#lemon laments

[localanimethottie]

Bratty MC x Lucifer

Summary: MC tells Lucifer to go get some bitches and pays dearly for it

WARNING: NSFW // SMUT

*Lucifer lecturing everyone in the the group chat*

MC: How about you stfu + stop lecturing us and go get some bitches 💀🫵

Satan: 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

*Satan screen shots*

Beleghor: 😂

Mammon: 😭

Beelzebub: 😰 Mc……

Leviathan: 😆 LMAOO LOLLLLLL MC YOUR SO DEAD

Asmodeus: Maybe we can pick up some together but I’d more than happy to act as a replacement Lucifer 😘😘

*Lucifer is typing…*

*Lucifer stopped typing*

MC: Ha! He actually stopped. I bet h-

Lucifer broke down MC door and appeared in full demon form raging.

“I believe we need to have a little talk about your behavior MC…”

“In my room NOW!” Lucifer scoffed

Within Lucifer room…

“This is utterly ridiculous, pure immature” Lucifer says with his per usual angry face. You sigh as you watch him folding his arms and continue scolding you.

“I mean what do you hope to accomplish by that messily attempt at a joke?! And using in inappropriate language in the chat!” Lucifer just grows more frustrated and disappointed in you.

However you didn’t give a shit and proceeded to provoke him.

“If your embarrassed just say that” you look at him with the smug look. Lucifer had a slight blush but Immediately furrowed his eyebrows in anger. “ME?! getting angry at your debilitated joke? Please don’t make me laugh”

“You still get no bitches”

Lucifer grows more angry and grabbed you by your arms pulling you very close to him. “Look I know what your trying to do.” Lucifer looks deep within your eyes and you couldn’t help but blush within his arms.

“You want my attention that bad you tried to embarrass me.” Lucifer brings his face closer to yours smiling cockily.

“Just look at your face reddening when barely doing anything to you” Lucifer laughs. “We both know your mines so why pretend?”

“How about you lay there on my bed with your legs open and I’ll be happy to give you the attention your desperately seeking” Lucifer now shooting you with his signature bed room eyes.

Your now biting your lips. The truth is…. He was correct you and him haven’t had sex in a while and you were sexually frustrated.

“O-okay, I love you…Lucifer” You said as you swiftly laid on your back maintaining eye contact with him.

He couldn’t help but blush but your feelings were more than reciprocated. “I love you too Mc, truly and deeply”

He made his way to where you was and you both shared a steamy passionate make out session within each-other arms. One thing led to another and before you know it you were completely nude as he fingers your tight little hole. You moaned against his lips as he begins to kiss down your jawline.

Lucifer was a passionate/ affectionate lover and he will make sure you get it GOOD.

An hour later…

“AHHhh Lucifer please~” you moaned loudly as Lucifer held up your legs as he pounds into you rubbing your clit. You sung his name in praise and he eats it up loving how you moan his name. “Lucifer~ ah” you moaned again with your tongue out. “Oh fuck mc you feel so good”, he grunts going down to suck the soul out your face.

You were already stuffed to the brim with cum and overstimulated.

“I c-can’t take a-anymore ahhh~ you feel so good~”

“Just a little bit more” through thoes words he grunts as he is now holding your waist pounding insanely fast into. Skin continues to make clash together as nothing but sweet moans could be heard from the both of you.

You were way too fucked out to care how you look. Your tongue was out of your mouth with drool exiting. Your eyes rolled back as you could think nothing but pleasure.

Lucifer does final last pumps into you and you quickly reacted with moaning his name.

Lucifer bites his lips and pushes deep within you and came.

Both are you are breathless but passionate kissing eachother with rather few words to say.

“I love you mc” Lucifer says smiling and hugging you

“I love you too Lucifer” you say matching his affectionate energy.

You both sit there for a while, then got all cleaned up, and cuddled the night away.

Lucifer acquired 1 bitch. That bitch was you.

Achievement unlocked: Become Lucifer’s bitch

@lucifurenjoyer @draconicfaenerd

#obey me #obey me boys #obey me brothers #obey me fanfic #obey me lore #obey me lucifer #obey me spoilers #obey me smut #obey me cards #obey me house of lamentation #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lemon #obey me fandom #lucifer obey me #lucifer morningstar #lucifer

[the-king-of-lemons]

#lol its the meow button i spammed it a bit #nd bc it counts as activity it adds to whatever counts for biggest fans #lemons laments

[dioptre-hertz]

pictured: my back yard before and after i picked up all these lemons. does anybody want a lemon? may i offer anybody a lemon?? for the love of god please does anybody want a lemon

#lemon #lemon situation #lemon post #cave johnson side of tumblr #lemon lament

[lemony-zest]

' Right, let's see if there's any real merit to this.. askblog business. '

' The name's Lemon-ler, but address me however you like.

' I hope we can get well acquainted. '

#newler #lemon's laments #lemon-ler #lerkimpails #onceler askblog

[call-me-lemon]

If yall died and started haunting a womans restroom like Moaning Myrtle from transphobia the series what would be yalls complaining ghost name?

