#I THINK WE ARE IN RATS' ALLEY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 7 months

Text

DPXDC prompt: Dead on main. No trick only treat.

~~Сhildhood friends and deals~~

The Justice League has to summon a ghost from another dimension to address the threat. They don’t know what price the Ghost King will take but there’s little time to bargain. Another spirit threatening them has already seized all the computers on their base. John doesn’t know what else to offer. A summoned ghost starts to look bored. Gold, jewelry? A favor from a member of the League? Like the Ruler of All Dead needs it. No one dares to make another offer, and the King is in no hurry to set out his demands. Maybe try to pull off a soul sale scam?

Suddenly, Red Hood breaks into the hall, walks up to Phantom and shakes his shoulder vigorously. Red Hood: You, get Technus out of here right now. I need access to the files and fast. Phantom: That’s rude, dude. Where did you grow up? in the cave? No "hello, no how are you, Danny", really? Red Hood: I’ll pay the usual price. Phantom: Deal.

What is the price? John sees Batman and gets in his way. The usual price, his guy said. Means Jay was already out of the deal alive and well. This hyperprotective bat would only piss off the ruler if he interfered.

The King quickly deals with his subordinate using a thermos and remains to watch working Hood. Red Hood: What do you want? I’m busy. Danny: You and I have a contract~ Red Hood: All right, all right. Jay throws M&Ms right in the face of the ghost. But king doesn’t look angry. He opens the package and starts sorting the candies by color. Phantom quickly eats up all the green ones and passes the red ones to Hood. Jason takes them without any questions.

Strange. John has never seen a summoned creature share its reward with a human. And the son of a bat looks too comfortable with it. Wait, since when do super-powered beings think that candy is a decent wage?John makes one of the most likely deductions using his experience. Constantine: Batsy, how long has your son been sleeping with the King of Ghosts? Batman: He…what?!

~~~~~~~

Dick *knocking at the door*: Little Wing, you hate ectoplasm and everything what is neon green, so why? He’s dangerous! Jason who turned on the music to not listen to his crazy family: ~He’s poison but tasty~

Dick: NoOOoo

~~~~~~

Jason: And now everyone thinks that I sold my virginity to you for a bargain or something, because interdimensional creatures like you aren’t supposed to help for nothing. Like you’re playing favorites. I’m gonna fucking kill John. Danny: Well, I wouldn’t say no to that. Jason: What? Danny: I mean, to k-kill John, yeah. How dare he.. Jason: Omg, you’re still so terrible liar, Fenton.

Danny: Sorry :(

Jason: No. Say it again.

~~~~Twelve years ago~~~~ Maddie wasn’t thrilled to learn that Danny was trying to make friends with Todd’s son. Their neighbor was terrible. And his son was definitely a street rat and probably a juvenile delinquent. Maddie: Danny, honey, there’s got to be a reason this boy is talking to you. Even kids from the crime alley are always looking for a bargain they can make or a fool they can fool. Danny: But Jason is so cool! He knows so much about books and alleys and.. Maddie: But you don’t want to be a fool, do you? Danny: Okay, Mom, I get it.

So, if Danny wants a cool friend, he’s got to offer a bargain.

He didn’t have a lot of pocket money for every month but Jason needed it more anyway. And his lunch that Jack was picking for him was big enough for two and only bitten on Tuesdays. Nice. Jason: Do I understand correctly? You will pay me and give me food, and I, what? Protect you from bullies? Danny: No! I’m not weak, I don’t need to be protected. Just..maybe we could sit together at lunch and walk each other home sometimes? Jason: Nay Danny: But why? You want something else? Jason: Money’s fine but your homemade food is…strange. Danny: I can bring sweets if you want. Jason: Deal. 3 pop tarts for a joint lunch, a party size bag of M&Ms if you waste my time out of school.

~~~~

Sometimes they share sweets when they hang out but more often Jayson takes them home to save in case his parents have money problems. Sweets have a long shelf life stored and he may not be afraid to poison himself. Over time, candy becomes their currency and a secret language for all occasions. Need help without unnecessary questions? M&Ms. Problems with learning? Skittles. The question is about family? Snickers. There will be a serious conversation? Pop Tarts.

Jason: One snickers and a pack of gum. Danny: Yeah, Jason? What do you want? Jason: My mom wants to meet my friend. Come to lunch on Sunday. Danny: Okay, you managed to pay for my expensive services. Jason:…and you just lost the gum from the deal.

~~~~~~

Jason threw a package at Danny: Three pop tarts. We need to talk. Danny: All right? Jason: Why are you avoiding me all week?! Danny: Well, it’s just..you’re Wayne now. Jason. Still Todd. And what about that? Danny: You can hang out with the cooler guys now, I didn’t want to embarrass you. Jason: Bullshit! I’m still the street rat, and you’re trying to avoid our contract. me. And I don’t even need money from you anymore. What the hell? I thought you are my friend. Danny: And I am!

~~~~~~

Robin: What’s a schoolboy doing in an alley at night? Danny: Um, I…nothing? Don’t tell my parents, Mr. Robin sir. Robin: It will cost you so many Chunky Bars, you have no idea. Danny:...Jason? Jason: N-no. Danny: Damn yes. What are you doing in green shorts on the street at night?! Jason: Cosplay. Danny: Oh yeah? Then I’m just your hallucination. Don’t hesitate to ghost me. I’m going home, Disgrace In Pixie Boots, bye. Jason: fu%&c$#u

#dpxdc prompt #dcxdp #dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #dead on main ship #dead on main

6K notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 9 months

Text

Grid Kids

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: your adopted family may be chaotic but you wouldn’t change it for the world

Series Masterlist

Max Verstappen: Jailhouse Rock

It’s an ungodly hour of the morning when your phone rings. You groan, fumbling blindly on the nightstand to silence the offender. The name glowing on the screen gives you pause: Max Verstappen.

“Seb,” you mumble, nudging your husband awake. “Max is calling. It’s 3 am.”

Sebastian grumbles something unintelligible, face squished into the pillow next to you.

“You take it,” you insist, poking him again, “I spent three hours on the phone with Lewis last night promising him that Roscoe doesn’t hate him for being left at home this weekend.”

Reluctantly, Sebastian sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He swipes to answer, his groggy voice filling the silent room. “Max, do you know what time it is?”

You hear a hurried explanation from Max’s end, something about a go-kart race, a party, and a tiny misunderstanding with local law enforcement. Your husband’s face becomes more incredulous with every word.

“Wait, you’re where?”

***

Ten minutes later, you find yourselves at the police station, bleary-eyed but amused. Max is sat behind bars, a sheepish look on his face.

“I promise, it wasn’t my fault,” he insists, blue eyes pleading.

You both manage to suppress your laughter. After signing a few papers, Max is free but the smug grin on Sebastian’s face tells you that he’s not going to let him off that easy.

“So, this is our life now?” you whisper to Sebastian, wrapping your arm around his. “Running a day care for unruly F1 drivers.”

He chuckles, giving you a light kiss on the forehead. “I think we make a pretty good team.”

Charles Leclerc: Open the Floodgates

It’s a stormy evening when your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a text message from Charles Leclerc: Hey, can I crash at yours? My flat’s kind of … flooded.

Sebastian, reading over your shoulder, raises an eyebrow. “Flooded?”

Before you can respond, a photo arrives — Charles’ living room, a sea of murky water with floating furniture: Okay, maybe more than just kind of.

You look at each other, suppressing laughter. “Guess we’re running a bed & breakfast now too,” you comment, already texting Charles back: Come over. Bring a mop.

***

Not an hour later, there’s a knock at your door. Charles, drenched from head to toe, stands at your doorstep, carrying what appears to be a plant pot with a small, equally wet cactus.

“I saved the cactus,” he says, looking as pitiful as a drowned rat, albeit a very cute one. He offers a half-hearted shrug, “I didn’t want it to drown.”

Sebastian bursts out laughing, his contagious mirth echoing around the hall. You can’t help but join in, hugging your sides in an attempt to remain composed.

“Well, come in. We can’t have you and the cactus catching a cold.”

***

Over the next few days, you quickly adapt to the unexpected housemate situation. Charles proves to be a surprisingly tidy guest, always washing his dishes and even cooking dinner one night (although you had to discreetly order pizza after trying his special lasagna).

In the evenings, the three of you curl up on the sofa with Sebastian’s old race replays, laughing and teasing each other. And every night, before he goes to his bed in the guest room, Charles says goodnight to his cactus — the newest member of your eccentric family.

Lance Stroll: The Cat-astrophe

A week later, you get a frantic call from Lance Stroll. “Guys, I found this cat,” he says, panting heavily, “It was all alone in the alley and I couldn't just leave it there.”

The line goes silent for a moment before Lance coughs then sneezes loudly. “Uh, guys, I think I might be allergic ...”

***

When Lance arrives, the culprit — a tiny, scruffy looking kitten — is perched on his shoulder while Lance himself is a picture of misery: puffy eyes, runny nose, and all.

Between his sneezes, Lance pleads, “Can you please keep her until I figure out what to do? I can’t just abandon her.”

You glance at Sebastian, who looks at the tiny furball with a mixture of amusement and concern. He’s been a dog person all his life but how can you say no to those pleading green eyes?

And so, your home expands to accommodate another kid — this time, a four-legged one.

***

The next few days are full of chaos. The kitten — whom Lance named Speedy — turns out to be an agent of destruction, knocking over everything in her path and giving Charles’ cactus a few worrying near misses.

You try to give Lance advice on finding a new home for Speedy while dealing with cat-proofing your own. But, during the ensuing pandemonium, you can’t help but laugh.

George Russell: The Shrunken Sweater Saga

One sunny afternoon, George Russell bursts through the door, a panicked expression on his face. “Guys, something terrible happened!”

Sebastian and you exchange a concerned look, jumping up from where you were cuddled on the couch. “What is it, George?”

He holds up a shrunken cashmere sweater, once a luxurious wardrobe piece, now resembling something only a toy poodle could wear. “I accidentally put all my sweaters in the washing machine! They’ve shrunk!”

As the reality of the situation sinks in, you can’t help but chuckle. “George, you do know cashmere isn’t machine-washable, right?”

“I thought they were!” he laments, looking at his miniature sweater in disbelief.

Sebastian claps a hand on George’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, mate. We’ll figure this out.”

***

Over the next few days, you and Sebastian embark on a quest to save George’s beloved cashmere sweaters. Armed with online tutorials and gallons of fabric softener, you attempt various rescue techniques.

Some of the sweaters regain a semblance of their former glory while others are beyond saving. You present George with a colorful assortment of shrunken clothing which he accepts with an embarrassed grin.

***

A sudden thought strikes you and you can’t help but giggle. Holding up a particularly tiny sweater, you call out to Speedy.

“Look, Speedy! It’s your size!” you exclaim as you gently dress her in the shrunken garment. It fits her perfectly, making her look like the most stylish cat on the block.

The sight of Speedy strutting around in a cashmere sweater breaks all of you into laughter. Even George can’t help but chuckle, despite his heartbreaking loss.

***

In the following days, Speedy parades around the house, flaunting her new wardrobe. George’s shrunken sweaters have found a new purpose, and despite the initial panic, everything worked out in the end.

“This is the most high-fashion cat I’ve ever seen,” Sebastian comments one day, watching Speedy strut her stuff on the living room rug. “She should be on a runway.”

George, watching his beloved sweaters being put to good use, grins. “I think they look better on her than they did on me.”

Speedy watches you with a lazy stare, now comfortably nestled in her new family’s hearts (and cashmere sweaters).

Lando Norris: Call the Milk Man

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon when the doorbell rings, jolting you out of your peaceful nap. Groggily, you stumble towards the door, pulling it open to reveal a sheepish-looking Lando Norris.

“Hi, I was just wondering,” he starts, shifting nervously from foot to foot, “Do you have some milk I could borrow? I ran out and the shops are closed.”

Suppressing a smile, you nod, motioning for him to wait while you go fetch the milk.

***

When you hand Lando the milk, he seems relieved. But then, he looks at the container quizzically. “Why is it in a glass bottle? Don’t you use cartons?”

Your laughter fills the hallway as you explain your household’s eco-friendly policy. Lando listens attentively, his previous discomfort replaced with genuine curiosity. You can tell he’s taking mental notes.

***

Over the next few weeks, Lando pops by more frequently. Sometimes he borrows more milk, other times he just wants to chat about sustainability, an interest sparked during his first milk visit.

