#the only thing I like about this is the cuffs and the eyes highlights

[maareyas]

sometimes a painting doesn't turn out the way you want to and you just gotta move on. anyways I submerged the boy in water (again)

#sonic #silver the hedgehog #sonic fanart #sth #silver the hedgehog fanart #my art #the only thing I like about this is the cuffs and the eyes highlights #i like. drawing underwater scenes and bubbles #this took like an hour. wow

[khuzena]

Waiting room

Pairing: Dr ratio, Aventurine, Sunday x g/n!reader

Summary: You can love, get on your knees and wait on a miracle. There are things that are for you and aren't for you, you should know. It's for the better.

Cw. Heavy angst, no comfort, 1% fluff, manipulative men, toxic relationships, insecurities, death?, unrequited love, breakups, them neglecting you cos…, no closure, what is love?

A/n: hi, time to make you cry. I'm getting writer's block as I'm making a new novel!! It has the ‘your guardian angel’ fics plot but w my characters. 🥳

Dr ratio

He's a simple man, really.

Drown yourself in endless textbooks, advanced literature and neglect every other thing.

Like his thirst for knowledge; love is endless, affection is abundant.

Is what you initially thought.

It has been the 4th time this week that he turned down your requests, “Dear, you know I have no time for that.”

He does not try to sugarcoat his words, he does not try to make his tone less harsh, “I don't have time for dates, such a waste of time.'' He says it like it is, he says it like it's true.

Your eyebrows creased, annoyed at his flippant attitude, “What do you mean waste of time?”

Veritas takes one glance at you, then back to his nonsense book. To him, it was useless wasting his breath on arguing with you.

“Veritas, you said we'll go, you promised.”

He is cruel, his words flinty. “I do not recall making any atrocious promises to you, are you perhaps going insane?”

Insane?

“Insane? Last week, you promised me.”

“I did not.”

“Yes you did.”

He scoffs, as if offended, “If I did, then I was not thinking straight. I have a thesis due tomorrow. A date can wait.”

Veritas is a man with priorities and out of all of them, it seems, you were not one of them. He'd rather his books kept him company, not you. It's obvious, his pursuit of knowledge was greater than loving you.

He lit his lamp, taking his pen and highlighting some paragraphs, what was so important with them? You could not help but come closer, skimming through the contents, it was just some theory some genius society member wrote.

“You're miserable,” it might've accidentally slipped out, but it was true; he is, in fact, the most miserable of all men.

Veritas rolled his eyes, pushing his reading glasses and annotating whatever statement was written. The candle light flickered when his heavy breaths fanned over it, not paying mind to whatever you say.

Your patience was thinning, how long was he planning to play this damned game?

“Veritas.”

You call out once.

“Veritas!”

Again, in anger.

“Veritas”

The last time, desperately.

He does not respond, he does not care. Yet your voice was ringing in his ears in an unpleasant way, “Is this about the date?”

You were taken aback by his curt reply, it wasn't just about the date. “Is that all? Do you think that's the only reason?”

“Hypothetically speaking, yes.”

“Cut the bullshit, veritas.”

Veritas glares at you, as if making a statement; a bullshit one at that. He does not have time for mindless topics, he's overworked, he's tired, he's unsatisfied.

For a moment, you have the urge to yell at him. This shallow bastard has done nothing but fool you with aureate words, he writes poetry about you and shows you off.

He loves you because you are all he has. He may be an asshole but he loves you the way he knows how to love you.

Tonight, however, you are done with his bullshit. You do not argue further, he is confused. When you leave this room with no more qualms, when you do not scream at him, he is bewildered.

“Where are you going?” It's strange that he noticed you for the first time. Only when you get dressed up and when he hears the keys jingle, does he notice every single detail.

You adjusted the cuffs of your blouser, “I'm staying at a friend's”

“Which one?”

“None of your business.”

Stunned, he drops his pen. Why are you acting so off? You're driving him insane.

“What do you mean none of my business? Stop acting so childish.”

That was your last straw, childish? Childish? The fucking audacity.

“You are more childish.”

“How so?”

“You— do I even have to explain it?”

Nothing could quell your frustration other than being away from him for the meantime, “Yes,” he loves you, he wants to know. But even if he does, he never learns; so much for a genius.

“You neglect me, you prioritise this,” it was tempting to crumple his papers, “—over me.” So you did.

He is indifferent. He does not understand how and why it hurts you. So he tries to understand it from a logical standpoint, “So you want to really go on that date?”

“I'm tired of asking”

Tired of begging him to treat you right, to love you like you want him to love you.

He stays quiet.

“I'm tired of begging for something so small.”

“You didn't have to destroy my goddamn book,” he seethed and pulled the book from your hands, too absorbed in the damage of the book he does not notice how much he has damaged you. Veritas is too blind to see you holding back tears despite wearing his glasses.

The force surprised you, “Is that thing much more important?”

“What?”

“Answer me Veritas Ratio.”

It was merely just a book, but it was precious. It was a rare one, it annoyed him to immeasurable depths when you crumpled it so recklessly.

He does not answer.

“I'm leaving,” he's not sure if leaving meant temporarily, he hopes it is. He hopes you come back again tomorrow night.

So he waits. Tomorrow came, but you did not come home.

Aventurine

He loves you, he really does.

His idea of love is adorning you with jewels, showering you with riches.

Too much that you suffocate, it hurts. You can't breathe, soulless eyes stare into yours.

It's when you realise, he's trapping you. Does he think you're stupid? What does he take you for?

“Darling! I got you a gift!”

The 22nd one this week… Aventurine makes haste and runs behind you, wearing the necklace on you, it looks… okay.

You look like a doll, his doll.

But you are not a doll, you are human.

And like all humans, we all wish to be loved and cherished as an equal.

“Do you like it?” It would be rude to say no, but it does not fit you. Sure it accentuates your neck, but it's too much.

“I…” you traced your finger over the gem, “I do.”

“Great! I'll get you another tomorrow!” It is tiring. As much as planets worth of gold and extravagant jewels excite you, you would rather be in his presence.

You do not recall the last day he's ever taken you out on a proper date, you do not recall any time where he's been open to you about his past because you know damn well his name could never just be ‘Aventurine’.

You were sitting on the couch, sipping tea with your eyes glued to your book. Before you knew it, soft lips grazed on your cheek.

“You're back earlier than expected,” he smiles as he pressed another kiss onto you, “I ditched the meeting, for you.”

Oh how you hate it when he does things in your name just to make you indebted to him. Aventurine loves you, but love is transactional.

“Is that so?” He nods, wrapping his arms around you. “I'll buy you something again, we have another business trip in Penacony.”

It makes you wonder, does he think gifts are the only thing that'll make you stay?

He could see the reluctance in your eyes, “Is something on your mind?”

You bit your lip, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

A deafening silence fills the room before he chuckles, he is everything but stupid. He knows, he knows you want to spend time with him, he knows you’d incinerate those gifts in a heartbeat just to trade even an hour spending time with him.

“Dear, I promise, next time,” he pressed light kisses on your exposed shoulder, but it isn’t enough: what truly is enough?

You want to push him away, with how ruthless he is with making empty promises so easily, “You said ‘next time’ last time.”

”I promise, I do.” Even he sounds unsure. You pick up on the hint of hesitation laced in his promises, he regrets it, but he thinks; he’s doing it for you, for the both of you.

“You said that too last month,” you scoff.

He tried to intertwine your fingers together yet to no avail, you rejected him, “Why are you acting up again?”

There’s only so many gifts can buy but he can never purchase the time lost that could’ve been spent in lazy mornings together yet he traded it all for credits. The second attempt, he forces a smile and even pulls a tiny ring for you, that gem you loved so much engraved in the centre. Words cannot express how much you despise these gifts because it was just a pathetic compensation for the neglect.

”Please, next month.” He took your hand in his and put the ring on your ring finger. “Okay?”

You cling to that possibility, to that sliver of hope when he is done with Penacony, he is relieved of his duties and he is finally free. That he no longer has to overcompensate for his absence and shower you with the time he’s lost.

You know next month won’t come, yet you are no different from a fool.

”Okay”

You wait upon endless tomorrows, two months have passed and none of his coworkers have any good news about his well-being. They’re sure he’s dead, but you still wait for that tomorrow where he is home to come.

Sunday

Love, what truly is love?

Is it when you praise your lover with endless ‘I love you’s?

Is it when you hold their hand and protect them for the impending doom to come?

or rather, is love just a fallacy built on a string of lies?

Sunday believes that he knows what’s best for you.

Before Sunday, you were allowed to make your own decisions.

Before Sunday, you actually had freedom.

The halovian swears he knows what’s best for you.

He makes sure everything you want or need, you get.

Sunday will kiss your tears away, even if he is the sole reason for them. ”It’s for your own good.” he says.

To strip you of freedom, to shackle you to him like a bird in a cage. His sweet kisses, his love, his everything; they’re all fucking poison. He does not hesitate to drown you in his poison if it means protecting you.

You cry out, “Sunday.” In desperate pleas.

But he will not listen, he’ll pretend he doesn’t hear anything.

He believes that if he gives you the taste of freedom, you’ll find a way to fly away from his grasp– he will not allow it. So he does what he’s best at, keeping you stuck to him.

”What do you want, dear?” He smiles at you like he’s never sinned.

You throw away the pathetic gifts he adorned you with, gold, diamonds and stones you could not name but they are not what you want, “I want to see my friends.”

”They’re no good, trust me.” Your friends once told you that you should go, that he’s toxic, but you were a fool to drown in him.

“What do you know about my friends?” He’s done everything to kill that flame inside of you, that hope that maybe one day you’d escape him and be free once again, you’re a fool, he thinks.

He clicks his tongue as he puts down his newspaper at the coffee table, ”They tried to take you away from me.”

”They did not, you know I would never leave you.” A blatant lie but it's stupid that you take him for a fool that’ll believe your words.

He only chuckles, your attempts to get away from him are futile, it’s pathetic it makes him laugh. “I admire your confidence, but you’re staying here tonight.”

Death has never been more alluring under his influence, but you can not die.

“Please,” you beg again, but he only presses his finger to your lips, “Shh…”

”One day you’ll thank me for taking such good care of you.” He gets down on his knees to kiss the back of your hand, “You’re safe here.”

He gets up to sit right next to you, he doesn’t flinch when you slap his face away when he tries to kiss you. The man only grabs your wrist when you try to push him away again. He kisses you with passion, in love but is it truly love when there is no trust?

There’s no use questioning his intentions, “This is for your own good.”

What good is there when there is no freedom? He thinks beautiful birds should be protected. Even if it meant being trapped in a cage, stripped of any sense of freedom, as long as you're safe, as long as you're here with him, he is content. "Dont give me that look."

Your eyes train on the way he rolls his eyes at your defiance, "Just let me go."

Sunday glares at you, his grip on your wrist tight, you're sure he's about to tear it off. "No."

When will you stop acting like a child?

The halovian is too far down the rabbit hole of self righteousness and his obsession with you that he if he needs to tear you limb by limb to keep you close to him, to keep you from rubbing away, he will do it.

His phone rings, it must be business calls again, Penacony sure is in a state of chaos when it's crumbling down. He lets go off you to take his phone.

"Yes yes... Sunday speaking."

You dont understand what they're murmuring about. All you could register is it's something about his sister.

His facial expression turned grim the more time he spent on the phone. The phone call ends and he puts it down, the life from his face drained but when he sees you, he is relieved.

You are still here with him.

He intertwined your hands together, you can feel anger and despair that he's exuding as he stares at you like a deer in the headlights. "Please, promise me."

"You'll never leave me too."

It doesn't sound like a question, it sounds like a statement.

You'll truly never know what freedom is, for that is only a privilege that you can never have. In his arms you cannot cry, because he'll drown you in his lies again and again.

On the bright side, you are never alone. You will always have Sunday, whether you like it or not.