I think mine would be Bitching Bunny

(Idea from something only tangentially related)

#lamenting lemon is also an option #harry potter #toilet bound hanako kun

[ionlylikemycat]

it’s just this. for hours. at varying volumes to anyone he can find

and yes my sister is watching owl house in the background

#the owl house #lemon speaks #mochi the cat #mochiiiiiii #bc everyone needs to know #needs to hear his cries #his laments #life is so hard when you’re constantly loved and fed and cared for #woe is moe

[lemonadesoda]

if anyone could ever replicate the gooey, stretchy crunchiness of stim slimes/foam without the Melting part, i think they should get a nobel prize. man, that crunching feel, there's nothing else like it. but then it melts :(

#also i think the glue slime part starts literally just slowly evaporating or something? #idk my slimes would steadily decrease in volume even prior to Melting Point #i miss my slimes #they were expensive stim substances tho #so i havent bought any in years #and they would melt even faster in the tropics here #i wish refrigerating didnt completely destroy the texture too #anyways thats my lament about slime thanks for coming #life with Lemon

[softspiderling]

rafe cutting up fruit in the kitchen from the valentine's day i love you prompts??

prompt: shoulders hunched over a chopping board, carefully dissecting fruit to deliver it to you in a bowl from the valentines "i love you" prompts

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The other side of the bed was cold when you woke up, which was odd. Usually, you had to be the one dragging Rafe out of the bed, when he didn't have any plans in the morning, always lamenting that he "needed his beauty rest". You checked your phone to see if he left you any messages that he had to run out, but nothing.

"Huh," you muttered to yourself, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and getting out of bed. You considered trying to call him as you made your way downstairs, pausing when you heard cluttering from the kitchen.

"... Rafe?"

The cluttering stopped and you heard Rafe curse under his breath, your lips curling up in a grin as you stood frozen on the stairs.

"You think you can give me like, five more minutes, baby?"

"Trying to hide your side piece?"

You could basically see Rafe rolling his eyes at you, and you bit back a laugh.

"Feeling like a real comedian today, huh?"

"I'm hilarious, actually," you deadpanned, padding towards the kitchen, only stopping when Rafe called out your name, almost pleading.

"Five minutes. "

Sighing softly, you tipped your head back in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Just- Go back to bed. I'll be right up. Five minutes, I swear."

"Fine," you sighed, turning back around. "Not a second longer, Cameron, you hear me?"

You headed back upstairs, stopping by the bathroom to brush your teeth and tame your hair, before you crawled back into bed, checking the time. Even though you had just threatened to return back downstairs as soon as the five minutes were up, you decided to be less of a menace for once, scrolling on the phone until you heard Rafe coming back upstairs. You were all ready to tease him as soon as he stepped into the bedroom, but your words died in your throat when he came in, back first, turning to face you with a breakfast tray in his hands.

"Rafe..." you said softly, eyes wide as he slowly placed the tray on the bed. Pancakes, fruit salad, coffee, bacon, even orange juice were spread out in front of you.

"Morning baby."

He kissed you on the cheek before sitting back, grinning brightly at you.

"You hungry?"

You only nodded dumbly, opening your mouth when he lifted a spoon full of fruit salad and you almost moaned when the tiny pieces of fruit hit your tongue.

"Oh my god, this is amazing."

"Touch of lemon juice and honey does wonders," Rafe said, eating a spoon himself, but you only narrowed your eyes at him.

"Did you do this yourself?"

Rafe gave you a look and you gave him one back, lifting the bowl of fruit salad, as if to make your point.

"You cannot seriously tell me that you cut all this fruit up yourself. And made pancakes."

"You sound surprised."

You snorted, putting the bowl back down. "Didn't you guys have a cook and everything in the prime time? Sue me for thinking you're helpless in the kitchen."

"Well, joke's on you for underestimating a Kook," he teased, handing you a coffee mug, which you sipped you accepted, holding it carefully. "I uh.... Used to make breakfast for my dad. Me and Sarah. He always thanked Sarah like she did it all on her own and never said a word to me, so after a while I just... Stopped. But I figured you'd be a little more grateful than him."

Holding your mug, you stared at Rafe, your heart almost breaking for the poor boy in front of you.

"Rafe..."

He looked up and huffed, shaking his head. "Stop looking at me like that. 's fine, I got you now, right?"

"Of course," you said with a big smile, picking up a strip of bacon with your hand, to which Rafe only pulled a face.

"God, you can never take the Pogue out of a girl, can you?"

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a/n: it was so easy to go down the route of rafe not knowing how to do anything in the kitchen except destroy it but i took a diff approach heheheh thanks anon for the request i hoped you liked it!! inbox is open my friends!! also tagging @sunderlust bc i can

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #drew starkey

[the-marshals-wife]

New Horizons (Arthur Curry x Reader)

A/N: Requested by @dantes-devil-huntress. I can't believe this is my first Aquaman fic! This was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

Premise: Trying to figure out his place in the world as the newly crowned king of Atlantis, Arthur meets someone who may just help him find the answers he looking for.

Description: Arthur Curry/Aquaman x Fem!Reader (Human), meet-cute fluff! | Warnings: alcohol, mild language | Setting: AU w/o Mera endgame, before The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 3,468

Edit: here's my Orm Marius x Reader fic for my fellow Orm girlies ;)

Gif credit: user jasonmomoaonline

Imagine Arthur giving you shelter when you're stranded in a storm, and discovering his true identity

Getting stood up for your date had been the worst part of the night, until the moment you got into your car. Instead of the engine turning over and sputtering to half-life like usual, it only stalled.

"You have got to be kidding me," you say, gripping the steering wheel and turning the key until you thought it might snap, "Come on, come on, come ON!"

Throwing open your door, you pop the hood and stumble back out into the chilled night. You mutter curses under your breath as you survey the labyrinth of steel and hoses before you.

"At least nothing's on fire this time," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

You step back and stare at the bucket of bolts the salesman had called "like new." Besides coming to this bar, buying this car was quite possibly your biggest regret. It wasn't quite a lemon, but it wasn't a Rolls either. And most of all, it was all you could afford.

You exhale, glaring up at the flickering light of the bar's neon sign. The last thing you wanted to do after waiting nearly two hours alone like a fool was show your face inside again. You retrieve your phone from your back pocket, just to see the blinking bars in the top corner. No service.