One day, he arrives at your doorstep with a broad grin and a glass bottle in hand. “Look, I’ve switched to glass milk bottles too!”

Sebastian will be proud.

Mick Schumacher: Comfort in Company

One evening, you find Mick Schumacher sitting alone in your backyard, gazing at the stars. His usually cheerful face is thoughtful, his eyes a little glossy.

“Mick, everything alright?” you ask, settling down next to him on the grass.

He looks at you then at the stars again. “I just ... I miss my dad, you know?”

The silence hangs in the air, thick with emotions. You reach out, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay to miss him. You don’t have to hide it. Especially not here with us.”

He nods, wiping his eyes. “I know. It’s just some days it hits harder than others.”

You stay with him, listening as he talks about his dad, his memories both sweet and poignant. You realize that while you’ve adopted your grid kids into your chaotic family, they each come with their own sets of joys and sorrows.

***

Sebastian joins you two after a while and the three of you sit under the stars, sharing stories and remembrances. Mick smiles as Sebastian tells him stories about racing with Michael, the camaraderie they shared, and the respect they had for each other.

By the end of the night, Mick seems lighter, the earlier sadness replaced with a soft smile of remembrance. He thanks both of you for listening and understanding. “You guys really are like a second family to me.”

The Big Announcement

One sunny afternoon, you gather all your grid kids in the living room. The chatter is lively, the room buzzing with energy as they try to figure out why they’ve been summoned.

Sebastian gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as you both stand in front of your unconventional family.

“We’ve called you all here because we have some news,” you begin, heart pounding in your chest.

***

When you finally tell them you're pregnant, the room falls into a stunned silence, their wide-eyed expressions making you chuckle. But then, as the news sinks in, the silence is broken by whoops of joy and congratulations.

“Wow, so we’re going to be big brothers?” Max exclaims, while Lando jokes about teaching the baby to prank Sebastian, Mick looks almost teary-eyed with happiness, and George immediately volunteers for babysitting duties.

***

With your pregnancy announcement, your grid kids go into overdrive. They begin to dote on you in a way that’s both touching and a little overwhelming. From Charles insisting on cooking you healthy meals (despite his previous lasagna disaster) to Max bringing you comfortable pregnancy pillows, everyone tries to make you as comfortable as possible.

Lance even makes Speedy wear a bell around her neck in case she inadvertently startles you. The cat isn’t pleased but the sight of her jingling around the house keeps everyone entertained.

***

As the weeks go by, their concern borders on overprotectiveness. They fuss over you at the smallest things, like Max insisting on driving you to your doctor’s appointments because he’s “the fastest driver” or Lando continually adjusting the house temperature to ensure you’re never too hot or cold.

While their actions are well-intended, they often become hilariously excessive. One day, you find Mick baby-proofing the house even though the baby isn’t due for months. He sheepishly shrugs, “Just trying to be prepared.”

***

Despite the chaos, their actions stem from love and concern, which warms your heart. One evening, you find yourself surrounded by your grid kids as you sit in the living room, their laughter filling the air.

As you watch them, your hand gently resting on your growing belly, you can’t help but feel grateful. These young drivers, your grid kids, have become such a vital part of your life. Their genuine care and, at times, overzealous concern during your pregnancy only emphasize the strong bond you share.

Your family may not be traditional and your daily life may be filled with mayhem but it’s your life with Sebastian and the grid kids. It’s chaotic, hilarious, and unpredictable — and you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

The Big Day

The day finally arrives when you’re rushed to the hospital. Sebastian is by your side, holding your hand through every contraction, while your grid kids anxiously wait in the waiting room, pacing and biting their nails.

A few hours later, when your newborn daughter makes her entrance into the world, Sebastian walks out to the young drivers, his eyes sparkling with joy and exhaustion. “You can meet her now.”

The joy and anticipation in the room is palpable as they rush in, crowding around the hospital room door in their eagerness.

The sight that greets them is nothing short of heartwarming. You’re in bed, looking tired but blissful, a tiny bundle nestled in your arms.

As they take turns holding the little one, their faces light up in awe. From Max’s gentle cooing to Lando’s finger being gripped by tiny hands to Mick’s unashamed happy tears to Charles’ whispered lullaby in French and George’s soft-spoken promise to be the “coolest brother,” the room is filled with a warm sense of family.

Even Speedy, smuggled into the hospital in Lance’s jacket, gets to sniff the newest human member of the family, much to the nurses’ chagrin.

A Baby in the Paddock

Several months later, the paddock welcomes an unexpected visitor — your baby daughter, wrapped snugly in a cute onesie with a tiny racing helmet print. As you push her stroller through the crowd, your grid kids and their fellow drivers are visibly smitten by the adorable sight.

Your grid kids instantly surround your daughter, their faces lighting up as they coo and make silly faces to elicit giggles. They take turns pushing her stroller and you can’t help but chuckle at their enthusiasm in their newfound roles as big brothers.

Sebastian, ever the proud father, looks on with warm amusement as he watches your daughter bond with her extended family.

***

Amid the hustle and bustle of the paddock, your daughter experiences her first pit stop as Charles and Lando try to change her diaper. Even Mick, the baby-proofing master, hovers nearby to ensure everything goes smoothly.

You can’t help but admire their dedication and the way they’ve embraced their roles as her protectors and playmates.

***

At the end of the day, you gather the whole group for a family photo. Your daughter, held by Max and Mick on either side, steals the show with her toothless grin.

As you look at the photo later, you realize that this quirky, chaotic family has grown and changed in the most beautiful ways. Your daughter has been embraced by these young drivers, who have become her brothers and protectors, just as they’ve become sons to you.

A New Racer on the Track

Years pass in the blink of an eye and soon your little girl is no longer a baby. She’s grown into a lively child with a love for speed, much like her father. Today, she’s ready to participate in her first karting race, and the whole gang — your grid kids now with seven World Championships between them — are here to support her.

As they gather around the track, an old joke resurfaces. Max points at a particular bend in the track, nudging Charles with a smirk. “Remember the inchident?”

Charles groans, rolling his eyes, “Not this again. It was years ago!”

Laughter breaks out among the group, their bond echoing through the years.

***

Before the race, each of your grid kids offers your daughter their sage advice. From Lando’s “always keep your cool” to George’s “remember to enjoy the ride,” her brothers are keen to impart their wisdom. Mick even attempts to show her how to properly do a pit stop, using a toy car and tiny plastic cones.

Your daughter, with a sparkling helmet almost too big for her head, listens earnestly, her wide eyes moving from one brother to the next.

When the race finally starts, your grid kids cheer on loudly, their voices carrying over the vroom of the karts. The sight of your daughter, determined behind the wheel of her tiny kart, brings a surge of pride and a few tears to your eyes.

As the race ends, your daughter crosses the finish line in third place, a beaming smile on her face. She’s welcomed back to the pit by a roaring cheer from her family, her brothers lifting her onto their shoulders.

***

That night, the celebration is filled with laughter, teasing, and an impromptu re-enactment of the inchident by Charles and Max, much to your daughter’s amusement.

Sebastian lifts his glass for a toast, “To our little racer, may you always find joy on the track. And remember, an inchident is only funny if it doesn’t happen to you.”

Laughter fills the room once again, and you can’t help but marvel at the love and joy surrounding you. These are the moments you cherish the most, moments of laughter and unity shared with this extraordinary, unconventional family.

As you watch your daughter being coddled and celebrated by her brothers, you realize that this legacy of love and support will always continue, and for that, you couldn’t be happier.

4K notes · View notes

randomness-is-my-order · 5 months

Text

the seriousness of near-death incidents aside, you cannot convince me that percy won’t hold his (frankly super awesome) sword maneuver over annabeth’s head for eternity. like annabeth will casually be like you’re so stupid percy because friends gotta banter right??? WRONG because then percy will shrug and just be like “i was poisoned, dying, wrung wet like an alley rat and yet i managed to trick you–the daughter of athena, so you better watch your tongue wise girl 🙄😏” and i just think we need to save annabeth from this fate.

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjo tv show #percy pjo #pjo tv adaptation #pjo tv series #walker scobell #leah jeffries #pjo tv spoilers #percabeth

702 notes · View notes

stillnotyourmusebitch · 2 months

Note

Feel free to ignore! Sinner!Adam x GN!Reader where Adam sucks up his pride, goes to the hotel, and although practically nobody wants him there, Charlie gives him a chance for redemption and puts Reader in charge of watching over him and helping him adjust because they were mostly neutral with him. So maybe just some moments of them bonding and actually becoming close?

OH MY GODS!!! I am so sorry this took me so damn long. I really wanted to make this fic the best it could be. I really hope you like it. Again I feel like I might have slighlty strayed for the prompt but I really do hope it is what you wanted Nonnie

The small things - Sinner!Adam x GN!reader

Warnings Angst-Hurt/comfort-fluff

When Adam woke up in a shit stained back alley of Hell, oh how he screamed an extremely blasphemous bloody murder for hours upon hours upon . . . well you get the idea. The other demons that happened to be walking past carried on by unphased. Yes, some did take a sneak peek of the newly fallen angel throwing a massive child-like tantrum, but most didn’t give a rat’s ass about what he was going through. This is Hell after all, everybody’s got problems.

Adam finally calmed down enough to crawl out of the rancid gutter. It took a moment for him to gain his bearings, seeming to have found himself in the pride ring. Which meant he was in the same rung of hell as that fucking hotel. Whoever's idea of this sick fucking joke was going to get ripped a new one. He shouldn’t be here. Why was he here?

He doesn’t remember walking but soon he found himself in front of the shadow of a much larger and grander looking Hazbin Hotel.

He seemed to snap back to himself. Why the fuck did he subconsciously walk to the threshold of the one place that would most likely give him his second death on the spot? But that doesn’t stop him from raising a fist and knocking obnoxiously loud. He’d been in Hell for all of about 5 hours now and it was hard to tell what time of day it was down here without a watch. He didn’t have jack shit on him when he woke up, just a grubby, ripped up pair of sweats.

The door finally opened up to Lucifer’s yawning brat. Her eyes went wide seeing him there.

“Adam?” She was more confused than he had been as to why he was down here, let alone in demon form. “What. What are you doing here? I mean you’re, you, but you’re not. I mean why are you . . .” Charlie stumbled over her words.

Vaggie arrived behind her while she was stammering. It took a split second for her to knock him on his ass, her angelic spear aimed at his throat.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t end your worthless life again right here and now.” She growled out.

“Hey, Woah now. I mean no harm this time honest. I’m just as confused as you are as to why the fuck I ended up here but I have nowhere else to go and . . .” Adam shuffled further away for the spear’s tip.

“Vaggie stop. Let’s just talk about this.” Charlie tried to shimmy in front of her girlfriend. “I know he is the main reason for so many very bad things but we need to take a breather. Look, it’s 3am and we won’t be thinking straight at a time like this. So let’s put a pin in this extremely weird conversation for now. We can put him up in a room on the second floor and then take this all from the top in the morning.”

“I don’t know about this.” Vaggie side eyes Adam but he can see her very slowly caving to Charlie. “UGH! Fine. He can stay for one night. Just one but as soon as we figure out what is going on he is out on his ass.”

Charlie squeezes her partner in a tight hug before turning and holding out a hand towards Adam. He glares at it for a moment before grabbing it. She hauls him back to his feet and shows him inside. His eyes flick all around the lobby area, clocking a bar on the far left, the elevators to the right and of course a grand staircase up to the first floor. He was shown to his room on the second floor. Charlie chose to take the elevator, Vaggie standing firmly in between them, her hands clenching around the shaft of her spear. Adam shuffled as far to the side as possible he knows about the short temper of his exorcists, even the ex-ones.

“Here we are 224.” She opened the door, flicking on the light switch and letting Adam walk in. “You’ll find towels in the bathroom and fresh sheets already on the bed. Just please wait until someone comes to collect you in the morning. Now get some sleep, lord knows we are gonna need it.” She said the last part more to herself as she left with Vaggie.

Adam let out a deflated sigh, he wasn’t sure that he would get any sleep, no matter how exhausted he felt. So, he went to look at the ensuite, maybe taking a shower would help put him in a sleepier state, true to her word clean red towels were waiting on the counter by the sink. Adam stripped and threw the grubby garments he’d had on into the corner of the room.