Note: bye i got extreme writer's block at Sunday's part I had to take almost a 2 week break bc i rlly have no idea what to write for him oh my god. I absolutely did not give them justice 😥

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡ 

#what have i done #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr fluff #hsr x reader #honkai star rail angst #dr ratio angst #dr ratio fluff #dr ratio x reader #aventurine angst #aventurine x reader #aventurine fluff #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #hsr sunday x reader #hsr sunday #sunday fluff #sunday x reader #honkai star rail sunday #veritas ratio #veritas ratio x reader

[getousatoruu]

Sorry for the delay, but it's here now… Most of them are NC-17 and R rated, so read the tags.

One shots (1k-9k)

Incense by cielelyse (E, 6.6k)

“We wanted to know,” says Mimiko, “who between the two of you is the better fighter?” (Or: Satoru tries to prove he's better at close combat, but Suguru has other plans.)

Curiosity Killed the Crush by xBarbarellax (E, 7.5k)

Today was the day. No more chickening out, no more waiting for him to make the first move, no. Today, Hina was going to ask out Gojo Satoru.

all the world’s a stage by ruche

“I don’t deserve to love you,” Suguru offered. It was placid as a temple pond, at odds with all his feelings. His arms went limp at his sides. He smiled again, sweet and hollow. “Right?” Satoru recovered well enough. Intensity seemed to evaporate off of him within a few stiff seconds. “They deserve this, I deserve that,” he said after a beat. “Who died and made you king of the universe? Talk about obnoxious.” Suguru is horny and Satoru makes that Suguru’s problem.

closer to the bone by sanctify (E, 6k)

“How thoughtful of you.” Gojo eventually says as he rests the cuffs on his lap, skimming a finger along the black padding on the inside of one. “I saw that you had added them to your wishlist.” Geto hums, tilting his head in his direction, the sharp amber of his eyes like spools of molten honey. “I hope it wasn’t too forward of me.” This has Gojo burst out into a brief fit of laughter, the bright whites of his teeth showing as he leans forward to lay a hand on Geto’s chest, easy and playful and flirtatious. “I invite you over so I can record you fucking my brains out and post it online, and you think you’re being forward?” Gojo laughs again, a soft pink coloring the curve of his cheeks this time, accentuated by the highlighter he wore.

Thought you were about to get some foreplay with me by SaintOfAthena (E, 5.7k)

See, Gojo Satoru has a problem: there is a frontier that his true feelings cannot breach. When they try to force it, it is only at the cost of their true nature that they are allowed to pass. Consequently, after a mental breakdown due to a pimple that leads to Geto taking care of him, he jumps on the chance to tell him how he feels but things don't go as smoothly as expected.

up the river, we can go slow by Eskarina (E, 5.8k)

Satoru looks ethereal this way—like nothing has ever touched him. Like Suguru couldn’t even touch him if he wanted to. He does want to, eventually; ask Satoru if he’s allowed to leave marks that won’t disappear within the blink of an eye. He doesn’t think they’re quite there yet.

Trials and tribulations of loving Satoru Gojo.

Woozy by Kiboutie (E, 2.5k)

“I have infinity, remember? No one can touch me,” Satoru repeats, before slowly reaching forward and tucking a stray strand of hair behind Suguru’s ear with a wistful sigh. “Unless I want them to.” Alternatively, The one where omega Gojo continues to spend his heat with Getou, even after they've parted ways.

Longer fics (9k+)

4AM by damiselart (E, 10.8k)

Suguru and Satoru's meet cute but it's horny instead.

His **** is What?! by owl_beans (E, 10.1K)

Gojo Satoru did not have a crush on Getou Suguru. They had never even spoken to each other. Satoru was just curious about what neat and polite Getou Suguru was like when he wasn't all buttoned up. The answer was not at all what Satoru expected and even better than he had imagined. To no one's surprise, they hit it off infuriatingly well.

in the eye of the dragonfly by backbones (E, 9.3k)

Suguru first heard about the Six Eyes when he was still a child. Like most children his age, it sounded like a legend, or a fairy tale out of a book—and when he was a teenager, it became more real. Suguru was slated to be a sorcerer, but he still came from a modest clan inside the same village where the Six Eyes was born, and occasionally he would hear little truths: he was a boy of sixteen (like Suguru), he had eyes like the sky (unlike Suguru), or he will be the strongest sorcerer alive (not if Suguru had a say). But— He’s a boy, Suguru thought. He’s a boy. (In which the Gojo clan arranges a marriage between Satoru and Suguru.)

lovesick lullabye by pastelcoloureddreams (E, 18k)

"Satoru, you can't pretend like there's nothing more to us," Suguru appeals, grabbing the crook of Satoru's elbow. That certainly makes Satoru freeze but his eyes remain hard, an impenetrable fortress to the soft and vulnerable boy he knows still lives inside Satoru. "I still love you." "Love? Is that why you left me?"

Slow Hands by megumiblues (E, 12.3k)

Satoru is in desperate need of a massage, so who better to ask than famous masseuse Suguru, who just so happens to be the best friend he’s been in love with for over ten years now?

The Traveller's Song by No_Ir (E, 23.3k)

When it comes, the death of summer is vapid and quiet. It tastes like stale water and smells like memories gone bad in the heat. Nothing mourns it and the air is speckled with bits of seawater that cling to the dampness on the back of his neck. Crickets chirp throughout the night and the bed is too warm to sleep in, so he buries his face into pillows that smell like dust and salt and ignores the stabbing behind his eyes till he can feel the irritating warmth of another day on his back. I miss the sea, he thinks, staring at the familiar outline of the window, palm resting on the friend-shaped dent on his bed. Exhaustion drapes itself over his shoulders and sweat beads like pearls at the roots of his hair. I miss the sea like I miss my friend.

The Future of a Broken Past by dazylein (34.5k, ongoing)

Temporary amnesia due to severe trauma. It’s all the doctor can tell Satoru when he wakes up bloodied and bruised with no ID on him and no fingerprints matching any record. Plagued with the idea that his life must have been meaningless if no one is even looking for him, Satoru finds himself in front of a buddhist temple that proves him otherwise. As the haze around his memories clears, the guesses of who did this to him and why turn muddier and muddier.

#geto suguru #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #jujutsu gojo #sugusato #satosugu #satoru gojo #suguru geto #goge #gego #gojo x geto #geto x gojo #satosugu smut #fic recs #stsg fic recs #stsg recs #stsg #sgst #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk geto #jjk gojo #jjk smut #smut #smut recs #fanfic rec #五夏 #夏五 #fic rec

[thecuriousquest]

To Cage a Hero

Yandere Keigo Takami x Fem!Reader

Tag List: @issamomma

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, mentioning of mating, mentioning of pregnancy, caging, possessive behavior, controlling behavior

Summary: You have a transformation quirk, the ability to transform into any animal you want as long as you understand the biological makeup of the animal. What better way to treat a beast than to cage you up?

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————

The sun in your eyes is what wakes you. You rub the sleep from your lids with the back of your hand as you sit up. Clinking metal jolts you slightly. You look at your surroundings with alertness, something that’s part of being a hero.

You’re still in your hero costume: cheap, black spandex leggings and a black sports bra. You never found it in you to get a real costume because your quirk isn’t suited for clothes. If you shift into a small animal, you just end up crawling out of your clothes. Transform into something too big, your outfit will just rip off of you, falling to the floor in tatters.

Feeling better about having your clothes still on in a foreign place, you still have to deal with the fact that you are in a foreign place. You’ve never been here before in this lavish bedroom. What’s even worse is that you’re trapped in a cage. It looks like an ornate bird cage but large enough for a human. You could get out of here if you shift into something small enough to pass through the bars. Trying to think of something, anything small enough, you realize that a garden snake could do the trick.

However, it doesn’t work. Panicking because your quirk isn’t working, you stand up and try to smash the door with your shoulder. You only succeed in bruising yourself on the gold bars.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The voice is familiar. You can’t place it, but you know you’ve heard it before. Then, a man is walking into the room from the balcony. His silhouette steps out of the sunlight, and you see the number two pro hero, Hawks.

Your eyes widen, and you feel as though you’ve been saved. “Please, help me! I don’t know what’s going on! I think I’ve been kidnapped!”

Keigo now stands in front of the cage. He wraps his fingers around the bars. “Sweetheart, you haven’t been kidnapped. You’ve been brought home.”

Your mind is numb for a moment as you process the ridiculousness of his words.

“Huh?” You gracefully manage.

The smile on his face never falters. “You. Are. Home. Now.”

You slap his hands. “Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot! I just don’t understand. Why did you bring me here?”

Keigo shrugs. “Thought you were pretty.”

“You kidnapped me…because you thought I was pretty?”

He nods. You can tell he’s feeling sure of himself.

You bare your sharp teeth at him. “You can’t fucking do that, Hawks! Heroes don’t behave like this!”

“Oh, you’re telling me how heroes should behave? I’m not the one who’s always naked on camera.”

Beyond embarrassed, your cheeks flush. “It’s because of my quirk! I can’t shift and keep my clothes on.”

He winks at you as a response. “It’s alright, my little songbird. It’s the highlight of my day when I get to see that cute ass after you fight crime.”

Shivering under his hungry gaze, you watch as his eyes focus on your sports bra. You find yourself clutching your chest, wishing for a shirt.

“Aw, don’t be shy. After being naked to the public so often, a guy would think you’d just kind of get used to it.” There’s a salacious glint in his eyes as he licks his lower lip.

It gives you the heebie-jeebies.

“Why can’t I use my quirk?” You try to change the subject.

“Don’t tell me you tried to escape already. Listen, Dove, you’re telling me you’re a hero, and you didn’t even notice the cuff on your ankle?”

Looking down, you see a metal cuff on your ankle. A quirk cancelling cuff.

Your eyes meet his golden orbs with fury. “Forgive me for not noticing, but with all the shit going on, my ankle isn’t the first thing on my fucking mind!”

“You better watch your mouth, Chickadee, or I’m gonna have to wash it out with soap.”

“Do it and I’ll bite your hand off!”

“Ohhh, feisty. I like that.” He goes to lie down on the bed.

So, this is his bedroom.

Huffing, you turn to look at him. “Is this your plan? You just gonna keep me caged up?”

He shrugs at you as he sits on the edge of his bed, taking off his shoes. “It’s just until you learn to behave. I have plans for you. Mating season is coming up soon.”

Oh…oh, no!

“Hawks, no. I can’t- you can’t do that to me. I don’t want kids. I just started my career as a pro!”

“Don’t worry, Dove, I make a lot of money doing what I do. Also, I want you to call me Keigo. I already know your name. Did a lot of research on you.”

“Okay, Keigo, you being rich is not the point! I love being a hero. I’m good at it.”

“You can’t be that good if you got kidnapped.”

You’re sick of his shit. You’re so goddamn sick of him. With your back against the cage, you slide down it until you’re resting on a rather large pillow. Your knees curl up to your chest, and you bury your head in your hands as realization washes over you.

You’ve been kidnapped by the number two pro hero of Japan, and he wants to impregnate you.

“We have pretty compatible quirks. Plus, you’re beautiful, I’m handsome. We’d make pretty cute kids. They might even inherit one of our quirks or a mix of them. Could you imagine one of our little birds flying around?”

Violent sobbing causes your entire body to shake.

“Aw, don’t be like that. Okay, we don’t have to talk about it anymore right now if it’s going to make you that upset. I get it. Pregnancy is scary, but it’ll be alright. Plus, I won’t make you stay in the cage while you’re carrying the bullet. That would just be mean. The cage is only until I can trust that you’ve learned your place.”

The man just loves to hear himself talk.

Hugging your knees for comfort, you cry so loudly that you miss Keigo’s sighs and footsteps. However, you do hear him unlock and open the door. Looking up at him with glistening E/C orbs, you watch as he reaches out to you and pulls you up by your arm. He picks you up bridal style, carrying you over to the bed.

