

“Just need to secure them with the back. And... done!” he heaves out a breath as triumph takes over his features, pulling back slightly to admire his (hardly) hard work. His lips stretch into a smile, satisfied at how the red and yellow of his earring highlights your features more.

“How does it look?” you feel quite nervous as you wait for his reply, shyly peering at him through your eyelashes. Being so close, you have the advantage of watching closely for any twitch of his features that might indicate satisfaction, dissatisfaction, anything that can indicate what kind of reaction he’s going to emit.

You twitch slightly at the sensation of his pointer finger and middle finger grazing your chin, touch gentle as he settles them there. You swear you see something flashing in his usually gentle ruby eyes. Something akin to satisfaction, or, even, possessiveness. But you don't comment on it. He moves your head from your side to side as if to examine you thoroughly. (he quietly notes how cute you are for compliantly moving your head.) It’s only when you feel the earring faintly brushing against your right shoulder that you become hyper aware of how empty your left ear feels without an earring weighing it down. You also become hyper aware of the fact that the earring’s pair is still dangling from his left ear, eyes instinctively flitting to it. Your cheeks begin to heat up. Oh, it’s almost as if you’re wearing a couple ite-

He interrupts your thought before you can finish it.

“I quite like it, it’s pretty on you,” his voice breaks your train of thought. His smile is quite literally dripping with mischief, and now you can clearly see it. The tint of greed in his eyes is back as he moves his fingers that were formerly resting on your chin to stroke at the earring on your ear. His composed facade would have fooled you if it weren’t for the words he utters next.

“It gives off the feeling that you’re mine.”

Oh he likes it, alright. Too much, maybe.

“Sorry. D’you need a break?” NIREI AKIHIKO’s voice is devoid of any teasing lilt, instead dripping with concern as he gazes at you through his eyelashes, eyes half lidded and cheeks flushed with a pretty tint of pink.

It’s not the words by themselves. It’s the fact that he’s saying those words in this kind of situation. By this kind of situation, you mean with you perched up on his lap, legs splayed on either side of his thighs as he lay seated on a couch beneath you. He had uttered those exact words after what felt like 10 minutes straight of kissing

(it hadn’t even been 5 minutes, but you could barely think with how clouded your mind is).

His question was thoroughly leaking with worry, caramel orbs boring through you as he awaits your reply. You wanted to say yes, hell, your lungs were begging you to say yes as they heaved desperately yes. You have to give your boyfriend credit, though. Sweet like always, he had noticed he had gone a little too far when he felt your lips part with breathless whines on his, and had asked if you needed a time out. Though, you don’t think he’s aware of how his voice shakes with want, or how his fingers that are resting on your hips squeezed hard like he was trying to ground himself, or how his eyes are swirling with something akin to need.

(or how he barely sounded apologetic when he apologized, and you suspect it’s because his pride soars with the knowledge that he’s the one making you breathless.)

“No,” you’re surprised at how hoarse your voice sounds, though, that is to be expected after you quite literally just had your breath taken away. Your thumb reaches out to swipe at his quivering bottom lip, gleaming with saliva and a little swollen from pressing against yours repeatedly. He leans into your touch, and you gulp away the feeling of your tugging heartstrings. “Keep kissing me, lover boy.”

And as he lurches forward to clash your lips together again, the last thought that etches on your mind was that he really should put this on his resume: Nirei Akihiko, 16, not good at fighting (yet), hella good at kissing.

#wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #wind breaker x reader #suou hayato x reader #nirei akihiko x reader #sakura haruka x reader

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jazjelspen · 11 months

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leaving on wild charted waters

(what if our mc just got tired of Night Raven College and it’s inhabitants?)

(and possible part 2)

It got to the point where you have simply just had it, you were done with the antics of Night Raven College and most especially Headmaster Crowley, whom is apparently so kind, so but so kind in fact that he’s been leaving you to do his job. In the end after the last overblot you ended up with a broken arm, a few small yet painful stitched up lacerations on your side aching your body to the bone, and a broken heart.

Your heart just can’t take anymore of the neglect and ache from the headmaster as well as seeing overblot after overblot consistently during your stay in this strange world. Ace and Deuce didn’t help make this entire experience any better with the trouble their actions caused, and as much as you loved Grim he wasn’t exactly the greatest either but you knew that in Grim’s case you’d always see him try to help you out at some point in every day you were together unlike others around.

So now here you were taking the next boat from NRC to the infamous RSA, Royal Sword Academy. You weren’t sure if they were going to enroll you in there as well but you were a bit more positive that there would’ve been a likelier chance of effort in getting the help to get back home.

The breeze of the sea ran through your hair as you watched Night Raven College slowly but surely fade farther and farther away, and even so you could still see the face of your beloved fiery cat that you already miss so dearly even while sailing across the sea. Although you will miss a few of your classmates and friends, you knew that this was better than staying there only to eventually become incapacitated or killed.

You wondered if anyone would miss you, scoff and say ‘good riddance’, or not have any particular feeling or reaction.

Maybe a bit surprised..

Especially since you haven’t told anyone but your beloved cat and childish headmaster that you were currently off at sea at a new opportunity.

You knew there already was a chance at Grim spilling the secret so soon, and you had an idea that Crowley would either be incredibly vague about it or just flat out say it.

Nonetheless you knew it’d get out at some point.

You didn’t want to tell anyone you’d be back but then again you didn’t want to lie and then never come back either.

“On your way to visit RSA my friend?” A voice popped out from behind you as you were looking off at the endless blue which caused you to jump a bit and snap your head over your shoulder.

A young man of fair skin, bright candy red hair that reached down the nape of his neck and eyes with the same shade of blue as the sea you were facing at earlier. He has a gentle smile on his face with genuine curiosity sprawled out on his features as well.

“Ah.. hello- yes I’m currently on my way to visit RSA..” you spoke as you turned your body towards the boy “You are?..”

“Oh, my apologies!” the redhead spoke “You can call me Rielle my friend, and you are?” “My name is ______,” you looked down quickly at his outfit to see him wearing RSA’s posh white uniform with accent of blue and gold, except the sleeves of his uniform were up his elbows and the jacket was freely open. “Seems like you're from the academy yourself, Rielle.”

He chuckled as he walked beside you to then relax his arms up on the edge of the boat to look out at the sea “No kidding!” he joked as stared off at the sea, a look of familiarity on his face.

You looked at him with a small smile then the sea before you heard your new redhead speak again “If you don’t mind me asking ______, what are you going to RSA for? Are they still enrolling during the school season?”

You shook your head “Not exactly.. I’m not sure. I’m just looking for a way home..” you sighed as you let out your sentence. “Hopefully your school will be able to help me out here, something Night Raven couldn’t do.”

Riel looked at you with a look of pity, not a bad kind but more of a ‘I want to help you’ kind of way. “I see.. I apologize you haven’t been able to make it to your home, my friend..” he paused before he then shined a comforting smile towards you “But hey! Nothing to fear, we’ve got some of the best mages and wish-granters in RSA as well! I’m sure we’ll get more than a few clues to get you back home.” Rielle spoke with such positivity and confidence that you couldn’t help but smile as much as he was.

“Very well then, I guess we just have to wait and see.”

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phoeebsbuffay · 6 months

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Imagine you and General Skywalker are roommates. 🤭😏

Warnings: smut & fluff, drama; rom-com vibes—i tried anyways.

Warnings 2: no minors.

Recommendations: “Die For You” (the version with Ariana Grande); “The Love We Had Stays On My Mind” (Joss Stone).

***

• How it started…

You and Anakin first met when both of you were younglings. He wasn’t the kindest in the room, but you were. In this particular case, opposites did attract one another. Thus you soon kindled.

“I can’t believe you are dragging me to this picnic”, the young boy was grumbling as you had this idea of eating outdoors: a suggestion of making it a form to practice the Force was promptly accepted and encouraged by your Master.

“Must you complain all the time?”, you giggle at him.

Anakin’s blue eyes are glued in your y/c hair, tangled in a simple braid; your y/c skin, so smooth and shiny; your y/c eyes…how much fondness he sees in those irises. Why, yes. He knows you care for him, a sentiment he cannot compare yet to what that Lady Angel named Padmé brought to him, but even so.

“Yes, since I cannot refuse you anything”, he blurted out without second thoughts.

Simple as that. But this was how it began: a friendship with different shades, painting a variety of possibilities that would yet be played out.

***

• Twilight of adolescence.

You are so concentrated in your meditation that you don’t realize Anakin’s eyes are stuck in how serene you look. He is mesmerized at how easily you do it, though partially envious because, unlike him, you are calm.

But his thoughts unbalance you. Thus you open your eyes and smirk at him:

“Do you conveniently forget that I can read your thoughts?”

“Maybe”, he smirks back. “I mean how the hell do you do it effortlessly? Frankly, my dear Y/N, there must be a trick.”

You scoff at his wording.

“Please, Ani. You speak as if you don’t regularly overpower me in our trainings.”

He takes a seat next to your side, glancing at you with amusement behind his eyes. He is wearing that Padawan braid you are so familiar with, having one yourself tied in a lock of your hair.

“You underestimate yourself a little too much”, Anakin slightly shoulders you. “Remember when you knocked me down?”

“That was only because you got yourself thinking a little too much about the pretty Senator”, you tease him, shouldering him back.

Both of you giggle at the memory.

“What happened to her anyways?”, you ask him. “I thought you were having a thing?”

Anakin’s smirk is wiped out of his face, but what concerns you is the gloom that eclipses the brightness of his face.

“She is, let’s just say, unreachable.”

“I’m sorry, Ani”, you whisper, aware how he came to love her. “I truly am.”

Uncomfortable with such a topic, but maybe because, unbeknownst to you, he’s been trapped in a confusing web he wove where there had been no space for anyone but Padmé Amiadala until your smiles, gentlenesses and every virtue you’ve been praised for, got him.

Hence why the moody Anakin storms out and leaves you there, guilty and upset for being the one to send away such a gleeful moment.

But such torment soon ends. Anakin comes for you later the same day in order to apologize for being so rude. He is baffled by how easily you forgive him, and when you promptly hold him—tighter than usual—he realizes friendship is not enough.

How long, however, will it take for him to tell you how feels?

Worst, how much longer will you be able to hold your feelings for yourself?

Only time will tell…

***

• Early adulthood.

You have just returned from Aldeeran when master H/N assigns you a mission next to your long time friend Anakin, now known as General Skywalker.

As much as you’ve been pleased to follow his path as a rising star, becoming good friends with the sweet Ahsoka, you have caught a glimpse of something deeper and which concerns you. But you wait before you have the opportunity to discuss this properly.

“Hey Y/Nickname”, he greets you warmly, although something about his eyes gives you chills. “What’s up? It’s been a long time!”

You decide to knock whatever tension there’s been between the two of you with an embrace. But when breathing his scent by burying your head against his neck, your heart skips a beat and your mental defenses are melted.

Anakin, caught off guard by your kind gesture—something he’s barely seen these days—, finds himself slightly emotional… until he has the opportunity to find out at long last that you feel for him what he feels for you.

This is a discovery that mixes his feelings. It fuels his impulsivity at the same time that gives a bittersweet flavor to know the years that have been wasted. Adding to that there is the factor that Anakin has been growing distasted to the Jedi Order.

So much to be felt by the intense Jedi. But nothing gives him more joy than knowing you love him as much as he loves you. However… a question is silently posed in the back of his mind: how can he tell you how he feels?

As one reluctantly untangles from the other, you are quick to break the silence.

“I have some good news! Master H/N wants us to work together at Mandalore! Our first mission, General Skywalker”, you tease him, pleased to see you are still able to make him laugh. “I pray not to disappoint you, sir”, you add a not very graceful curtsy to your speech.

He notices today your y/c hair is loose and messy. It gives him naughty ideas, but Anakin struggles to compose himself. Instead, he places one hand over your shoulder and says:

“When have your ever disappointed me, Y/N? What nonsense you speak of”, he side smirks at you.

But every sweet moment dies when two Masters come along. Windu is followed by Obi-Wan Kenobi and the look on their countenances is not indicating any sign of pleasantness. You also notice the tension in Anakin’s shoulders. To worse, has he started to wear darker robes? A thought that displeases you internally.

“General Skywalker and Jedi Y/LN, the Council greets you well”, he speaks formally and both you and Anakin acknowledge the gesture by nodding your heads. “I’ve come to deliver the follow instructions concerning Mandalore. Be aware that even though you may be roommates for the occasion, you must not…”

And here he starts to scowl. But you haven’t been paying attention after that small word stuck inside your head.

Roommates?

Me and Anakin?

You side eye discreetly to your long time friend in search of anything that could give away whether he felt repulse or something you hope to be the opposite of it, but to your disappointment there is nothing to find.

You must calm your nerves, you decide. Being no longer a teenager, you remind yourself that you must not form any romantic attachment… especially where your best friend is concerned.

***

• Roommates, it is!

“You are too quiet, Y/Nickname”, Anakin says whilst piloting to Mandalore. “This is the moment where you shout at me for almost making you sick.”

You smirk, albeit unwillingly.

“I am often quiet. I usually leave the babbling for you”, so you retort.

He chuckles.

“No, you are nervous because Mace Windu himself told you that we’d be roommates. But I believe you took this a literal meaning, darling. We are piloting together and getting into the room of the thing we are meant to destroy”, Anakin explains with a hint of amusement that brings you to annoyance.

“And you never cared to let this clear?”

“Absolutely not”, Anakin smirks with that characteristically smug look on his face. “It’s so much fun when you are angry with me. But besides I do think we are sharing one room at the Duchess’s palace. Don’t forget you are going disguised.”

You avoid his gaze, face completely red.

“It’s all very confusing.”

By the time you are landing, Anakin smirks again at you before the remark that would get you redder—if possible:

“What’s so confusing? Sharing a bed with me shouldn’t be so bad, should it?”

“I hate you, Anakin Skywalker”, It’s all you manage to respond.

There is a ball going on to welcome some of the Mandalorian’s allies. Whilst Anakin is there to represent the Senate, you are disguised as the lady of Planet Y/C. The moment you show up with your hair y/c hanging loose in your back, dressed in green, Anakin’s eyes go slightly wide.

He is about to make a joke (“Aren’t you showing some cleavage?”), but in truth he drinks from the view. Anakin realizes he’s been delaying so long the moment between you two. He wants to discover every bit of you, wondering what would be like to kiss you, to make you a puddle of a mess…

“Why are you looking at me like that?”, you interrupt him, sounding more nervous than you’d care to admit.

“You look gorgeous, Y/N”, he takes your hand and there presses a soft kiss, taking pleasure in noticing the goosebumps on your skin and the struggle behind your eyes.

He’d definitely kiss you… had you both not been rudely interrupted by no other than C3-P0 informing the feast is ready and you are expected to be met by the duchess soon.