He turned the shower up high and climbed into the scolding spray. As the water rained down his body, only then did he see how his heavenly body had really changed into this disgusting new demonic form. Hatred bubbled beneath the surface of the dull grey-coloured skin, he scrubbed as hard as possible in a vain attempt to try and find the person he was under all this ‘fakery’. He still held onto the belief that this was an incredibly vivid nightmare and he was going to wake up safe and sound in his plush king-sized bed in heaven.

He can’t be a demon.

He wasn’t a sinner; he was a winner. This had to be all a lie. It just had to. He wanted to scream, cry or something. Everything was getting to be too much. Turning off the water he stepped out into the steam-filled room and stared at the large fogged over mirror above the sink. Adam knew when he wiped away the condensation he would see himself.

He knew he had to talk himself into looking at what he’d become.

‘Come on. You can do this. Stop being such a fuckin pussy.’

Slowly he raised his left hand and wiped at the mirror.

‘Fuck’

There staring back at him was his worst nightmare. Dark brown horns curled out of his skull through damp blackened hair clinging to his scalp. His skin now he looked closer It was really more of a short fur coating than human skin. His teeth were razor sharp and his tongue was yellow. He was slightly rounder than he was before, his feet were now coven hoofs. How he didn’t clock this fact before scared him slightly but the one thing that stuck out to him the most were his eyes. He blinked a few times but nothing changed.

He still had those golden irises that heaven gifted him.

Adam stood and stared.

He was an abomination. There was no removing this mask at the end of a long day.

Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. Shame gushing to the surface. He angrily swiped at the tears trying to stop them at the source. He was a man. They don’t cry or show emotion. They bottle it up inside or channel it into something else. Yet here was crying like a hormonal broad.

He blindly grabs for a towel, bunching it up in his dark clawed fingers and screaming into the fabric.

He let everything out. Screaming out all his hatred, pain and anguish until his throat hurt from the exertion. The towel got thrown into the corner. Switching the bathroom light off, he walked slowly over to the soft looking bed and crawled under the covers. He didn’t care that he hadn’t dried himself off properly, full body exhaustion had taken hold and he welcomed the dreamless sleep that often always followed.

----

When the knock came what felt like mere minutes after he had passed out. He slowly sat up in the bed, the covers pooling around his hips. He wiped the partially dried drool off his chin, blinking a few times before acknowledging the person knocking

“Whatduyawant?” he grumbled.

“You decent?” the voice behind the door was not one he recognised.

“Yeah sure, whatever.” He yawned and stretched out his back. The door opened and in walked a sinner that Adam definitely didn’t remember from the final battle at the old hotel. They held a clean pair of clothes and a small set of toiletries that was clearly for him.

“Afternoon. Charlie said to let you sleep in a bit.” You seemed completely unphased by the half-naked demon before you. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” You stood at the end of the bed.

“Urm, good I guess.” Adam reaches out for the clothes you have.

“Well, good news is you ain’t getting thrown out just yet.” You drop the clothes into his hands and went to put the toiletries in the ensuite.

“And the bad news is?” He tugs on the clean pants. You turn and lean against the door frame. Your eyes flick up and down before smirking.

“Bad news is I’ve been stuck with babysitting your ass.” You push yourself off the frame with your hip. “So, I’m setting ground rules right here and now. You are only allowed to stay here if you play ball. Nobody wants to deal with your egotistical bullshit. So if you piss me off, I’ll go straight to Charlie. If you threaten anybody, I go straight to Vaggie and if you harass any of the other patrons. I will go and find Niffty because I’m sure she will be able to get her point across. Do you understand?” You stand tall with your arms crossed over your chest.

Adam is stunned by your strictness but finds himself nodding. Not trusting his words right now.

“Good. Now get yourself ready there is an activity planned for 3:15pm.” You walk away. “Oh and Adam. I want you to at least try okay?” You throw a soft smile back at him before leaving him to finish getting ready.

Adam sat on the edge of the bed staring at the closed door. Something inside him sparked briefly. He pulled on his shirt. ‘What the hell was that?’ He thought to himself.

-----

It had been 4 weeks since Adam had shown up at the hotel despite this stupid buddy system that Charlie had in place. Adam was kinda glad he was stuck with you. Something about your snarky attitude, the fact you always called him out when he brags about being who he was before but most of all the very rare soft acts of kindness towards him.

He didn’t realise it yet but you actually made him want to do better. He wants to be better and if that gave him a chance of gaining his wings back then he was sure as hell gonna try.

Adam hadn’t realised that he was doing good deeds at first. But seeing Charlie beam brightly when he would raise a hand before talking in the group sessions or the way he held the door for other patrons before heading off to do what he pleased.

Adam was really trying. But you knew that if you brought it up he would immediately call bullshit. Then would act out just to reclaim his cool guy image.

“Hey wait up,” Adam called out as the elevator doors started sliding shut. You held out a hand reopening the doors so he could hop in and ride up to the second floor with you. “Thanks.” He leans against the back wall. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He handed you a bag with something wrapped up in a lot of toilet paper.

“Gee, thanks.” The look on your face made Adam laugh.

“It’s not whatcha think it is. Just a little something to thank you for putting up with my miserable ass.” The Elevator chimed on the second floor. “After you.” He let you walk out first before following. “Are you gonna open it?”

The look on his face was a mix of excitement and worry. You decided to humour him. Reaching in you grabbed the poorly wrapped gift. He took the bag off you so you could peel off the wads of toilet paper.

It was a coffee mug.

“Since I accidently broke your favourite mug a few days ago. I thought I should get you a replacement.” His fingers crumpled the handles of the bag as he waited for any sort of reaction to the gift.

You turned the mug over to see the words on the side better.

‘I work with absolute legends’ was written on the side surrounded by little black stars. Your thumb traced a star or two. Still staring at the present in hand you felt a smile tug at the corners of your lips.

Not knowing how else to thank him. You rushed forward and embraced him tightly. Making sure not to drop your present.

“I take it you like it?” He drops the bag and folds his arms around you.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You rested your forehead against his shoulder. Neither one of you is willing to break the hug first.

“I had to do something. You looked so sad when I broke it. That didn’t sit right with me. Charlie explained that I was feeling guilt and . . .”

You pull away slightly to look at him.

“Adam. The first man Adam, went to consult ‘Miss Feels-too-much’ about an issue completely unprompted!?”

Adam dropped his arms and started getting all defensive again.

“Why’d ya gotta say it that way?” He whined. You pull him back in for another hug which he willingly allows.

“Sorry big guy. I’m just really impressed is all. You have come a long way in such a short time. I’m so proud of you.” You squeezed tightly before letting him go. “I could actually go for a coffee right now. Good thing I got a brand new mug to drink from.”

He groans at your cheesy words before picking up the bag off the floor he hooks an arm around your neck and pulls you along back into the elevator to go and get that drink.

-----

This fic became longer than I thought it would.

My Ask box is still open if anyone else has a Sinner!Adam prompts they want to send in.

#jamie writes #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin adam #gender neutral reader #sinner!adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #prompt filled #my fic #sorry this took so long

210 notes · View notes

scatterbrainedbot · 3 months

Note

Hey, hey, @tmntbestsibscompetiton here! We don’t currently have a description or picture for your entry into the competition yet! You don’t have to send one in, but if you’d like to, just answer this, or tag us so we can make sure it’s ready for when the competition begins! Thank you so much for joining, and good luck.

@tmntbestsibscompetiton

falls down stairs IM HERE IM HERE SORRY IM SO LATE

RAT SONS AU

in which Master Splinter is a wise and silly old tortoise, and father of four skittering, chaotic, ninja rat children. <3

(inspired by that one background moment of the 03 series! 🐢🐀��🐀🐀)

there will be lots of similar plot points as the 03 series (like 'tales of leo' and 'good genes' etc etc) but there are also a lot of fundamental changes in the foundation of things too — like the guardians and ninja tribunal and the hamato family line etc etc. content wise tbh its probably mostly just gonna be snapshots of random moments throughout the boys lives, but i do kinda have some plot concepts? so we'll see 👀

(embarrassingly long) introduction under the cut if u'd like to read!

——————————————

Years ago, Oroku Saki defeated Hamato Tang Shen in battle, and finally brought an end to the family that would deny him his power. He ordered her homestead be razed to the ground, and all mystic artifacts to be delivered to him. Particularly, the Hamato’s prized pet tortoise, which was rumored to be itself a conduit for the family’s legendary mystic abilities. With the creature in his possession, along with the new rapid-enhancement chemical he commissioned from laboratory familiar with mystic properties in New York — at last, he would be granted his godhood, and guarantee the legacy of his fathers clan. The Hamatos could deny him no longer. He had won.

Or he would have, had the fools at the lab not ruined everything, the precious mutagen spilling all over the tortoises crate and the fool handlers who carried it. The contaminated men morphed into horrific, animalistic monsters, attacking the scientists and wrecking the laboratory itself. And, most crucially, in the ensuing madness, the crate which contained the tortoise, his last possible connection to the Hamato’s power, lay shattered, and empty…

Meanwhile, Hamato “Splinter” Yoshi, who until this point had quite enjoyed his extended existence as a simple tortoise and family pet, found himself fleeing the eyes and hands of the man who killed his human family, and the lab that granted him this new shift in consciousness, to instead face the terrifying chaos of the streets and alleys of NYC. His transformation into something more bipedal had hurt considerably and left him aching and disoriented, but still he could not pause. He could not falter. Not until he found somewhere safe to hide himself and the four squirming, impossibly small rat-pups in his arms. He hoped the chemical that washed over them had not warped and hurt their young bones as it had his own. He hoped he could find somewhere safe to care for them. He hoped they could survive the night without their mother. He hoped, he prayed he could protect these precious, squeaking, peach-fuzzed ruminants of his family. He did not think he could survive any more loss.

For now, he would do what he could, and slip into the shadows of this city. Having lived so long among ninjas had its benefits there, at least.

#my art #rat sons #ask reply #OOMPH SORRY THIS IS SO SO LATE #also i dont remember if you list the summary in the polls themselves but if u do u can just do #'in which Master Splinter is a wise and silly old tortoise and father of four skittering chaotic ninja rat children. <3'

231 notes · View notes

waaayoutofline · 2 months

Text

When the Cat and the Mouse go for a midnight dance.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Tags: Agent Natasha x Criminal // Antihero Reader, violence, blood, murder and death, questionable moral reader, romantic insinuation (but not smut). Basically reader being a little shit and Natasha being tired of it. Fun and violent times :)

Summary —> Natasha has been chasing you, a fugitive and self claimed vigilante, for a while. One night, your paths cross again and you can’t help but to tease her a bit.

WORD COUNT: 2025

The sun’s warmth has faded, yielding to dense shadows that engulf the streets. Amid dark corners and treacherous alleys, fear triggers instincts, the sympathetic system heightening defenses and hijacking paranoia. Adrenaline kicks in, heart racing, body preparing fro any kind of danger looming around the corners.

And yet, you’ve always found a sense of comfort in it.

“Nah, I’m telling you, man, forget him. I’m not going back; that place is a hellhole.” a slightly drunk voice slurs, echoing against brick walls as rats scurry from dumpsters. A lighter crackles, followed by smoke drifting in the chilled breeze.

”Oh yeah? So, when are you telling him that?” Another scrawny voice asks with amusement. A silence, followed by a dry chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Smoke drifts slightly with the breeze, temperature drooping slightly.

“Shit, it's freezing out here.” One of the two complains.

The darkness the night brings…It allows you to hide. Yourself, your actions. From praying eyes. From the world. Perhaps even God if you are a believer.

“We’ve been safeguarding the warehouse for ages. What’s in there that he cares so much about?” he asks, taking another drag of his cigarette. For his voice, it was easy to guess he has had the nasty habit of smoking for years.

“Who knows. Drugs, guns, people…his usual shit.” His friend answers. “Honestly, I rather not know.”

You take the shot on your hand, leaving it on the trail before shaking your hair messily. A sigh scapes your lips as your hands pull down on your uncomfortably short dress.

“Whatever. I don’t give a damn as long as the money keeps flowing. Maybe he could throw in one of those spare companions of his.” The smile in his tone is evident.

“What? Want his sloppy seconds?”

“Oh fuck off.”

It allows you to either be the prey…or the hunter.

With practiced, seemingly haphazard steps, you maneuver your way toward one of the two men outside, their head turning immediately. “Woah there, sweetheart,” the one who catches you slurs, his hands immediately on your waist. His eyes darkening as he stares at you. “We wouldn’t want a sweet thing like you to hurt herself now, would we?” His breath reeks of bourbon and tobacco, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at how effortlessly this is playing out.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Your voice is sweet, innocent—a trap. “I’m so clumsy.” He laughs, revealing yellowed and crooked teeth.