"Wonderful," you groan.

Like a bad joke, thunder rolls in the distance. You look up to see the lightning flashing on the horizon across the bay. The brisk, salt air rises up from the water and cuts right through you.

"Could this night get any better?!" you lament, an angry shriek escaping your lips as you kick the front tire.

"Excuse me, Miss?" a voice from behind interjected.

You jump and turn to see a man approaching, nervous smile on his bearded face. You appraise him wearily: tall, dark, and not at all lacking in style, clad in both leather and jewelry. He looked a sight better than the drunken fishermen you'd observed stumble about the bar, which you concluded was about ninety-percent of the clientele. Even from where he stood, he certainly seemed to smell better.

"Uh, I don't mean to interrupt, but you sound like you might need some help," he offers hesitantly.

Despite your initial scare, something about him puts you at ease.

"Oh, um...yeah, actually" you smile embarrassed, tucking your hair behind your ear, "My stupid car won't start. Again."

"Mind if I take a look?" he asks, pointing.

"Would you? That would be great, honestly," you say, folding your arms against the cold, "I just had it in the shop last week. I have no idea what's wrong now."

He pats the fender as he circles around to the front, "Let's see what's got you all clammed up here, buddy."

"Your guess is as good as mine," you say exasperated, stepping to stand behind him a ways.

He chuckles and pushes up his sleeves, ducking underneath the hood. You take note of the intricate tattoos, realizing this friendly stranger was becoming more interesting by the minute.

"Hmm, nope. Not that," he says, craning his neck, "Not that either."

You bite your lip and sway on your feet, silently praying he could find the source of the problem. Any easy fix was probably too much to hope for, but your fingers stayed mentally crossed nonetheless.

"Ooh, maybe- no, definitely not," he says, followed by a clinking sound, "That should not be there."

"I really appreciate this," you say after a moment, peering over his shoulder, "I can change the wipers and put on a spare if I have to, but that's about the extent of my car expertise."

"No shame in that," he grunts, his voice strained, "Oof, now that might be a problem."

"Did you find something?" you dare to ask.

"These spark plugs are kaput. Like, 'not even a necromancer can bring them back' kind of kaput."

"The guy said they were fine!" you exclaim, "I knew I shouldn't have gone back to that place. Probably just took my money and laughed."

The man finally stands up and winces.

"And your alternator is on its last leg," he says with a grimace, "Even if you could get it to start, I wouldn't go more than five miles in this thing."

"Great. That's just wonderful," you sigh, shaking your head, "Well, thank you for looking. It'd have taken me forever to figure that out. Google only goes so far."

"No problem, wish I had better news for ya," he says, wiping his grease-tinged hands on his jeans before extending one towards you, "I'm Arthur, by the way."

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Arthur."

"Nice to meet you too."

Despite your frustration, you couldn't help but grin. As Good Samaritans go, he was quite a handsome one. Something in the back of your mind whispered that you had seen his face before, but you couldn't place when or where.

Before you could speak again, a bolt of lightning strikes just across the harbor, followed swiftly by a crash of thunder.

Arthur looks off to the darkened horizon, his expression souring with concern.

"Storm's coming in fast," he observes, the sea breeze blowing through his long, sun-kissed hair, "Do you have someone you can call to come pick you up?"

He turn back to you, and only now do you notice just how rich and golden eyes his eyes are. For a few dizzied seconds, you forget to answer.

"Uh, not really. I'm pretty new to the area. I don't know very many people," you reply, feeling shy all of a sudden, "I can just call a Uber or something. If my service ever picks up."

"Yeah, definitely," he nods, clearing his throat, "They have a phone inside."

"Thank you again for helping me, Arthur," you say, starting to walk towards the door.

"I didn't really help, though..." he trails off, disappointment in his voice as you step past him.

Your hand is almost on the handle when he pipes up.

"Uh, look I know you don't know me, but my dad's place is just down the road from here. He's the lighthouse keeper. Him and my mom are actually away on little retreat, and I'm watching the place for them," he explains, "It's dry, warm, and definitely has a lot less drunk guys. You could wait there while the storm passes, if you wanted."

You turn back to him, trying to conceal your renewed hope, "I couldn't impose on you like that."

"Oh you wouldn't be. It's just me and the dog. He's probably getting sick of me at this point. He could use a visitor," he chuckles, "But I understand if you'd rather stay here. Strange guy at a bar invites you to a lighthouse on a dark and stormy night. Sounds like a horror movie, I know."

You laugh, and so does he, bringing some much needed levity.

"I'll bring you right back if you change your mind, just say the word," he adds, sounding truly sincere.

Almost everything in you was saying not to trust a man you'd just met, but your gut was telling you otherwise. There was more to the warmth in his eyes than just the color.

"Well, it does sound like the dog could use some company," you say thoughtfully.

Arthur smirks. "Oh yeah. There's been a Hell's Kitchen marathon on for days, and I'm pretty sure he's sick of listening to my Gordon Ramsay impression. I can't resist, love that guy."

"I might have to hear that for myself."

"Let's get you out of this weather, and we'll see what I can do about that, then," he says with a wink, "My ride is just over here."

Not even the chilled wind could overcome the warmth of your cheeks. The excitement in your chest grows with every step as you follow him across the sandy lot. The ride in question, however, soon comes into view, and the knot in your stomach tightens all the more.

"Oh boy," you say, staring at the motorcycle.

"You're not scared of bikes are you?" he questions, stepping alongside it and reaching into the black saddlebag.

"Not exactly," you hesitate, "I've just never been on one before."

He pulls out a red, half helmet and offers it to you.