“And here I go”, you say rather awkwardly.

“You’ll be fine. To be honest, you fit more in damsel roles than otherwise”, Anakin says in a teasing tone.

You stick out your tongue.

“If that is your way to compliment me, am I supposed to thank you?”

“You’re welcome”, says he, bringing you out to laughters, which pleases him quite so.

It occurs you, albeit a little too late, to finally unburden your heart by venting your thoughts.

“Ani, I must…”, you are about to tell him when, once again, you are interrupted.

To your dismay, and Anakin’s consternation, the moment where every wall is about to be knocked down is delayed. Again.

He watches as you get the attention of every being there present at the feast. And Anakin grows possessive at each gaze that follows your moves.

Maybe there is a risk of ruining this mission, but the General cares little about it. He must have you, he must tell you how ardently he loves you, how…

“Lady Y/N”, he gets to you discreetly, in a nonchalant posture when he’s burning inside. “May I have a word with you?”

You cast him a suspicious look at him: didn’t you two agree the time to speak would occur later?

But regally you smile and, playing your role, grant him your hand.

“Of course, General. What’s it?”

“I am not feeling very well”, Anakin’s anxiety breaks in.

“Oh”, you promptly leave your disguise off. “Let us go back to the quarters then. I may have something.”

Perhaps in private this will come out better, Anakin hopes in silence. He agrees, watching as you forget discretion when taking his hand, locking fingers with you, as you lead the way.

It appears that no one notices your absence—or maybe you and Anakin used the Jedi trick to make it seem so. Regardless, once you and him are back to your quarters, you finally realize he’s about to explode.

“Ani…”

“You must allow me to express how I feel”, he rushes to you, cupping your face with both hands. “I love you, Y/N Y/LN. I have loved you for a long time and I cannot waste my days and night away thinking about the possibilities of being more than your friend and Jedi mate. I must know… Please tell me how you feel, for I shall not nurture if…”

You smile in relief and seeing the confusion stamped in his face, you make all clear by locking your lips against his in a soft kiss.

Little by little, however, the kiss deepens, but because there is some uncertainty in what direction should it go, you and Anakin part it—albeit reluctantly.

“Well, roomie, looks like we are finally free of this weight”, he muses it, eyeing you with such devotion that your knees go weak.

You giggle softly, watching with the same sentiment as he rests his cheek against your cheek. Your heart races at this moment.

“It’s too late to go back now”, you smile at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to return to Senator Amidala’s arms?”

Anakin rolls his eyes at your provocation.

“Really now, Y/N?”

“I just had to be sure”, you say it playfully, but Anakin can see through your jest the shadow of old insecurities.

Resting his forehead against yours, he snakes his arms around your waist.

“There is only one woman in my life. I lament it took me years to see it, but the only woman I truly and passionately love is you, Y/N Y/LN. There is no space whatsoever for anybody else.”

To reassure you, the General kisses you passionately this time to prove his point.

***

• ‘The Love We Have…’

You are restless this evening. Although you had claimed earlier that a fatigue led you to an unbearable migraine, your body is protesting against the absence of your lover.

Anakin has been occupied at Mandalore’s Moon, there dealing with a group of people that are perceived by many as terrorists, all the whilst you’ve been carried to other parts of Mandalore on behalf of Duchess Satine herself.

Now you are back and you are aching for him. A desperation that burns your legs and rises in further protestation within your heart, there causing a riot you cannot shut.

Well, there might be a solution for this problem… and the idea makes you blush. You cannot divert from it, as much as it gives you embarrassment. But it’s been too much to handle. Besides, you could always use the Force…

Unaware Anakin is coming, he too possessed by the same urge, you toss away the blankets and let the moonlight come through the partially open curtain. You’ve always felt like you belonged to the nights anyway…

You close your eyes, ready to meditate. Your mind anxiously begins to trace his features, his blue eyes, his muscles… his physique, his smile. Oh how he smiles at you like that often made you wet in between your legs, as it’s doing now.

You are short breath, never having experience to touch yourself. You always had second thoughts about it, besides Anakin usually did a great job. But he’s not there and the mere reminder fuels your frustration.

However, concentrated you are in such a struggle you barely hear the door opening. You don’t see that Anakin comes from the shadows with the look of a hunter: he’s been sensing you, every thought, every sentiment that runs within, from afar.

A sly smirk pops in the corner of the Jedi’s lips as he steps silently so he doesn’t ruin your moment. Anakin is already rigid in his pants just by hearing your unspoken thoughts. He removes his shirt in a synchronized gesture with you, as you do the same.

Completely bare, he, however, refuses to release the pressure on himself. He wants you, he wants to be the one to lead you there—yes, Anakin knows he’s possessive and egoistic towards you, but he’s also been aware that these traits you not only accept, but enjoy secretively.

“My love”, he whispers as soon as he locates himself behind you, arms around your waist; a smirk twists to a smile when seeing the effect he still has on you. “Have you missed me?”

You freeze upon his words. Your stunned silence is a positive indication of your distrust that this is the real him. Anakin further smiles, his hands running up and down your arms.

“You haven’t forgotten me, have you?”, he mumbles against your ear, bitting your earlobe gently. “Have you, my darling?”

Hungry for his touch, you lean back and pursuit his lips. As he corresponds you passionately, Anakin wraps one hand around your neck all the whilst he uses the other to cup your right breast.

“Hmmm”, he gently groans under his breath when feeling how easily he makes your nipple hardening under his touch. “I’ve missed you, darling.”

“Ani!”, you gasp in full pleasure, your body already giving in to his sweet, skillful hands. “I beg you!”

“Is my princess begging now?”, his husky voice makes you wet and he pompously watches as you rub one leg to the other. “Have I turned such a powerful Jedi in a beggar?”

You enjoy being easily overpowered by him, how he uses that dark side you know so well to your favour. But your mind stops retracing your thoughts for you go absolutely insane as he kisses your neck and now releases the hand around your neck to play with your left breast.

“I-I am, yes! I am, Master!”, you cry out, already unbearably soaked. “Don’t tease further, you know I’ve missed you…”

You arch your back the moment his fingers twirl your nipples, caressing each slowly, yes, but passionately too. His eyes are glued in your reactions: aware of how to tease you, how to make you come undone to him, Anakin is aroused at the idea of your submission. You promptly submit to him and he realizes he loves when you beg.

But more than that, he loves you.

“Let me sooth your needs, darling”, so the General says when slipping his right hand into your feminine core. And finally, he slides one finger into you. “Fuck! So damn wet for me?”

You cast him a lustful gaze, transmitting every indecent thought that he seeded with his departure. Anakin laughs quietly as he captures it, kissing you slowly as he teases you.

“My angel, you and I shall not be merely roomies. No, no”, he vows, watching as you smirk under his pleasantries. “Oh you like that, don’t you?”

Anakin gives small bites against your skin as he now inserts another finger. He takes his time there and when sensing your climax, the Jedi then carefully moves on top of you after lying you down gently—without stopping pleasing you.

“Yes, my love. Come to me”, the Jedi encourages you softly, smiling down at you as you arch your back and enlace him with your legs, all the whilst leaning to kiss his lips fervently.

But this is only the beginning.

As much as you enjoying riding him, you prefer when he’s on top of you, being the bossy man he is. Your lips curl on a sly smirk when there is no need to speak it out as one understands the other perfectly well.

“You play the difficult one outside, but damn here you submit easily, uh?”, Anakin teases you, slowly moving inside you, locking hands with you above your head.

“I hate how you know me so damn well”, you growl under your breath.

“Darling, hate is not the Jedi way”, Anakin smirks, getting yourself a smile before he kisses you passionately.

Leaving lust aside, this is the moment where one soul intimately links the other as the bodies connect. Anakin is careful with you, watchful at every reaction he evokes on you.

And you as well. You want him desperately so, every part of him, you don’t want to let go of him. To feel his manhood right where you want him to is just…

So…

Damn…

Good.

Perfection, indeed.

“Ani”, you moan loudly, already feeling the waves of pleasure you gladly prepare to drown into.

“Yes, Y/Nickname?”, he groans softly at each thrust, him too not far from you.

“I love you”, you gasp.

“I love you too”, he whispers back, before going down to your skin with his tongue, taking his time in every bit of you.

Soon, the whispers turn into screams and every intensity rests ashore.

***

• New Beginnings.

When the mission in Mandalore is complete, you and Anakin are expected to go back to Coruscant. However, before doing that, Anakin leads you to planet Y/C, where you and him are secretly married.

“We are husband and wife now”, you remark blissfully. “Who’d ever thought we came this far?!”

“I would”, so says Anakin, side smirking at you.

“There was a Senator that could have taken my place, though…”, you tease, earning him an eye roll.

“Come here, silly head.”

He pulls you close, mesmerized by how shiny your eyes are, transmitting every bit of happiness when you look at him.

“I love you”, says your husband, smiling when seeing you blush. “There has only been you, Mrs Skywalker. As it will be.”

“It better be. I love you too, Mr Skywalker.”

Between giggles, you two share a kiss, spotting a very bright future ahead of you…

#star wars #star wars imagine #anakin skywalker #imagine star wars #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x you #Anakin Skywalker x female reader #Anakin Skywalker smut

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somewhereincairparavel · 21 days

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General Jason Grace headcanons ⚡

⚡ I feel like he's kinda sensitive. He isn't the crier type of sensitive tho but since he's super emotionally attuned to body language reading and stuff, he gets a little hurt easily, sometimes misinterpreting someone's behaviour to him, so maybe if one of his friend's start getting snappy with him because they're having a bad day, he'd actually be pretty damn upset about it, but would hide it.

⚡ Also also, this man HATES being yelled at. Sure, he's been trained harshly and stuff but he's very hard on himself too so I feel like if someone yells at him (like in an argument or something) the poor boy's whole day would be ruined.

⚡ This is also why I feel like he NEVER raises his voice harshly at anyone even if he's super super angry because he knows how much damage yelling can do.

⚡ But. He can still manage to be terrifying if he's mad. He'd have that intense icy stare directed at the person (I'm pretty sure this is canon and is pointed out by multiple characters in the books). And his voice would be steady but VERY firm and strong. Kinda like a strict dad.

⚡ Also, his eyes would get a slight shade lighter if he's super angry. Like he usually has bright electric blue eyes right? It would just turn into ice colured ones.

⚡ Okay I feel like before they all go to bed, he'd go check on everyone in the Argo ii to see if they're comfortable or if they need anything, etc. definitely an overbearing mother friend tbh. He gets this habit from camp Jupiter where he was kinda in charge for cabin rounds since he was centurion.

⚡ I hc him to have like lemony yellow hair, instead of platinum or golden blonde. It's not too light but it isn't dark either.

⚡ Why do I feel like sun tan literally never affects this guy? Like for instance, I totally hc that percy gets tanned pretty quickly, but this man's skin just wouldn't budge. Instead of his body getting tanned I feel like his hair would get a few yellow shades darker instead lol

⚡ I felt like he'd be sunburnt instead tho. There would be blotchy pink patches on his face and arms after he comes back from the beach.

⚡ He definitely LOVES his roman baths, could spend hours in that bath (honestly if u guys have seen traditional Roman baths, you'd know that they look like a spa day DREAM omg) so he would feel super disoriented when he has regular baths in chb instead and would miss Roman baths SO badly.

⚡ Like the Roman baths literally ease his muscle tension after a long day. It would be like the only part of the day in camp Jupiter that would actually feel relaxing for him.

⚡ He's such a foodie okay. Remember how he kept munching on his brownies religiously when the crew were in such a dangerous situation? ("Pass me the brownies bro") or when he loved the sweet stuff the snake people had made for them? Like food just makes him forget his duties and be a kid for once.

⚡ Which leads us to our next hc, he has such a sweet tooth! (Tho I feel like this was aluded many times in the books aswell). Like he's every dentist's nightmare tbh. He has like teeth stains which he'd deliberately try to get rid of by aggressively brushing his teeth (it does come off lol)

⚡ As opposed to what people usually assume about him. Jason is secretly such a hopeless romantic tbh. Nothing like his dad in that category. Remember how he snuck Piper out the window, led her into his secret rooftop passage simply to recreate their first kiss under the stars, since Piper was super upset about it being fake? Yeah, he hates upsetting his s/o. he's like super thoughtful and plans stuff like these days ahead so he doesn't forget :(

⚡ He's such a people pleaser even with people he barely knows, and the effect only doubles when he has a partner tbh. Like if his partner doesn't like a particular place? He won't like it either. So he needs someone to encourage him and tell him it's okay to like something the others dislike.

⚡ Which is also why I think that he'd be easier to emotionally guilt trip and manipulate. :(( somone wrap him up in a fluffy blanky pls

⚡ As opposed to canon, I feel like Jason only dislikes Camp Jupiter, not New Rome itself. He ADORES that place to shreds. I feel like instead of settling in a mortal area or something, he'd definitely stay in New Rome for long-term living (bc screw canon, him wanting to leave new Rome all together seems SO ooc to me idk) some parts of his roman self would ALWAYS be there tbh. That place was practically his home. Also, he only wants a peaceful, monster free life right? New Rome would obviously provide with all that, yk since they have a strong barrier for the city to prevent invasion.

⚡ He would have an aptitude for sculpting statues and stuff. He'd love to do it as a hobby, not like an architect or something like annabeth tho. He made such cool dioramas for his shrine ideas, so I feel like he just pours his heart and soul into making cool sculptures.

⚡ He would totally study in law school. His dad's legit the god of justice, he's a great speaker, can hold debates calmly, can canonically hear both sides of an argument before coming to a decision, seems very lawyer coded.

⚡ But he'd also be a good history professor. Have yall heard his yapping? Leo called him professor Grace for how much dedication he goes into explaining roman history. And he genuinely LOVES it. A very passionate teacher material to me.

⚡ Also, all he wants is for his partner to listen to him talk :( he has SO much to say but he feels like no one listens, so hed literally cry if someone takes interest in his long explanations (kind of like annabeth in this tbh)

⚡ Also, Octavian can NEVER argue with Jason because that man is just THAT good at smart and witty answers that even octavian saw him as a threat.

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 1 month

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Your Love, Like Birth and Death

cw. jjk faerie au, banshee!reader (she/her pronouns, afab), seelie prince!gojou, mutual pining but gojou's love is heavier, descriptions of blood and injuries

pairing. gojou x reader

notes. i should be working on the unseelie lord toji fic but this concept is still wracking my brain so y'all are getting this right now instead. lovesick faerie prince gojou for you, you and you! (also, spot the furuba and mirai nikki references lol.)

This Court is dyed in the colors of Life, you note this particular morning.

Of course, this is something you’ve noted every morning since you’d been brought to this palace nearly a month ago. Yet you aren’t tired of noting it.