Is he starting now?! No! You begin thrashing around in his arms, screaming at the top of your lungs for him to let go of you.

“This isn’t fair! No, I don’t want this! Get off of me!”

He shushes you like a child throwing a tantrum, depositing you on the bed. You scramble for the other side to get away from him. All he does is grab you by your ankle, dragging you back towards him.

He takes you by surprise when he wrestles you into a little spoon position.

“Don’t worry, Dove. Mating season doesn’t start until next month. We can just spend this time getting to know each other. Let me take care of you. I know you’re scared. It’s going to be an adjustment, but I’ll be here every step of the way.”

He’s trying to comfort you. It’s better than what you thought he was just about to do. Still, you want your space. In the cage, you at least were away from Keigo, not that you want to go back there anytime soon.

You squirm in his strong arms, and he hushes you by gently patting your bottom. You can’t tell if he’s trying to calm you or threaten you. Either way, you settle down. You can’t help but be tense in his grip. You don’t know that man, and he just fucking kidnapped you! You can’t use your quirk, and you’re in a really bad position for combat with his arms wrapped around your entire body. You’re a trapped animal in the arms of a predator, and it brings tears to your eyes one again. This is the start of your new life as his caged little beast.

#my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #triggering content #triggering themes #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x resisting reader #keigo takami #takami keigo #bnha keigo takami #mha keigo takami #mha takami keigo #bnha takami keigo #yandere keigo takami #yandere keigo x reader #yandere hawks #bnha hawks #hawks mha #boku no hero academia hawks #my hero academia hawks #wing hero hawks #pro hero hawks

[janort]

i saw you collect clown shit I'm being a clown for Halloween can I see 👀

SCREAMING AND CRYING!!!! YES ID LOVE TO SHOW YOU!!! IM BEING A CLOWN FOR HALLOWEEN TOO!!! THANK YOU FOR ASKING ME ABOUT MY CLOWN STUFF <333333333

This is my clown suit, which is hand-made out of 2 colorful blankets and a pillowcase, i free handed most of it and also hand stitched about 60% of it because my sewing machine broke mid-project. (Just a heads up while we’re still at the top, this post is gonna be loooooooooooong and have a lot of pictures, also sorry for how gross the carpet looks he’s just like that)

This is my circus tent juice box

This is my costume drawer, where I cram as much stuff as I can fit, it’s pretty full so I’ll just show you my favorite stuff.

These are the highlights, my googley-eye ring, the first clown mask I made, the first party hat I made, my diy ruffled wrist cuffs and collar, and my jewelry hoard.

These are my clowns, which are both hand sewn, they’re names are Butterbean (left) and Corn (right). Butterbeans face was smudged by some water, I’ll get around to fixing it soon.

These are all the little trinkets I keep with them, things I find that I consider clownish. Most of these were picked up from dollar stores, thrift stores, stoop sales, giveaways or relatives homes. There’s a lot so I’ll just show my favorites.

These are my rubber reptiles, my tardigrade and monster finger-puppets, my wind up toys, and some bouncy balls and jingle bells.

This is my doorway decoration.

These are my other accessories that don’t fit in the costume drawer. My collection of silly sunglasses, my second favorite vest, this lovely sweater, and of course the essential clown nose and bow tie.

These are my clown shoes. These rubber boots have tragically become far too small for me, so I’m saving them untill my cousins are older. The rainbow sneakers are only for special occasions because they hurt my feet and Im trying to protect the color.

Land lastly, this is my favorite sculpture, I made it a few years ago.

All these were collected over the past 3ish years, a-lot of pieces were hand made or found in cheap stores, when I go out I keep my eyes peeled for anything clownish and that’s why I’ve managed to grow my hoard so large lol. If anyone reading wants to use the pictures for something (a mood board, a collage, whatever), tag me so I can see it!!!! Thanks for sending me this ask :o) I literally jumped out of bed as soon as I got it because I am a weapons-grade weirdo and love to talk about clowns

Have a lovely day and a happy Halloween!!!

#clown husbandry #clownblr #clown posting #clowncore #clowns #clown care #clown doll #clown #clown art #clown costume #clown cosplay #clown dolls #my special interest #<333333333 #so much fun with this one #seriously thank you #:o)

[alblondo23]

(slight tweak of the timeline, and inspired by Oscar posting hoodies on his insta, because that boy somehow knew, I swear)

Logan didn't want to wake Oscar. He knew the week had been exhausting for him, even before he got to the race; adoring media begging for interviews, adoring fans begging for autographs, pictures, hugs. Daniel had tried to lift some of the burden from Oscar's shoulders - "Mark did the same for me, when I was a rookie, so it's the least I can do for him," he had told Logan (and Logan idly wondered, why had Daniel told him this?) - but there was only so much he could do, without racing himself.

And so now Oscar was asleep, half-curled, half-sprawled on his hotel room bed in that position that screamed "I only meant to lie down for a moment", and Logan couldn't bear to wake his friend.

His friend. Only a friend.

But Oscar -

- Oscar was wearing his hoodie.

That darned Williams Australia hoodie that Oscar had spent all week teasing Logan about, Oscar was wearing it, snuggled down into it against the coolness of the evening, his face turned into the side of the hood, a tiny smile quirked at the corners of his mouth. The hoodie was long on him, the waistband brushing his thighs - thighs that Logan definitely wasn't thinking about any kind of weird way, of course - but Oscar, being heavier, filled it out better, the fabric taut across his shoulders and hips.

Logan didn't want to wake Oscar, but despite the stereotype of Australia being warm, Melbourne in early April was cool, winter beginning to creep around the edges.

At the last moment, Logan spotted the dark shape of a hoodie on Oscar's desk chair, and snatched it up. It was too short on him, the sleeves leaving his wrists bare at the cuffs, but it did the job. Logan sat on the bed for a moment, fiddling with the cuffs. Oscar's bed was so soft, Logan thought he might just lie down next to him for a moment...

~

Oscar woke with the sun the next morning, largely because he had forgotten to pull the curtains, and was greeted with the surprising sight of Logan, sprawled out on the bed next to him, dead to the world asleep.

Wearing his hoodie.

Oscar had pinched Logan's, the night before, as part of the game of teasing his friend - his friend, not anything more - and had accidentally fallen asleep in it; for some reason, it had felt like one of Logan's hugs, and smelled like him too.

But he hadn't expected Logan to steal Oscar's hoodie back.

He couldn't stop staring.

His only coherent thought, for a long while, was that Logan should wear more green. Not the obnoxious British Racing Green of Aston, but that lovely dark emerald of Oscar's things. It highlighted his skin, made him look glowing and lovely and -

- nice. It made his friend look nice.

But there was something about seeing Logan lying there with Oscar's branding on him, Oscar's initials, the outline of Oscar's home track, that made something possessive and only half-acknowledged purr in his chest.

Too late, Oscar realised Logan's eyes were open. Open, their brilliant blue dancing and sparking and brightened by the green contrast -

~

Logan was dreaming. He must still be asleep. That was the only explanation for Oscar hovering above him, his cheeks pink with a blush, his eyes fixed on Logan, still wearing that hoodie.

Well, if it was a dream, then Logan would let himself have what he had barely recognised while waking.

~

It was only when their lips met that Oscar thought, oh god, I'm a moron.

~

It was only when Oscar sighed Logan's name against his mouth that Logan realised, this is really happening.

And soon enough, both hoodies were on the floor.

I had to take a day and think on this because it's just soo good!! When I saw Oscar's post about the hoodies, I was going to post something, but then I saw this! I've reread it so many times trying to collect my thoughts I won't lie.

First off, Daniel seeing what's between Logan and Oscar and knowing that Logan will be there for Oscar to support him! He told you that because he knows Logan. He knows. (Max and Lando definitely had been updating him on the gossip. Max mostly to make Daniel see how much he misses racing and come back. To the sport of course not just to Max ;) Lando does it so he can find an ally in teasing Oscar)

Logan not even realizing that it's Oscar's hoodie only for Oscar to go absolutely wild for it when he wakes up is perfect. Logan is all heart eyes and some dirty thoughts while Oscar's out here going he looks best in My colors, My initials, and My clothes.

Oscar originally only stole Logan's hoodies to feel close to him. Now Oscar steals all of Logan's clothes so that Logan can only wear Oscar's things. Seems fair to him!

Now onto the kiss! The kiss is everything! I've said it before and I'll say it again, these two have such intense mutual pining vibes! They'd only get together when something finally broke as one of them finally thought screw it and reached out. Logan reaching out because he thinks it's a dream is perfect! The hoodies both landing on the floor made me laugh because it's the best fade to black.

After this all happens, Oscar definitely tells Logan that he looks amazing in green, for purely unselfish reasons of course! His plan works perfectly because Logan doesn't own much green and wears (a larger version of) Oscar's hoodie as he slowly brings green into his wardrobe. Everything is perfect! Until Logan actually wears non Oscar branded green in public and gets photographed! Oscar has to then realize that Logan looking beautiful in green in public turns that half-acknowledged purr in his chest into a howl as suddenly everyone is commenting about how pretty Logan looks. Suddenly every pic that appears online of Logan wearing green (because he likes when Oscar calls him beautiful or says it compliments his eyes so he wears green a lot now) there's Oscar making very clear to the world that Logan is there with him.

Logan posts a picture of him in Oscar’s hoodie on Instagram laying in bed all rumpled after the fade to black, and Oscar immediately pulls him into a kiss because now he can kiss Logan whenever he wants. Oscar turning into a (non toxic) possessive mess because Logan wore his hoodie once is amazing for me.

#loscar #osclo #logan sargeant #oscar piastri #281 #asks #hoodie au #oscar/logan

[marshmallowprotection]

Dahlia

Pairing: Unknown/Reader Description: On the evening of the charity gala, you encounter him in all his glory, the hacker who brought you to this place.  Word Count: 1328 [Read on AO3]

“Don’t you know I’m no good for you?” 

The chuckle in the back of his throat was a telling one, reminding you just how dangerous it was to let him this close to you without a second pair of eyes to make sure he didn’t do anything he shouldn’t. It wasn’t like you cared, though. Who could expect you to think twice when you hardly stopped to think once? You weren’t the kind of person who wanted to think things through. 

You were just another one of those reckless and impulsive fools that wandered right into a minefield because you didn’t pause to read the sign that said: Danger ahead! You idiot! 

You never had much self-preservation skills in the first place.

Would you have those fears deeply woven in your veins as someone who was willing to listen to a stranger tell you what to do even though it could’ve gotten you killed? No, you wouldn’t, wouldn’t you? You didn’t care to think, and because of that, you found yourself amongst the RFA and their chaotic storm of emotions that spiraled around you like a thundering set of crashing waves against rocky shores. 

But, more importantly, your actions led you where you were that evening, away from everyone and everything, sans the hacker that brought you to them in the first place. 

He wasn’t what you expected him to be, either. 

Shaggy white curls, unruly and untamed, with pink highlights kissing the tips, bright baby blues that seemed to be drinking in every inch of your features, and what appeared to be coarse hands that had a lifetime of scars trailed from his fingertips to the cuffs of his sleeves. 

He wore a suit for the occasion of the night, but with his own flare, a choker around his throat, belts mish-mashed across his chest, and a chain dangling from the hip of his pants. 

Despite the dark rings around his eyes, the chipped lips that were in desperate need of gloss, and the bemused look in his eyes, you thought he was… handsome. 

There was a certain charm about him in your eyes, but no matter what you thought of him, that nagging feeling in the back of your head was there to remind you that he manipulated you to get revenge. You weren’t sure what he wanted or the pain he suffered at the hands of the RFA, but there was one undeniable truth about Unknown: That look on his face told you how easily he could cage you in and devour you. 

You could call for someone to swoop in and save you if you wanted. 