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall off," he replies, amused.

You look between him and the headgear a moment before taking it.

"Besides," he says, swinging his leg over the seat, "All you have to do is hang on."

With no argument to make, and rain drops beginning to sprinkle down, you pull your hair back and fasten the helmet on. You nearly lose your balance trying to throw your leg over, having to grab his shoulder to steady yourself. He didn't seem to mind; you could have sworn you heard him snicker. You settle into the seat, heart racing from being so close to him. More anxious than ever, you lightly place your hands on his back.

"All good back there?" Arthur asks, a smile in his voice.

"All good," you repeat, unconvincingly.

"Alright then," he says, turning the key.

Seconds later, the motorcycle roars to life as he revs the engine. Arthur eases the bike back slowly, pivots out of the lot, and eases it up to the main road. The instant he accelerates, the force kicks you backward. You throw your arms around his torso, pulling yourself against him. Over the noise of the machine, you weren't sure if the rumbling in your ear that followed was thunder or laughter, but you figured was the latter.

With the bar now behind you, and the rain coming down harder with the increasing speed, you bury your face into his back and hold on tightly.

♆

The lighthouse comes into view just as the skies open up. Arthur maneuvers the bike up the slippery, sand driveway and quickly shuts it off. He gives you his hand as you climb off and leads you toward the house.

The helmet offers some protection from the downpour, but the wind blows the spray into your face as you squint to see. Lightning above illuminates the world like daylight as you scramble up onto the porch.

Arthur throws the front door open and lets you in first as you stumble inside the dark house. You take a few blind steps forward as he slams it shut behind him, thunder making the windows rattle.

"Man, someone must have really pissed off Thor," he laughs. His relief, however, is turned to exasperation as you hear a clicking sound followed by a sigh.

"Power's out. Awesome."

Still trying to catch your breath, you pull out your phone, struggling with wet fingers to use touchscreen. Finally the flashlight turns on, and Arthur throws his hand up over his eyes as you accidentally shine it right at his face.

"Sorry," you pant, pointing it down.

"No worries. That's a good idea, actually. I always forget about this thing," he remarks, grabbing his own phone and doing the same, "One second, I think Pops has some candles in the kitchen."

You nod as he disappears into the next room. Now remembering the dripping helmet on your head, you release the strap with your free hand and set it down on the mat beside the door. A shiver goes through you from your soaked clothes. You point your phone about the shadowy room to get your bearings, admiring the otherwise cozy living area. As you sweep the light downward, something large and metallic glints on the coffee table in front of the sofa and catches your eye. You move closer to get a better look, and then your heart drops to your feet. Lying beside a bag of jerky and the TV remote is a massive, gleaming trident of gold. A memory flashes through your mind of an article you'd seen weeks ago, with a fuzzy photo of an alleged aquatic hero holding a weapon just like it. The pieces come together all at once as you realize the identity of your host.

The very next second, you hear Arthur's approach. He returns with a lit candle in each hand and a blanket under his arm, only to find your expression of complete and utter shock.

"You...you're..." you stammer.

"Oof, I knew I forgot to put something away," he cringes, "My bad."

"You're the Aquaman," you gape, finding the words.

"Surprise," he says in a sing-song voice, flashing a nervous smile, "Yeah, I never really know how to bring that up.

You stare at him dumbfounded as he places the candles on the coffee table. "I can't believe it. Aren't you supposed to be like...well, in Atlantis or something?"

"I was, earlier this morning. Just about died of boredom in council meetings," he says matter-of-factly, proceeding to talk as if he had a desk job, "I'm kinda part-timing right now, between land and sea. It's complicated. I'm still new to the whole 'king' thing. Don't have all the kinks worked out yet."

"I'd imagine," you breathe, your mind still reeling.

"Here, figured you need this." He holds out the blanket, completely unphased by the previous subject, "Do you drink tea? I can make some for you."

You take the blanket and chuckle in bewilderment. "Um, sure. That would be great," you answer, "Thank you."

"One tea coming up," he smiles, "Uh, just make yourself comfortable, I'll get the fire going here a minute, after I find the dog. Pretty sure he's hiding under Pops' bed upstairs. He's terrified of storms. Ironic right? Lighthouse keeper's dog afraid of a little water."

"I don't blame him this time," you say, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, "I think you were right about Thor."

As if on cue, another boom of thunder shakes the walls. You both burst out laughing.

♆

A few minutes later, you find yourself sitting on the floor in front of a roaring fire with a warm mug in your hands, finally beginning to feel dry. Having been unsuccessful in coaxing the dog into joining him downstairs, Arthur settles down beside you crossed-legged, damp hair tied up, trading the tea for a can of Guinness. Your thoughts rage like the storm outside as you stare into the flames, agonizing about what you should say.

Arthur speaks a moment later, saving you the trouble.

"Sorry about the power. I'll call you that cab as soon as it comes back."

"That's okay, I'm not in a hurry," you reply.

You look over at him hopefully, meeting his piercing gaze for as long as you can. Mere seconds pass before you bow your head, heart racing while you repress a smile.

"I'm uh, sure you've got some questions about all this," he ventures, rubbing the back of his head.

"Honestly, with the night I've had, meeting 'Aquaman' is par for the course," you smirk.

"I didn't mean to spring it on you like that. I guess you can understand why I don't lead with the whole King of Atlantis thing. Kinda makes it hard to keep a conversation going once people know you 'can talk to fish.' They don't really see you the same after that."

"Yeah, I think I'd probably keep that to myself too," you agree, the awe returning full-force, "Still, it must be amazing. I mean, you're basically ruler of the ocean, right? Or is it just Atlantis?"