The Court you have found yourself in is beautiful. From the ledge you lean against, it almost feels like you can see everything in Faerie.

You see the royal gardens, a mass of long grasses and moss dotted by colorful wild blooms. Overgrown and yet each flower seems right where it is supposed to be.

Beyond the walls of the castle, you see stretches and stretches of blue spruces and just beyond that a lake that almost seems purple. If this were a palace in Unseelie territory, you might have thought a kelpie lived in it.

Across the courtyard, souls living and deceased move as if in a dance. The living with their duties for the day, unaware of their ghoulish companions drifting about. Some have the ever permanent dribble of poisoned wines falling from their lips, others' have blood seeping into their clothes from their torsos and others are missing limbs although they find no difficult in moving.

The sight of death faeries is one that gruesome. A mixture of life and death, the path you folk walk on until you return to nothing.

Neat yet unkempt, wild yet tame, expected yet unexpected ー that is the beauty of Faerie you’ve grown accustomed to in the centuries since your creation.

A beauty you rarely have the opportunity to appreciate when you often find yourself in the realm of humans, heralding death.

You wonder how much time has passed there since you’ve come to the Court of Reckoning. All while the skies have lost the traces of violet, peach and marigold that painted the dawn skies and have begun settling into a lovely shade of pastel blue.

“I see I’ve finally found you,” when you look over your shoulder, it’s one of the prince’s advisors that greets you. The one with the long raven-black hair and brown eyes that remind you of humus-rich soil. You see the makings of a black tail with a tuft of fur peeking from his cloak and believe him to be some sort of phouka. “I almost thought for a moment our honored guest had disappeared,” his voice is light and airy, but he seems relieved to an extent. “I’m glad my concerns were proven untrue. Satoru would be quite unmanageable if that were the case.”

You shake your head, smiling politely, “I enjoy watching dawn turn into morning.” You look at the large bouquet in the phouka’s hands ー an assortment of lavender roses, baby’s breath and ferns.

“Our prince is too busy to deliver these himself this morning,” Suguru explains once they’ve caught your eye. You make sure to not let your fingers brush against one another when you reach for the blooms carefully. “Love at first sight, purity and fascination it is supposed to symbolize,” the advisor recounts the meaning of each bloom dutifully. He’s exasperated, you can tell. “Do you like them?”

“Yes, they’re quite lovely,” you believe so truly. Everyday since your arrival to the palace, the prince has had bouquet after bouquet gifted to you. Even if he cannot deliver them himself. “As were the rest I’ve received.”

“I’ve never seen Satoru so smitten,” you avoid the phouka’s gaze. “You should have met him when we were younger. He was adamant that he’d never be besotted with anyone lest he become a fool.” There’s a light pause as Suguru recalls the evening Satoru brought you to this palace. You who are cloaked in death and all of her colors. “Look at him now. He’s certainly caused a stir in his insistence you’ll be his queen. He’s a charming fool, though, I am sure.”

You prefer to think of the prince as a ridiculous fool but you cannot deny that he is charming. Dangerously so. If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought him to be a gancanagh, a love-talker.

“Please marry me,” came the soft request as sky blue eyes stared into your very being. “And I’ll love you more faithfully than any man, fae or otherwise.”

You try not to remember the way your chest clenched in surprise. How you were so surprised it almost felt like your skin had warmed. It’s best not to focus on that memory at all.

It’s a ridiculous notion, a seelie prince in love with a banshee.

“The prince is simply confusing gratitude with love,” you return Suguru’s gaze with a polite smile. You hope he believes you. “He’ll realize that soon and I will leave this place.” You know that will bring palace staff a great sense of peace. If there is one thing you’ve learned in your long life as a banshee it is that even if the Folk spurn mortals and their blink-of-an-eye lifespans, there are many things faeries and humans have in common.

A fear of death is certainly one of them.

As such, to the vast majority of faeriekind, Death Folk like yourself are not looked upon favorably. Banshee and dullahans alike, you’re more like pests in their eyes.

You banshee women who scream and keen if death is near.

The dullahans who hear those screams and arrive when that final hour has approached.

Yes, you know how death fae are viewed. You’ve heard the whispers in the palace, how you are an omen of malevolence to come. That your kind are like roaches. Should one appear, others will soon follow suit.

This is why you’ve come to appreciate this private ledge on the castle walls that receives less foot traffic than the rest. You’d rather the staff of the palace have peace of mind in your absence while you live in the palace even if their prince insists you can venture the halls as much as you’d like.

Once the promised revel he hopes to throw in your honor comes to pass, you know the prince will lose his interest in you. Then you will leave and continue about your existence until you fade into nothing but a vague memory in his subconscious.

That's what you truly hope when you see the prince in question later on in the day for lunch in the garden.

How his eyes light up and he stands to his feet as Cypress, a lovely pixie tasked with being your attendant, announces your arrival. How he doesn't even wait for you to reach the table before he comes to meet you. You are unused to being treated like royalty and yet their prince insists that you are. "You won't believe how the old hags go on and on," he sighs, remnants of annoyance dancing in his tone but his voice is soft with you. Cypress takes the dismissal in stride. "I couldn't even come see you for breakfast. Did you like the flowers?"

He wraps your hands in his own large palms, seemingly unaffected by your corpse-cold skin, as he has done every time you've met since your arrival. "Yes, they were beautiful," your smile is small and doesn't quite reach your eyes. You hope this ridiculous yet charming fool realizes that loving one such as yourself is more trouble than good. That his love truly is just misplaced gratitude. "You really don't have to send me flowers every morning."

The prince disregards your words the way water rolls off the back of a duck, "next time I'll bring you the flowers myself." He guides you to the table filled to the brim with food you aren't accustomed to eating. "Will you tell me your favorites finally? I've been going out on a limb with my guesses."

"My tastes in flowers are unique, to say the least," maybe it's your nature, but your favorites tend to circle around the prevailing theme of your kind. Lavender to give the dead peace in passing on, calendula for blessing and love. Dandelions in the seed head stage were quite popular with ghost children, still finding them just as amusing as they did when they were alive. "The flowers you send me are more than enough." The prince pouts but he decides to let you skirt around his request once more. You bring focus back to the spread, "it looks like you've demanded everything in the kitchen."

There are strawberry-and-whipped cream filled pastries, cold cut platters and buttery biscuits to name a few things. The tip of the iceberg of everything on the table.

"I wanted to make sure our bases were covered," the prince grins, teeth as white as his hair. "I hope you like lavender chamomile, that's today's tea. I've never had it before." He drops cube after cube of sugar into his cup, drizzles the contents with honey before finally pouring in a splash of cream.

You take your tea plain and enjoy the gentle fragrance. Lavender buds are just barely visible below the tea's surface. You close your eyes as the flavor hits your tongue. It tastes as wonderful as it smells. "Yes, this is quite nice. I really like it."

"Should we have it for tomorrow as well?" He's too eager to curry your favor.

You open your eyes to dissuade him but your attention is instead drawn to a headless hob nearing your table. You've seen this hob before, skirting about the palace bitterly as he carries his head in his hands much like a dullahan. He's old, even by fae standards, with a long beard. There's no question as to how the man died, beheading. You hope it was quick.

His beady eyes glare at you with a quiet rage similar to how most fae spirits do. You wonder how long he has been like this, refusing to board the carriage of any dullahan that may come to collect him and bring him to the Otherworld.

You personally believe that faeries leave behind ghosts more than humans do.

It's why you've often seen ghosts from a distance at revels, dancing from dawn til dusk even if they will not be perceived by the living. Even if they can no longer don the fancy dresswear they were able to dress in.

Time and time again, they will do this. Staunchly refusing death even after they're already in its hold.

"Oh, is there a ghost with us?" The prince notes how your eyes dart between him and the space he perceives as empty. "What's it saying?"

"Tell this lout that I sooner hope his rule is contemptuous and brings the Court to ruin!" The hob's head seethes. "That his many days are fraught with danger! Gakuganji is my name and this is the curse I cast upon him!"

Folk can't lie, but you you prefer not to relay the bitter message. "He hopes your rule is one that is," you lick your lips and raise your cup to your lips. "Filled with exciting thrills," not an exact lie. Perhaps to this radical prince, those sorts of threats are exciting. "He says his name is Gakuganji."

"Exciting thrills, you say?" The prince barks in amusement, shoulders shaking with his laughter. "That doesn't sound like the traitorous scoundrel I know. You don't have to lie, he's probably cursing me and my bloodline for generations to come as we speak." The hob growls at the lackadaisical nonchalance of the elf. But it seems he has had his fill as he stomps off before he can hear more insult to his person.

"Gakuganji has lost his touch even in death," the prince's amused chuckles turn into light sighs "You wouldn't have liked him very much when he was alive," you're sure you can agree with that much of the prince's words. Gakuganji, as you now know him, has been one of the more unpleasant spirits in the palace. "He was very stuck in his ways. What's it like, seeing ghosts all the time?"

Normal?

You can't quite remember what it was like when you were a newly-made banshee and everything was new. Nor can you remember the life you once led as a human. You simply remember your death was a terrible, terrible thing. "It's as normal to me as it's normal for you not to see them," you set your cup down. "If someone asked you what's it like to see the blue sky everyday, it would be a strange question, correct?"

The prince takes in your words thoughtfully, not slighted in the least. "I guess that's true," he nods to himself. "I just wondered if it was something that took some getting used to." The prince removes his darkened spectacles from the bridge of his nose. "I told you before I have pretty good eyes. I'm able to perceive a lot of things no one else can from mana to the shape of one's soul. But the spirits of the deceased are exceptions to my eyes, it seems."

"Your Highness," you begin.

"Satoru," the prince corrects you swiftly.

"Your Highness," you insist. This boundary you won't cross for yourself. "I'm not sure it's really wise for you to tell me about your eyes. I'm not a member of this family or your closest allies."

"But you will be," he tells you as if he's simply remarking on how pleasant the weather is. "I will become king of this Court and you'll be by my side as my queen." You're quite sure that if his mother, the High Queen, has anything to say about it, she'd sooner relinquish her throne to a random nixie than allow a banshee to wed her son. "I trust you as much as I trust Suguru or Nanami."

You wish he wouldn't.

A Seelie prince and his banshee queen? That sounds like the start to a ballad meant to insult him.

It's misplaced gratitude, not love. That's what this prince feels for you. You tell him as such once again as you have everyday since you were brought here. "You'll realize that soon, maybe even before the revel you plan for me," you whisper ー no, you pray. "There will be another you yearn for and you'll realize the difference."

The prince will fall deeply, truly, unapologetically in love with someone and he'll discover the truth.

Perhaps it will be a lake maiden of Spring whose dreadlocks drip with water droplets that fall onto dewy cinnamon-brown skin. Who sings of the beautiful red and pink of the roses and of love.

Or maybe it will be a selkie man who doesn't mind living far from the sea as he's brought a love as deep as the ocean along with him. Whose coat is donned in scars and scratches from battles past, a reflection of his form as a seal.

Or maybe he can grow enraptured with his phouka advisor whom he trusts more than anyone in this life.

Someone dyed in Life's colors.

Someone beautiful.

When that time comes, you'll be happy for him. Maybe then the ache that resonates through your heart and bones will end.

The prince isn't the only fool here, you admit reluctantly. You're just as much, if not more so. But this feeling will come to pass, "this is just gratitude. Fascination. Not love."

"You think I don't love you?" The prince asks quietly, resting his chin on his palm as he looks at you. He says he has good eyes, he wonder what you look like to him through them. You who once was dyed in Life's colors but have since become painted over by Death's brush.

Death folk with death folk.

Life folk with life folk.

"I know you don't," he can't. You can't allow either of yourselves to do so. "A banshee by your side as queen," you want it sound ridiculous to both of your ears. "It's absurd."

There are no rules that state your union is forbidden, this you know. But the laws of nature are simple. Life and Death co-exist separately, unable to exist without one another. But there has never been a tale where the two joined together as one.

Maybe you're just too scared to be the first.

"I want the woman that I love by my side as queen," the prince replies smoothly. "Your species is of little importance to me. All that matters is that my love is returned in full. Please, allow me to be yours," he reaches for your hand once more, stepping out of his chair in favor of sitting on bended knee. "More than anyone has or ever will, I love you. This is an unwavering truth."

The blood of the love-talker must run through his veins. Why else do you feel like this? Your desire for this prince will eat away at you until you become undone and return to nothing. "You're a prince. It's the duty of the royal family to provide heirs," even the smallest sprite knows this to be fact. "Are you asking me to stay with you and have them?"

"Please have my children," azure stares seriously into your pale eyes that were once [color] when you were human.

Your skin feels warm at his unabashed request.

Gojou Satoru has no shame, that you have become sure of in the near month of knowing one another.

He had no shame when he asked you to be his bride when you first met.

There was no shame to be found when he insisted that you stay in the palace as an honored guest he owes his life to.

Nor is there any shame to be found in him now when he cups your cheek in his furnace hot hands to guide your lips down to his, long white lashes fluttering shut.

I shouldn't, your mind screeches at you. I shouldn't allow us to get even one millimeter closer. Yet you make no move to do so as your lips are just barely touching whenー

"Your Highness, your mother is requesting you," Nanami's mild-mannered drawl saves you at the last minute.

You jerk back into your chair in relief, heart pounding. You aren't able to make eye contact with anyone, least of all the overworked horned elf-kobold hybrid brought to receive the Gojou heir.

The prince clicks his tongue in annoyance, glaring over his shoulder at the advisor, "she can't wait? We haven't even begun eating yet."

Nanami looks just as annoyed to be there, "the faster you heed her call, the quicker you can go back to fawning after the object of your desires." He tells his prince. "And the faster I can get back to resting."

The prince with snow-white hair clicks his tongue once more, but he doesn't argue against it. He turns to you regretfully, "I'll have to leave again. Perhaps we'll have more time together at dinner," you hope the wait for dinner is longer still. You know the prince hopes the time passes as quickly as he can blink.

Warm lips press against the back of your hand, lingering for five seconds longer than they should.

The bones of your hands ache.

Extra:

Title comes from a Nizar Qabbani poem: [Your love / Oh you with fathomless eyes / Is extreme /mystic / holy / Your love, like birth and death / is impossible to repeat]

My favorite bit in this is having the reader refused to call Gojou by name even in the narrative dialogue, in a futile attempt to keep distance between you both. I hope you guys found that riveting as well

Part 2? Should there be one? Perhaps there should be... y'all let me know

#look she's writing #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk faerie au #gojou x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #faeries #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x you #fair folk #mythology #i had a lot of fun writing this

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sebastianswallows · 18 days

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The English Client — Four

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none, but almost main character death lol

— WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

Tom stayed away for a few days. He stalked around some other rare book stores but found none of what Caractacus Burke was searching for. Still, it gave ample enough time for her to forget about him. He needed to be out of her mind before he carried out his plan.