“That’s alright, glad I was here.” A silly giggle, another stumble.

“Got lost?” His friend asks, currently behind you. “You shouldn’t be. There are dangerous people out here.”

At least he got that part right.

The shorter one of the two steps closer. “I was just looking for something. Think you can help?” you say, looking up with doe eyes. He appears foolish as he stares with a blurry gaze.

A whistle. “Sure thing.” You find yourself almost trapped between the two.

“Great, thanks.” Your voice returns to normal, and in a matter of seconds, you punch the one in front of you in the throat. His dirty, clammy fingers release you in panic to clutch his throat, emitting a pathetic choking sound.

“What the fu-” As his friend reacts, you swiftly turn around and knee him in the groin. He howls and crumples to the floor with a cry.

“You bitch-“ Douchebg A says as he swings, movement sloppy. You easily dodge, making him tip and fall over his buddie, the two grunting. With a sigh, you grab the collar of his jacket and drag him to the vent of the rooftop, slamming him extra hard for good measure.

He is about to strand up, but you punch him on his nose with all your strength, one, two, three times until blood drips all over his gray shirt. As his back drags down the wall behind him, you kick him full force on the face.Between the pain and the alcohol on his system, he remains seated.

Just as Douchebag B gets on all fours, you walk towards him and kick him on the stomach, making him drop to the floor once again. He rolls around, trying to get away but you grab his hair and slam him downwards.

Making sure both of them are now unmoving, your hands catch the dagger strapped on your thigh and the map. Douchebag B is still wheezing, with a concussion probably. Crouching, you shove the map on his face. “Alright. So, about that help. Point to me where the warehouse is.”

He grunts. “Like hell I’ll tell you.” He spits. A sigh escapes your lips.

”It’s never easy with you people, is it?” Flipping your dagger, you stab in the side of his lower thigh, making him yelp. “I’m not asking nicely again. Point it or I’ll take this out and you’ll bleed out in a few minutes.”

He sputters, shaking his head. You dig deeper and he lets out another cry. Dragging it down, blood starts to spurt, skin and muscle ripping. “Fuck okay, okay! Here, i-its here…S-shit.” His shaky hands marks a street, leaving a smear of blood.

You turn to watch Douchebag A. “Now, you are going to say the address. I hope for both your sakes that it matches.” He mutters it. A pause as your eyes scans the map.

You fold it, a satisfied little smile on your face and then you pull the knife out, getting away just in time to avoid a spurt of blood. “Uh, messy.”

His friends curses. You can see how his face gets pale, breaths becoming shallower as a pool of blood starts to surround him. “What the fuc- He told you! W-we told you!”

Wiping the knife with the soon-to-be dead man on the ground, you put it back in place and walk towards him. A pipe on the ground lifts as you step on it and you grab it.You pout mockingly. “Yeah, I guess you did. Don’t worry, I believe you.”

“Y-you sick bit-..:”

A swing. Two. A sickening sound of broken bones and then nothing.

The silence returns once again, only slightly disturbed by your soft humming as you go back on your steps, closing the rooftop door and returning to the dim hallways of the club. As you advance, the thrumming of the loud music beat alongside your racing heart, a mass of drunken bodies not giving a single fuck at the suspicious now maroon spot on your midnight blue dress.

Entering the bathroom, you swiftly change into your standard attire, concealed within a hidden backpack. Black jeans, a wine crop top, and a dark blue denim jacket replace the compromised ensemble. Glancing in the mirror, you prepare to rejoin the dance floor with a specific goal in mind—the bar.

Where a cute, striking bartender is apparently engrossed in serving drinks. You say apparently because you know that in reality, she is too busy searching for you. Opting to spare her the pursuit, you lock eyes, and your heart quickens for an entirely different reason.

Forest green eyes fixate solely on you, creating a euphoria-like sensation despite your sobriety. A subtle smirk materializes under the focused gaze, and with a gentle sway of your hips, you approach her slowly, almost teasingly. On your way, you accidentally get in the way of a woman, who ends up backing away on a body next to her. ”Oh, so sorry!” You call out with an easy smile, still not changing directions.

“What? Not using the “what is such a beautiful lady like yourself doing here out of all places” line?” You tease, sitting on the stool, resting your chin on your right hand. She scoffs.

”Oh please, we both know that the lady is fully aware of what she is doing.” Her voice is deep, a bit raspy. Her words are calculated and you just want for her to lose her composure.

With a playful tone, you note. “Hm, you didn’t deny the “beautiful”. Do you fancy me, Agent Romanoff?”

“Hm, perhaps. Only if only you weren’t a worldwide fugitive.” Natasha answers back, tone dripping with mockery.

”I’l take that as a yes.” She wipes a glass, your eyes tracking the simple yet effective movements. “So, tell me. How many to the party did you bring today? For your sake, I hope they aren’t rookies.”

Natasha scoffs. “The building is surrounded. If you come willingly now, it all would go more…easy. For both of us.”

A snort. ”Aw, and cut short this cute Tom and Jerry little game we have? Please. We both know you enjoy it just as much as me, Natalia.” Her name comes out in almost a whisper as you get slightly closer. Your words hang in the air, charged with tension. “Don't tell me you don’t reveal on the thrill of the chase.”

She chuckles, the sound rich and low. “You and your flair for the dramatic. But let's not forget the reality of our situation. You are a criminal, and I’m tasked with bringing you in.”

It’s funny, really. The way in which this banter is maybe the only thing that makes adrenaline rush into your veins, well that besides your job of course. Still, you can't help but feel amused by it. “Yeah, sure, because your buddies are going to stop me. Let’s see, then!”

Clapping with your hands happily, you turn around slightly to look at the crowd. “Who will it be? PDA couplet over there?”

Natasha follows your pointing thumb, frowning when she sees the girl you shoved “accidentally”, now passionately making out with a tall, brunette dude. “The ones who guarded the exits which are currently tied up in the janitors closet?…Or perhaps the one who will tell you about my little handywork?”

Just in time, a slight buzzing tingles in the Russian agent’s ear. “Agent Romanoff, we found two gang members on the roof. One is already dead, several blunt trauma, and the other is about to bleed out. He has a few minutes tops.”

Her veiny hand grips the counter, knuckles turning white. A low whistle escapes you at the sight. “I mean, you could try and stop me yourself. Let me say, I’m not opposed to you putting me in handcuffs.” You tease with a dangerous glint in your eyes, your fingers tracing her left wrist up to her bicep. If she is bothered because of your touch, she doesn’t show it. But you see how her grip relaxes ever so slightly. Hm, interesting. “...or you could go, get the information from that dying bastard before it’s too late and you end up being stuck in a dead-end. Again.”

The wheels in her head are practically visible. Her eyes darken, and her jaw tenses. Oh, how you love to see her all worked up, knowing that you are one of the few who can break her cold composure. You mouth a tick-tock and with a hard downing of the bottle on her hand to the counter.

”This isn’t over. I’ll get my hands on you eventually.”

A pout. “Promise?” With a last scowl, she flies off.

Rushing through the stairs, the cold air hits Natasha on the face, her eyes adjusting to the poor light. “How is he?” Her eyes fall on the weapons you used, hand grabbing the now blooded pipe.

“I already cover the wound, but the blood he's lost is too much. He won't make it to the medbay.” Crouching next to him, Natasha see the sickly pale tone of his face, eyes practically close and hears the shallow, broken breaths. Her eyes inspect the now covered deadly wound and grunts in frustration. “Hey, can you hear me?”

No response. He is dead. Out of frustration, she punches the vent next to him. “Um, ma’am? You should see this.”

A brick wall, right next to the door, with a message written in blood. “When you stop scowling, give me a call dear. Swear I’ll play nice.”

Grunting in frustration, Natasha throws the pipe against the wall, fuming. Looking over the street, she doesn’t see you anywhere. You are gone, even if something tells her you are giggling under the shadows.

#mcu #fanfic #marvel #marvel blurb #natasha romanoff #black widow #reader insert #natasha x reader

157 notes · View notes

gatitties · 1 year

Text

Hanging out

─ Tenjiku x fem!reader

─ Summary: you have the courage to ask the guys who tried to recruit you to hang out

─ Warnings: swearing, mention of ways to die, kisaki

Part one / Part three / Part four

no because I'm thinking of making a miniseries for these bois because I'm an idiot for them 😭 I think I did it a bit long, sorry-

"Come on honey! It's the first time in a long time that you've been out with friends, or talked to someone, or seemed to have friends, or-

"Mom, you don't need to degrade me anymore, I know I don't have friends."

"But not anymore! That's why you have to go out with them, you can't spend your life locked in your room."

"What are we betting? If it's the family heritage then…" a bump grew on your head from the blow your mother gave you "Okay, okay, I guess I can try to get out of the house."

"That's it! Get out there and shine love, you deserve everything good in the world."

"Even the family herit-?"

You didn't even finish when you already had another bump on top of the previous one, deciding to leave the subject you said goodbye to your mother, well, she had to go with a friend, meanwhile you finished doing some pending things that you had to finish by tomorrow. When you finished, you threw yourself on your bed, flipping through the social networks a bit, doubting whether to contact the boys, after all, you only met them once in person, the rest was all conversations in the group that Izana put you in, although you had a lot of fun with them there, it's not the same to talk on a screen than face to face.

After several minutes you decided to take a brave step, seeing that some of them were even talking on the group chat.

Tenjiku will rule the world

[Matchstick] So i grabbed the bat and left him bleeding in the alley

[Izana] deserved more punishment tbh

[Izana] we can't go easy on traitors

[Sanzu] next time leave it to me

[Sanzu] i won't let them recognize the corpse

[You] is that a new flirting method?

[You] i don't think it's very effective

[Izana] aye

[Izana] glad to see you're on

[Shion] not me

[Kaku] stfu

[Rat] protective boyfriend material huh?

[Kaku] stfu too Rat

[You] yeah leave my baby alone

[Rat] whatever [Rat] can you at least change my name?

[You] nah, i like Rat more than rindou, it suits you better

[Rat2] can you change mine?

[Rat2] i'm supposed to be the oldest

[Rat2] he would have to have the 2 not me

[Mochi] picky boy

[You] okay

You have changed the nickname of Rat2 to Rannabelle

[Rannabelle] …

[Matchstick] pfft-

[Kisaki] i keep asking why you decided to include her in the group

[Kisaki] the rumors were false after all

[Izana] do you have something against the opinion of your superior?

[Matchstick] bro she's funny

[Kisaki] ...

[You] anyway

[You] who tf are you?

[Shion] oh right, they didn't meet in person

[Kisaki] i wouldn't like it either tbh

[Sanzu] speak for you

[You] i already like you Sanzu [You] you're already among the 'handsomes'

[Shion] not that shit again- [Shion] you didn't even see him

[You] i don't need

[Koko] you're just jealous cause you're not in the handsome group [Shion] i'm not jealous [Koko] sure [You] anyway i have something to ask [Matchstick]shoot

[Rat] you want a date with me? aww, of course! [You] yikes [You] i think i prefer a date with a homeless man who can time travel than you

[Kaku] i'm really concerned about your mental health right now [Izana] she's just in her haunting nature [Rannabelle] bet she likes me more than you rin [You] i like hanma better ngl

[Matchstick] bwahahah~ i'm the favourite ♡ [You] no, you're not ♡

[Matchstick] </3

[Izana] so... what do u want to ask?

[You] oh right

[You] i was just wondering if you guys had some free time to hang out?

[Izana] sure ;)

[Kaku] i'm in

[Matchstick] of course i have to get to be the favorite~

You didn't pay attention to the other messages, the truth is that Izana and Kakucho were enough for you, you weren't going to belittle Hanma either, he was trying anyway. You just texted a couple more to meet up at a certain place, quickly got ready in the most comfortable clothes you could find, plugged your headphones into your phone to have a walk to the location.

Normally you were like a damn rock when it came to expressing your feelings or opening up to people, you didn't like to socialize much but it wasn't a pain either (depending on the person), the fact that you didn't like to talk or express yourself a lot didn't mean you were one of those people who get nervous when they have to order pizza by phone, call a waiter or order a drink at any bar. But today you had that little nervous feeling, as if these guys were going to judge you and decide if you were worthy or not, even though it was clear that they already liked you a little for the simple fact of adding you to their group chat.