But, did you want that? 

His little game of cat and mouse… the late night calls and feverish text messages sent between the two of you that were always at risk of being found out… the way you knew what he wanted to do to you all night long and the way he knew just how far you were willing to go to tumble away from their side… right into his embrace. Would you do anything he said just to find out how serious he was about his promises? Would you bend just to have a taste of something bad for you? 

Would you give in just for whatever abysmal chance he would allow to show you what he meant when he promised to gulp you down in the dead of night? 

“What if I do,” you began to say, eyes unwavering as you watched his eyes size you up by the minute. The sounds of the music playing inside the ballroom were long gone from your mind, knowing that you could only focus on the sounds of his haughty whisper, daring you to come closer… closer… and closer… until he snapped. You took a step in his direction, undaunted and afraid. “And, what if I don’t care?” 

He laughed, the tangled sound bouncing off the walls of the balcony you shared. “Heheheh… I think I like you a lot more when you show your true colors, party coordinator. What would those morons say if they knew you were playing right into the palm of my hand? What would they think if they knew the truth… that you’re a traitor… willing to throw them away… all because you want me?” 

Was he wrong about that? 

No. 

Unknown wasn’t wrong in the slightest. 

You came to him willingly, you told him everything he wanted to know, and you lied through your teeth anytime they asked you if you knew something about him. You were a liar, a filthy liar, and he made you feel like one in the best kind of way. Did you care about what they would think when this was all said and done with? Maybe, maybe you cared once, but you didn’t care anymore. 

You didn’t care what would happen behind you when the only thing that mattered was standing right in front of you. There was only one thing you cared about, and it was that nebulous look in his eyes that dared you to be bad. 

He grabbed you by the waist, that look in his eyes never wavering once as you fell into his embrace, and on bated breath, you sank into his arms like puzzle pieces slotting together… always meant to be one and the same. Unknown’s laughter felt like a symphony to your ears, and you couldn’t help yourself… you had to join in, laughing along to the sounds of his amusement. 

There was a desire in your heart you had to satisfy before the storm of hellfire began and you lost control with each passing second he satiated his twisted desires. 

You slung your arms around his shoulders, swaying to the music once again, falling deeper and deeper into the stormy seas of his eyes that sparkled like seafoam. The rest of the world didn’t matter to you at that point. The only thing you cared about was knowing that he would trade everything just to have a taste of your lips. You wanted that, you realized, you wanted someone to choose you over the world. It didn’t matter what happened to everyone else, as long as you had him. 

Whoever remained in the aftermath could think whatever they wanted of you… but you didn’t care if they thought you were no different than the villain in your arms. If anything, they were villains. 

They never cared about you in the first place, nobody did, they wanted you to be a replacement for another person who was long dead and would never return to them. You didn’t want to be a replacement for a dead soul. You wanted to be yourself, and if they’d realized that from the beginning… 

Perhaps, you never would’ve chosen to smile at Unknown’s whispers and leering taunts. They were the ones who drove you to it and they would be the ones to blame for their suffering. Not you nor him, the pain in their hearts was theirs to own and tolerate until the last quivering breath left their throat. 

It wasn’t your fault you wound up like this, torn and twisted from the shame, but they would pay for it all the same. 

You looked at him, praying he was watching you the same way you were studying him, “So, how long until the real party begins?” 

Unknown chuckled. You could hear the sounds of screams and shouts from behind you, and you knew at that moment that the party had started, not the one they wanted, but the one he planned right from the start. Yet, he didn’t stray from your side, nor did you with him. 

You just spun around the sound of the music and cries that came from those who would learn just what it meant to be welcomed to a paradise fit for two. 

Just the two of you. 

“Our party has only just begun, my beautiful traitor.” 

#mystic messenger #mm #mysme #mysticmessenger #unknown #unknown mystic messenger #unknown mm #unknown mysme #mysme unknown #mm unknown #mystic messenger unknown #saeran choi #choi saeran #unknown x reader #mod kait #saeran mm #saeran mystic messenger #saeran mysme #mm saeran #mysme saeran #mystic messenger saeran

[saturnsorbits]

Villain Arc

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Gore, Torture, We're not Very Nice to Deku Here, Folks. Word Count: 0.5k.

Summary: In the aftermath of Bakugo's death, you're searching for someone to blame.

A/N: This was written in response to Chapter: 362. Re-uploading this now I'm more comfortable with my Midoriya dislike.

'Why're you doing this?' Midoriya can't catch his breath. There's blood bubbling in his throat, thick and frothy as it tries to rise past his lips. He chokes, spits red.

Considering the amount of pain he must be in, you're not surprised that Midoriya can't breathe. Not that it matters. He was in pain too...

'You're not nearly pretty enough to being playing dumb.' You say. You're calmer than you thought you'd be, but all that means is that there's no shake in your hands when you press the blunt edge of your blade to Midoriya's shoulder and slice.

Midoriya screams.

He didn't scream.

You cut him again.

'P – ple... Please. I – I couldn't.'

He's crying.

You smile.

'Couldn't what?' Tilting your head, you raise your eyebrows enough to convey interest and blink, slow. 'Live up to All Might's legacy? Fight Shigaraki? Save the man you called your best friend?'

'I tried!' A wet sob leaves Midoriya's throat. It hits the floor encased with spit and foam and blood, leaving a brilliant red streak across the concrete.

'Not hard enough.'

You've already taken his eye. Where once was an emerald is now a black hole - a bloody nothingness. He'd struggled, so the void is jagged, but that doesn't matter. The quirk-cancelling cuffs and restraint chair had kept him still enough. His arm, already broken, had been shattered then. Bending it backward over your knee had been difficult, but you'd managed. Three breaks and a fracture. You'd wanted to do more.

'There was nothing... Nothing I could – Please...'

'He would have fucking found a way... He did.' Venom drips through your words, making them taste bitter on your tongue. 'He would have saved your pathetic, snivelling ass without a second thought.' Running the knife across his shoulder, you carve a crescent into his skin. If it where to scar, which it won't, you imagine that it'd heal in the shape of an explosion. 'It makes me sick thinking that he thought he'd always be in your shadow. That he'd never be enough... He was a thousand times the man you where trying t be – even at his worst. He came so fucking fa and look...' You laugh, but it's breathless. '… Look at you.'

'Kaa – Kaachan wouldn't want... He wouldn't want you to do this.'

You snort. He's right, you think. He wouldn't want any of this. He was better than this. You're just glad that he's not around to see that you're not. 'Yeah... Well being a hero did fuck all for him, didn't it.'

'Please...' Desperation pours from Midoriya's mouth and dribbles down his chin. He coughs. Self-sacrifice feels a whole lot different when you're not the one doing the sacrificing. His chest tightens, nerves screaming, but the sound is muted now. Somewhere in his stomach, he thinks he might actually deserve this.

The knife has gone warm. There was no way to tell the extent of his injuries. His body was too damaged. So you take some liberties when hacking at his stomach and chest. 'They're always... They're always using him against you and you let them. You knew, you fucking knew and you...' You try not to think about big things like blame and fault and revenge as you slice. Those only make your cuts uneven.

Screaming through his teeth, Midoriya struggles against his cuffs until he hears footsteps. Heavy boots pass just outside of the window. His heart leaps into his throat. The doorknob turns.

'Kirishima! Kirishima! I – She's using quirk-cuffs, I can't -.'

'I know.' Kirishima's iris' are almost black when they flicker up to meet Midoriya's. His hair looks longer, black roots growing through, his signature style replaced by a simple high pony-tail. There's a sleeplessness to his complexion, a purple paleness that highlights the heavy wrinkles at his eyes and mouth. He looks older, broken... Haunted.

Kirishima drops Midoriya's gaze and gestures the door with his head. 'C'mon, we'll miss the ceremony.' He offers you a small, pained smile. There's no teeth in this one.

The knife falls from your hand and clatters to the floor. ‘Okay.’ You swallow and bite your lip. 'Okay.' Slipping your hood over your head, you join Kirishima at the door and slip out as he holds it open.

'Kiri – Red Riot!' Midoriya pleads. 'Red Riot, you're a hero! You – you're a hero.'

Kirishima shakes his head. 'Bakugo was a hero... Red Riot died with him.'

Midoriya feels his blood run cold.

Pulling up his own hood, he offers Midoriya a smile. This one is different from the last. It's sharp and full of teeth. 'See you around little hero'.

-> Masterlist

#saturnsorbits #saturnscribble

[yuzu-all-the-way]

Yuzuru Hanyu's senior SP costumes

1. Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso (Rondo/Roncapu)

There are so many things to say about Rondo. A program that reflects Yuzu's journey - a story of his life (based on Shae-Lynn Bourne's interview). A program that was meant to be not only the SP that would help him win the 2021 Japanese Nationals, but also the SP that would set a new WR at the Beijing Olympics. It is a gorgeous, complex program to execute. The Beijing Rondo is a heavy memory in all our minds, however, that misfortune, at least for me, did not take away from the beauty of the performance.

Rondo is also Yuzu's last competitive short program and Beijing Rondo was our last memory of this SP. Nevertheless, on 28th August 2022, during the 24HTV charity broadcast, Yuzu presented us with a new Rondo - a far more delicate and polished Rondo than the ones we saw at the 2021 Japanese Nationals and at Beijing. Yuzu faced his fear and we faced ours alongside him.

I know some of you may still not be able to watch any competitive Rondo, but I promise you - this new Rondo has the power to override the bad memories and heavy emotions - it holds a new meaning now. A powerful, on the rise, pro athlete Yuzu has skated it as his pro career's debut program. Rondo closed a chapter and introduced us to a new one.

(Thank you kindly, @annainnorth, for sharing the video - Rondo 24HTV + another Rondo version)

Moving on to the costume.

Firstly, a short disclaimer: I have unintentionally chosen most photos from Beijing - this is because the photos I could find in the best quality for identifying costume details are from the Olympics and not JNats. The only one from JNats is the photo showing Yuzu's back.

This is a costume that only Yuzuru Hanyu can pull off. The low neckline, front and back, paired with the choker can be considered feminine. Yuzu's figure makes the costume mesmerizing and the costume highlights Yuzu's neck, collarbones and shoulder blades. While skating, the elegance of the movements, Yuzu's posture and the flow of the costume create a dream-like image.

The gradient theme appears again on this costume - the sleeves have a clear transition from white-blue to a deeper blue . A less pronounced gradient is present on the front and back.

The basis of Rondo vaguely reminds me of the Otonal 2.0 costume. The back is made of material apparently divided into V-shaped strips meeting in the center - the line of the zipper. In the front, there is an overlapping effect - the right side being diagonally oriented from the right shoulder to the right hip creating this impression, while the left side flows diagonally from the shoulder to the center of the sternum as if tucked in. The hem is 'shredded', so even when Yuzu is still, it gives the impression of dynamism.

The front and back of the costume seem to be made out of multiple strips, effect achieved by the material being folded. For me, it also creates a 3D effect intensified by the subtle gradient, as such bringing a depth to the design.

Clear and light blue sequins are attached alongside the strips enhancing the overlapping effect and giving the costume that elegant, sparkly intensity that we have come to associate with most of Yuzu's costumes. The golden accents of the top resemble feathers, observation based on the shape of Yuzu's feather necklace (visible underneath the mesh cloth in the above photo) that looks like the shape of the accent themselves.

The sleeves are the most simple element of the costume. They are thin, almost form-fitting with the cuffs being slightly wider. There are few sequins that adorn the upper arm, thus the eyes are mainly drawn to the gradient. It's almost an abrupt switch between the white-ish blue and the San Marino blue. The costume is completed by the skin colored mesh gloves which, in contrast with the darker cuffs, bring attention to hand gestures during the performance.

I chose to talk about the best feature of the Rondo costume at the end. The choker. The entire costume is a work of art in itself, however, the choker is the one element which completes the look and makes it unique.