He sat at a café outside her store one evening, waiting to see her go home again. Not able to stand another cup of coffee, hot and bitter, he decided to try something he’d seen so many other locals eating. It was called ‘gelato’. A frozen treat, it looked like clotted cream and was eaten with a little spoon. Tom regretted ordering it the moment it arrived, but with each bite, he became a little fonder of it. It was cold and vaguely sweet with a drizzling of cherry jam on top. He reached the bottom of the cup before he even realised, and licked the spoon clean afterwards.

She stepped out later this time, at around six o’clock. Tom got up not long after but he didn’t follow her. His gaze trailed after her from behind a pair of aviator shades — her white shirt fluttering with each step, hair soft upon her shoulders — and let himself enjoy the view until she disappeared beyond the curve of a building that bent like a wave. Then he turned the other way, the way she came from.

The lamp lights were just coming on, bathing the marble a sulphuric yellow. He took his sunglasses off and tucked them in his shirt as he slid through the narrow street the shop was on. There was nobody around, but he could hear the echoes of other people through the walls of the nearby buildings. The area was a mix of domestic and commercial, small old flats and little shops which made it quite unpredictable. It was a very intimate setting, and dangerous for that very reason — few escape routes should anyone appear.

He peered through the glass first at the organised chaos inside, the clutter and piles of precious old things that lifetimes would not suffice to explore. Between them, Tom saw his reflection staring back. He aimed his wand at each lock and muttered an Alohomora. The spell let him in like butter.

The shop was just faintly lit from beyond the large display windows, rendering every book and smooth wood surface into a little sunburst. The air was light with dust, and dry, and cold in the way libraries often were. The pillars that held the ceiling high were cinder-black, and carved so finely that the wood seemed lace and pillow soft. A sweet scent lingered in the cavernous construction. It really was a marvellous atmosphere… Tom wouldn’t have minded staying if circumstances were different. His grandfather’s ring trilled around his finger.

Regardless of how old the building was, the interior was certainly built to order. It had a hint of the Victorian with a Renaissance flair. Tom had been in enough rich people’s houses to tell. It amused him how much they were all alike in taste, as if they were part of the same secret breed.

He stepped further in. The floorboards creaked and, looking down, a small amount of dust flew up. Curious. Perhaps it really didn’t get that many customers so often. The other shops he had visited this week all seemed to have at least another two clients while he was there… Strange, as this shop was bursting with books, and in an accessible location too. Tom could only guess that either they were prohibitively selective with their clientele, or the place had a bad reputation.

He found her ledgers tucked underneath the desk. They were split into three themes: Letteratura, Religione, and Esoterismo. He opened the latter.

It was detailed, thick, and finely indexed with the most minuscule writing. Instead of listing their catalogue, it listed all the authors they seemed to have an interest in, whether or not they held any of their books. Prices were next to certain volumes, along with purchasing dates. Others were annotated with the shop or collector that held them. From Agrippa to Cheiro to Crowley, from Novalis to Paracelsus, Roerich, and Sepharial, they had their eye on everyone. He turned toward the end, pale finger brushing through the T’s.

They had nothing by Tamisso, another author on his list, although they did have a copy of The Lost Word by Trevisan — a more recent edition than the 1870 one that Mr. Burke wanted, but still serviceable. But what he was really looking for was Torchia.

And he found him. A whole half-page was dedicated to him, even if the books were few and three-quarters of the space was empty. They must’ve expected to find more of his works in the future.

But as he was reading, the ring started feeling heavier, like its black stone wanted to pull loose. Oftentimes, the splinter of his soul that was trapped inside was a bit of a canary in a coal mine, more sensitive to changes in Tom’s surroundings than he was… He gazed suspiciously toward the ring and put the ledger down.

Tom looked up at the ceiling. It was tall and too dark to see, absorbing the most highly placed volumes like a black hole, like a void. Looking down, between the floorboards, the same infinite darkness. It occurred to him that perhaps the place was cursed. An unlikely idea given that it was a building belonging to muggles, but he’d seen stranger things. And after all, he still didn’t know who the owner was.

He looked at the catalogue again.

Torchia, A.

Key to Captive Thoughts, 1653 — four three copies

A Curious Explanation of Mysteries and Hieroglyphs, 1655 — one copy sold to H. Àristos, 1949

The Three Books of the Art, 1658 — one copy, private ownership → Luce

He scanned further down the line, and there it was: Delomelanicon.

It wasn’t written up like the others. It had no number, no mention of its year of publication, nor even where it was. All it had was a strange symbol next to it, like a plus sign with a downward arrow. Tom couldn’t guess what it meant.

But they had it, they must have. He closed the book with satisfaction and an overflow of greed, and carefully put it back in its place.

With the bookshop all to himself, Tom explored at his leisure. He stepped lightly, almost reverently, through its misty dusty rooms veiled by growing darkness. He cast Lumos when entering the second room, which had no windows to the outside world. A thick red carpet muffled his steps.

His first stop was at the section where she had searched for Helena Blavatsky, assuming the shelves followed the logic of the ledgers and were organised thematically as well as alphabetically. He pulled the ladder over and started to climb, holding the wand between the tips of his fingers.

Names spread before him, ancient and powerful. Some of them were only mentioned in the most proscribed of texts, others he hadn’t even heard of. It was one thing to see them listed so economically, and another to see their naked spines, crack them open, part them, and touch their wavy pages.

He had to pause once he came across a 17th-century copy of the Cyranides. How many men died for merely reading this book… What horror, what beauty. He turned to the page on the use of bezoars and smiled. The illustration braided around the page was of a watersnake, unmoving, done with an almost childish hand. It was from a more innocent time when such magical knowledge was a thing of fear and wonder, exclusive and yet renown, whispered about, admired. Not hidden away.

Holding the wand between his teeth, Tom pulled the ladder and himself a bit further to the right. Its wheels were loud enough to make him wince.

He found a wealth of books in this place that made him feel things he had not felt in a while: greed, desire, admiration… He hadn’t seen so many wonderful tomes since Hogwarts. For long moments in large swaths, he forgot his mission. Eagerly, his hands picked up any volumes he could reach without the ladder tipping over, and he sipped in eager drops the ancient wisdom, a few pages at a time, admiring the crude but honest illustrations before, with a heavy heart, putting them back on the shelf.

Finally, he reached Torchia. A few of his works were there, the same ones mentioned in the ledger, but not the Delomelanicon. Tom brushed his finger on the shelf, and it came up with a fluff of dust. Hadn’t been touched for a long time…

It occurred to him as he climbed down the ladder that they could have had hidden compartments, as such bookstores sometimes did. Borgin and Burkes did too, although theirs was hidden by magic. Muggles would have had some contraption hidden behind a painting or shelf. He cast another glance around him before moving forward again, step by heavy step. Between those dormant shelves, he saw another surreptitious doorway toward another room.

III

The place grew labyrinthian. Tom felt as though he was disturbing a tomb, and without even needing to his steps grew gentler. The ring around his finger ached again, but he ignored it.

He was exploring a glass case with a pyramid of skulls in the corner of a room three doorways from the entrance, further in the building and blissfully chill on the exposed skin of his arms and neck, when suddenly he noticed something about the creaking of the floorboards: he couldn’t hear it anymore.

Tom looked down, his shoes soft on the carpet, and shifted his weight. No sound, but there was a bit of a tilt beneath him as the wood moved. He moved to the side and toed the carpet away. At first glance, he noticed nothing strange, but when he cast Revelio, a piece of metal shone and the edges of a trapdoor revealed themselves before him.

“I’ve got you now,” he grinned.

He stepped away, grabbed the edges of the carpet, and folded it further back. It was a trapdoor alright, large enough for two people to fit through. The area was clean, as if it saw regular use. Could it be a secret way into and out of the shop? Well, he’d seen her always use the front door, so it was most likely a storage area.

He dug into his trouser pocket for something, anything that he could use, and found the Swiss army knife he’d gotten from Clement. The thought occurred to him that it was a misuse of a gift to rob a bookshop with it, but that thought died quickly in Tom’s heated mind. He had a job to do.

He slid its blade between the folds of wood and pressed the handle down. Marvolo’s ring squeezed and pulled at his finger, and Tom cursed at it to be quiet. The trapdoor undulated at the strain as he moved the blade around, but the thing was as good as nailed down on all sides.

“Come on, you piece of muggle trash, open,” he hissed between clenched teeth.

He pushed, edging the wood upwards, and the bit of leverage made it flap as far as its hinges would allow. Holding the wand between his teeth for light, he moved it slightly, checking in every direction for a keyhole. The only thing he found was a burn mark that shone in the faint light, small and round and crested. It was probably a hidden button or a kind of keyhole, the kind of which he’d seen before in a couple of places both at Hogwarts and elsewhere. Tom grinned, moved the blade there, and pressed harder right beneath it.

“Aaaah!” he groaned, nearly dropping the wand from his teeth.

The ring was shooting pain all the way up his arm now, and his muscles strained. He clenched his teeth and pressed the blade in further, deeper, but the longer he tried to get it open, the more useless the attempt seemed, and he was overcome with a feeling of wrongness — as if he actually cared that he was trespassing.

He got up, sighed, and wiped the sweat off his brow. The feeling of guilt that had been bubbling in his stomach crested and crawled up his bones until he felt the sickness in his throat. He was overcome with the desire to leave and put this place behind him. A traitorous thought…

No, he wasn’t feeling sick. That nasty little door was enchanted. There was probably a curse on it, not too dissimilar to those placed on Egyptian tombs, meant to ward prospective thieves away. The emotions that swirled in his breast, the guilt, the shame, none of it came from him. It was something he was forced to feel by whatever enchantment guarded the place. What an insidious little spell… He frowned and pointed his wand down at the trapdoor again.

“Finite incantatem.”

Nothing happened.

“Finite incantatem!” he said again, more clearly and imperious.

The trapdoor mocked him with its silence. Tom looked down at his wand as if it were impotent.

“Of all the damned… Revelio,” he cast again, but nothing new appeared. “Alohomora!”

And that was when it struck him.

The spell worked, but just for an instant before it was undone and something fired back at him. A shard of death crawled up his spine and pooled inside his heart, pushing him backwards into the sharp edge of a table. The lamps on it rattled from the impact.

He felt dizzy for a moment, his body numb and cold, then nauseous when his senses came back to him at once. Pain billowed at his lower back so hard it filled his throat with bile. He clung to the edge of the table and kept himself just barely standing, managing the breath to groan.

“By Salazar’s f-fucking… Ow!”

Among all the sudden pain, he noticed that his arm was numb. The ring had stopped hurting him. It got its point across… The door was cursed, and so severely that, if not for his Horcrux, he surely would have died.

Tom clenched his teeth and hissed at the bothersome little entrance, cursing it in parseltongue. He kicked the carpet back over it and rubbed his aching hip where he already felt a bruise forming. There was nothing else he could do there, at least not tonight. He’d have to go back to his hotel, hopefully not limping all the way, and plan his next steps.

“I’ll get you yet,” he muttered with a parting glare. “And whatever mongrel of a mage made you.”

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Tom Riddle fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;englishclient

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mangekyuou · 2 years

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✸ headcanons % when you paint their nails.

✸ characters! . . . jinbei, crocodile, mihawk, shanks, roger, rayleigh, oden & kaido.

✸ cw(s)! . . . n/a. no pronouns used. not proofread.

✸ notes! . . . i usually never THIS many characters for headcanons. but i needed my ESDs, emotional support dilfs. they’ve been on my mind.

you originally asked to paint his nails because you wanted to see what a particular color looked like. but then it actually looked really cute on him, so you kept going

your loveable cuddle teddy bear doesn’t mind at all. definitely tries his best to model it for you

is the best model. he’s so precious :((

is very proud of your work and shows them off any time anyone asks

adores when you paint his nails to match his kimonos, especially when you add little designs that match the accents/patterns. he could just smother you in kisses

he loves when you give him sea themed nails. he adores that you want to remind him of his home. no one has done anything like that for him before

you don’t know how much it really means to him

tells you no but lets you do it anyway, only one nail tho he says…until he realizes it looks kinda weird, so he lets you do the whole hand

pretends he’s not interested in the slightest and has better things to do

but in reality he’s watching you the whole time, thinking how cute you are when you’re focused

he only wants black but has broadened his horizon to red. but any other color outside of those two is “not his type”

throughout his day when he’s not with you, he’ll look at his nails and be reminded of you

the type to take offense on your behalf if someone says something about his nails and will definitely over-exaggerate the situation to the extreme for the sake of making a point so that no one ever disrespects you again

you two give each other manicures

he’s probably better than you at it. his nail art is always so precise. he should run a side business if he ever gets tired of the pirate gig

mihawk himself prefers fall colors, your reds, oranges, deep purples, and golds. you know something that looks quite nice holding a wine glass

he doesn’t mind the occasional white though. but he doesn’t think green looks good on him

mihawk takes perfect care of his nails. he is going to make your work last !!

they always look so pretty when he’s holding his sword

mihawk loves matching nails with you. even if it’s a color he doesn’t particularly think suits him well

he asks you to paint his nails. don’t ask him why, because he doesn’t know, he just wants his nails painted

is terrible at staying still, he moves every five seconds, making you mess up. takes you longer to do his one hand than both of yours😭😭

shanks loves colors that pop out, especially ones that do not match his fit at all

he wants hot pink, the brightest shade of yellow around, even neon green

he wants acrylics so bad. he just loves the sound of nail tapping. but knows they’re going to hinder him further because he doesn’t know how to open things with them and will not take the time to learn

he’s too stubborn to. he’ll chip a nail or two for a bottle of beer without regrets

roger only becomes interested when he sees you painting your nails on the deck of the oro jackson

he practically flops in front of you with one of his hands already out. roger has his feet up in the air, kicking back and forth as you paint his nails

he likes all colors. and he doesn’t particularly want his nails to be all one color. plus he likes glitter

just go ahead and give him glitter rainbow nails

roger would like to try acrylics, only because you have had them before and he liked your set. he wants the exact same set you had

of course they don’t last long because he isn’t a fan of how they feel. they are quite pretty, but not for him.

was glad he tried them out though

has had his nails painted many times before, and a few of those times he did it himself

but when you do it, it’s special. and he definitely makes the actual process difficult with his constant flirting

and the way he’s looking at you ?? he’s doing it on purpose

loves wearing your favorite color(s). loves it, even more, when his nails match your outfit

he is another supporter of matching couple nails. he’s the one who suggests it. he paints your nails, you paint his over drinks

or sometimes he’ll just paint yours and massages your hands ( among other things of course ) and let you vent about your day

has had his nails painted before back in wano. izou and kiku did it. back then he definitely hated it. with you ?? oh he loves every second of it.

his eyes light up like christmas trees. you can without a doubt feel the love and admiration radiating off of him

he usually wants red to match his eyeliner or purple to match his nio-dasuki

after you finish his nails he likes to hold your face in his hands. it’s become a habit of his

is also not good at keeping his nails looking good. when they dry, he purposely peels off paint just so you can do it again just for an excuse for you to paint his nails again

he likes how gentle you are with him <3

he loves it :(((

it’s one of the few moments you get to see him

he loves when you paint his nails. he is as still as a rock when you’re doing your craft because he doesn’t want to mess you up

he enjoys darker colors like black, dark red, and dark purple

but he won’t pass up a cute lighter blue, only because you said it matched his dragon form scales

he’ll do any color you put on him really. who’s gonna make fun of kaido for wearing hot pink nail polish and live to see another day ??

makes little requests for designs he thinks would look nice on him. he wants gems babe. the shinier the better, he wants his nails to be seen

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xwingsandohs · 8 months

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did anyone say good omens fanfic x cupid!reader ?!?!?

good evening tumblr. i have many thoughts for the ineffable fandom. can’t get out of my head a cupid!reader that crowley hangs out with now that azi is gone?!?? broken heart crowley?!?! crowley x reader smut ?!? gender neutral reader?!?!? gender bending crowley?!?!? sex shop running cupid ?!?!?!??! 🫣🤔🤭🪽

I wrote a drabble. Please send thoughts. May write a fic 🫣 XOXO, xwingsandohs.