You were pessimistic so you kept those feelings throughout the journey, however, swallow them because as soon as you saw the boys just forgot them, there were three people you didn't know, the rest were Izana, Kakucho, Hanma and the Haitani brothers. You assumed that neither Koko, nor Shion, nor Mochi were there because they had to do something important or simply didn't want to see you.

"Hey honey, here!"

Hanma waved his hand as his eyes met yours, drawing your attention to come closer once and for all, you murmured a greeting to everyone, looking at the three new faces.

"So you don't intend to introduce me to your friends? Oh wait, I want to guess, can I?"

"Go ahead, please give us one of your amazing comparisons."

Rindou said, completely amused, even though you also messed with him, your comparison ability can always make fun of others, it's not like you make distinctions, no one was going to escape your critical eye.

"Mmmh… I don't know why I have the feeling that the one who seems bacterophobic is Sanzu" you pointed to the long-haired boy who had a mask covering half of his face "he seems to have pretty features, and Sanzu is in that side without hesitation."

"Madarame must be tossing and turning in his bed when he heard you, you've got it right."

Sanzu offered you his hand in greeting, noticing how his eyes narrowed a little, he had a cheeky smile that no one could see. The next one you looked at was Mucho, he seemed almost as stoic as you, another rock on the team huh? You also guessed that it was him, then you exchanged glances with the boy with glasses who seemed to be here by force, there was no one else left so he could only be…

"Are you Kisaki? Man, aren't you cute? Are you the baby of the group or something?"

Everyone tried to hold back their laughter when you approached him to ruffle his hair in an affectionate way, more like to annoy him a bit, poor boy, you were taller than him so your action and comment only irritated him more than he already was, he moved away your hands from his head, clicking his tongue.

"Maybe you're taller, but I'm sure I surpass you in age and intelligence."

The others looked at the interaction, you had that dark look that managed to scare away so many fucking thugs, it looked like you wanted to hit him right there, but they didn't expect you to laugh like Izana the time he met you.

"Oh please, don't be silly, I'm older than you, in fact, I think I'm older than all of you."

"You're kidding, aren't you? Most of us here are of legal age and you are still studying."

Izana questioned looking at you, you scratched the back of your neck sighing, you weren't very proud to admit it, but it's not like it was a big deal either.

"Well, I'm nineteen, I repeated a couple of courses…"

"You what!?"

The Haitani brothers were the ones who were most shocked by the new information about you, you just downplayed it, the last thing you wanted right now is to be treated differently because of your age, even if it's only a year older than some, these guys can be very offended at not being the oldest.

Kakucho finished off the general daze, talking about doing something and not just standing there like idiots, so you guys moved around just taking a walk while talking about random nonsense, it went pretty well, at least the guys appreciated some 'healthy' time, since usually their free time was also related to causing chaos in other gangs.

The truth is that it was not as bad as you thought, they all seemed quite funny, Izana and Kakucho managed to drag you into every interesting thing they saw, more like the leader of Tenjiku, Kaku thanked you because he could see his friend behaving like if he were a kid again (although he did threaten the others if they made fun of Iza for being a bit softer).

Hanma and the Haitani brothers tried to irritate or flirt you, you just looked at them with a blank face, completely ignoring them when they brought up the whole 'love' and 'relationships' thing, when they weren't bothering you they were quite nice, but that meant that now you were messing with them, that was your mechanics.

Surprisingly, after a while you and Kisaki 'clicked' simply because Hanma was bothering you both, you looked at each other silently as if you could communicate with your eyes, ignoring the poor boy as you started small talk out of the first thing that came to your mind, of course that didn't stop your little comments about him being smaller than you either.

Sanzu and Mucho stayed more on the sidelines, you didn't complain, they seemed more reserved than the others, or at least less expressive, you understood them perfectly because you were like that most of the time, it's just that these guys ─Izana more than anything─ made you take out to bring out your more sociable side a little more, it was different and nice.

But you knew well that hanging out with a gang would bring trouble, some punks recognized most of the group you were with, how could they not anyway? You were unintentionally involved in a small fight, but you weren't scared either when the fistfights between the teenagers started flying back and forth, you knew it was going to happen at some point so you just watched on the sidelines disinterestedly.

Ironically, Kisaki stayed by your side ─this guy doesn't know how to fight─ because the guys felt threatened by your dark gaze, honestly you were a little scared now, but only when one of the thugs came up to pick a fight with you, you saw yourself in the obligation to use your second wild card.

´"If you get one step closer, I promise that death will be the most beautiful thing you want to wish for, how do you want your body to be found? Ah, better if they don't find it, right?"

They immediately backed away, you're lucky most people find it hard to read your true expression because if they were like Kakucho the first time you met him they would have already beaten you up. But it didn't end there, there was another brave man who came up thinking that despite your threats you would be an easy target, which, well, you were.

Everyone seemed to see just as you were hit square on the cheek, your body seemed to fall in slow motion until you hit the ground, you closed your eyes letting a tired sigh slip past your lips, watching out of the corner of your eye as Kisaki did his best to defend himself against that same guy. You dedicated yourself to looking at the clouds in the sky without even getting up again, as if you were an opossum playing dead, hey, at least that way they wouldn't hit you again.

You only lay there for a long time, you even closed your eyes because you were starting to get bored, the boys only took a few more minutes, all their bodies surrounding you, guilt gnawed at some more than others ─Kakucho was very angry with himself─ but still it remained there.

"Do you think she's dead?"

"That's something very pessimistic, I haven't been able to go on a date with her yet."

Hanma and Ran murmured over the others who kept their questions as to whether you were okay inside, they didn't know if you were that weak or not, if you suffered from some disease or anything that could literally kill you, much to their relief you opened one of your eyes noticing how the sunlight darkened because their figures obscured it.

"It takes something more forceful than a punch to kill someone, unless the person is hit with a more forceful object or has already been seriously injured, statistically it is impossible for someone to die from a punch, well, unless it is a newborn baby."

"Oh never mind, she's perfectly fine."

Everyone sighed with relief, some being more audible than others, Kakucho helped you up, asking your forgiveness for not helping you before they hit you and they decided to go to a store to buy you a cold patch for the bruise that began to form on your cheek.

"Did you really just lie on the ground to wait?"

You hummed affirmatively at Mucho's question, who was waiting with you outside for the others to leave the store, you saw that he tried to hide his small laugh at your stupidity, if he had received that blow he would not have remained impassive, that person would definitely have to have a broken neck.

"We will accompany you home, come on."

"Huh? Izana, I appreciate it, but I'm not five years old."

"We're not taking no for an answer."

"Kakucho, not you too… I'm literally older than you."

“Well, look how we don't give a shit."

You looked at Rindou with a grimace for simply dismissing your words that you didn't need a squad to escort you home, but you couldn't do anything, even Kisaki accompanied you even though he said that he had business elsewhere.

These guys would cut their tongues out before admitting it out loud, but they took a liking to you in no time, and even though these idiots were a year younger than you (most of them) they would start behaving more carefully around you, they're not going to let today's incident happen again because they definitely wanted to spend more time with you.

"Gang members but you're being soft because someone hit a girl you only talk to from a group chat, that's cute."

You closed the door of your house in their faces after saying that, you laughed silently when you heard several shouts about how they weren't being soft and that they weren't cute for that, except for Hanma, he just smiled with his typical smile because you said he was cute, did that mean that he was advancing in his position to be your favorite?

1K notes · View notes

bonefall · 3 days

Note

Who’s Juniperclaw again? Also the quote about ruthlessness? Staring curiously

Canon!Juniperclaw is tigerHeartstar's nephew, son of Dawnpelt and brother to Strikestone and Sleekwhisker.

He was the first deputy of ShadowClan after tigerHeartstar's return, until he tried to pressure SkyClan into leaving the Lake in AVOS by poisoning their food. No one was hurt any worse than "bad tummyache," but he was exiled anyway. He then died rescuing Shadowkit from a flooded river QuickTime event.

We found out that he went to the Dark Forest in TBC. He was allowed to become the guardian of the tunnel between the Place of No Stars and StarClan's Hunting Grounds, in the hopes of finding redemption.

For BB this is all a bit different;

I've been waiting for a while for the perfect opportunity to rise to rework Juniperclaw's story.

I REALLY like the idea of his poisoning, his exile, and his placement in the Dark Forest... but the back half of AVoS is baddd.

Plus, it's just too bloodless. If he's going to get DARK FOREST over this, I expect a body count.

So now, his actions lead to at least 3 deaths. Leafstar is one of them, Sparkpelt was ALMOST another but Hollylark uses xeir powers to die in her place, and Flickerkit dies shortly before his birth.

ANYWAY JUNIPERCLAW

I feel like he wasn't expecting the death toll to be so devastating.

This event is being moved to Squirrelflight's Horror. Juniper's plot was that he was going to do this poisoning to blame it on The Sisters.

He just wanted SkyClan off ShadowClan land, he figured if he convinced Leafstar that the Sisters are a threat that needs to be dealt with that she'd move

He didn't think it would kill three people, just make them sick! Maybe just ONE of Leafstar's lives! And how was he supposed to know ThunderClan's leader's daughter would have a bowl?!

This plan probably works, but the guilt EATS Juniperclaw alive. He got exactly what he wanted-- a battle patrol against expectant queens.

I can't see this secret going on too long, someone rats him out and he crumbles. He can't live with it anymore.

But in Waspstar's eyes, an exile was a light punishment. Exactly what xey expected out of Heartstar, so openly biased for her family, not taking the death of SkyClan's leader as the murder that it was.

Xey dealt with this by sending a message; all "honored" guests could come and pay their respects to Leafstar.

Juniperclaw isn't invited explicitly... but the message reaches him. It is implied. So he comes, hoping to offer his sincere regrets.

I'm trying to figure out the cat equivalent of "Being taken out back and shot" is lmao

Professional mob boss kind of hit. Someone takes out the pistol with a silencer and ends his existence in the back alley as the loud party inside drowns out the sound of the shot. Do you understand me

Whoever the "hitman" was, Waspstar is the one who ordered it and xey take full responsibility.

The kill was clean. Not messy. Juniperclaw didn't suffer-- unlike his victims.

Juniperclaw goes to the Dark Forest like canon, but in BB he isn't the only border guard. He's buddies with Mudclaw and Appledusk.

The line about ruthlessness I mentioned offhandedly is this one from KA Applegate. I'm pretty sure it's from Animorphs.

"People don’t understand the word ruthless. They think that it means ‘mean.’ It’s not about being mean. It’s about seeing the bright, clear line that leads from A to B. The line that goes from motive to means. Beginning to end. It’s about seeing that bright, clear line and not caring about anything but the beautiful fact that you can see the solution."

It's become a popular paragraph as of late, because it slaps.

#better bones au #BB!Juniperclaw #Squirrelflight's Horror #BB!Waspwhisker

110 notes · View notes

sgiandubh · 7 months

Text

A tale of two brands

Sophie Mancini's Departures paper on S in NY started a flurry of comments even before the whole content was made available on blogs. That people - mostly in Mordor - jumped in to add their two booing cents on the matter, based on two or three Instagram Story screencaps only, is a testimony to Tumblr's community deep interest in S's slightest PR/sales move and the easiness with which people like *urv managed to push their own agenda, in the process, to her unsuspecting, bicep-loving crowd.

Many of these comments asked just one question, more or less kindly and more or less openly: who are you, Sam Roland Heughan? Some of them, more along my alley, took a different angle: who are you talking to, Sam Roland Heughan?

Let me count the US crowds: the Wall Street yuppie crowd? the old money, WASP Knickerbocker / Colony Club crowd? Tribeca's sophisticated, culture-ish snob crowd? the UN international crowd? the laid-back (-ish) brownstone Brooklyn crowd? the DC politico types? the Boston Brahmin crowd? the Silicon Valley Bitcoin crowd? the Florida Latino crowd? the Bible Belt crowd? the Deep South charmingly old-fashioned crowd? the yee-haw, witty and ambitious Texans? the gourmet, nature-loving Seattle crowd? I am sure I am missing some (it's been a while I haven't traveled to the States and I have to say I miss all 50 of them, plus and perhaps above all my beloved DC :), but you get the idea. And the problem, or rather its first layer.