The choker is filled with sequins of various colors: clear, light pink, light blue, dark blue, gold. However, the best little detail of the choker is the half-moon glued on the left side. The material on which these are attached to also holds a bit of gradient. The lower part of the choker is a very light blue, while the rest of it is San Marino blue, just like the cuffs. Connecting the choker to the rest of the top is a see-through skin colored mesh cloth.

Although the costume is very elegant, light and sparkly, it also brings out the strength and power that Yuzu holds as a figure skater. I specifically chose the below photo - the spread eagle with the arm up, a beautiful artistic choice to enhance the performance, a movement that fits the music perfectly. The power this pose holds is more so important to me since this is done right after that damned hole-in-the-ice incident. Yuzu never let go of the music, of his immersion into the program - he skated it beautifully from start to finish. I have shown his Beijing Rondo to people who have no idea about rules, technical elements and the such, and to their eyes, there was no mistake, that's how good Yuzu masked the incident.

Some of us wondered when we would see Rondo again, some had a harder time processing Beijing's Rondo, so there was silence. As we have been informed during this year's 24HTV, Yuzu also struggled to make peace with Rondo - Beijing was a hardship for him, I think, more than for us. But Yuzu decided to bring Rondo back as the program with which to make his debut as a pro athlete.

An unblemished Rondo was skated on 16th August (and aired on 28th). Here you can watch Rondo in it's entirety, without camera cuts, without commentary all thanks to NTV News (Rondo in 2 versions - one with camera cuts, and the 2nd the one I have previously linked). And Noto-san provided us with pictures from then.

The costume looks gorgeous under dim lights with a dark background. As such, the costume and the program became more precious to me and it was proof once more of how strong Yuzu is both mentally and physically. He completed a full competitive Rondo - the commentator even said that all the spins and StSq were Level 4. Rondo is the program which deserves a WR, a program so demanding and intricate that no one else can skate to, a program that is Yuzu's and Yuzu's alone.

The relief Yuzu showed after completing the program makes me very emotional as it allowed freedom to settle in.

With this freedom, I now conclude the post-series about Yuzuru Hanyu's senior short program costumes.

This is a post-series that’s meant to complement the ranking of Yuzu’s senior SPs in order of personal preference

Note: The costumes are in the order I ranked Yuzu’s SPs, not in order of least favourite to favourite costume

#yuzuru hanyu #introduction and rondo capriccioso #rondo #roncapu #figure skating #beijing 2022 #24htv 2022 #sp yuzu costumes #2021 jnats

[glitter50000]

I hope you enjoy reading ABOSAS!! I am ready to write essays on Snow. I am also ready to fist fight anyone who tries to babygirlify the young version of him… as usual 🤺👊

Thanks! I’m having a lot of fun with it and I haven’t even finished it yet. (Spoilers below if you haven’t read it just in case)

-First off there’s the environment, like it’s already bad reading on how fucked up the districts are treated from Katniss’s POV because she’s from the districts herself but reading it from The Capitol’s perspective is just so jarring. Like it just hit me reading it on how many of the Capitol view the districts as like playthings or circus animals. Coriolanus was waiting for Lucy and the others and he saw a train come by and from the design he thinks that’s just cargo until he hears a cough from it. They literally put the tributes in a monkey house in the zoo. -Also not to be like “eat the rich” because obviously it was very bad for the citizens in the Capitol when they got bombed by the rebels as it shows that with war no one really wins and everyone gets caught in the crossfire, but its something about how Coriolanus’s grandma had apparently never touched a stove in her life and he had to learn cause their cook died in the war. How the Capitol got so desperate during that time some resorted to cannibalism. How Coriolanus still ate cabbage on fine china. I dunno just little stuff that makes me realized like “oh these ppl are so rich” you know??

-Oh my god and Coriolanus is so fun to read. I mean I knew going in that he probably wasn’t going to be a good person but I was on the first page and I’m like “damn he’s cold.” Like just how he’s always thinking of how to best present himself to other people. The things like taking a swig of posca to get rid of the cabbage breath, how he was thankful for the rose on his shirt to get rid of the potato and marigold smell. Him pretending to not realize what kind of cuffs he had on his shirt and saying how it “reminded him of a maid’s bathroom” giving the image that he is someone who still is rich enough to have a maid when really they were stolen from someone else’s maid bathroom and they actually aren’t that rich at all. Just all the little things are so fun to me. Also his inner monologue is so entertaining sometimes I was thinking “damn he’s such a bitch” like I’m gonna highlight some of my favorite parts here:

•He thought of people putting a price on her. With her long, pointed nose and skinny body, Tigris was no great beauty, but she had a sweetness, a vulnerability that invited abuse. She would find takers, if she had a mind to. The idea made him feel sick and helpless and, consequently, disgusted with himself.

•Sejanus had arrived on the school playground ten years ago, a shy, sensitive boy cautiously surveying the other children with a pair of soulful brown eyes much too large for his strained face. When word had gotten out that he’d come from the districts, Coriolanus’s first impulse had been to join his classmates’ campaign to make the new kid’s life a living hell. On further reflection, he’d ignored him. If the other Capitol children took this to mean that baiting the district brat was beneath him, Sejanus took it as decency. Neither take was quite accurate, but both reinforced the image of Coriolanus as a class act.

•“That’s a fine polish job,” Coriolanus replied. Sejanus tensed at the implication that he was, what, a suck-up? A lackey? Coriolanus let it build a moment before he diffused it. “I should know. I do all Satyria’s wine goblets.”

 Sejanus relaxed at that. “Really?”

 “No, not really. But only because she hasn’t thought of it,” said Coriolanus, seesawing between disdain and camaraderie.

• Coriolanus tried to tamp down the panic rising inside him. A new law. Instating a tax on his apartment. For how much? As it was, they barely eked out a living on Tigris’s pittance, the tiny military pension his grandmother received for her husband’s service to Panem, and his own dependent benefits as the child of a slain war hero, which would cease on graduation. If they couldn’t pay the taxes, would they lose the apartment? It was all they had. Selling the place would be of no help; he knew his grandmother had borrowed every cent on it she could. If they sold, there would be next to nothing left. They would have to move to some obscure neighborhood and join the grimy ranks of everyday citizens, without status, without influence, without dignity. The disgrace would kill his grandmother. It would be kinder to toss her out the window of the penthouse. At least that would be quick.

  “You all right?” Sejanus peered at him, puzzled. “You just went white as a sheet.”

  Coriolanus regained his composure. “I think it’s the posca. Turns my stomach.”

  “Yeah,” Sejanus agreed. “Ma was always forcing it down me during the war.”

  Ma? Was Coriolanus’s place about to be usurped by someone who referred to his mother as “Ma”? The cabbage and posca threatened to make a reappearance. He took a deep breath and forced his stomach to hang on to it, resenting Sejanus more than he had since the well-fed district boy with the cloddish accent first wandered up to him, clutching a bag of gumdrops.

(I was gonna highlight more but it was gonna get so long lol)

-See but there’s also moments where like we do get humanizing moments and I like the balance. Like when he misses his mom and still has her powder compact, when he realized that Lucy probably wouldn’t see her family ever again, how he felt uncomfortable hearing Sejanus hate being a mentor and the hunger games cause Coriolanus reveled in this position. I dunno stuff like that I haven’t finished it yet though

-Also when Coriolanus whispered “don’t cry” quietly to Lucy and then caught himself I was like “uh oh :)” like that probably isn’t going to end well

- I know I haven’t finished it yet but Sejanus is the best boy please don’t argue with me on this

Anyway this book is very good and i’m excited for the movie!!

#lmao same on the ppl trying to seriously babygirlify him cause like nahhh that’s not who he is #That guy is a mythic bitch on the inside many times #I understand ppl finding him hot and all that though but I’ll be remembering these passages throughout the movie cause damn Coriolanus #Pun intended but Snow is very cold at times #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thanks for the ask <3

[semi-sketchy]

This is a really good video, I love the analogy in it, though I want to add another point that might not be relevant to the YouTubers quitting, but is to me.

It can really suck when the project you are passionate about and really want to make is ignored.

Like I’m not normally one to whine about numbers, but it is demotivating when I pour everything into something I’m super passionate about only for no one to care. It’s part of the reason I haven’t worked much on Xenoblade 3’s DLC essay despite somewhat promising it.

The highlight videos are some of my favorite pieces of content I’ve ever made, but they took weeks of work keyframing, adjusting audio, making assets only to get barely any views.

I still have old projects lying around for highlights of Ori and Untitled Goose Game I likely will never finish.

My LP of SA1 had so much info compiled and I did a lot to make that work, but it just didn’t kick off. I was hopeful something fun like Untitled Goose Game would catch the eye of my regular audience and maybe get them interested in my gaming content, but it didn’t. I did more casual and edited playthroughs of things like Sonic Frontiers and The Murder of Sonic, videos I think are very good and honestly are what I enjoy making the most at the moment, but same result.

I actually have a roughcut project that's essentially a blind Future Redeemed playthrough. I recorded it for notes and eventual essay footage, although polishing it for upload is tempting, I don't know if it's worth the effort.

I understand I’ve always been a variety channel with a focus on KinzTube, so interest in gaming topics isn’t going to be as high, but even when I made another Signature Island episode, what people kept saying they wanted, it didn’t perform as well as a low-effort video talking about a movie that was also unrelated to Webkinz.

It took almost 6 months to break 1,000 views compared to the 45 days of an off-the-cuff video which says nothing valuable.

I know no matter how much effort I put into a video, a plush collection or unboxing will always be more popular. It sucks because collections are very repetitive to make and I’m too broke to constantly be buying Webkinz only to earn less on a video than the package cost.

It’s also tiring because Webkinz is a shrinking brand, so if I did stick to just making KinzTube videos, my channel would die anyways.

Stuff like this does eat away at your motivation. It's rough when the only person who values your work is you. I don’t know if that was the case for all the people quitting, but I know it’s draining me.

#mirror post from twitter #but yeah something that's been on my chest since...god i made that last si episode #maybe i'll make this into a talking video i'm not sure right now #like i said it's been something on the back burner for awhile #Youtube

[cutegirlmayra]

Do you do Marvel fanfics? If yes I would love to read about spiderman and ironman being in a father-son like relationship. I love you !! ❤️❤️

It is, indeed, not my forte but I will have a go, why not?

PROMPTS ARE STILL ON SHUTDOWN, Don’t send anymore. Please and thank you ^^

Prompt:

Swinging wildly through the city, there was a concert of both cheers and boos, as Peter–everyone’s neighborly superhero: Spiderman!–swung with too many things he was carrying.

On one shoulder, his phone–which he tried to push his cheek against to keep it from falling, his spidey-sense letting him know his bag with all his school books was slipping and the zipper getting snagged on his suit.

Scrambling with his feet to keep his books from dropping out of his bag, he fumbled in the air, having to dodge building after building, while finally deciding to end the suffering and just string every article of his around his chest and squirted his string to the back of his phone and slapped it on his cheek.

Finally, he could swing well, “Sorry, Mr. Stark, I didn’t quite get that last part-? Woah!” he dodged a speeding train, having not even realized his surroundings. Hanging on to one tethering string, he was being twirled by the momentum he had dodged at, and finally, crashed into an open garbage dump, with large trash bags to–hopefully–cushion his fall. “Offph! Did you say ‘outing’?” He stuck his head out of the large green bin as he hit away from banana peels and jumped to get out, having to ‘swim’ at first to get through the grimey terrain.

“Listen, I don’t have a lot to explain to you what a ‘Camping trip’ is,” Tony, on the other hand, had his hands mostly loosen as he kept the phone up by his ear and kissed Pepper on the cheek as she walked by him and turned around to smile at him while he made his way down his multi-billion dollar hallway to work. “Where’s my earpiece?” He looked down at a kid with his dad’s reporter’s pass and pulled it out of his ear as though it was a magic trick. “There it is.” He ruffled the kid’s hair, clicked a few buttons, then put the device in his ear.