Angels and demons have always been assigned their roles on earth to protect peace and create chaos, but it’s in the 15th century (or so) that the Almighty notices that humans have evolved themselves beyond simple procreation. And so God creates the Cupids, not necessarily a legion of angels and definitely not demonic, but a collection of holy beings powered by Earthly love to bring happiness and prosperity to humanity in new ways.

Where Aziraphale was defined by white hair and golden clothes, Crowley recognised by fiery red locks and sleek suits; this particular Cupid is defined by a rainbow of colours, patterns and flowers for every occasion.

It’s been three months since Aziraphale left for Heaven’s gates, or escalators to be more accurate, and your attempts to foster and create love in London has suffered thanks to a certain lonely demon moping around. Crowley can’t admit he just needs the company.

“Coffee?” You ask, Crowley hums positively. “What would you like?”

“Something strong.” He’s sitting on a lovely green couch in the back room of your shop, sprawled in all his comfort. It’s decorated with a variety of silly cushions, one particular eye-catching one being bright blue with orange tassels.

The room is littered with beige boxes of spare stock and new deliveries, but you still keep it looking bright with a mis-matched collection of hanging prints and printed wallpaper. You keep it on theme with what you stock.

“I know that, silly.” You shake your head and smile as always, you both do this routine most mornings. The coffee bean grinder grunts loudly and you pick out two big mugs from the cupboard. “What shall I try draw in your coffee with the milk? You know I’ve been practising.”

You have been practising. Despite coffee not being the main draw of your high street shop, you have a vision of giving out free drinks to customers if you can master the art of the latte. You’re getting better, actually.

“A leaf.” Your friend responds, standing up and heading towards you.

“You say that every time!”

Crowley picks up the yellow striped mug you’d taken out for his drink.

“I like the leaf.”

He’s nonchalant. He puts the mug back and looks around for the one he wants.

“But it’s easy and I’d like a challenge. Something silly.”

You grin up at him with a little humour, and he looks back to you with a raised brow.

He can’t find the mug.

You look up and find the mug immediately. It’s completely plain and black, with a slightly lighter shade of grey on the inside. He bought it and gave it to you especially for his drinks. You always fight back.

“Fine.” Crowley says with exasperation. “How about….” He looks around for inspiration in your decor, finding little that he wishes to ask for. “A tree?”

“Oh, I know!” You almost cut him off, exclaiming. He doesn’t know why you bother asking, again, this is your routine. His eyes roll and you can sense it without even seeing. “I’ve just remembered something I saw online the other day and I’d like to try it out.”

“Sure.” He rubs across his face with his hands then spins on the spot to head back to a seat on the couch. The milk steamer screeches and he considers it his cue.

“Could you do me a quick favour before I unlock the doors?” He stops, seconds away from reclaiming comfort on the velvet. He’s not your assistant, but you tend to always ask for these little things.

“I know you’re not my assistant, but there’s a pile of online orders printed out that I need to put together. Could you grab that pile from upstairs for me? It’s next to the-“

“The computer.” He finishes. Routinely.

You finish the coffee.

By the time he’s brought down the pile of paper and placed it where you like it behind the till incase of a quiet moment, you’re skipping over to unlock the door and flip the sign to ‘Open!’ Before it hits 9:01.

Then you rush back to grab the two mugs.

Crowley looks around at the shelves and pegs that hold the stock and shakes his head at everything he sees, humans and their rubbish. He does however appreciate the collection of green plants that have found a place amongst the shelves since he’d been spending lots of time here. They perhaps even look happier than his own, or maybe the colourful shelves really bring out their green.

“I wonder what lovely people will walk through our doors today?” You say with a smile, taking your first sip of coffee and smearing the pattern. Your hand holds out the other cup to Crowley.

He shrugs, takes the coffee from your hand and looks down at the pattern. “It’s a…”

“-A seahorse!” He wouldn’t have guessed it really, but when you point it out he notices. It’s definitely an animal of some sort.

“I like it.” He doesn’t really care for it, but you seem to like the labour, he understands that care. “Although it’s a little…”

He’s not going to say the word.

You’re still grinning, you know the word.

“A little…?” You ask.

“You know, it’s…” He doesn’t say.

“Phallic?” You say it. He doesn’t look away from the coffee.

“Phallic.” He confirms with an unsurprising demeanour .

“I know!” You giggle, he shakes his head.

“You really do take this all very seriously, don’t you?” Crowley chuffs as he leans back against the counter and takes his first sip.

“You could say it’s all about passion in this business.”

Well…. What else would a Cupid sell? The bell above the door rings.

“Good morning.” You call to the first two customers that come through the door. They respond politely back. “Welcome to Sugar ‘n’ Spice, let us know if we can help with anything.”

“Actually, we were looking for some bondage gear?” The lady says as her partner shrinks slightly behind her.

“Of course! Let me introduce you to our selection and then I’ll leave you to shop on your own.”

#here to bring chaos #and smut #and chaos #good omens #aziraphale x crowley #crowley #crowley x reader #cupid!reader #cant really remember the inspo #writing drabbles #good omens drabbles

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ceapa-mica · 4 months

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Thrawn's Proposal 💍 - a headcanon

I can't stop myself when it comes to this man help

I have been very busy thinking this through and writing it down, and here it is - the engagement headcanon I promised you guys! 😘

Enjoy!

🔞 NSFW content 18+ only! 🔞

Reader's gender is not mentioned.

So you made a certain Grand Admiral fall for you and have established a relationship? You're doing amazing, sweetie!

I bet you can guess what the next step in your relationship is. (Who am I kidding, it's literally in the title)

The moment Thrawn knew was when he discovered a painting you had made that you kept from him. Whether you're a good artist or not doesn't matter, to Thrawn every painting is worth looking at. And seeing a sketch of him made by you made his heart swell.

He analyzes art unlike anyone else. To him this drawing was a visualization of your feelings for him. Your unwavering loyalty, your keen mind, and all the little quirks to your character he has fallen in love with. On top of that you’re the most stunning person he's ever laid his crimson eyes on.

It was at that moment he looked at your painting that he knew he wants you by his side for the rest of his life - and he hopes you want the same.

He has gifted you jewelry before, but an engagement is something else entirely. In his culture engagement and marriage are taken very seriously and he knows he can't just give you an ordinary ring from some Coruscanti high-end shop.

No, you deserve better. You're not getting engaged to anyone, you're getting engaged to Mitth’raw’nuruodo of the Chiss Ascendancy and Grand Admiral of the Galactic Empire. An ordinary ring won't do!

He contacts his people and explains the situation. It takes a while, but when he receives the ring he looks at it with a satisfied smile. It's so unique, just like you!

During your relationship you have learned to read Thrawn. He may keep up a stoic facade most of the time, but you have started to notice little changes, like the way he pronounces words or the varying brightness of his glowing eyes. You think even Eli Vanto can't read Thrawn that well.

The night he wants to propose to you he takes you to a city on a planet you've never heard of. It's late in the evening and you can tell from his stiffer than usual posture that he's nervous.

You're worried, ask him if he's alright and he simply nods. He's a bit absent-minded too, you notice.

You finish your dinner and afterwards go for a walk in the warm air of what you assume must be early summer or late spring.

Away from prying eyes he removes his green shade sunglasses and takes your hand in his.

Your walk takes you to a park, away from busy speeder lanes. You have some easy conversation, but you can't help but notice how tense he still is. You think you might have to help him relax in his quarters when you're back on the Chimera.

To anyone else you two would look like a cute civilian couple enjoying a walk in the moonlight.

Some of the flowers on this world bloom at night, spreading a silvery light along with the lanterns lighting the paths. You think this particular lighting makes Thrawn look ethereal.

The scent of the flowers lingers in the air, the safe feeling of his hand in yours makes your heart flutter in bliss and the soft waves breaking on the shore of the lake mixed with the occasional sound of nocturnal birds has something so fundamentally peaceful.

Distracted by your beautiful surroundings you don't realize at first when Thrawn lets go of your hand, takes a small black box out of his pocket and drops to one knee in front of you.

You're taken by surprise, the look in his eyes shows a vulnerability you have never seen before.

He pops the question in the most charismatic way possible. I mean, what did you expect? He makes it clear that he intends to spend every day of the rest of his life with you. The choice is yours.

You see the stiffness leave his shoulders when you tell him ‘Yes!’

He puts the ring on your finger. The gem, not too big, looks unlike anything you've ever seen. In the light of the lantern it looks dark blue with swirls on the inside of the crystalline stone that reflect the silver light.

When you ask him about it, he explains that this rare mineral can only be found in the depths of his homeworld’s glaciers. It's very expensive, even within the Ascendency, and is used as a symbol of status in Chiss society.

He kisses you deeply when you shed a tear or two of joy, the scent of the flowers mingling with Thrawn's own crisp musky scent.

His lips wander from yours down to your neck, but since you're in public he doesn't go much further.

You wait with that until you're back aboard the Chimera where he carries you to his bed and takes you exactly the way you want him to.

He makes sure you cum at least five times that night - on his mouth, on his fingers and on his cock.

He doesn't require much sleep and could last all night, but he knows after a day of work and a very special evening you must be very tired.

This is one of the rare instances where he gives you the next day off. For one, because you deserve to sleep in after the first night being the Grand Admiral’s fiance, second because after he fucked your tight heat for hours and hours you visibly walk funny, and Thrawn is not a fan of the gossip about his private life that makes its rounds among his crew.

Decisions would have to be made. Would you continue your service to the Empire as his wife-to-be?

All he knows is that he wants you by his side. It's where you are safest and also where you want to be.

No matter how much he dislikes the gossip about his private life, he will eventually have to tell the crew about his engagement.

When he does announce it, he does it with you by his side, holding his hand. Another step you take together.

Let's just say that nobody is surprised about your engagement. So many crew members you know from the bridge congratulate you, even officers and troopers you have never talked to congratulate you in passing.

Your future with Thrawn looks bright. While planning a wedding is extra stressful with a workaholic like Thrawn as fiance, both of you manage that together too.

Thrawn lets your contract with the Imperial Navy end the day before your wedding.

In the Imperial Navy you can't work for your own husband, it would be a conflict of interest and neither of you want you reassigned to some other ship, away from each other.

You can search for different ways to earn credits after your wedding though. In fact, Thrawn encourages you to find work for yourself that you find joy in.

Being engaged to Thrawn is the happiest you have ever been so far. You're excited, well fucked, and feel a sense of belonging you have never known. If you believe in soulmates, then you believe that you have found exactly that in Thrawn.

Well that was fun to write! Thank you guys so much for liking my work! 💙 Next up will be ✨the wedding✨ headcanon.

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn fanfiction #thrawn headcanon #thrawn smut #star wars rebels #ahsoka series #star wars #blue man hot #star wars fanfiction

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yellowloid · 10 months

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i think one of the main problems of tumblr (and fandom culture, and the internet in general) is that people tend to forget as human beings we are made of multitudes. nothing is ever just black or white - there are infinite shades of grey in between and that is the very thing that makes us, well, human.

sometimes people have contrasting opinions within themselves and - guess what - even contrasting feelings. sometimes people feel strongly about stuff and that is okay. you can love something/someone so much and at the same time find yourself disappointed by something related to it/them. that happens. it's okay.

i'm not gonna talk about what's going on on twitter because tbh i haven't checked so i have no idea wtf they're on about there, but i want to focus on our little tumblr community - which is so special because of the fact that it is (mostly) conflict-free, and if there's something we share it's a kind of visceral love for the boys that i'm sure everyone here can understand.

this is not an indirect @ anyone in particular, but i've seen some posts going around talking about all the negativity on the dash after last night, and i wanted to share my two cents on that.

we all love them. we all fucking love them so much and we know every time they set foot on stage we're guaranteed to be blown away by how fucking good and special and talented they are. they know how to deliver a spectacular performance (even in emergency situations like yesterday, with alex's laryngitis which is definitely far from gone) and they know how to keep the audience's attention fixed on them. they're a special kind of hypnotising, and every show is unique in and of itself *because* of their incredible presence, regardless of what setlist they might give us.

we all know that, and yesterday's show was no exception. it was amazing, powerful and breathtaking like every show they deliver. mindblowing, as always. as simple as that.

and that's exactly what can turn disappointing real quick. they know how fucking good they are. they know how much potential they have, and that all this tour they've been using up to 10% of said potential. they're incredibly talented and smart, and still decide to stick to their comfort zone every. single. night. with few exceptions, obviously, and mostly never from the album they're supposed to be touring. that's what upsets people here - the fact that they're letting their own HUGE potential go to waste.

glastonbury is a milestone. they had nothing to prove, of course, having headlined it already and more than once in the past. everyone knows what they're capable of. but glastonbury is special, too, and instead if felt like just another random show they could then go and tick off their list. done, next. rinse and repeat.