The second question this very poorly written article prompted is: what are you talking about, Sam Roland Heughan? I mean, what destination are you trying to promote? Scotland, through your Scottish gin, which I truly believe is exceptional? The Big Apple, like a counterpart to Sting, you know - a Scotsman in New York? That's not very clear, since that superficial girl just whirled you to a couple Chinatown speakeasies, rat pitter-patter included (bye-bye, Knickerbocker crowd right there) and that's pretty much it. New Zealand, that you mention at length, Maori tattoo story re-hashed, just because the book comes out next Tuesday? Ha-wa-wee, perhaps in a belated attempt to mitigate Tunagate? California, even, because it takes you back to humble beginnings? Granted, the Frisco one, not LA: that would be a horrible faux-pas, in a NY centered paper, much like me whimsically and idiotically mentioning Istanbul (instead of Constantinople), in a conversation with my Greek friends.

My head spins. And then let's add to that a ladle of recycled talking points, yours and C's altogether, like this gem:

Aspirational. Mmmhm. She said that. You said that. Multiple times, in multiple contexts that probably didn't even call for it. This is *** PR right there. I am not JAMMF. I am not Claire. But we aspire to that. Stop thinking we are these characters. No sane fan ever did: the insistence is unnecessary and has a real backfire potential. Stop thinking, period. But let it be my shipper sin, then, not to believe an iota of it and stubbornly think you people are, by now, way past the aspirational stage.

So, I took a long walk down memory lane today, while driving, trying to understand what the hell your personal brand is. Once upon a time, things were clear: you and C were a single brand. S&C - the fresh-faced, candid, witty and funny and oh, so in love new kids on the block. The spark was real and it was strong (it still is, only dampened and muted by PR-prompted shenanigans) and OL's audience was under its spell. People loved you, both of you, and some of us still do. You showed us as much as you could and for a while, it seemed to be convenient for just about everybody. That created expectations, but at the same time, you could have sold us land concessions on the Moon and we would have bought them, no questions asked.

And then, things happened. We know what: IFH, EFH, Remarkable Week-end. The spell was broken for many, who left in droves. Fans turned into bashing other fans. The S&C brand was progressively compromised and along with it, your Barbour Ambassadorship (for different reasons). Let's stop a bit at this point, in fond remembrance: that was the perfect pitch, for the perfect kind of corporate brand, for the perfect niche, for the perfect guy. A guy who had a credible, authentic story to tell, with a really strong potential to attract people outside of OL's crowd. Image and message perfectly aligned. Best case scenario.

So, with ***'s and your own PR benediction, what once was your solid gold starting point was ridiculed, trampled, shot to shambles, in a (failed) attempt to be sent to complete oblivion. You then had to think of something and try to branch out of both the blessing and curse of it.

MPC suddenly became more important than just any other charity project, of which there were a few (Cahonas Scotland comes to mind, the blood cancer one, as well). Cue in Sam the Athlete, Sam the Healthy Living Evangelist. The project was turned into a lucrative business, with a strong charity side. People bought subscriptions, people changed their eating and lifestyle habits, people lost weight - but really, I shouldn't write 'people', but 'women'. This was a women-oriented endeavor. A problem, again, on the long term.

Ha-wa-wee 1 happened, to more scandal and shrieks (that, I believe, was the reason you lost the Barbour project, another gold opportunity squandered because ten Internet bitches knew better). Then we were told another avatar was born: Sam the Entrepreneur. With a genuine, carefully curated, labor of love first alcohol product that clearly used the discarded S&C brand: The Sassenach and believe what you want, but just buy it. Mommies obliged. Antis obliged. Shippers obliged. All wallets are created equal, as I (often) use to say. And then COVID-19 came, putting a very real, very dangerous logistic strain on it.

Yet, you still had to somehow mitigate delays and losses. The Sassenach went exotic, with that limited edition tequila that probably won't be remembered by many outside OL's fandom, and that is a pity and a shame. The reason it won't be remembered is that you almost did not promote it, spare one or two Tick-Tock and Instagram clips. Does that justify the investment, the trips to Mexico, the very expensive retainers and commissions your tequila friends took for their trouble? I very much doubt it. That was, until being proved completely wrong, a flop. It brought absolutely nothing in terms of personal branding, spare perhaps a new faction in this paranoid cesspool of a fandom: the Gay Crowd, fueled by the image of a Lonely Bandana Cowboy, instead of the intended Sophisticated Traveler and Connoisseur. Yes, people are stupid, like that. Your PR and Sales team, too - and this comes from a place of deep understanding and appreciation.

We are now talking gin and boy, am I glad we do! This is perhaps an opportunity. Finally, a more democratically price-tagged, carefully tailored (again) drawing card product. But who is selling it to me? The California Boat Party Host? In that case, I won't buy it, but never mind me: maybe the fun-loving California Millennials would (we know the Smuggling Mommies would do it, anyways). The Sophisticated Traveler and Connoisseur you tried to show us again in Mancini's abysmal Departures paper and who is invited to important events, in recognition of his efforts?

You can't have the two of them, Sam, whatever those incompetents told you. You're either a 43-years old midlife crisis-stricken and shirtless clown or an Old World Industrious Thespian, with a stature and a status to match. A real Entrepreneur, not a cartoon scuba diver/beach boy Influencer. Eye Candy vs. Brain Power: after all, you are a '3x NYT best selling author', aren't you? Your pick, not mine. Stop the Sri Mataji-style Hugging and Booze tours: it's nonsense and that geriatric crowd is nowhere near what you need to make your dream come true. Do some real soul searching and stop listening to clueless 28-year old journalists, who tell you tacky rings are fun: they aren't. They make you look like an ageing Atlantic City Sinatra wannabe:

Sam Roland Heughan: currently at crossroads, trying to not choose between two opposite personal brands. Tricky position and an even trickier context, with the strike still lingering on and the pressing need to find an after OL strategy.

I promised you a tale of two brands and I think you wonder, by now, what happened to C, the other half of the primary SC brand?

The answer is, I honestly believe, not much. She has no personal brand, so to speak. Until now, she is just an Enthusiastic Dilettante. Book Club - started, unfinished and with that, farewell to any fan engagement. Cinema production rights - bought and then silence. Botanical Gin - first batch released (?) with no promo, no interviews (mentioning it in a podcast does not count), no reviews. Then teasing, then crickets again: a bit late, now, for the end of year celebrations. And I have to say I miss her or the part of her I never witnessed in real time (is such a thing possible?). I miss that starry-eyed, funny and witty girl. That girl was somehow completely swallowed by an Acrid Matron, who thought it was intelligent to yell at an Internet nobody, on Christmas Day, 'I am not married to Sam!' (ok, you aren't, but you're still lying). And I honestly don't know which one is best (or worst, for that matter): try to build something and make mistakes and try again until you hopefully find your way, or say nothing, do nothing and of course, never be controversial.

Now I am really interested to see how is she going to promote her gin. But you know what, I am not holding my breath, for some reason.

#BoozeWars

159 notes · View notes

ghost-bxrd · 8 months

Text

Correction. Jason fucking hates school.

Those fucking elitist assholes keep staring at Dick and him like they’re goddamn monkeys in a zoo. One had tried explaining the fucking concept of laptops to them earlier, like they’d been raised in the fuckin’ ass end of nowhere.

That guy had changed his tune real damn fast after Jason pointedly pulled out his own unreleased Wayne tech laptop and fired it up with a harsh glare.

Frankly, Jason wouldn’t be so ticked off if it was just him, but they keep. Targeting. Dick. After they realised that, wow, Jason isn’t the poor back alley rat with an IQ barely high enough to let him breathe correctly and take their shit lying down, they kept trying to crowd Dick.

After the third time some spoiled girl had tried touching the skittish talon in some guise of “Oh wow, your hair looks really soft!“ and Dick’s eyes had done the deer-in-headlights expression where he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to fucking say no Jason had snapped and nearly bit the offending hand off.

The surprised scream he got in retaliation was so fucking worth it, even if he’s pretty sure B will have choice words to say about it once they get back to the manor.

Sadly, Dick had also taken that reaction to mean that Jason felt threatened by the girl, which was… less optimal.

At least Jason had managed to keep him from literally tearing into her. If barely.

“I fuckin’ hate these snobs,“ Jason growls, opening their Alfred issued lunchbox with a bit more force than strictly necessary.

Dick coos inquisitively, back to his bird sounds in the relative privacy of the abandoned classroom they’ve been hiding out in since the fiasco during second period.

Jason hands him one of the sandwiches with peanut butter and jelly he loves so much and chooses one with with cheese and ham for himself, taking a vicious bite to vent his frustration in a way that won’t immediately get them expelled. “All these people thinking we’re some new and shiny toy. Wanna bet they think we don’t even know how to fuckin’ read?“

Dick eats at a more sedate pace from where he’s perched in a crouch on top of a desk, watching Jason rant with attentive eyes.

He doesn’t say anything, but that’s ok. Jason’s spitting enough vitriol for them both, and at least he knows that Dick is listening. Even if Jason were to suddenly switch topics and babble nonsense about the Teletubbies, Dick would still hang onto his every word. It used to be a bit creepy in the beginning, but now it’s… nice. Especially since he’d figured out how to interpret all the bird noises Dick makes.

“Really, if any of these privileged asswi-“

Dick’s head snaps up, body suddenly tense like a bowstring, and Jason whirls around so fast he almost gives himself whiplash, heart in his throat.

His eyes immediately lock onto the previously closed door where a wide eyed boy is standing, laptop under one arm, mouth agape, and looking more like a displaced toddler than a student with the pudgy baby fat clinging to his cheeks.

Dick makes a low tittering sound deep in his throat, wary but not yet hostile, and Jason takes one look at the tiny child that looks like he might start crying under the heavy stare of two older boys and exhales a groan.

“You need something, kid?“

The boy’s wide, blue eyes snap to him and Jason has to blink a bit at how similar they look to his own, if perhaps a few shades lighter.

He shuffles on his feet, clutching the laptop against his chest, “Uh, n-no. I was just- uh- homework.“

— Owl Song pt. iii Preview

#owl song #sneak peak #preview #snippet #drabble #batfamily #dick grayson #batfam #bruce wayne #robin #batfam fic rec #jason todd #tim drake #fic #talon dick grayson #court of owls #accidental child acquisition

199 notes · View notes

insipid-drivel · 2 years

Text

Southern Colloquialisms To Enrage ESL Bloggers:

I see a few posts asking international and other tumblr bloggers to supply the literal English translations to common colloquial phrases for the sake of the sheer silliness, strangeness, and outright lunacy of what happens when you take a colloquialism and take it literally (Factoid: linguists refer to this process as “Pidgin”)

But what about Southern colloquialisms from the United States that don’t even make sense in their native language? Hello! My great-great grandmother was born in a ditch outside of a mud house with mud floors in the Dust Bowl in the United States and I didn’t know I had a Southern accent until my friends in the Pacific Northwest pointed it out!

I have relatives from all along the Bible Belt, aka the “Old South” that, you know... Yeah. A few of my cousins are awesome people and we trade notes over ridiculous phrases our relatives and elders used that we never understood, but accepted on a spiritual level. Here are some I grew up with:

“Got myself a short cold.” - “I have seasonal allergies and just mowed the lawn.”

“Oh, crap and molasses!” - “I forgot something at home and we’re already almost to our destination and I don’t want to swear in front of polite company and small children.”

“Eating high on the hog tonight!” - “We’re not eating scrap cuts and offal for dinner because steaks were 2-for-1 today.”

“Hoecake” - A form of pancake or “Johnny Cake” made from corn meal instead of flour. They’re delicious.

“Catawampus” or “Cattywampus” - “I’m gonna have to wash that off the ceiling but at least it worked. It’s messy.”

“Piddling” and “Piddly” - Any worthless or time-wasting endeavor or result that helps no one. “This paycheck is plum piddly, hoss. Quit piddlin’ ‘round and gimme that re-GI-nal manager’s job y’all know I’m qualified for.”

“Hoss” - “Boss” that you also think could probably beat the crap out of you behind an alley for catching you cheating at pool.

“That boy’s bigger’n a brick shithouse.” - “Your physique and muscular stature is intimidating to the degree that I am complimenting you by comparing you to a solid structure everyone would regret trying to knock down.”

“Crazier’n a shithouse rat.” - “Dude, please talk to a psychiatrist.”

“Doohickey” - Any object or concept you can’t remember the name of but need urgently. Often accompanied by aggressive hand waving in the approximate direction of said object without actually looking at it.

“Y’all better hush up back there!” - Your grandmother’s polite way of warning you she’s going to take a flyswatter to your ass if you don’t shut the fuck up in Church.