"Eh, I mean there's the other kingdoms-"

"There's more?!" you blurt out, wide-eyed.

"Oh yeah. Xebel, the Fishermen, the Brine, a couple of defunct ones no one wants talks about. We got a few."

"And you're the ruler over all of them?"

He shrugs. "More or less. I mean, they each have their own ruler. But then I'm also over them? Kinda? I'm still figuring crap out, they didn't exactly give me a rule book on my first day. Plus I have answer to this royal council and they've got sticks up their butts about everything I do and say," he groans, rolling his eyes, "I like to consider myself more of a 'protector of the deep' than a ruler. Sounds more cool, and less like an old fart with a crown."

You giggle, hanging on every his every word.

"And with this bad boy right here," he says, reaching behind him and patting the trident, "I command all life in the sea. The animals anyway. Between you and me, that's the best part."

"You definitely have a cooler job than me," you beam.

"It definitely has its perks. But most of the time, I'd rather be here," he sighs, punctuated by a swig of his beer.

A visible sadness washes over him as he looks into the fire.

"You aren't from Atlantis?" you question.

"No, I was raised by my father. My parents met on accident. My mother was queen of Atlantis, and she ran away from her not-so-nice guy fiancé. She got lost in a storm, and my father rescued her. They've always said it was..."

Arthur stops and turns his gaze towards you, realization in his eyes.

Your heart skips as you understand. "Fate?"

He nods thoughtfully. "Something like that."

You blink, letting him go on.

"Anyway, I know I have a calling to the sea, but the land is always going to be a part of me, you know?" His expression softens. "Here, I've always found everything I need."

His words linger in the air between you. You look down at your hands, your chest pounding.

He clears his throat. "Sorry, I know that was a lot of info."

"Just a little bit," you reply teasingly, "But your secret's safe with me, Arthur. I promise. I've got no one to tell anyway."

"Don't worry, I trust you," he says, waving his hand, "It's actually nice to have someone else to share it with."

"I'm honored that you did. I know it's not the same, but I do understand what it's like to feel that you don't belong," you confess, "I didn't fit in my 'kind' either. Moved out here to start over. I guess you could say I'm still trying to figure some crap out too."

He pauses in thought second before responding, "Do you mind if I ask you something, Y/N?"

"After everything I've asked you? I'd say it's definitely your turn," you chuckle, taking a sip of your forgotten tea.

"I saw you at the bar before you went outside. I couldn't help but notice that you were there by yourself..."

"You noticed correctly. I was supposed to meet someone for a date, but after saying he was on his way, he never showed. I tried to text him, but he blocked me. I don't even know why."

"Nothing like being stood up at some backwater bar," he concludes, frowning, "Well, screw that guy. He's a bum."

"Yeah, I figured that out too late," you agree, then give him a knowing look, "The evening wasn't a total loss. I did meet you, after all."

"That's true," he concedes, playfully stroking his beard, "I may be a half-breed rookie king, but I'm not a bum."

You snort and gesture to the television set on your right, "So much for your marathon though, huh?"

"Ah, that's alright. They were all re-runs anyway."

You raise your eyebrow. "Think I could still hear that impression?"

He holds a finger to his chin in mock deliberation, "Hmmm, have I had enough to drink for that?

"I don't know, have you?" You lean in with anticipation.

He flashes a sly grin. "Of course I bloody have," he declares in the most hackneyed attempt at a British accent you'd ever heard, "And you better listen up, because I'm about to tell you everything there is to know about how to cook a bloody good flounder."

Your sides ache with laughter as he continues to go on a tangent about how to properly sauté shallots and season the perfect demi-glace. The voice sounded nothing like the infamously tempermental chef, of course, but you still thought his attempt was cute. By the time he was yelling at his invisible staff for serving him raw fish, the storm outside had passed, and neither of you noticed.

As Arthur went to light the stove to warm up some "gourmet" SpaghettiOs, still boisterously carrying on as Chef Ramsay, your excited thoughts returned to the story about his parents. You couldn't help but wonder about your own stormy night, the man you had met, and how much of a hand fate had played in it. The horizon seemed so much brighter than before, and for the first time ever, you were grateful to have bought that car.

#arthur curry x reader #aquaman x reader #aquaman imagine #arthur curry imagine #aquaman and the lost kingdom #jason momoa #arthur curry #aquaman 2 #aquaman fanfic #my writing #request

[flanaganfilm]

Hey Mike! Absolutely love your work, especially Haunting of Hill House and Fall of the House of Usher. I was wondering a couple things:

Any chance we will ever get to see that deleted scene where Carla plays a homeless woman singing to Madeleine? Loved the Easter egg and also can’t get enough of Verna so it would be so cool to see that deleted scene!

Also wanted to know what it was like working with Mary? It was such a joy to see her in House of Usher!! Hoping to see her in future Flanaverse projects!!