and of course we also all know it was an emergency. alex has been straining his voice for a long time now - the three consecutive london gigs were the breaking point, and i'm so glad they took a bit of time to let him rest, despite the fact that they probably hated having to cancel the dublin show. but they couldn't ditch glasto, and so they showed up and they did a fucking amazing job. alex sounded so good and i think i can speak for all of us when i say i was so incredibly relieved to see he was okay. i was shaking and biting my nails worried sick about him for DAYS up to the moment they appeared on stage and seeing him get up there and kill it with a fucking crazy performance, putting in all that effort and dedication despite the fact that he's no doubt still recovering (no way his laryngitis is 100% gone, and i hope he gets some more rest because he needs it) made me so proud of him, so fucking happy and proud and i couldn't really love him more. i love him so much, i love them all so much and i know everyone here also does. no one here is blaming it on him for whatever happened yesterday. we're all just fucking glad and grateful he could show up in the first place. he's the most special most talented most beautiful little guy ever and we all love and cherish him so much it hurts. and he did so fucking well, as always. i hope he knows that, and i hope he knows he's allowed to be sick and he's not to blame for anything. i would personally fight anyone who dared say anything bad about him because no one fuck's with tumblr's most beautiful most precious babygirlboy. no one!!!!!

having said that, big changes in the setlist - especially a live debut of hello you or other new songs - were highly unlikely and we all knew that. they probably wouldn't have had the chance to rehearse due to alex's sickness. and that's okay! sure everyone would love to see those songs finally make their grand debut. but that can wait, because alex's health is more important.

and let's face it. i don't think it's that big of a reach to say that even if alex hadn't been sick, the setlist wouldn't have changed that much anyway. there's songs that simply cannot be scrapped, songs to which they're particularly attached and songs to which average fans are also particularly attached. then there's songs that have been on rotation, and songs that have finally already made a comeback during the sheffield shows. taking away all that, the songs that have an actual real possibility of coming back aren't that many - as much as it hurts me to say it, they won't be playing secret door or piledriver waltz or batphone or whatever more niche song anytime soon. and we know that, no one *really* expects them to. because they have to gather to the general crowd, and as repetitive as their current setlist might be, it works. could house more new songs - they skipped big ideas? and songs such as mr schwartz and iaqwitia haven't made a comeback in such a long while... but still. it's bomb. it works, and it works fucking well.

however, there were other changes that could have been made to make glasto special - changes that wouldn't have been a risk to alex's health; small things that could have made a difference, even a tiny one. @mrschwartz said it perfectly in her tags (i hope it's okay to show these sbfksjf i just think you put it into words really well):

it WAS a win. the sole fact of headlining glasto, in and of itself, is a win. a big fucking one at that. and little changes could have been made to make it memorable - to make it stand out when compared to every other gig they played this tour. there definitely were highlights - not only with alex's antics but also lyrically, with the jet skis/iwby/star treatment moment, which was OUTSTANDING - but for the rest nothing really spoke GLASTONBURY. nothing else *really* stood out, and that's a shame.

(not even gonna touch on the miles thing because yeah we all know they probably wanted to do it but couldn't for some reason; it's pretty clear rn that him showing up in london was to make up for him not being able to be there yesterday; we all had our suspicions and they were right. still bummed tho because them playing glasto together is a tradition!)

but considered all that, it is what it is. no one is gonna go around unstanning them because of last night. if anything, when they pull this shit they just make us want to follow them even more, to see what they'll be up to in the next shows. what aces they have up their sleeves - because we know just as well as they know that they have many. they're just too comfortable in their routine to pull them all out, and hopefully sometime in the near future we'll get to see more of what they can really do.

again, it was an amazing show. my heart was beating so fast and i kept grinning like an idiot at the screen, just because they were there. just because they showed up in the first place, with their talent and beauty and power and insane energy. just because i love them so much i can't even begin to explain it.

and i was a bit disappointed, too. because we know how much potential they have. because if they can put up an amazing show like that using only a crumble of that potential, we can only imagine how insanely spectacular of a performance they could deliver if they used even a little bit more of it.

but they refuse to, and that's what can be upsetting. but it doesn't take away the love we have for them. the two things can coexist, and they don't take away from each other. if anything, i woke up this morning with even more love for them than i did yesterday, exactly because they frustrate me with how legendary they are, and how bad i want them to show that to the whole world.

i love them, i'm disappointed, and that's not gonna stop me from loving them even more.

#i'm sorry i just had to put this all out i'm too opinionated to keep it all inskxsnxksncjsjd #also sorry if this is very rambly but hopefully you get what i mean. contrasting feelings are valid!#sending y'all kissies bc we all deserve kissies no matter what. no hard feelings! xx #arctic monkeys #glasto 2023 #ramblings

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nhaneh · 6 days

Text

I think a lot sometimes about the pushback against the concept of talent within arts and I mean yeah on some level I get it, but also the suggestion that anyone can learn to draw is, to me, like saying anyone can learn to program.

like yes, sure, at the end of the day just about anyone can likely find some way of forming vague scribbles using their tool or input peripheral of choice, but that's basically like saying just about anyone can find ways of writing semicolons and the words if, then, else on some kind of digital computer - the difficulty was never in achieving the most basic and abstracted interpretation of the act, but in an understanding of how your actions translate into the kind of end result that you want.

in programming, the most basic starter program that nearly every extremely basic example or tutorial will start with is called Hello World, which is simply a program that prints or otherwise displays the text Hello World to the user.

#include <iostream>

in python, this can be done with a single line of code, like so:

print("Hello World!")

while in C++, that same program will take a bit more work:

#include <iostream>

int main()

{

std::cout << "Hello World!\n";

return 0;

}

Now if you have the ability to copy that text into a file then congratulations, you have the ability to write a program! But, obviously, to really do any actual programming, you kind of need to know what any of the above actually means and what it makes the computer actually do.

This by the way is why the "Learn to Code" kind of initiatives tend not to work out very well, because while technically anyone can write code, actually understanding how to code is a much more complicated affair that can't necessarily be directly taught - it's something that has to be understood.

What is needed, basically, is a system - a kind of mental library of symbols and concepts that you can rearrange and reassemble in various ways to reach a particular solution; a point where you can break down a larger problem into a bunch of much smaller, more individualised problems that are easier to solve one by one.

This is basically how expertise works - whether consciously or (much more often!) not, you form models and systems in your head to let you simplify and, to an extent, automate otherwise complex tasks. If you've ever looked at something and just felt this feeling of "aha, I see how this works", then you should technically already know what I'm talking about.

And look, this is not an argument against practice - expertise takes work, it takes training and experience and gradually discovering ways in which things start making sense to you, even those things that you might have an intuitive knack for. However, what I do think is that telling people who say they can't draw to "just draw anyway" is a lot like, and just as dismissive as, "Learn to Code" because, just like how saying "I don't know how to code" generally is not meant to be understood as "I am physically unable to write words into a text document", saying "I can't draw" typically does not mean being physically unable to form lines or shapes on paper or in a digital image or whatever. Rather, it's a statement about being unable to break down the problem of how to reach a desired end result into smaller, manageable steps that you are able to grasp. And, much like with programming, not everyone will have an eye, or a mind, for it: just like some people struggle with spelling or mathematics or, indeed, code, some people also struggle with colour or perspective or object shape or lighting and shading. And, by contrast, for some people these things also come much more easily and naturally than others.

Not everyone can do everything - at least not to such an extent that it would let them do something they would want to do. Practice can help, certainly, but it's not necessarily guaranteed to bridge the gap either. I mean, I personally find it baffling how many people seem to struggle with what I consider basic computer literacy, but that's a lot to do with the fact that I just happen to find much of it pretty simple and straightforward where a lot of people don't. Not everyone has a base aptitude to build on for every field or skill, and that's both fine and normal. And I mean - something as simple as the ability to put in the effort to practice and learn a particular skill or expertise is in itself a skill, and one that can be very selective about what contexts it's willing to apply to.

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chatisthisfr · 2 months

Text

sketches

Percy Jackson x FEM! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none. Clarice is mean ig

Summary: You are Hephaestus's daughter. An artist. One day Clarice finds your sketch book and shows off a particular drawing that wasn't to be shared. and someone in particular was around to see it.

Your Pov

Mornings where your favorite, especially during the summertime. The beautiful camp lake was the best view that nothing could beat. Well it was also the best view because if you look to your left about 100 feet away was Percy Jackson, your crush sense you got here 3 months ago. He was practicing, but failing miserably, at archery. He was alone since it was pretty early so he didn't have anyone to accidentally shoot in the head with an arrow. you backed up against a tree and instead of facing toward the lake, you faced more towards Percy. I mean like not all the way so its obvious you're looking at him but, kind of angled. You grabbed your sketch book out of your little tote bag and grabbed a pencil. You knew it was risky. Someone could be watching and seeing you draw this sight. But who could resist. Percy did look pretty. He was falling pretty bad at archery bad but the sun was beaming on him just right. His eyes looked beautiful even from a distance. So you got to work. You quickly sketched a position he was in where he was carefully picking up his last arrow and looking up at the target with anticipation. you got the sketch down and started getting the details in and erasing certain guidelines. you took time with this drawing. making the shadings practically perfect. making every detail better than you've ever before. you weren't even thinking about it that much but there was just something about Percy's presence that made everything just feel easy.

After about an hour, your drawing was done. and not to be selfish but it was amazing. You where naturally a great artist because you where the daughter of Hephaestus. Craftsmanship and art came easy. But nothing this great has ever come from your own hands. You looked up to see where Percy was. If he was still shooting arrows or otherwise. And you did freak out when you realized said boy was coming closer to you. walking your way. and your sketch was out. Your eyes widen and you quickly turn to another page and pretend to be drawing a flower from the other day.

"Hey Y/N. Watchy'a drawing." Percy asks a sits next to you on the tree. "Oh just a flower. Kinda boring but I couldn't think of anything" I smile at him. "No it's beautiful." He points down at a certain spot. "That detail is really impressive." "Thank you. I was watching you uh do archery. I think you're getting better." I say, trying to hold back a slight laugh. "You don't have to lie it's al- wait you where watching me?" Percy says with a small smirk. my face heats up. "Wha- no that's not what I meant. I-I just glanced over there. It's not like that." "Hey hey chill I was just messing with you. " he smiles over at me. "Anyways it was nice talking. I have to get to a meeting real fast. Catch ya later." He said with a quick smile and a wave. "Alrighty bye." I wave back.

Percy didn't have a meeting. He was just so completely and utterly mesmerized by your beauty that he thought if he was there for another second he would go insane. Though, truthfully, Grover did ask for Percy to talk to him about something Percy didn't know what though.

Percy's pov

i made my way to Grover in the dinning area for some late breakfast. I knew he would be in here because well Grover never passes up a good meal. I open up the door and find him there and I make my way over to him. "Hey man, so what was it that you wanted to talk about?" I ask him as I sit across from him at a table. "I know your secret" ".....What secret?" Really, I didn't have any secrets with grover......Except my crus-"I know who you like." oh crap. "What do you mean? I don't like anyone. That's crazy grover." "Oh really? Because when you look at Y/N L/N with those longing eyes, I can tell that that's not true." He smirks at me. Just the mention of her name has got me nervous. And he can definitely tell I'm lying when I say I don't like her. "Oh come on, Percy. You don't have to deny it. You are pretty obvious." "I AM?! DOES SHE KNOW?!" Grover calmly shushes me. "Chill chill. If she didn't already she will now. wow man that was loud." I glared at him "That's not funny, Grover." He laughs "It was a little funny come on." "No but seriously, do you think she knows?" I look at him with a worried expression. "Luckily, no. I think literally everyone else knows but you two are some of the most oblivious people I know" I thought about what he said...and then It hit me. "Wait what do you mean you two? As in also Y/N?" Grover looked nervous for a moment. "Ummm nothing I meant to just say you." Grover was a terrible liar. I knew he was hiding something but I just let it be for now. "Okay. So was this the only thing you had to say?" "Uh yeah yeah that was it." "Alright then. I'm gonna get going. get on with my day"

with that, the two boys separated and they did go on with there day. It was a beautiful day and very relaxing. nothing was really planned so everyone just did there own thing. It wasn't until the bonfire after dinner that things got interesting.

Clarisse pov

Y/N L/N was never on my list. She never did anything great but she never really did anything wrong. But how can I help it when I find out valuable information about someone and not make something out of it. She was out practicing in a field. when I found this information. many people where in this field so it was hard for her to focus on her bag that was strewn over a bench far away from where she was practicing. It was hanging out and I saw a page folded over, presumably so she could come back to it. I found something on that page that I was never expecting but man Could I use this information greatly.

Your pov

I made my way down to the bonfire after dinner. We didn't have these every night but it was kind of a boring day so we decided to have one. I sat down and took my sketch book out and sketch the fire. I had been sitting there for a bit and suddenly my sketch book was snatched out of my hands. "Hey wha-" "Come on Y/N. Come and get it." It was Clarisse. She was taller than me so she used this for her advantage. "Clarisse please give it back." I asked her. "Aw why? Huh.. are you hiding something in here." "Hey come on Clarisse. give it back to her. I looked over and saw Percy. "Percy Jackson. You are just the right person to come over here to help little Y/N." she smirked down at him. "What do you mean Clarisse?" Clarisse flips to a page, with her hands still up in the air. She brings the book down and shows Percy. His eyes widen and I know exactly what she's showing him. I quickly took my sketch and run away. I run to the lake. The same place from this morning but only its dark. The stars shine against the water. I bring my knees up to my chest and sit in my thoughts.

after a few minutes I hear rustling behind me. I assume it's an animal so I don't think about it much but when I hear it again but closer I turn around. Percy. I quickly whip my head back to where I was looking earlier. Not daring to look at him again. "Hey" I hear him say. I don't say anything back. "Hmm we've found ourselves here twice today." He laughs. I can tell he's trying to lighten the mood. I give a small laugh just so he knows I'm alive. "Um so I'm sorry about what Clarisse did. That wasn't fair of her. But the drawing it was-" "Please don't. I don't want your pity. Look, I know it's stupid that I like you. You probably have like ten million girls begging to be with you and i'm just another one. I know all of that so you don't have to feel sorry for-""the drawing was good. I was a great drawing Y/N. I don't think I've ever seen anything like it and you know why it's so amazing? Because It was made by you. You make it ten times more special. I-I like you too. That fact that you made that drawing makes my stomach do flips. I'm thrilled that you drew that." I sit there in silence for a minute. "You..Like me?" "Yes Y/N yes I like you so can I please do this thing that I've been wanting to do since the day I met you? Please let me kiss you." My eyes widen. I nod my head. and he pulls me in.

My day started great and ended great and I can't believe i'm saying this but..Thanks Clarisse!

#percy jackson #x reader #fluff #crush #hephaestus

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woofety · 6 months

Text

I was tagged by @sirtadcooper - thank you!! 😃

Tag someone you want to know AND/OR some of your besties.

(mandatory under the cut because I'm an idiot who can't keep it short to save her life 😅)

Favourite colour: this is an easy one, I'm in an established relationship and still madly in love after so many years with practically every shade of violet/purple that exists! 💜 Maybe I'm slightly more drawn to colder hues, but I'm not really that picky when it comes to this family of colours!