“Y’all’d’ve” - A real contraction I can’t even stop myself from using meaning “You all should/would have” and am leaving here just for the English majors out there.

“Dude” - A completely urbanized individual who has no idea how to live or function in a rural or wild setting without technology and utilities and can’t ride a horse or milk a cow.

“Proudboy” - Oh yes, it was already a thing. In Southern slang, a “Proudboy” is a neutered male horse that still acts like he’s a badass stallion the mares will want to mate with. “Poor proudboy ain’t noticed yet, bless his heart.”

“Bless his/hers/your heart.” - “Because the Good Lord sure didn’t bless your head.” It’s also used as a heartfelt form of “Thank you” when someone goes out of their way to offer you a kind and thoughtful gesture. Context is important.

“Don’t let the door hit ya where the Good Lord split ya.” - “You are no longer welcome in this space and if you don’t leave now I’m literally going to slam the door on your ass.”

“Living in high cotton” - “I have achieved fiscal success and am using a colloquial term to refer to it without considering the fact that the term originated out of slave plantations.”

“If the creek don’t rise.” - Basically “Knock on wood.” A term meaning, “I’ve prepared for everything but what I can’t prepare for or anticipate and will achieve my goal so long as it is within my power to do it.” Bonus points if you pronounce “creek” as “crick”.

“Fixin’ to” - Another polite way of indicating you’re about to aggressively undertake a task. “I’m fixin’ to whip ya ass, son.” This is not to be confused with “Fixin’s” singular, which refers to the ingredients or catalysts required to cook or complete something that requires assembly.

“Doesn’t amount to a hill of beans.” - A hill of beans is a Southern unit of measurement for anything that remains worthless regardless of how much of it you have, much like NFTs. “Your anti-TERF ‘sources’ don’t amount to a hill of beans, proudboy.”

“(Way) Over yonder” - “It’s over there, and the number of times I repeat the word ‘way’ prior to ‘over’ is indicative of how much yonder is between you and there. Sorry, what’s a yonder? You just asked me to show you! It’s way, way over there! Bless your heart...”

“Madder than a wet hen.” - “Oops, you have reached ‘yikes’ level of pissed off. Better skedaddle!”

“Skedaddle” - “RUN AWAY FAST NOW AAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

“It’s blowin’ up a storm.” - The sensory indicators of an oncoming heavy storm or hurricane that presents with the smell of ozone, high humidity, and an abrupt drop in temperature. Yes, it’s a thing; I can also smell when a storm’s gathering and it is a distinct set of very subtle odors.

“Pretty as a peach.” - “That individual whose pronouns are irrelevant but is most commonly a woman or proud of rocking a femme aesthetic is exceptionally beautiful and I admire them.”

“Busy as a cat on a hot tin roof.” - “We’re overburdened and understaffed to the point that I am numb to all forms of communication that don’t involve someone being on fire.”

“Aren’t you precious.” - Not a question unless it begins with “Well,”. Depending on tone, it either is a high compliment toward someone’s appearance or behavior being exceptional, or as a sarcastic response to when someone says something insulting to you. “Awww, you’re so sweet, baby sister!” vs. “That insult was just adorable.”

“Yes Sir/Ma’am/Mx” - Also applies to “No”. Answering a question with “Sir”, “Ma’am”, or “Mx” to someone that is your age or older is just considered universally respectful in polite conversation. If a Southern person suddenly stops answering your questions with your preferred pronouns or never does at all, it probably means they have 0 respect for you. When the small niceties disappear, you’ve fucked up.

“Frunchard” - “Front yard”, the opposite of the back yard.

“Quit being ugly.” - “Stop being an asshole.”

“He thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow.” - “You’re so stupidly full of yourself you’d probably honestly believe the sun rises and sets just for you.”

“That dog won’t hunt.” - “I know you believe it’s a good idea, but uh... it’s not.” Also used in place of replying to a person’s excuse you know is 100% bullshit.

“Well, I declare...” - “I am about to obliquely reveal broad adjectives reflective of my emotional state or opinion about this state of affairs and you should probably prepare yourself for more nonsensical colloquialisms.”

“My eyeballs are floating.” - “I need to pee so badly it isn’t going to be an option very, very soon.”

“Can’t never could.” - “Can’t never could do nothing!” That’s... that’s literally it. I can’t elaborate any more than saying it’s a term indicating you’re feeling optimistic.

“Give him two nickels for a dime and he’ll think he’s rich.” - “This person’s stupidity is physically painful to experience.”

“That makes me wanna slap my mama!” - “I am so impressed/pleased with that experience that we’ve circled around to domestic violence somehow.”

“You could start an argument in an empty house.” - “Go to anger management classes.”

“Ain’t got the good sense God gave a rock.” - “I cannot fathom this level of lack of common sense and forethought and require divine intervention immediately.”

“Slicker than pig snot on a radiator.” - “That person is the Webster’s definition of a scumbag.”

“About as useless as a screen door on a submarine.” - I think that one is pretty self-explanatory.

“There’s not a pot too crooked that a lid won’t fix.” - “There’s someone out there for everyone. Don’t give up on finding love and companionship just because you’re different.”

#southern slang

2K notes · View notes

swanimagines · 3 months

Text

CAUGHT IN HIS WORLD | KAZ BREKKER

Summary: Kaz asking you to accompany him for a job makes you think it'd be a nice opportunity to spend time with him, but instead you end up breaking and entering to one of the most feared gang's warehouse, and that doesn't exactly meet your morals.

You had always been a good and obedient child, raised in a wealthy family of merchants, that valued order and stability. But there was one person who made you question who you were, who you were supposed to be - and that person was Kaz Brekker.

The boy quickly gaining reputation as a ruthless killer, a child demon. He’d even get called Dirtyhands after he started to wear his gloves, for all the horrible things he did - some kids not much younger than him were taught that if they didn’t behave, Dirtyhands would come and take them. Him breaking his leg and getting a cane just intensified the rumours somehow, even the weakness was turned into something scary.

And you had fallen for him of all people. You had tried to push your feelings down - you really had. But it wasn’t that simple, maybe the life he lived was why you felt so drawn to him. So you sought for his company, hung out with him as much as he let you, and eventually he seemed to warm up to you too. Or at least he didn’t snap at you as much as before.

One day, Kaz asked if you wanted to accompany him for a job. He was being vague about the details, but honestly you didn’t mind, you’d enjoy spending time with him - even if a small voice at the back of your head was telling you that it was a bad idea. So here you were, walking through the dark alleys of Ketterdam, slightly uneasy about shady people lurking in the shadows. You thanked the Saints you were with Kaz while there, he’d kill everyone trying to ambush you, and people knew it.

Finally, you stopped in front of a warehouse and Kaz scanned his surroundings quickly. His gaze fell on the large lock hanging from the door and took out a small pouch of lockpicks, laying his cane against the wall and kneeling down on his good leg as he started working on the lock.

Was he breaking into a warehouse? Your heart started pounding in your chest, you had known in a way that you shouldn’t have come with him, but you had been too wrapped around Kaz’s dangerous aura to resist it.

“Wait,” you asked, for some reason hoping Kaz had a legitimate reason to do it. “Do we have a permission to do this?”

“Of course,” he replied, not even glancing at you. “Hein Middelesch asked me to snatch some jewelry and some papers to claim the ownership of certain shops at the Barrel. He’s a real gentleman, helping a rivaling gang like that.”

You swallowed, recognising the name. “H-Hein Middelesch? The leader of Grinning Cats? Kaz-”

The lock gave a click on that moment and opened, and then the door was open, and Kaz headed inside, without letting you finish the sentence.

The warehouse wasn’t that big, but the clicks of Kaz’s cane still echoed through the hall. You followed him meekly, feeling like you had just committed a murder of some kind. Kaz began looking through the cabinets and boxes, once in a while stuffing items to his pockets, and you glanced around, basically being scared of your own shadow.

After a few minutes of just standing there, you cleared your throat. “Kaz, um. I don’t know if it’s wise to be here. What if we get caught? The Cats are known to dig eyes out–”

“You can always walk out of the door.” Kaz interrupted, not even giving you a glance.

You sighed. “I… I don’t want to leave you here alone. It’s just that, my family wouldn’t think this is a good idea.”

Kaz moved onto the next box, and you almost heard an eyeroll in his words. “Of course they wouldn’t, they’re too busy to count their kruge and looking down at us Barrel rats.”

You felt a twinge of anger at his words. “That’s not fair. My family has worked hard for our wealth, unlike Pekka Rollins for example.”

Kaz’s shoulders tensed at the mention of his arch nemesis, his hands pausing for a moment. But then he continued, “Sure they did. And they’d be absolutely thrilled to know that their little princess is here, having broken in into a warehouse with me.”

“I'm not a princess. And I didn’t break in. You did. I agreed to come with you just to spend time with you. I didn’t know you’d do something like this. Clearly I made a mistake.”

Kaz stood up, finally turning to look at you. His face had his usual scowl, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at you. “You sure are quick to turn against me.”

You crossed your arms, groaning. “I’m not turning against you, Kaz. I just don’t want to get into trouble.”

Kaz let out a snort. "Doing something like this probably isn't what you've been used to? Being acquaintances with me and assuming you'll never get your hands dirty isn't an option."

He always called you an acquaintance. Not a friend. Acquaintance. You had come to hate that word by now. You fought with your heart for a moment, before you finally gave in to it.

“Alright,” you grumbled, taking a look at the boxes around the hall. “What shelf should I look through?”

Kaz smirked, nodding over to the shelf next to the one he had been rummaging through. “Start with that one.”

You slowly walked over to it, taking in a deep sigh before you peeked into the first box. You definitely didn’t feel like you were in your element, but you knew that what Kaz said was true - in the Barrel, you either adapt or you die. It was harsh and cruel, but it was the truth. And as much as it went against your morals, you wanted to help Kaz to survive. Being a Dreg didn’t come for free, and there was no way Kaz would let that life go. Something had happened to him prior to meeting you, something involving Pekka Rollins, and his revenge required him to become powerful. The kind of powerful that didn’t come the legitimate way.

Deep down, you knew that this path you were going with Kaz Brekker could bring you into the criminal world - your family could disown you, you could end up in the street. But still, in a twisted way, this was something you felt right about doing. Even when you were reluctant about it, you felt like you were part of something that would help Kaz in a way you would never be able to help anyone else. You weren’t sure where that feeling came from, but you were always drifting back to Kaz, back in his company, somewhere you didn't belong. Maybe things would sort themselves out in the end. Maybe Kaz would start calling you a friend instead of an acquaintance. And maybe…

Maybe there would be something more waiting for you and Kaz.

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

78 notes · View notes

archangeldyke-all · 4 months

Note

doing asks publicly makes me so nervous but i'm gonna do it anywayssss. i sent you a couple of asks but you said you didn't get it so im gonna send you this one that i've been thinking about for a hot minute-- i think its really cute like omgmgggg ANYWAYS

sevika with a younger (20s) vampire reader who watches her from afar and leaves her really pretty vintage looking gifts, romantic poems, and cute love notes? basically just the reader leaving stuff that sevi takes an interest in!! i'd love for this to be with a black reader if possible <3

this is so cuteeee!!

a quick note and disclaimer before we start! i don't know much about vampire lore, just the very basic stuff, so i apologize if this isn't the exact vampire vibe you were hoping for, or if i get some things wrong, i'm mostly just guessing hahah. also! i'm white, and i'll try my best to make this an obviously black reader without shoving it down your throat, but if i get anything wrong, please lmk and i'll fix it right away :)

men and minors dni

zaun is a great place for a vampire to live. sunlight rarely reaches the low levels of the city, leaving you free to roam whenever you want, day or night.

additionally, the abundance of crime and violence, as well as the lack of any real help from piltover, means that the occasional dead body (both human and animal) with puncture wounds in their necks go relavitely unnoticed.

it's these reasons that made you decide to settle down in zaun for a while.

it's sevika that made you decide to stay.

you've never met the woman, at least not traditionally, but that doesn't mean you don't know her.

the first time the two of you crossed paths was one late night in the dingy streets of the lanes.

you were starving, out searching for a rat or cat or maybe even a man harassing some poor girl to sink your fangs into. you had wandered away from your usual haunts and toward the newly re-furbished 'last drop.'

rumor had it that the new owner had some shady dealings on the side. you figured it'd be a good as place as any to catch a scumbag in action, or maybe find someone so drugged out on shimmer they wouldn't notice waking up the next morning with a pint of blood or so missing.

as you approached the bar, the few stragglers out this late grew into a rambunctious crowd. you grinned, ducking into a dark alley, licking your lips in anticipation of your next meal.

it took no time at all for you to find your target. a crowd was standing outside the bar, laughing and goofing off as they played with a handful of dice and passed around some cigars and joints. a girl in the crowd kept winning, and you watched as one of the men she was with grew more and more irritated as she continued to pick up her winnings.

the second he put his hand on her in an attempt to pull her back and backhand her, your fangs descended, knowing you'd found your guy. you ducked out of the alley, reaching out to grab the man by the bicep and pull him toward a shadowy corner.

but before you could touch him, he was being harshly pulled away from the young woman and thrown on the pavement.

you paused in the mouth of the alleyway, watching with increasing interest as a tall, strong woman towered over the man, glaring down at him.

she was smirking. you found yourself smirking too.