Hi there! That material was removed very early in the editing process, long before the scene was completed, so there isn't a finished "scene" to show. Carla and Mary did fine work acting in those moments, but the series as a whole is stronger without it, so a completed version of the scene with that footage simply never existed. It's an odd alchemy when you tell a story this way, and sometimes scenes that seem to work on the page can be acted beautifully, shot exquisitely, and still not be necessary or additive. In this case, it actually worked against the mysteries of the show, it wasn't believable that Madeline wouldn't recognize Verna, and it was clear that this was a mistake. It was my mistake for writing the scene the way I did, and it happens all the time. We could tell immediately that it didn't fit, so we didn't waste much time proving it out. Releasing deleted scenes is a tricky thing. I love bonus features - it's one of the great benefits of physical media - but even if we had a huge special edition box set of Usher, I don't know that we would have included this scene. Sometimes these things just aren't meant for the audience, even as an interesting relic, and this is one of those times. Incidentally, I had the same feeling about some of the material that didn't make it into the Bly Manor edit. We knew the scenes weren't working very early in the process, so they were never refined into any shape that would warrant their release. Fans will hear an actor talk about scenes they worked on, and the fans get all excited, but if they were to see those scenes it wouldn't enhance their love of the characters or the story... in fact, it can work against it. For years, I've had Bly fans reach out lamenting that they can't see some of the Bly material they've read about in cast interviews, but I'm certain that seeing it in its raw, unfinished state wouldn't enhance or deepen their love of the characters or the show. There's really nothing to release. It's just excess material that lands on the floor while you're sculpting, and sticking it back onto the sculpture only makes a noticeable wart. Other times, though, deleted scenes can be incredibly additive. For example, I think the 30 minutes we took out of the theatrical release of Doctor Sleep only enhanced the movie, and made the experience that much more rich - which was why I was so happy to release the Director's Cut with those scenes restored. Those scenes, though, were fully finished, and only removed in the first place because of the movie's run-time. Restoring those elements made the sculpture complete - they were always supposed to be there. But most times, deleted material is just unnecessary material. It can be like having an amazing meal prepared for you, and then being handed a plate of surplus or unused ingredients. Like, the chef needed to peel a lemon before squeezing it over the meal as a wonderful finishing touch. That dash of citrus really made the meal sing. But that doesn't mean you want to eat the peel. And I LOVE working with Mary. I'm sure we'll do it again!

#the fall of the house of usher #deleted scenes #haunting of bly manor #dani clayton #you don't actually want to eat the lemon peel #damie stans

[localanimethottie]

It’s sooooo hard to dislike this man. He so chill, romantic, passionate, and intelligent Bro cares so much about you and puts your happiness first as shown in a star for you. Satan is almost like those princely type especially with his lil bowie and how he comes off as thoes stereotypical romance guys with the love poems and shitzz🥺😫 he make my heart melts and deserve a lot of fans

But did u know satan actually have more moist moments with mc in the story than Lucifer. So in a since he’s out dicked his father.

Satan finally won something against Lucifer

#obey me #obey me boys #obey me brothers #obey me lore #obey me fanfic #obey me spoilers #obey me cards #obey me fandom #obey me smut #obey me simp #obey me house of lamentation #obey me lucifer #obey me dateables #obey me lemon #barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos #obey me lucifer x reader #om barbatos #lucifer obey me #obey me dating sim #obey me satan #satan x mc #om! satan #satan #satan x reader #shall we date satan #not today satan

[the-king-of-lemons]

this is great i cant finally interact w my mutuals without having to actually say things to them

#ik i like and rb a ton of shit but i barely add tags (mostly bc im usually quick rbing) #so i am never saying shit to ppl lmao #the most interaction is appearing in spuds inbox when i hit postlimit lol #or when i trawl thru a blog hitting that got dam button #lemons laments

[dioptre-hertz]

lemon situation

#lemon #lemon situation #lemon lament #lemony snicket side of tumblr #big natural citruses #video

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

Time for a pretty obscure character, it’s Miss Martine! In the Rodier version of Alph-Art everyone is incredibly 70s, while I love 70s fashion I thought I’d do my own design of her that’s rooted in the 30s. I was very much inspired by Miss Lemon from ITV’s Poirot.

Tintin absolutely needs some female friends, and friends that are more his age. I can imagine Martine, Chang and Tintin forming a chaotic trio and tearing up Brussels!

Martine is left in a predicament after her former employer was murdered. The case of his death may have been solved and her name may have been cleared, but she is now left in unemployment during an economic depression. 

She reluctantly goes to Tintin for help; things are a little awkward as he previously turned her down when she asked him out at the end of the last case. At Marlinspike she meets Chang who is just moving into his room, and she bumps into Ramo Nash, an artist who worked with the art gallery she was formerly employed at. Nash has been secretly seeing Captain Haddock so has been around Marlinspike more frequently.

Nash informs her of a new exhibition he’s working on at the Museum of Art and History and suggests she applies to work there as a curator. Chang helps break the awkward tension, leaving Martine intrigued about Tintin’s friend from Shanghai.

Martine decides to follow Nash’s advice and applies for work at the museum. Chang and Tintin tag along as Tintin wants to show Chang around the city. Before the interview Martine has a panic attack - Chang manages to calm her down and gives her encouragement. She later gets the job and quickly forms a friendship with Chang, the two often going out in the evening to dance at local jazz bars and dance halls.

In between cases the three of them meet up to hang out. Tintin isn’t used to spending time with his peers so is a little socially awkward. He also still feels guilty for accusing Martine of murdering her former employee, as well as for not reciprocating any feelings for her.

To smooth things out and to thank Chang for his help Martine decides to invite them to the museum’s archive for a behind-the-scenes tour, before Chang is due to return to Shanghai to see his family for the Lunar New Year. Chang’s excitement quickly turns cold when he sees artefacts that have been stolen through colonial force. He quietly laments to Tintin, who impulsively decides to steal an ancient Chinese whistle to return it to its place of origin.

The museum descends into chaos. Nash’s exhibition is cancelled. There is a huge police investigation. Martine is a prime suspect yet again. Tintin is, suspiciously, missing. She and Chang work together to track him down to clear her name. Rather conveniently, Tintin turns up in China having “retrieved” the missing whistle, but when she inspects it closely she can tell it’s a fake. She confronts Tintin about this, but Tintin tells her if it becomes known the real whistle is gone she may lose her job. Martine is horrified at his betrayal.

She decides to stay quiet but cuts ties with Tintin. She remains friends with Chang but warns him to be careful, and not to get too close to Tintin or his work. 