Completely nonchalant in his sarcasm, as usual, he then shook both arms out as though to ‘relax’ and pressed on with his conversation, adjusting the cuffs on his nice business suits at the ends of his wrists, “But it’s what grown men do to let out some steam and–I don’t know, Parker–bond?” He waved to a man passing by and then put his hands together, “I’m aware it’s your birthday coming up and you and I are going fishing.”

Spiderman was now in the jaws of a vicious, mutated, humongous monster as he leaned out of its mouth, the phone still stuck to his cheek as both his hands and arms were keeping it from clamping down on him.

“L-Like a father-son outing, Mr. Stark?” He looked around before gauging he needed a hand… pushing the jaw open with only one hand now he sprayed into its eye and gracefully back-air-swaned out of its mouth. “But what will I wear?”

“Mosquito repellant, and for your skin, definitely any sunscreen higher than what’s normally prescribed.” Stark was making himself some coffee, picking it up and taking a sip, “Ah~”

Peter’s voice answered with a roar of some monster and wind scraping through the microphone it sounded like, “Sunscreen isn’t prescribed, Mr. Stark.” he flew through the air to swing around the monster.

“It should be.” Stark humorously spoke out in a neutral tone, “Now, I’ll provide the camping stuff, you just bring your darling self.” He smiled, “Oh, and one more thing.”

Spiderman had now lassoed the monster in one hand, and with the other, put reins on it as it thrashed around the park. “Yes, Mr. Stark?” He looked around, as though wondering, ‘What now!?’

Tony stopped in the hallway, looking straight ahead, “Finish him, already… I’m growing bored.” Suddenly, the camera zoomed in to show Stark was watching the news on his glasses, thin holograms that were highlighting Spiderman’s fight.

“M-Mr. Stark?” He looked around, having tried hard to disguise the fact that he was busy.

“I appreciate that you love talking to me so much that you wouldn’t hang up the phone nor interrupt me.” Stark smirked, “So do us all a favor and give us a showman worth rooting for?” He took another big and hard gulp of his coffee, lifting his head up a bit to do so. “You’re losing me, kid.” He encouraged, as though to give the audience a big ‘BANG!’ finisher.

Peter paused for a moment as the monster kept rampaging like a bull trying to toss a rider from his back, but he chuckled after realizing that he was aware the whole time, and jumped.

The Monster reared its head up, but Spiderman tied it’s rex-like feet to the base of the ground with his webs, then swung up to teether different parts of its body to trees, then tripped it with a long string on the other side as it started to break free. “Timbbberrr!!!” he cried out as it came crashing down and hit it’s jaw on the water-fountain.

Drinking the water… it suddenly started licking, then gulping… before getting up and seeming to grow larger…

“Ahhh, Mr. Stark!” He realized it a bit late.

“It’s like one of those dinosaur pills you put in the sink and watch it form from a sponge.” Stark commented.

“... What? That was a thing? Was that an old person’s childhood toy, sir?” Spiderman stepped back a bit, but tried to keep the trip string and use it to tie its ankles so even though it was growing, it was still down.

“... How dare you.” Stark pulled the earpiece off and directly spoke down to it at his comment.

“Bomb it, Peter!” he cried out, as Spiderman leaped towards it’s guzzling mouth and sat on it’s nose, tossing small spider-bombs into the water as it drank it down, “My Aunt May once had to take care of this pomeranian our neighbors kept, and she would mix it’s medicine in with it’s food all the time.” Peter began to go on a mini-tangent before jumping away and running up the monster’s back. “I think this is the same thing expect we’re really not trying to help it-!”

“Get out of there, Peter..!” Stark looked out the window, and saw the massive explosion as the guts of the creature sprayed out with water all over his nice building’s windows… such was the radius of the blast.

“... I just bought this place.” He turned around and spoke into the earpiece again, “You better fish better than you fight.”

The two sat in the great outdoors, the chairs very standard with a cooler in between them, and the fishing lines out across the bright, azure lake.

“... You know, Mr. Stark, they say that-” Peter began on a scientific rant about facts ranging from mountains, lakes, and urban legends regarding some of them.

Tony dipped his hat down, sighing as he seemed like he was about to fall asleep rather than tell the boy to pipe down, knowing it was something that made him happy.

However, peeking from under the hat, he saw another huge monster’s tail in the water, and without telling Peter about it, immediately shifted his hand to a part of his Iron Man’s suit and blasted it.

“Woah-Woah!” Peter scooted back, shocked at the beam. “Mr. Stark! The Fish-!”

Powering down, Tony flexed his arm and pumped it a second to make the Iron Man fist arm go away and convert back to himself. “Crocodile.” he stated.

“B… B-But- Mr. Stark,” Peter began to protest, “They don’t live in waters like this.” He looked between the lake and Tony.

Tony put the hat back over his head and leaned his neck back, “What were you saying… about the ecosystem here compared to europe?” He proved he was listening..! And smacked his chops before pulling out a can, popping it, and drinking it down.

Aunt May had told Tony he had never had a real ‘guy’s trip�� before, and she always felt bad that she wasn’t much of a hiker, skier,... Heck, even anything on a boat made her woozy.

Hearing that, Tony couldn’t be happier than sending a drone out over the lake while Peter was busy, discreetly clicking some buttons on his arm before it flew down into the water, and Tony jumped up to point to Peter’s rod.

“Look!” he cried out, “Reel it in, reel it in!” He scrambled to help get Peter to his feet, holding the rod with him as the Drone took the dead monster body, wrapped the fishing line around itself, and began to pull against the pressure.

“Woah! It’s a big one, Mr. Stark!” Peter exclaimed, jawgapping as he tried to dig his feet into the ground to keep his catch.

“Must be one of your urban legends, Peter!” Stark summoned out his Ironman arms, “I can’t hold him, Peter, we’ll need your webslinger!”

“Right!” Peter shot into the lake as Tony pretended to fall back down behind him, and stuck out his tongue as he secretly, playfully, started putting in code.

“Watch out, Peter, hang on to it. We’ll cook this one up for Aunt May, she’ll see! We’ll get a big ol’picture!” He just kept spouting out silly nonsense before the Drone flew half the huge body out of the water.

“Uhhh-aahhh, Mr. Stark, that’s not a fish!” He cried out.

“Sure it is.” Stark smirked and reached out to grab his can again, drinking some more. “Keep at it, kid, you’ll reel it in. Don’t worry, you got it.”

Shooting out his string, deciding to trust him, he was able to hook it and tied the end of his string around the fishing reel.

They got a pic for Aunt May alright… with two big happy-go-lucky smiles on their faces, openly grinning from ear to ear as they held a secondary monster up out of the water with thumbs up. YT

(But imagine it's a monster instead that their holding and the pic is for Aunt May with a nature scene behind them lol)

#tony stark #peter parker #spiderman #ironman #spiderman and ironman #marvel #father and son #cutegirlmayra

[what-about-the-stray-cats]

Yin-Yang: when the black dragon and white tiger meet

The yin-yang is a major and recurring motif in the story of BSD. Many characters are each other's complementary opposites. The main duo, Atsushi and Ryunosuke, are no exception. You cannot talk about one without having to mention the other: they are a package deal. These two are linked on multiple levels, not only with their writing but also their designs are perfect mirrors of one another. I have highlighted all the similarities in their designs in the image below.

Ryunosuke’s Ability, Rashomon, is represented by the color red. Meanwhile Atsushi’s Beast Beneath the Moonlight has a blue aura to it. These two colors are placed exactly oppositely on the color wheel, a hint to their yin-yang symbolism. Their hair is another hint, Ryunosuke has black hair with white ends; Atsushi has white hair with a black streak. Where Ryunosuke has white cuffs and a white collar, Atsushi has black gloves and a black tie. This might sound like a stretch, but Ryunosuke has 2 long sidebangs whereas Atsushi has 1 sidebang. 2 is often considered a ‘feminine’ number while 1 is considered ‘masculine’. The yin, the black side of the emblem, is said to be the feminine part, whilst yang, the white side, is supposedly masculine. Even their belts reflect this: Ryunosuke has 2 sides falling and Atsushi has only 1 side that is loose. My favorite detail lies in their eyes: Ryunosuke has dark gray eyes, similar to the color of the night sky. This is because the Port Mafia resides over Yokohama in the nighttime. Ryu is therefore the guardian of the night. Atsushi has sunset colored eyes because the ADA operates and resides over Yokohama during twilight; he is the guardian of the day. Ryunosuke’s name also means “son of dragon”, and Rashomon bears resemblance to a black dragon. Opposite to this, Atsushi is a white tiger.

The yin-yang is an emblematic of valuational equality, meaning that both sides are of equal importance. These two sides, however, used to exist separately before being combined into one. It can be interpreted in three ways:

as the coherent fabric of nature and mind, exhibited in all existence,

jiao (=interaction) between the waxing and waning,

 as the process of harmonization, ensuring a constant dynamic balance of all.

I think that the third definition is the one that fits Shin Soukoku (“New Double Black– codename for the duo consisting of Atsushi and Ryunosuke).

Ryunosuke represents the yin side, aka the black one. Things often associated with the yin are; darkness, death, femininity, cold, moon, passivity. This is a pretty spot on description of Ryunosuke, who has all of the aforementioned elements in his character. Even the passivity; due to his bad condition, his Ability is best used when supporting someone else, thus when playing a passive role in combat.

The yang, aka the white side, is represented by Atsushi. Light, life, masculinity, warmth, sun, activity are things often associated with it, which is another spot on description of the character. Beast Beneath the Moonlight is a great combat Ability and is best used actively in a fight. It also allows for Atsushi to regenerate any wounds, for this reason, unlike Rashomon it does not bring death but life.

Shin Soukoku is, however, not opposite forces of each other. They are of equal value (=yinyang) and even carry characteristics of the other one. Instead of competing against, they must find a balance and harmonize with one another. Both of their views on life are vastly different, but both are equally bad for their own mental health, and it is through this difference that they will challenge each other and finally grow as people. For clarification, Atsushi is super selfless and throws away his life on a whim to save anyone. By doing this, he hopes that he can earn the right to live. Ryunosuke believes the contrary, only by killing everyone and becoming the strongest can he earn the right to live and find value in doing so. They need to work together to move on from their past traumas. In a way, they are both each other’s pupils and mentors; they learn from one another and also teach things to the other. By constantly challenging each others’ mindsets, they are able to change and mature and even empathize with each others’ suffering. In short: they are one another's salvation. Quite poetic, in my opinion.

[bloodletterepicness]

I do bad things, and I do then very well...

After days of feeling like I was on a merry-go-round, I took a fucking night off and disconnected from reality. No more body parts, no more contacting families about their dead and no more coming up empty handed for answers. 

I was spiraling and had reached the point of needing to get myself back in check. I could feel it twisting in my gut, demanding to be dealt with. Just getting out of The Pit and my office was a relief but I needed more, away from it all, if only for hours. 

I left instructions with Rhage on how to reach me but only if it was a fucking must. Plus if it was to be said out loud, the Brothers knew exactly where I was going to be. I stood in my Penthouse, bare foot, dressed only in my leathers with the top button popped open. 

The scene was set, not a single light switch was on. It was the fifty or more black pillar candles along with the eerie illumination of my diamond eyes, that shed light over the space. Then there was my table and the pain slave strapped to it. 

We both were a shit show in our own way, but we provided something for one another that not many could. The female vamp was well trained, not only by my hand, she had a few Masters that played with her. At the present moment we've been at it for a few hours and her body was visibly showing the wear and tear. “Take a breath Darlin...I know I need one.” I toss the drink of Goose back, swallowing most of it. I held just enough in, swishing it over my tongue before I decided to share it. I lean over the restrained female, letting the clear liquid pour from my lips, into her open mouth and wherever else it hits. I lick the remnants of vodka and blood away, groaning as they mingle together perfectly. “I can’t have you getting dehydrated. I plan on using you well past sunrise.” 