"what did i tell you about hitting women in my bar?" she rasped out. the man on the pavement beneath her pissed himself, his pants quickly growing dark as he shook in fear. the crowd he was with had dispersed, but a few eyes were watching and shaking their heads in admonishment of the man.

"i-i'm not in the bar sevika, we're outside!" the pathetic man cried. the woman above him laughed, and you watched in fascination as a blade slowly descended from her red poncho. he squealed.

"i swear i won't do it again!" he tried, scrambling away on his back as he tried to evade the woman. she smiled down at him, chuckling as she shook her head.

"no." she said. "you won't."

in a flash, the blade at her side swung down across his neck.

your stomach growled as the smell of blood drifted over to where you hid, and your loins stirred as you watched the woman keep eye contact with the man until his sputtering and twitching halted, and he died. she spat beside him, then turned to walk back into the bar. her bar, apparently.

when no one was looking, you quickly drug the body to the alleyway. his neck was tattered, but you were able to get a pretty decent feed by draining his arms at his wrists.

and after cleaning your mouth, relishing in the warmth quickly pumping through your body, you entered the bar, and spent the rest of the night in a dark corner, your eyes trained on the strong woman as she made rounds around the bar, occasionally pausing to join a game of cards or drink a whiskey.

since then, you've spent almost every night watching her.

you've learned a lot about her since you started watching her. like how in public, while she's at work, she carries herself around with a straight spine and no-nonsense attitude. but while she's at home, alone in her apartment, she's softer. she likes reading, especially romance novels. and she trades out her whiskey for a sweet white wine when she's really into a book.

she sleeps on her side, facing the door like she's ready for the first sound of danger. there have been a few times that she's left her window cracked and you've carefully floated in through her curtains, hovering beside her as you watch her breathe.

you've touched her once, running your finger down the pretty blue scars on her face. she had shifted and murmured, but hadn't woken up, seemingly not finding your presence threatening.

she smells incredibly fucking tantalizing.

not in the way humans usually smell attractive-- like blood and sweat and life. no, she smells better. she smells warm.

warm like whiskey and vanilla wraps for her cigarillos. warm like the brown sugar body wash she uses, warm like the wool of her favorite poncho.

you swore to yourself you wouldn't act on your attraction. you swore to yourself you'd just watch-- not interact.

but then, one night as you were watching sevika eat a cold, lonely dinner in her apartment, she broke down into tears.

your heart broke. you almost revealed yourself to her, just to wrap her up in your arms and press a kiss to her head.

and when she went to sleep that night, you just had to do something to make her feel a little better.

you quickly rushed down the street to the convenience store down the street, and bought the biggest bag of cheesy chips you could find. (you've watched the woman back away cheesy chips like she was preparing for hibernation-- you knew she'd like them.)

you left them on her welcome mat.

(and though you weren't there to see it, the next morning while sevika was leaving for work and she tripped over the bag, she stared at them in confusion for about three minutes, before a soft, sweet smile pulled up at the corners of her lips.)

the next night, when you came back to watch her through her window, you were thrilled to find the bag of chips half empty and sitting on her counter.

since then, you've given up on any and all semblance that you wouldn't interact with the woman.

your gifts have gotten increasingly intense.

they started with little snacks and trinkets left on her doorstep. but after the first time you saw her reaction, a little happy smile when she opened the door to a chocolate candy bar, your heart soared, and you gave up on keeping your gifts casual.

you started leaving bottles of her favorite whiskey.

then, the wine she sneaks when she's alone.

she was hesitant to open it. it sat on her counter for a week, like she was suspicious of the gift. but, eventually, she gave in and cracked the bottle open.

once she got used to her bottles, you took it up another notch. flowers from time to time. ointments and balms for all the cuts and bruises she's always coming home with. scented candles for her home, more blankets for her bed. (she's always shivering.)

one day you notice the shoelaces in her boots are fraying and old. so you bring her new ones.

one evening, you watch as she finished her smutty novel, then pout at her bookshelves when she realizes she's already read everything else on it. you bought her a series she didn't own yet.

you've even taken to getting dolled up before your nightly visits to her apartment, like she'll see you.

you feel ridiculous each time you apply your body butter and lay down your baby hairs just to watch a woman who doesn't know you exist sleep for a few hours, but you can't help yourself from the compulsion.

it's only when you start using her bodywash scent in your shower so you can always smell a bit like her that you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit in love with the woman.

just a little bit. (right?)

you start reading her romance novels in your free time, renting them out from the library and tearing through them in hours.

you're thrilled to find that all of them happen to feature two female leads.

you're also struck by the fact that her favorites-- the ones she reaches for time and time again-- all feature some sort of love letter confession.

so you make a plan.

it goes like this:

on week one, you start signing your presents with a simple "your secret admirer."

on week two, you leave a rose with every offering you bring.

(sevika keeps them all, hanging them upside down from her window so they preserve themselves.)

on week three, you start adding little notes to your gifts.

"your smile takes my breath away" (even though you don't really breathe anymore.)

"i hope silco doesn't piss you off today" (even though he pisses her off every day.)

"i wish i could sleep beside you every night" (even though you don't need sleep. you'd just like to hold her, protect her from whatever she's so scared of.)

and then, on week four, you decide to give her a letter. a full blown, totally honest confession about everything she's made you feel these past few months.

only-- something happens.

the night before you're meant to deliver the letter on her front mat, you feed off of a street rat. rat blood isn't nearly as satisfying as human blood, but you like to avoid actual murder when you can.

but this rat must have been poisoned, because you wake up with lead in your stomach and a hangover you haven't had since you turned.

you've accidentally ingested rat poison before. and while nothing can technically kill you, a whole lot of shit can make you horrifically sick until the blood works it's way out of your system.

so you have to put the plan on hold for a week.

on day one, you just lie in bed in agony.

on day two, you start shivering.

on day three, you manage to vomit up whatever of the blood remains in your stomach.

and today, day four, you wake up crying.

you miss sevika. as stupid as it sounds, she's been the most entertaining part of your life in... centuries.

and you can't see her. and you can't give her your letter. because you pass out each time you try to walk farther from the bed to the bathroom.

you groan at the ceiling as your stomach rumbles again.

"being a vampire fucking sucks!" you cry to your cat. she purrs in your lap and you sigh. "i can't eat food, i can't go in the sun, i've got all these stupid heightened senses-- and what's the point of being immortal if i can still get fucking sick?" you cry. your cat opens one eye to glare at you for interrupting her nap, before she rises and jumps down from your bed, running away.

"and now you're abandoning me in my time of need!" you wail after your cat.

there's a knock at the door.

you groan as you crawl out of bed-- your body is too weak to do any sort of flying right now-- and wander into the living room.

you're certain it's a neighbor, here to yell at you again for yelling at your cat.

but when you swing open the door, you almost pass out at the sight of sevika smirking on your doorstep.

you scream, leaping backwards, quickly snatching a blanket off the couch to wrap around your three day old soiled pajamas, and then gasp when you remember you have your bonnet on.

you reach up to pull it off-- then think better of it, knowing your hair's likely a mess beneath it. you haven't taken it off in days.

"uh." you squeak. sevika smiles at you.

"hey." she says. you blink, reaching up to rub your eyes, certain this is a poison induced hallucination. it's not, apparently.

"uh." you say again. sevika chuckles, then makes to enter your apartment.

"the rule is that vampires gotta ask to come inside your home, not the other way around, right?" she asks as she steps over the threshold to your apartment. you gulp.

"uhm..." you say, backing up until your back hits a wall.

sevika looks down at herself and shrugs. "i look fine. i guess i was right." she says. you squeak, and she smirks up at you. "i've missed you, y'know. got used to your little gifts." she says.

you gulp and blink again, trying to clear the apparition before you. sevika remains.

"today's the fourth day in a row i haven't heard from my secret admirer-- i got worried for you." she says.

you clear your throat and search for words. nothing comes up. eventually, you manage to say something, a shaky, nervous, "h-how?"

sevika grins.

"c'mon. i'm second in command to the eye of zaun, babe, i got eyes and ears everywhere."

"w-when--?" you try again. sevika laughs.

"since your first gift. i knew i felt someone watching me outside my window, i felt like i was going fucking crazy! then you left those cheesy chips, and i realized maybe whoever was watching me wasn't a threat." she says.

you squeak again, and sevika giggles.

"plus, i caught you a couplea times." she says. "you're not as stealthy as you think you are."

you pass out.

when you wake up, sevika's sitting on your couch, your head in her lap, your cat in yours. she smiles down at you. "welcome back." she says. you groan.

"this is humiliating." you mumble as you try to sit up. sevika keeps you pinned to her lap with a hand to your shoulder and you're too weak to fight her off.

"it's cute." she says with a shrug.

"i've been stalking you!" you say. she just laughs again.

"yeah, but you're cute. and harmless. and-- i'm not sure, but i've read a couple vampire romances-- isn't this your freaky way of courting me?" she asks. you groan at the cheesy wording but nod anyways.

"yeah." you mumble. sevika just chuckles.

it's quiet for a few minutes, and then sevika reaches down to grab your hand. "well..." she says. you blink up at her in confusion. "are you gonna court me or what?" she asks. you blink.

"wha-- seriously?!" you ask. she nods and shrugs.

"gimmie your best shot." she says. you smile, the horrible sickness in your body fading as a giddy feeling starts bubbling up in your stomach. you rise from the couch, rushing to your room to grab the letter, then running back into the living room, thrusting the letter into her hands. "i know you like corny love letters-- it's in all your favorite books." you admit shyly as you hand it to her. she grins.

"you read my books?"

"not yours. copies from the library." you say, shrugging. sevika smiles, then opens the letter.

it's quiet as her eyes scan the pages, the same little furrow in her brow coming up that always appears when she reads.

you bite back a gasp. you've never seen it so close-up before. she's so fucking beautiful, you have to clench your hands at your side to keep from reaching out and touching her.

when she's done, she looks up from your letter with tears in her eyes. you gulp.

"are you okay?" you ask. she swipes her eyes and nods.

"y-yeah." she whispers, a little waver in her voice. you melt, sinking back down on the couch beside her and wrapping your arms around her like you've been dying to do for months now.

sevika laughs in your arms, wrapping hers back around you then hissing when she feels how cold you are. you giggle.

sevika pulls away after a moment, her eyes locked on your lips.

"so... tell me about those fangs of yours." she says. you blink.

"w-what about them?" you ask.

"like, are they always descended or can you control it or...?" she asks. you gulp and shrug.

"i can control it." you say. she smiles.

"so, if i was to kiss you right now, you wouldn't slice my lip off by accident?" she asks. you laugh disbelievingly, then you scoot away from her.

"i--i'm sick." you say. she laughs.

"yeah, i gathered." she says, pointing at your wrinkled clothes and the bags under your eyes. "vampire sickness can't transfer to humans though." she says. you scoff.

"how do you know?" you ask. she shrugs and chuckles.

"i don't, i just really want to kiss you."

you gulp, a shaky sigh escaping your lips, before you tentatively lean forward and press your lips against sevika's.

she hums against you, and then she reaches out, grabs you by your pajama shirt, and hauls you into her lap. you squeak against her lips, and she licks into your mouth, moaning against you.

when she pulls away, you gulp at the powerful, fast pounding of her heart that you can hear from beside her.

"woah." you whisper. she smiles. "so... is that a yes?" you ask, referring to your letter. sevika snorts and lets out a bright laugh, and your heart fucking melts.

"definitely a yes, baby." she says, swooping in to kiss you again.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

99 notes · View notes