#Fanart #animation #2d animation #tintin #Adventures of Tintin #gif #chang #miss martine #Martine Vandezande #flashing gif #flashing gif cw #snowy #milou #gifset #my stories #character design #death cw #i wanted her to be Tall #martine and her two feral manlet pals #swing dance #call of the songbird

[lady-charinette]

Rei is significantly more relaxed over the years, but the saying "once a hitman, always a hitman" rings true for him.

And Kazuki.

There were instances where they got robbed, or there were attempts made anyway, where Rei's sole working arm was preoccupied, or he found himself in an otherwise vulnerable position.

And yet, no harm had ever come to him, and that was not because of Rei's doing at all.

It was Kazuki.

That man had stored more weapons in the crevices of the diner than Rei had back at their old place, which was an incredible feat to surpass. All weapons were well out of reach and knowledge of Miri (unbeknownst to them, Miri knows all the hiding places) and if Rei were ever in a position to be distracted or incapable of disarming an intruder, he could always count on Kazuki.

The first time happened when Rei was carrying a heavy box and carefully positioning it on his shoulder to heave it on a high shelf. He had heard the intruder, his senses still sharp as ever, but had no time to grab any of the weapons from the kitchen.

But Rei knew, he didn't need to.

The second the intruder whipped out what Rei assumed was a pistol, the same second a gut twisting scream tore from the man's throat and a loud thud followed it.

The would-be robber was sweating (and probably soiling) himself. Kazuki Kurusu stood with one arm filled with groceries and the other holding a loaded gun aimed at the guy's head, a menacing, almost sadistic smile twisting his usually kind features.

Rei smirked and finished heaving up the box on the shelf, very much unbothered by the sight before him. "Ah, did you forget to buy the lemons, again?"

Kazuki's sadistic killer smile vanished and he glanced at Rei with a twitch in his eye. "Did I forget- I'll have you know, Miri wrote down everything we needed! So no, I didn't forget to buy the lemons."

Rei rested his hand on his hip. "Outside?"

Kazuki nodded, gun never once leaving its position aimed at the intruder's head. "Yep, but she can barely wait for dinner so lets wrap this up qui-"

The intruder thought Kazuki was sufficiently distracted to attempt to tackle Rei and at least flee the scene, but as soon as he moved, Kazuki and Rei moved as well.

Rei swiped his feet out and tripped the guy, while Kazuki brutally slammed his foot on top of the guy's head. An audible thud rang through the air when the man's skull made contact with the floor, the cold steel of the gun pressed into his head. "Oi, it's rude to interrupt people while they're talking, dickhead."

Rei was already calling the police, silently lamenting the fact that they couldn't bury him in their backyard. Perhaps his plants would grow faster too that way.

Oh well.

"You didn't buy the lemons." Rei stared blankly at Kazuki while the police escorted the beat up robber outside.

Kazuki's eye twitched again. "MIRI!"

Miri huffed. "I swear I wrote it down, Kazu Papa!"

#buddy daddies #bd #rei suwa #suwa rei #kazuki kurusu #kurusu kazuki #unasaka miri #miri unasaka #kazurei #kurusuwa family #bd hc #buddy daddies headcanon #buddy daddies hc #my fic #my fics

[luveline]

Omg Jade, I’ve been LOVING the asf resurgence ☺️☺️ It hits my heart in all the right ways!!

I was wondering if would please write something showing more of the burrow from asf? Would love to see Molly (alongside Fred ofc!) doting on the reader. Maybe she feels poorly during a gathering? Just an idea - no pressure ofc to respond or to go in this direction. Thank you either way!!! 😊

tysm for ur request!! sorry this took me a whole month ♡ fem!reader, 1.5k

cw mental health issues/ poor eating habits

The popcorn is greasy between your fingers. You look down at a slightly burned kernel without much feeling, giving it a squeeze to listen to the styro-foamy groan as it breaks. 

The crumbs fall down the front of your hoodie. The mess is enough to make you feel something other than tired, blinking to attention while you pick tiny bits from your tummy. 

Fred's hand reaches over to help. "Whoops," he says, flicking them off of the sofa onto the rug. 

"Don't do that," you chastise without any heat, nudging his knee with yours. "Your poor mum will have to clean it up." 

"No she won't." 

"Are you going to hoover before we go?" you ask. 

Fred puts his hand on your thigh for an unapologetic feel. "No. She'd be offended." 

It's hard to describe how something as simple and as normal as Fred's hand on your leg can make you feel. Suddenly, you aren't alone in your head, feeling all sorts of awful. There's someone with you. 

Fred often laments (with sympathy) that you live in the past. He's not wrong. There are things that haunt you without pulling punches, stuff that makes you feel sick even though you can't remember how it all went anymore. It's like your body has caught hold of the way you felt at the time and is now throwing you into the deep end, no warnings. 

George takes the popcorn bowl from your lap, a lazy heist from his positioning on the floor. He, Ron, and Harry play a game of exploding snap that smells like no one's winning by your shoes. 

Bill and Fleur sit on bean bags by the fire, their legs interlocked, and the baby (who isn't a baby anymore, actually, a brand new toddler) waddles around the room in footie pyjamas. Every time you see Victoire, you wonder if she's an easy baby, and if you'd be a good mom. If you're even capable. 

Things tend to twist from there. Capable in any capacity? You're sure there are a hundred different things that Fred wants from you that he will never be able to have. A girlfriend who doesn't shut down when she's worried. A partner who pulls their weight. You let him down pretty much every day though he doesn't say, in your uselessness. You're awful. He deserves better than someone who's clinging to the bad things that happened to her (though you don't want to cling, you can't seem to make yourself stop). 