My icy color eyes blaze to life, casting an eerie glow over the room, highlighting the small pools of red built up on the table, floor and her flesh. I smack the side of her face and drag a single finger through the bloody mess, traveling it down her bruised chest and stopping &

when I reach the chain wrapped low around her waist and between her thighs. I gave it a hard yank and was more than satisfied with the pained yelp that ripped from her as the cold metal was shoved up between her sensitive pussy lips. &

I was in a giving mood tonight as I released the chains hold, unlocked her from the table and carried her to the cross. There was no way her legs were going to carry her slight frame, she was going through bouts of spasms even as I attached her to the wood. &

It took me about twenty minutes to get the female fully set up. Black leather cuffs wrapped the small wrist, while chains went around the ankles. I finished it off with the dildo/vibrator stand, taking great enjoyment sliding the thick fake cock inside her ass and making sure &

the vibe was pressed nicely against her opening. Once I’m done, I stand back and admire the decadent piece of art before me. And it was definitely a masterpiece. My iridescent eyes ate up every inch, the angry welts splattered over her alabaster flesh, &

dry and fresh blood smeared and dripped over her nipples, down her bruised tits to leave a nice path down her abdomen. I lick my lips but restrain from tasting. I did however coat my palm in the rich abundance of red and rub it all over the dildo, 

as I pulled it out of her ass, only to replace it back in. The beginning sounds that came out of her dry lips, were music to my ears but I wanted so fucking much more. &

I jack the speed of the vibe all the way up, pull the belt loose from my leathers and with a snap of my wrist, I struck the black strap across her chest. It was the moaning scream that had me delivering a series of two, three, four and for good measures, five whips. &

I could smell her juices flooding between her spread thighs, mingling in with her blood. I let my head fall back between my shoulders, breathing heavily until that scent was the only thing my lungs were full of. &

I growled through fully elongated fangs, cracked my neck and rolled my shoulders. Now this was my atmosphere. My head was clear, I could breathe and feel exactly what I wanted. I switched out the belt for a Barb Wire Cat of Nine Tails. &

I figured she had about another good hour of play in her before I let her rest and then I would use the male I had locked in a cage. I knew going into this night, one sub, would not fucking do, so I came prepared.

#v #8 #sl #bdb #rp

[mutual-monsters]

playing dangerous || lee bodecker

Pairing: Lee Boedecker x afab!gn!reader

TW: Smut, fingering, degradation, pwp (more plot than smut tbh), the smut being way too short, canon-typical violence, age gap (not specified), Lee being a bad cop™, me being back on my bullshit

MINORS DNI !!! 🔞

Summary: Reader tries to worm their way out of being caught on an arson charge by Sheriff Bodecker

Based on THIS Lana Del Rey song (lyrics to the song are bolded and italicized)

Word count: 1,158

A/N: My first non-ask?? Gosh, am I nervous, but @becca-e-barnes was very kind in encouraging me to post this, as well as @mulberrybeat (who is the best beta-reader/bff ever)

“Everybody knows that I'm a good girl, officer.” You say whilst peering over his shoulders at the heat behind the sheriff before you, the shadows being cast by the fire highlighting the sign of aging of the older man before you.

“And I don’t doubt that darlin’, I really don’t, but seein’ as that you’re the only one that was up here, are you sure you ain't lyin’ to me ‘bout startin’ that fire?” He says, skeptical of the situation. And you, chewing on your lip while maintaining eye contact as if pondering your answer, leave a brief pause in the conversation (not long enough for suspicion to arise, but just long enough for the tension to build).

“No, I wouldn’t do a thing like that, that’s for sure, Sheriff Bodecker, sir.”

“As long as you’re positive, sugar.” His dismissive tone cuts straight through your doe eyes, noting the clear stench of smoke on your nightdress as you fumble suspiciously with the hem of it.

“The house was already on fire, I swear I’m not a liar.” Tears being to well in your eyes, and threaten to spill over (whether they are real or fake is inconsequential; they do their job).

He softens himself, opening up to the possibility of your victimhood. After all, how can someone look so innocent and do something so vile? He attempts to quell your nerves– “Are you feelin’ alright, darlin’? Is there anythin’ I could do?”

“Well, I'm a little shaken, but I'm fine, thanks for askin'.” You mutter, gazing into his eyes, and he gazes into yours, his dick hardening as you step forward slightly.

“Tell me, do you always work alone so late?” You ask, innocent as ever, in an attempt to change the subject. He bites.

“Yeah, I do, doll. ‘Couse, can’t really help it with us bein’ out here in the stick ‘n all.” He flashes a wide crooked smile, one laced with years of lies, and you wonder how he doesn’t recognize your own.

“That’s must be hard. ‘Specially at night, when- oh!” A gust of wind blows by, nearly knocking you both over, and aggravating your flaming corpse of a home.

“Shit!” He exclaims, “You must be awful cold.”

“I dunno about cold, but, gosh, I’m a little shy standing here in my nightgown.” He glances down at the hem of your nightgown and the way it rides up on your thighs, and his mind, ever so briefly, comes to its senses.

“Darlin’,” He says cautiously, “I know you didn’t set that fire, but the boys down at the station are gonna be awful upset if I don’t at least bring ya in for a bit ‘fore lettin’ ya go.”

“I understand.”

“Just turn on around so I can cuff ya.”

The cuffs snap into place and you begin to wonder if he really is as stupid as he looks.

“Do you really have to put those tight handcuffs on? They’re so cold ‘n they hurt real bad.” The plea is small but just enough to nudge his heart (and cock).

“‘M sorry, darlin’. I really am.”

A new plan hatches.

“Let’s get in the back of your cop car, officer. I’m mighty cold just standin’ out here.”

And he just jumps at the idea.

“If it’ll make ya more comfortable darlin’.”

He opens the door and helps you in, and you make sure to flash him your panties on the way. You take a minute to reassess the situation; now alone in his cruiser, helpless and tied up with a man of the law.

“Now that we’re in here, sugar, I thought I’d ask you somethin’.” He says solemnly.

Quickly turning to him, as if to appear innocent and naïve, you respond, “You can ask me anything you want, anything, anything.”

“Did you know your daddy was in that house when you struck that match?”

“Lee, I told you, I didn’t-”

“You don’t have to lie, darlin’. I won’t tell nobody. Jus’ want the honest truth.”

A beat.

“It’s the whole reason I did it, Sheriff.”

He looks down at the floor and sits in silence for a great, long while.

“That’s what I thought.”

Moving to break the tension, you speak again, “Do you have a girl? I don't see a ring on your finger…”

Lee thinks of his wife, Florence, at home. He thinks of his wedding ceremony. He thinks of the way he takes his ring off before every shift for this exact reason. He answers.

“No. No, darlin’, I don’t.” He flashes a toothy, yet nervous smile once more.

“Well, that's interesting, have you ever thought of dating a singer?” Her lips curl into a smile as well, though perhaps not for the same reasons as his.

“Well, honey pie, if I wasn't before I certainly am now.” The eye contact remains unbreaking until you gesture with your head to the burning mess behind you.

“It’s kind of exciting, don’t you think?” You say, eyes unblinking.

“The fire?”

“The risk.”

Then suddenly, he’s uncuffing me.

“Let me take those off, darlin’. T’ain’t no use for ‘em anyhow.” He says, and you know you’ve won.

I'm in love, I'm in love, love in a hurricane

I'm in love, I'm in love, love in a hurricane

I've been bad, I've been wrong, playing a dangerous game

I'm in love, I'm in love, love in a hurricane

Hurricane, hurricane

“Is there anywhere I can take you?”

“Why don’t we just stay here?”

Your lips are on his now. You taste his tongue (cigarettes and hard candy) and he tastes yours (red wine and a hint of regret). You allow him dominance, and in turn feign submission, but remain in control.

“Mmh–Lee, I need you to touch me.” You beg. He’s needy. He’s hard. You can feel it. He obliges your request, gently pressing his fingers to the outside of your already wet panties.

“Ahh– please, more!”

Ever so slowly, he slides a finger inside of you and finds your swollen clit with his thumb.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t ya, honey? Sittin’ over there talkin’ a big game, then comin’ apart on my fingers.”

All you can do is nod and whimper as he adds another finger. His thumb presses down a little harder, and the pace of his fingers increases.

“Gonna cum, dollie? Gonna cum for me? Settin’ fires just have the big bad sheriff clean up your damn mess. Tryin’ to fuck your way outta jail, dirty little slut. Well, look at ya now, can’t even fuckin’ talk, cockdrunk off my damn fingers.”

And you’re just losing it.

“You like bein’ talked to like that, darlin’? Bein’ the sheriff’s personal whore?”

And that’s enough to push you straight over the edge.

“What a Goddamn gorgeous mess you made, darlin’.” He says, sucking your juices off of his fingers.

“Lee?” You whimper out.

“Hm? What is it?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x afab!gn!reader #sebastian stan #the devil all the time #I <3 this song #I guess we're in a lee mood today lads #this is such garbo lolz #🌶️ #tulip wants french fries #plus sized reader

[deafsignifcantother]

no one is to blame

♥ summary: batman has a deaf associate, and when the joker loses his hearing, he knows the best person to be able to teach him ASL.

♥ relationships: (non specific) Joker x deaf female reader

♥ word count: 3,103

♥ warnings: gun, manipulation, reader uses voice (once)

It wasn't his fault. The landing was rough and Batman wasn't there to catch him. Moments after, articles upon articles released details to 'the end of the joker.' You had read them all. You and the workers at Arkham Asylum knew better. In their medical ward, wrapped in bandages, was a man recovering. He found a new way of seeing things - his eyes recyclable, traded in for the eyes equal-capable to a specific community. The Deaf Community. He had thought himself observant before, but he realized that a hearing person's aura is much different in the eyes of someone who depends on sight.

The elevator beeps. It's down the hall from his room. Inside of it is two people. One is fidgeting with the cuffs of his suit and the other is looking down at their clipboard. You scan, a triple-check, the curriculum Bruce had highlighted for you. His handwriting is a man's writing. He writes as if he holds a tight grip; as if he untucks his fingers when he fingerspells p; as if he'd held a knife, or worst, thrown a fist. You watch him stim. Is he nervous? Why should he be - this was his idea.

You're happy to be assisting Batman, no matter the secret identity. Watching him hop around at all those buildings is addicting. There wasn't a second where you didn't wish to be a part of that life. When he recruited you - your brain being his antidote, he needed you around the manor. Alfred to well to the sudden female presence, one not temporary. All you did was act like a nurse. More, you needed more. You needed to be something capable. You needed to not be seen as weak, so you said yes to helping him out, and you didn't even need to hear him explain the plan, you were just happy to finally be involved in something.

You straighten your tie as you step out of the elevator. He is quick to take the lead. It's quiet compared to the other parts of the place. To you, the air is still, with no vibrations from heavy footsteps nor banging of hands against walls. You feel a bit out of place. Like the teacher that everybody hates, walking down the hall, away from open doors and snickering people. But in this scenario, you only have one student to worry about.

Bruce opens the door. What you had expected was a bed-ridden Joker, bandages around his face and patches of his old life clinging to his body. This Joker - the one in front of you - is the one you see on the news. You take a step back. He has prisoner's clothing but the same crazed eyes. Yet, with unstyled hair and smile lines, he looks relatively normal. As if he'd belong in prison rather than asylum. When he sees you, he doesn't react, it's a mere flicker of his eyes. His attention turns to Bruce Wayne. And they speak. Bruce steps in front of you, guarding you, pulling something out of his pocket and handing it over. You watch as his eyes scan the piece of laminated paper. The twitch in his eyebrow is the only evidence he gives of even processing the information. Then he meets your eyes. It's like a lightning strike.