(This is a picture of a portion of wall in my bedroom I have asked to be painted with this shade of violet - which is a bit darker in reality but y' know, artificial light, that corner is way too dark to photograph otherwise... the whole room has various hues of purple scattered around: curtains, decorations, blankets, pillows... here's a special appearance of my beautiful boat lamp! ⛵💕)

Last song: thanks to a suggestion from Youtube, which probably hates me, because I'm still recovering from a flu and generally weak so it would be wise to avoid any kind of unneccessary emotional outburst:

youtube

Not technically a song, but still... I'm not sure if I was crying while watching this because I haven't had the chance to listen to them live yet, since they made a European tour twice but never touched my country and I couldn't travel abroad to see them, or because of... whatever it is that is going on with this performance and these artists, "epicness" to me barely covers it, I know I'm exaggerating but that's how much I love Two Steps From Hell, what can I say... In any case here I am being even more of a mess than I already am, you'd think I have had enough of using handkerchiefs these days! 😭❤️‍🔥

Last movie: I think it was Imagine me & you, which I finally watched after seeing a lot about it here (unpopular opinion no one asked for, I thought I would have enjoyed it more... ☹️)... It was either that or Bros (which I actually enjoyed it more than I expected instead 😁), at the moment I don't remember exactly which came last...

Currently watching: Fellow Travelers as for new shows (fuck me, seriously, what am I doing to myself 😭 - I'm crying quite a bit in this post 😅), rewatching Blackadder after having finished A bit of Fry and Laurie 😆, and sports as well, mainly tennis, padel and basketball atm!

Other stuff I watched this year: Oh my, I didn't watch an awful lot of things, but I'll surely forget something - I'm terrible remembering this kind of stuff (if only it was just these things 😅)! Let's see, in no particular order, I can recall Minx (so far this year the most pleasant surprise in terms of TV series I've watched for the first time, silly [affectionate] little show), Wednesday (it was a bit meh for me, not sure if I'll watch next season), Red, white & royal blue (likely one of my favourite movies this year ❤️... yeah, it's not certainly a big deal of a movie ofc and I'm not even a rom com gal, especially for those Hallmark style movies, like this kinda is, but idk, it was cute and warm and brought good feelings and probably I watched it in the right moment for me, or one on which I just needed good vibes, what can I say), Call me by your name (even more than watching the movie reading the book was... quite an experience - I'm not saying it an entirely bad way, but I'm still so utterly confused about my feelings about this novel), What's love, The kissing booth (don't ask me about this one, the things I do to watch an actor I like 😅 - there's a whole trilogy of it but I only watched the two movies that had in the cast the actor I was interested in, really can't be bothered to do more than that, it was enough suffering I endured 🤣), Only murders in the building, The witcher, National treasure: edge of history (I don't care what anyone says, this show deserved at least another season, it was far from perfect but there has been way worse that still sticks around, and I'm speaking as a fan of the movies foremost, especially the first one, which is one of my comfort movies, as absurd and silly as it is 😊), Shadow and bone, The witcher (as for these, I'll probably keep watching an eventual next season only for some of the cast, because both were an utter disappointment and I wouldn't bother continuing otherwise), let's see, what else, oh yeah, Smiley (this was another nice show tbh, and in this case I could also train my ear a bit on the language since it's in Spanish and I'm trying to learn and improve it 😝) and two other Spanish shows (guilty again for watching mainly for an actor I wanted to see ah ehm), Merlì/Merlì: Sapere Aude and Alguien tiene que morir, and Érase una vez… pero ya no, all pretty much forgettable... I don't know what else, probably there is something more, but I'm making it lenghty already, I should stop anyway!

Shows I dropped this year/didn’t finish: damn, I should make a sheet about tv/movies as I do with books, it's honestly hard remembering what I watched or dropped! I can recall not going through the second episode of Warrior nun: again, another show I was curious about having seen things here on Tumblr, but I didn't feel it after the first episode, I'm not even sure exactly why - it's possible I'll try again someday, it's way too early to have an opinion after only one episode! I also didn't finish Lockwood & co., this one wasn't really for me tbh... I'm not even mentioning something I've been watching only and exclusively because it's a sort of joke I have with a friend of mine... All right, I'll say, it's High School Musical: The musical - the series 😅 Truth is, my friend likes the movies and low key also the series, whereas I hate them all, and she knows they piss me off and she has fun hearing my comments and teasing me about it... I have a bit less fun submitting myself to this "torture" but whatever! 🤣 I try to watch the series when I'm particularly willing to waste my time, because the only reason I'm doing it is to have a laugh with said friend, anyway rn I'm at the last season and it's so bad, sooooooo bad (mind you, meaning it's just not for me, I'm likely too old and too millennial to watch this kind of shows anymore), I don't know how I am supposed to endure any more of it lol!! I guess at some point I'll force myself to finish it to end my suffering and hoping my friend and I will finally close this questionable chapter of our watching experience, but damn it's hard! 😝 As for shows of which I completed a season but didn't watch the next, I could say one was Abbott Elementary: pretty bummed about it because it was actually cute and was enjoying it, I finished the first season when the second didn't air yet and when it did, I had moved on and lost interest a bit and wasn't in the mood to continue my watching (happens to me a lot)... I think at some point I will resume this one, just have to find the right inspiration! 😛 (I'm rather complicated and picky about my watching/reading experience in general, ops) And I have to mention as well, even if it will surely grant me some disapproval from the person who tagged me in this game 😆, I couldn't pick up Our flag means death after the first season as well, and for now I don't think I will resume it: I didn't really feel this show, I don't know what to say... 🤷 Should I mention that I also tried rewatching The Terror but I was like "oh hell no!" after the first episode?! 😅 In my defense I watched it at night, and the show is A LOT and nearly killed me the first time, yeah ok I'm making excuses but I have to be in a certain state of mind to watch certain things and The Terror is one of those cases - I already mentioned I'm complicated with my watching experience, yes?! 😜 Anyway it was a rewatch so it shouldn't count sssshhhh 🤫😁

Currently reading: more like, the books I've put on hold atm, ouch! True that this year, especially in the first half, I've read way more than I expected and definitely way more than I usually do, but that's not an excuse to make a pause - still, I'm realizing that it's been few weeks since I've picked up my readings! Anyway, what I've been reading is Mercanti avventurieri by Attilio Brilli, which collects stories about merchants and their travels and trades through the centuries; Columbus by Lawrence Bergreen, the account of Cristoforo Colombo's voyages in America - not happy enough of ending up horrified and outraged by the chronicle of Magellano's expedition (by the story and events, not the author's writing, which I actually appreciated a lot), I decided to educate myself more about another so called "pioneer" who thanks to his hubris committed terrible atrocities in the name of "progress" and "religion" and "civilization" and so on 😡 , since the little knowledge I have about Colombo comes mainly from my years at school... Despite the fact that my respect for this man is nowhere to be seen, I'm still somehow fascinated by the narration of sea voyages, which in the end are actually my main interest when reading this kind of stories; Atlante delle fortune di mare di Cyril Hofstein, an account of tales about (mis)fortunes at sea, involving incidents, lost treasures, mysterious events, discoveries, disappearances, disasters and so forth - btw, in the book there is this particular chapter:

The disappearance of the Erebus and Terror is the title - the real story is terrifying enough even without creating a fictional horror show inspired by it jfc!

And lastly, this is definitely the less "serious" reading, The Lawrence Browne affair by Cat Sebastian, one of my first attempts at reading "proper" (meaning they're not fanfictions, not that I don't consider those "proper" literature, on the contrary many of them are written far better than some published books I've read, so yeah, I should say "published" instead) erotic novels lmao 😝 This was a whim really, I felt I wanted to read something light, "wicked" and not to be taken seriously (it also was probably some sort of "knee-jerk reaction" to many of the queer books I read this year, which were sad, depressing and/or tragic 😔)! Romance novels are not really my jam in general, but every once in a while they don't hurt, since I'm doing it just for fun! This one is actually the second book of a trilogy, more disappointing than the first book I have to say, which was more "juicy" and entertaining! 😁

Currently listening to: ah, this is a tough one to pinpoint, because lately my Spotify is on shuffle most of the time (I have a folder literally called "Miscellanea" that keeps a bit of everything, it's a glorious mess lol), and my music preferences are rather varied... Let's say that if I have to consciously choose something at the moment, there would certainly be Poets of the Fall, Gaelic Storm, The Irish Rovers, Santiano (in general celtic folk/punk songs, especially if inspired by sea and sailors stories- those are good for all seasons 🥰), Two Steps From Hell, J2 and "epic music" in general, and dance-pop music from '70 to '00, original or remixes, especially when I work out in the last case!

Currently working on: do crosswords count? It's my newest pursuit lol 😆 Because otherwise I'm afraid I'm not working on anything in particular at the moment (and I should start, since I had a couple of ideas for gifts for Christmas that alas, have to be handcrafted in order to be created, and if I want to have them done I am the one who must work on them, ugh can you believe it, outrageous, what has the world come to 😂)... I occasionally do a bit of calligraphy, create costume jewellery or create little macramè things, again usually trinkets but this summer I bought thicker yarns so I could have a go at something a little bigger like coin purses, wallets and little bags, and all in all it didn't go that bad:

The problem is, at least with the purses, that with these dimensions I can't fit half the things I usually bring with me when I go out because "you never know what might happen I might need this thing", so these purses were more like first tries and will likely not be used by me very much because they are too small for my necessities! 😅 In any case, I had to put this activity on hold for a bit because I lacked some time to dedicate myself to it!

Oh, wait, does trying to repair a porcelain ornament that fell on the floor (not because of me, I want to clarify, for once that I don't accidentally bump into stuff and make a mess - which happens more often than I'd like 😅) count? Hardly but whatever, anyway it's going to be complicated to glue the pieces back, some have shattered in such tiny fragments, sigh...

Current obsession: I'm almost shocked to report that at the current moment no particular obsession has consumed my every waking hour 🤣 I mean, even the flame of padel, which I've been following almost religiously all year, has dimmed a little, but it is the end of the season/year, everyone is tired and so am I apparently, rooting for couples who almost never have significant results (story of my life lol), so I guess I'm recharging the batteries for another round of hopeless cheer next year, yay! 🥳 For the rest, in terms of media I believe there is nothing of significance to report in terms of proper "obsession" for the time being, so yeah, that's it 😌 (the times of Black Sails or even Agents of SHIELD are far behind me, I miss being that "obsessed" tbh ☹️)

Tagging @thelifeinmyshadesofgrey , @whitestnoise , @lives-ruined-and-bloodshed, @valentinaonthemoon , @mednay , @tirairgid (ofc if you want to and haven't done it before) and whoever wants to give it a go really!

#about me #tag game #sirtadcooper #how could I make this so loooooooooong gdi I'm sorry I rambled an awful lot 😖#thank you again for thinking of me!

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just-promise-me-jm · 6 months

Text

j'adore dior

youtube

When the members of BTS were first starting to be courted by brands for endorsement deals, I had high hopes for whatever brand would be able to snatch up Jimin.

I am by no means a fashionista in my everyday life, but I am a big fan of fashion and enjoy keeping tabs on what the latest trends are. A sizable chunk of my YouTube history is watching reviews of the latest collections and seeing who wore what best (along with Jimin dance compilations, but that's a post for a different day). Generally speaking, the men's collections are never as eye-catching or as interesting to look at when compared to the women's collections (I'm using gendered terms here because that is typically how they are referred to by the fashion houses, obviously anyone should be able to wear whatever they like and feel comfortable in), and to be honest I've found most men's collections to be pretty underwhelming.

Dior in particular was never a fashion house that I paid much attention to in regards to their men's fashion because I am typically more drawn to their womenswear and accessories (not that I can ever afford them, but a girl can dream and if anyone has a spare Lady Dior bag they don't want please call me). I remember when Jisoo became an ambassador a few years ago and thinking that it was a smart choice to capitalize on her popularity and bring that brand into a whole new market. Designer fashion ain't cheap (obviously) and historically has been targeted towards an older audience because they were the only ones who could afford it. I know lately that has changed quite a bit and I'm happy to see more diversity in who is a spokesperson or ambassador for these brands.

When I saw that Jimin was being announced as their newest global brand ambassador I was so happy that he was going to be with such a reputable brand. I wasn't sure how I would feel about the clothes themselves but figured Jimin could wear a paper bag and look good so it almost didn't matter. What really mattered is that he would be treated like the icon he is and pampered as much as possible (if I can't remind him how amazing he is every day someone needs to).

Seeing the latest campaign photos and videos, it's clear that Dior values him and continues to recognize that he “exemplifies the timeless spirit and singularity of Dior” (source). He brings a freshness and vibrancy to these clothes that is all his own. Seeing any of the same items he wears on the rack or on a model in one of their shows just doesn't have the same impact.

Now no shade to this model whatsoever and obviously I am always going to think Jimin looks the best in something, but I really do think Jimin just adds a certain je ne sais quoi that can't be understated.

I am going to come back on here soon and talk about his work with Tiffany (because tbh that partnership had produced some of my favorite Jimin photos to date) but I will leave you with a few more of my favorite Jimin/Dior images and dream of the day I can afford something from Dior that isn't one of their (overpriced) lip oils.

Au revoir!

(p.s. all French in this post is courtesy of Google, I only speak English and very mediocre Spanish so I apologize in advance if any of the spelling is incorrect)

#bts jimin #jimin #park jimin #dior #Youtube

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maddiem4-writes · 7 months

Text

Lime Slushie

I told y'all I'd write a sequel to that last piece, and yes, it's hornier. In fact, from a literary standpoint, I probably should have broken this into multiple chapters, but I didn't, because I wanted to keep my promise about this being the smut chapter. You're welcome :D

Place yourself in a verdant field, with the distant sounds of children climbing on a playground, a handful of ultimate frisbee players being a little too competitive about it, and the distant sounds of traffic, all seemingly muted by the quiet hum of life itself growing at its calm and everlasting pace. Time stretches on a day like this, but it never thins. There's shade under the trees, for those who want it. Vendors hawking various snacks. And in one particular patch of grass, bathed in sunlight...

A gnat buzzed in my ear, and I shooed it away lazily, drowsy in the sun. God, how I loved the sun. To think I'd ever seriously considered giving it up… the idea felt absurd to me now. The cheap beach towel under me, ratty as it objectively was, felt luxurious pressed between my tan skin and the freshly mowed lawn of La Vista Park. Late spring felt like my birthright, and I soaked it in with the casual entitlement of a queen.

There are certain emotions you eventually give yourself license to, when you get old enough to let go of the bullshit. Certain kinds of confidence, an unwillingness to live by anyone else's standards. My airbrushed purple bikini was starting to look a bit out of date these days, and my body wasn't perfectly trim like a magazine model - but nobody stealing glances at me seemed to be bothered, and neither was I. It wasn't so bad to look younger than I was. Let them look, and let them blush. I didn't mind.