Fred's hand abandons your thigh. He sits up in his seat on the sofa to wrap his arm behind your neck instead, encouraging your head under his. With the side of his chin pressed to your temple, he doesn't say a word. 

Molly appears from the garden with a handful of fresh lemon balm. "Who wants a cup of tea?" she asks. 

Her eyes flicker straight for you. Fred told you once that Harry used to be her favourite child. It confused you —family is much more than blood, but still, there's so many to choose from and they're all brilliant, so why Harry? 

He was the one who needed the favouritism most, Fred says. Mum has a built-in pain detector. She knows when people need love. 

"We'll have a cup of tea," Fred says, rubbing your shoulder. 

"Obviously," Molly says, though what's obvious about it escapes you. "Anyone else?" 

There's a chorus of requests, most of which you can't keep straight. Molly's brilliant, she doesn't miss a beat. "Lovely," she says with a smile. 

"I'll come help you, mum," George says, using your legs as a brace to get up. 

You kick him without force in the leg. He turns to you, shooting you an adoring, saccharine smile with hands at his chest curved into a heart shape. 

"He's in a mood today," Fred says. 

Your sleeves bunch under his hands with every upward swipe. You sit there for a while feeling off. Something is wrong, some pit sucking you in, but nothing's happened. It's been a while since you felt this suddenly sick —you're better than you were, but you aren't better. 

"It's okay," Fred says, like he can read your mind. His reassurance kisses warm over your cheek. "Do you want to go home?" 

He doesn't seem upset with you. If anything, he's chipper, like he'd love to go home with you. It's a charade for your benefit to erase the guilt that comes with yanking him out of family time, and you don't fall for it. 

Yet you can't make yourself smile. You aren't as good of an actor as he is. "No," you mumble, pulling away from his loving embrace to meet his eyes. 

He inches closer, hand sliding down your arm. 

"I love you," he says very quietly. He's at risk of being heard by three different brothers, each of which might rip him to shreds for being as whipped as he sounds. 

You don't not want to say it back. Sometimes it's hard. Fred isn't telling you for a parroting, anyhow, and he doesn't care when you fail to answer. 

"Let's go help make tea," he says, standing up. You don't want to move, but you'd rather not stay by yourself. You've no choice but to follow him through the living room and into the kitchen. 

"Hi, dearie," Molly says. You realise she's talking to you, not Fred. "You look like you need something to eat. I'll make you something sweet, how does that sound?" 

It sounds like a bad idea. "That sounds great." 

She nudges George off with his tray of tea to stand in front of you. "There's a good girl," she says, squeezing your elbow. "Fred says you're not eating, but you were fine at breakfast. Feeling better?"

"Mum," Fred says, sending you an apologetic look. "Sorry, I don't mean to gossip about you–" 

"No, it's okay. It's nice, it's… a privilege to be worried about," you say, though you wish he wouldn't. 

Molly shakes her head, ginger kinks swishing over her shoulders. "It's not a privilege, lovely. That's just what family does, mm? You worry about Freddie, he worries about you, and I'll worry about both of you." 

"You don't have to worry about us, mum." 

"I know. It's a privilege, though, to be the one worrying," Molly says, offering you a gentle smile. 

"Right," you say. 

"So stop pretending you're okay and have a seat. Freddie, you better go and get her one of your blankets, I think." 

Fred grins and exits the kitchen quickly to avoid giving you time to protest. Ever a people pleaser, you sit down at the table in one of the chairs with a tall back. Molly puts down a cup of tea in front of you, swiftly followed by a plate of biscuits, a toasted, buttered currant scone, and a blueberry muffin sliced down the middle. 

That's what gets you. The muffin cut in half, paper peeled away. Molly has no reason to like you; you make Fred happy, but you know you've made him so, so sad, sometimes. You've weighed him down. You're not the best he could've had, but his family don't care. He doesn't care. He loves you enough to breeze into the kitchen with a throw blanket, wrap it around your shoulders, and nestle a kiss behind your ear. 

You scramble to grab his arms rather than let him stand again. He startles at first, but he recovers, and his arms curl around your front with enthusiasm that can't be faked. 

"I love you," he murmurs. Words slid together like he's tipped them out, impossible to deny. "Try not to wind yourself up, alright? It's a normal day. The only people who matter are you and me, yeah?"

"Yeah," you say through a lump. 

"I'll be just in the living room if you need me," Molly says. 

"Thanks, mum," Fred says, perching his chin atop your head. 

He waits for her to leave and plants a kiss on the highest point of your cheek. When you smile, he tracks them all over. Kiss to your head, your ear, the soft line of your jaw.

"Do you want to talk about something? Or should we think about other things?" he asks. 

It's a strange, coddling way to ask if there's something in particular that's upset you, but it's nice to be coddled. Truthfully, there's nothing concrete that hurts. A little bit of everything. The world is busy and life is hard and people aren't always kind, and you'll always be unbalanced by that. Luckily, Fred's there to hold you up, together, whatever you need. 

"Do you want half of my muffin?" you ask. 

"I'm eyeing up your scone, honestly." 

"You can have it if you want it." 

Fred hugs you tightly. "And deprive you? No way. I'll settle for the muffin if you feed it to me," he says hopefully. 

You twist in your chair, holding a bit of the muffin up for him to eat.

"I love you," you say. In a horror story, a nightmare, your nearly constant thoughts, he scoffs in your face. 

Fred swallows roughly. "I know. S'why you're gonna let me have half the scone, too." 

It's awfully cheesy, but you'd give him much more than a scone. You'd give him anything he asked you to give.

"Greedy," you say. 

"I resent that, ghost."

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #a special friend universe