And then he speaks a word you understand.

"Deaf?"

Not very different from you, you wish to remark. Instead, you play his game and stare blankly at him. He tilts his head. You blink slowly. If Bruce wasn't mistaken, he'd believe the two of you had developed telepathy. He can feel a cold tension and for a second, he doubts you. Joker tosses the paper on his nightstand, not staying to watch if it lands, stepping forward, quickly, and ignoring the Bruce Wayne blockage to make his way to you. He holds out his hand. You shake it. When released, you give him your name sign. Bruce intervenes to explain that that is your name. Joker points to himself, mouthing something you can guess is do I have one? With that, you smile. And he notices.

"Joker," you sign. He mimics your sign, smiling loosely.

Bruce watches, a sudden outlier, the two of you smiling at each other. He thinks of Harleen. It was he who put her into his world. What if the same happens to you - then who is to blame?

He sat inside for the first few meetings. You followed the curriculum perfectly. With the language barrier, The Joker couldn't tease you - flirting or otherwise. The starting words were hospital-related; words he might need like water, pills, need, stop, and pain. Bruce had never seen the clown prince so quiet. The silence was almost torture. He was waiting for him to start laughing, or worse, try to sedate you. But he never tried anything. That is what made him even more suspicious.

"He's doing fine." You acknowledge Bruce as you pack up. Joker smirks a little, tapping the metal table, watching you and the billionaire go back and forth.

"Don't trust him."

"I won't." You sign, squinting your eyes. "I'm just doing my job."

And you do your job well. He hardly struggled - hardly forgot anything you taught. Bruce started accompanying you less and less. You had gotten your security badge - allowing you unauthorized access to his new cell, moved out of the medical ward and into the main area. Even in your personal life, you thought of him. You'll mix your coffee, staring at the machine, wondering if he knows the sign for it. But you have to stop yourself from lingering on the candy-appled thoughts of him. Maybe it's the routine. Being with him more than once a week will make him a part of your most-dayed life. You know more, a permanent self-awareness, and you understand that he is the carrier of mind diseases with no cure. And you do not bother enough about his well-being to even hesitate to report him if anything goes wrong. He is your student but he is not your friend.

That's what you tell yourself.

"Penguin." You teach him, trying to waddle in your seat. He copies you while his lips hold his iconic grin.

"Batman." You do next.

It's hot inside of his cell. You have learned to shed off the suit jackets and the long-sleeves. Business casual has been disregarded. The guards know your name - not caring to check your body for devices. Maybe this is how they always seem to escape this place. Good thing your intentions are well. Batman would surely be proud. The Joker always leans forward when he addresses you. He puts his body into his communication: extreme, distracting expressions. The art of dramatics is rather annoying in reality, but this world you're now living in is very abstract, and he is acting as a psychopomp to carry you into the unknown. Yet, you have it all under control.

"Batman... Fascinating." His teeth peek through his smile. He won't break the eye contact. Your back straightens, and you uncross your legs. His eyes are like beartraps. If you linger in his gaze, you'll get stuck. Still, and consistently, you don't back away from his bait. His lips tighten and snap open in a yell.

"Are you scared of me?"

The heart beats out of your chest. You can't explain why. Perhaps it's the way his gaze sticks to you like honey, warm, savory. Or is it his stance, defensive as a soldier, closed off, and intimidating. As he leans closer to you, his hair falls into his face. His eyebrows are low - he's waiting for you to respond. But what can you say? If you were scared of him, would you see him this often? Would you smile with him - compliment him and send in good, honest reports to Bruce? If you weren't scared of him, why do you stiffen whenever he jerks or snaps? Why haven't you touched him or even sat close to him? Across the metal table, you gain enough of The Joker, understand his mechanisms without even orally speaking to him.

"Why not?" You shrug, waving him off. But he doesn't stop there.

"Have you met Batman?"

"Yes. He's very invested in your progress."

"Invested?" The sign is new to him.

"He wants to know. Invest. I-N-V-E-S-T."

"Batman cares about me?" He, astonished (fake or not - you can't tell), holds a hand over his mouth, trying to playfully hide his smile. When he sits back, satisfied, you offer him a kind smile.

"A lot of people are surprised at your cooperation."

For the first time, you saw the sincere drops of mischief form on his face. A thought crosses you; angers you. It's the feeling that surrounds the words finally, there he is. Was it approval? Relief? Had you not been grateful for his kindness? Did you want him to be evil? Scandalous? There's a quick-twitch on your lips, a smirk, quickly ascending into a smile.

You laugh, glancing down before telling him, "You're so funny."

He had dug his claws into you. You hardly noticed; hardly thinking it was possible. But with the casual way he has slipped into your region of trust... he knew he was going to take advantage of it. He was trying to analyze your 'limit.' You didn't touch or be kind to him the same way Dr. Quinzel had. The seduction tactic was less likely to work. But what if he succeeded - under the nose of Bruce Wayne - with Batman caring about his work. He knows it was Bruce Wayne's idea to even have a tutor hired, that he thinks it's 'immoral or 'unjust' for him to have no language skills. Transcripts and note-writing couldn't keep him for much longer. So now, with another young woman in his grasps, how was he to go about this?

"How do you like her?" Bruce signs to him, a meeting without your presence. Or consent.

"Very smart. Capable of understanding me."

He laughs, stiffly, blinking slowly. "She's intelligent, that's true."

"What do you see in her?" He asks.

A bit wary, he hesitates to answer. Is he trying to prick at an alledged romantic tension? Secure her background? Bruce thins his lips. "I see a remarkable woman who is taking time out of her schedule to help me, not you."

Joker claps his hands. "She's doing great work."

But then, something happened. You were at home, on your computer, watching your communities Deaf news source. Your phone had many missing calls, all from Bruce, trying to FaceTime you, needing your undivided attention.

"And now," signs the reporter who sits in an all-black room, "with recent news over the escape of inmates of Arkham Asylum." What? You had not heard about this. Was anyone killed? Is Joker okay?

You race to the bedroom to grab your phone. Your feet mesh through piles of clothes: forgotten pencils skirts and button-ups. That's how you caught his last attempt at a call, hitting the answer button at the second.

"Bruce." But it wasn't. Not really. Batman drives with his eyes focused on you rather than the road. Panic increases in your chest, sizzling up your shoulders and down your arms, prickling at your fingers. It's a wave crashing on the shore, the noise like crackling lava.

"Joker is gone. Some organizations snuck through security. There's no evidence he left the premises."

The air around you spins, and you gasp, inhaling the cold, thick aura of uncertainty. It must have been him. Or - he must have been involved in some way. You begin to overthink. "What are you doing to do?"

"Find him. I'm calling you to tell you to stay out of it."

"Fine."

-

You tuck the gun into your waistline. It's been almost a month since Joker's disappearance. Batman had not found him - any trace of him. The cameras had spotted him walking down the hall, away from the exit, prideful and without hesitation. You were instructed not to be involved. Maybe that was the wrong call.

You button up your jacket. It's too big for you. The sleeves reach your fingers, and the ends go past your skirt. He is still in that building. You feel it. Though, you have spent weeks convincing yourself that certainly, everything isn't about you. But you're Batman's sidekick now - and if he can't capture him, then you must. He's going to cause more trouble from within those walls, and you're sure of it.

The guards sign good morning to you, and you return it casually, scanning your badge. No hearing eyes analyze you while you enter the building, further into the gloom.

"Hospital." You had shown The Joker the sign, teaching him the word. He was still locked in the medical ward back then, and Bruce was still watching over your lessons. Was he proud? Appreciative?

"It's cold in here." He responded. You just absentmindedly nodded, trying to get him to sign the word back.

"I'd stay here forever if I could."

Forever. You hadn't taught him that one.

Goosebumps go up to your spine as you step into the ward. Something starts to cloud your mind. Paranoia. What if Bruce did know where he was - is this just a test? Seeing if the Joker had succeeded in manipulating you? But that's unrealistic. You're not swooning for him - not captivated by his mystery. You're his enemy.

But where is he? The gun on your belt feels heavier. Are you planning on firing at him? To threaten - or to kill? A sudden vibration on the floor scares you. Rounding the corner is a nurse pushing a cart of instruments, the wheels uncooperative, the movement quirky. You let out a breath until suddenly, a hand wraps around your forearm. It yanks you into a room. A warm chest presses against your back. A hand covers your mouth. Through the window on the floor, you watch as the nurse makes her way past. Clueless. You can feel his breathing. You can feel him move, using his ghostly white thumb to sign something against your body. Secret. The hand covering your mouth moves down to your sternum. And then, he drums to the rhythm of your heart. All you can think about is the gun. Shoot him. Kill him. You need to kill him.

You flip around, grabbing his wrists. For the first time, you see him up close. He has youthful years behind his light brown eyes. They have freckles of gold. The skin around his lips gives him age, an attractive maturity.

He's close enough to press his forehead against yours. When he leans forward, you fear he might, so you pull away. You go to grab the gun. Your fingers trail around your waistband, continuing, and you don't realize fast enough. He waves it in the air and laughs an invisible laugh. Your breaths get more difficult, deeper, and the lack of adrenaline; the terrifying deficit of motivation kicks you to the ground. You become aware. And suddenly you're falling. Your knees had buckled and you had given up. But you scramble to your knees as soon as you realize. Still, you gasp for air. It was supposed to be easy. You were supposed to be the hero - the savior, the one who found his hideout, turning him into the most dangerous game. At this moment, only one person fills your mind.

"Bruce." You cry out, holding the tears in your hands, leaning against the Joker's legs. Your accent mumbles the word out, and the tears hide the pronunciation. All you can think about is him. Did he do this on purpose? Did he know it would end like this? Maybe he used you, put you in Joker's world to test the waters. Test. Are you just a controlled variable to him?

Joker's body secures you. It makes you comfortable, even though he's the one with the gun. He's like an incubus, capturing your body, draining your feelings, and bombarding your emotions. Especially in the way you reach down and grab your chin, focusing your eyes on him.

"You're a good teacher," he starts, "but a bad hero."

That's what you tell Batman. You think about that a lot - his words. For in the blank canvas of the world, everything is grey; the same, all cops and heroes, criminals and citizens. But you two, so different and yet sharing the same green color. Maybe being deaf was his opportunity: his fate, a chance to meet you - the strong, determined young woman who wanted to draw a gun on him. You were so interesting to him. That's why he kept you coming to him for so long. Sign language is a quite art. It masters stealth, security, and mischief. Plus, deaf people are more advanced than most hearing people. That's why he has many deaf people on his team. That's why he was fluent in sign language, years before he had ever met you.

He had left. Out the side door, and you followed him out. This was after he pressed the gun into your spine. You watched him leave, and he took the gun with him. It was all a blur. The walking, the intense worry that you were going to get caught, the feeling of being victimized. On the phone with Bruce, you couldn't explain the full story to him. There was no way you could trust him after this. Retelling the story, you had skipped a detail: he had kissed your forehead. It was so minor, a morsel of affection, but it calmed you down. His hands had brushed through your hair, and he had helped you up from the floor. Dreams became sweet; dark became light; and suddenly, there was no gloom. He had to know what you were feeling. Why else would he comfort you? He put himself in danger to do that, you could have attacked him, scratch his eyes out, or punched him in the nose. But he didn't care.

Weeks later, as you walk down the street, a gloved hand pulls you into an alleyway. You can feel the cold metal of a gun pressed against your temple. It only lasted seconds before the body lurked forward, onto you, falling down your side and onto the floor. The pool of blood-stained your shoes. When you turn around, a man with a clown mask greets you.

"Bosses order." He signs.

You smile.

#dc #dc joker x reader #dc joker #joker x reader #the joker x reader #x deaf reader #deaf s/o #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck #jared leto joker #john doe #john doe x reader