I was laying there like a reptile when I heard him. Even still, there are moments where I think the footsteps are his - my eyes opened a little quicker than I would have liked. But it was just… some guy. Some guy who was clearly attempting to summon a lot of borrowed courage from any generous god or demon willing to oblige. I gave him something that bordered on a smirk. I leaned forward, and broke the ice directly.

"I don't bite, you know. Missed my window for it." I gave him a sweet smile, a generous tableau of canines and incisors.

He sputtered nervously, disposable paper cup shaking in his hand, and the straw shaking even harder. For a moment, anyways. He regained his composure well, and earned a tick more of my attention by doing so. Not just prey, this one. Interesting.

"I was wondering if, maybe, you'd like a slushie from the cart over there. The piña colada's really good. Like…", he struggled visibly with his words, "really really good."

I reached down and picked up a half-empty cup of my own. "Oh, I've got it covered." I took a sip of the bright green slush. "Lime flavor. That's pretty good too."

"Ooh!" he leaned down to examine it. "I didn't see that flavor on the sign."

I winked. "It's my favorite. Reminds me of home. Doesn't taste like actual limes though, it's the artificial, candy kind of lime. When it's sour enough, it makes your mouth water, so it's extra refreshing, you know?" I took another sip, drawing the cup back from his prying eyes, and savored the sensation washing over my tongue. "That's the good shit."

"I'll make a note of that. Especially since summer's just about here. Which… you're definitely dressed for." He blushed a little. Cutie.

"Who am I to argue with the weather? It's a hot day, I might as well dress for it. Life's too short - or, maybe too long - to worry what people think." I leaned forward a little, looked him in the eye. "If anything, I think they like it. If they allow themselves to admit it, that is."

He blushed even redder, but didn't look away. He looked me up and down, like he'd granted himself some permission to do so. "I… I'll admit it, yeah."

I held out my hand to shake. "That makes you more honest than most men I meet. And still polite, in a world where it seems like every guy is just one or the other. Congratulations on riding the line, Mr. ….?"

He seemed to shake out of a trance, a little bit. "Shaw!" He reached out with his slushie-holding hand, caught himself, swapped it to the other hand, and tried again with his now-icy right hand one more time. "Alan Shaw. Pleased to meet you."

I took his hand lightly, and shook. "Elizabeth. Just Elizabeth."

"You don't have a last name?"

"Oh, I do." I grinned at him. "I have it, and I love it, and I'm fiercely protective of it. That's why I keep it all to myself." I realized we'd stopped shaking, and I was still holding his hand. The gentle dappled shadow of the sugar maple leaves swayed over us and back again. He felt so alive, and I felt alive with him.

"Elizabeth, No Last Name Given. Alright." He seemed uncertain, but intrigued. "How about a phone number?"

I laughed. "Nothing in service. You got a phone, though?"

"Yes?"

"Good. Help me up." He lifted me to my feet by my hand. I was unsteady for a moment, I felt like I'd softened in the sunlight, all rubbery-legged. I shook it off, and held my other hand out. "Phone?"

He handed it to me hesitantly. "Who are you calling?"

I didn't look up at him, focusing on the screen. "Nobody. I need to check something, real quick, while I have the chance…" These days everyone's phone was pretty fancy and different from each other, which is not an ideal combination if you're always borrowing phones, but I figured out how to do a web search. I frowned.

He stared at me. "What?"

I shrugged. "Nothing."

He popped his head over before I could stop him. "Wait, what? You a sports fan?"

"Me? I couldn't care less. But my best friend is."

He scratched his head. "Eagles, huh? I don't exactly follow sports myself. I had no idea they were taking off this year. Your friend, are they from Philly?"

I handed back the phone, screen privacy now entirely pointless. "Originally."

He looked at the screen himself. "They must be real excited. A shot at winning the Super Bowl, huh? That's gotta be a huge deal for them."

I pursed my lips and stared off into space. "Couldn't be bigger, honestly."

He finally looked up. "Shit. Sorry. I feel like I just invaded something personal."

I held my arm and looked down. "A bit, yeah. But you can make it up to me."

He stuffed the phone in the pocket of his shorts. "Anything! You name it. I really didn't mean to step in your private life or anything like that."

I looked up a little, at the markings just visible at the edges of his sleeves. "Anything, huh?" My mind raced, and I answered recklessly. "Then take me home with you."

"…what?"

"Not tonight. Not some scheduled date night you'll never show up to. Take me home now, or nothing." I had to look like I wasn't concentrating. Beach towel. Lime slushie. Hold in position. It was no wonder to me now why I'd felt a magnetism to this man. The risk and the reward were both astronomical, and I was going to chance it. If I was very lucky, this Alan guy would think with his dick. If not…

"N- now?" Come on. "Literally right now?" Yes. Just say yes. "With me?" You're the one, pal.

I shrugged and started rolling up my towel, putting it under my arm. "It's a one-time offer. If you're not interested, that's fine…" I was cursing profusely in my head. "But I'm heading home either way. So better make up your mind fast. I'm a busy woman, not lacking in options."

I think I saw him sweating. The towel wasn't so hard to maintain while I was touching it. I gave him a few seconds to look me over, and picked a direction for "home" in case I needed to take the bluff further. I slurped down the rest of my slushie, and began walking to the nearby trash bin. "Last chance," I said, tossing the empty cup in.

He looked around, debating with himself. "Fuck it. My place isn't fancy, but it isn't far either. Come on." He wasn't even parked far away. Cheap little beige sedan. Perfect.

The buildings passed by out the window, familiar to me by now after a long residence. I watched them go by, then turned to smile at my driver, who was stealing glances at my body. I winked, pulled down my top briefly, and told him: "that's all you get until we get there. Don't crash."

He grinned and saluted me. "Yes, ma'am!" And then turned his attention to the road just in time to slam on the brakes for a red light. God, I couldn't wait to see him naked.

His apartment was a basement with outdoor steps. It smelled damp and earthy, with a bit of fresh grass poking through the mud of the "lawn" that had long since become a walkway to the concrete stairs. There's a musty smell that all basements have, that got stronger as we walked down, and while I didn't mind it, it made me very glad I hadn't died in a basement.

He fiddled with the keys, until they jangled the lock open, and he rushed inside. Good boy. I walked in, and couldn't help but grin. I'd come to the right place, and it was obvious by the… decor. The books left open, the posters with sharpie corrections. I shut the door quietly behind me.

He was frantically trying to clean the place at the last second, apologizing for the mess, and I put my hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and I guided him to standing face to face with me, my finger on his lips. "It's alright. I like the mess. Leave it be."

His breath caught. "Okay."

I leaned in and I kissed him, tongue snaking around his, exploring him. His hands, somewhere between the roughness of a gardener and the softness of a scholar, started tentatively at my hips, then up my torso along the sides, then touching my breasts. Every second he was more urgent, or confident, or both. I reveled in it.

He broke free to breathe. "You taste like lime," he said, almost second-guessing his senses.

"And you taste like piña colada." He had scruffy brown hair, a little too long and shaggy, and I brushed it away as I caressed his face. "You were right. It's really, really good."

He gasped, and worked his fingers under my bikini top, grasping and groping, massaging my nipples. I began to unbuckle his belt with my hands. I soon had it free, and I broke off from kissing him again, and got on my knees for him. I prayed a thank you for the knockoff Persian rug beneath us, softer than the concrete below it, and slid his shorts down.

He was already hard, and I hadn't even done my due diligence of stroking him through the fabric. I knew I'd make up for that in a moment. At least from the waist down, his body was on display for me, and I liked what I saw. He was thin, and his cock was an average length and girth, but his legs had some tone to them, and the scratches on them… yes. I gave him one last look, and I think I must have been adorable, looking him in the eyes as I slid my tongue from his scrotum, up the shaft, all the way to the tip. He shuddered and leaned back against the bookcase behind him as I slid my lips down the length of him. He was salty and delicious.

And by god did I make it worth his while, and mine. I felt him on my whole tongue every time I got all the way down to the base. Up, down, up, down, feeling his fingers entwine in my hair. Hearing his sweet moans. I stopped halfway down, and worked him with my tongue inside my mouth, and I felt him grab a shelf of the bookcase to avoid crumpling to the floor. Emboldened, I pursed my lips for stiffness, so he wouldn't feel my teeth, and I sucked hard, and began bobbing my head like that. I wouldn't have cared if I made him cum then and there. I was lost in it.

His grip tightened on my head, and I knew what was coming next. I reminded myself that the need to breathe was an illusion for me. I couldn't get deader, at least, not this way. Fellatio is always an act of service, but it can seamlessly switch back and forth who's in control, and that's the beauty of it. Alan took control, and started forcing my head down onto him, fucking my face in its pretty little hole. I let myself go limp, even gag. I let him have his way with me. I became an object for his desire. If I'd been alive, I might have stopped him, but by now I'd had some practice pushing my limits.

When he finally pulled me off of him, I had tears running down my face, and a river of spit running out of my mouth and down my chin, with little threads still connecting to the sloppy drench of saliva on his penis. And I was smiling. I was proud. I looked up at him, messy and beaming. My voice was a bit hoarse and wet as I told him: "You can fuck me now, if you want."

He wanted.

He picked me up, hands under my armpits, and threw me against the bed so that I tripped and fell backwards onto it. He towered over me, with that look in his eyes. Knowing he was doing something wrong, something I wanted, something he could barely admit to wanting himself. I should have known he'd be rough with me. He peeled his shirt off, and I gasped. He truly was exactly what I was looking for.

I untied my top and threw it off, and was working off my bikini bottom when he put his hand on my chest and pushed me flat down on the bed. It was only when I went limp for him again that he took the hand back off, and used both hands to slide my panties off of me. He caught me by surprise by burying his face in my pussy, and I put a hand over my mouth to catch my own scream as his tongue slid inside me. His nose was rubbing my clit, and I used my other hand to grip his cotton sheets - a few weeks overdue for washing, and rich with the smell of him - writhing as he tortured me with pleasure.

He just kept going deeper, and then he started using his fingers… he crooked them upwards, finding that spot on the roof, and he stroked along the ridges. He moved his mouth to suck gently on my clit while he fingerfucked me. My body felt like it was on fire, and I moaned loudly. I was helpless to him.

Time seemed to stretch, I don't know how long he did that to me, but it was heaven. But when he stopped, he wiped his face on his arm, like he'd just finished up at a drinking fountain. He scooted me back on the bed. I looked up at him, feeling almost dizzy, so hungry for him to be inside me. He teased my clit with his cock once…. twice…. and then slid all the way in.

He'd lulled me back into a false sense of security with that detour into oral. His lust was greedy and aggressive, and he fucked me like he was trying to fuck the life out of me. I stared up into his eyes, my own glassing over, my brain being rattled into a submissive haze. He held me by the shoulders and drilled himself into me over and over and over again. At one point, he grabbed one of my breasts and fondled it, but the other kept bouncing with the power of his thrusts.

His breathing became harder, more jagged. I tried to nod, but my head was already being shaken up and down too much for it to be noticeable. He was going to cum inside me, and I wanted that so bad. Not for any plan, or ulterior motive. Just for me. Just to feel him do it. He fucked me harder, faster, pushing himself. I felt overstimulated and beyond the reach of reality. He took me for his own. It felt like a flood inside my pussy. I wasn't surprised that he was pent-up, but jesus. It lubricated him further as he kept fucking me, until his muscles spasmed with the roll of the orgasm, and he collapsed onto me, his weight cementing me under him, his cock plugging me full of his seed and preventing a single drop from escaping.

The sudden ending set me off in another orgasm, and I wished I'd been counting, but I'd got lost in the whirlwind of it all. I shook under him, and wrapped my legs around him, holding him even tighter. As close as a person can be. The thought flitted briefly in my head that maybe, just maybe, I'd underestimated my own loneliness. I didn't allow that thought to stay long. I just held him inside me.

We stayed like that for a long time. Interlocked, intersected, whole in a way we couldn't have been individually. We rested like that. When he finally pulled out of me, I lost control of my muscles again for a moment, shivering with stimulation. He rolled over next to me, wrapped his arms around me, and held me from the side. I looked over at him.

He couldn't look me in the eye, even as he held tight to me for comfort. When he finally spoke up, he said, in a simple statement of fact: "they don't sell lime flavor at the cart."

I shook my head. "No." And after a pause: "You've been carving runes in your skin, haven't you?"

He sighed and nodded.

I smiled. "I can show you the memory if you like. And you tell me what you're up to. Just… get dressed first."

He sat up, looking out a thin and pale-blue window of his basement home. "You say that like we both haven't made some huge mistake."

I put my hand on his shoulder blade. It lived up to its name on a thin guy like him, angular and defined. "We haven't. Or at least, I don't think we have. I think we've laid the groundwork to a very mutually beneficial partnership."

"Oh yeah?" he said sarcastically, pulling on a pair of jeans that had been crumpled at the foot of the bed. "Not getting any results in the Ghost4Sorceror section of Craigslist?" But there was a bit of playfulness in the tone. That's how I really knew. Got 'em. I knew you couldn't say no.

"Don't be an ass, hear me out. You tell me your thing, I'll tell you mine. We help each other. Friends with extensive benefits, what's not to love?" My towel and bikini had disappeared… probably an hour ago. My concentration had been elsewhere. I stood up, closed my eyes, and remembered:

SUMMER DAY. AUGUST. LATE 80'S. I WAS WAITING IN LINE AT THE BANK. I WAS WEARING A-

I opened my eyes, dressed in a red skirt and frilly orange top. The outfit had made me feel like a marigold flower, and made enough of an impression that I could remember it clearly, down to the shiny black heels. I felt fresh and clean.

Alan blinked. "That's fucking spooky."

I shrugged. "I'm a spook. And, well, you did just fuck me."

He wrestled his way into an uncooperative graphic tee, boasting a faded and pockmarked Led Zeppelin logo. "True and true. And for the record, I have no problem with spookiness. Obviously. I'm just trying to figure out which kink I've gotten myself into - interspecies, or necrophilia."

I waggled my finger in front of him. "Nuh-uh. Monsterfucker."

He stared at the ceiling in thought. "I can live with being a monsterfucker. Ah, crap, shoes…."

I laughed and offered my hand. "Don't need 'em! But… hold on.'"

He stared at me warily. "Why? Is it like, I'm gonna fall down the vortex of space and time, or fly across the city, or…"

I grabbed his hand. "No, dumbass, it just doesn't work if you let go." I closed my eyes and called up the same memory I had hours ago, when I was settling in at the park this morning.

JULY 4, 1982. SYRACUSE, NEW YORK. I WAS ELEVEN YEARS OLD AND MY DAD TOOK ME TO-

#maddiem4 #writing #elizabeth maroney

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