#drabble dice

[gust-jar-simulator]

Y'know, I wonder if Vio still qualifies as the lord of the Tower of Flames. Shadow impersonated him a bit, and he lived there awhile. I don't think the monsters all just vaporized after Ganon died, you know? They probably remember their prince's right hand man.

Prompt: Vio, Medusa by Kaia Jette

•🍇•

“Hold,” Four ordered with strange steel, flicking up a hand in reflexive command. “That’s the route to the Tower of Flames. We don't need to go that way.”

“We do if there’s monsters that way,” Legend corrected. “And look. Monsters.”

Two Hinox slouched at the foot of the trail, scratching their stomachs idly. They hadn't seen the Chain yet, but they would.

Four hissed through his teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose as the others agreed, sighing. “We’re hunting black blood, right? Not breaking bones for the sake of it?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“Then stay here. I’ll go say hello.”

“Say hello? Four-” Sky made a grab for him, but Four was quick and small and on a mission, marching off at an irritated clip.

Between them and the Hinox, though, Four’s body language shifted. A little more upright, a little more languid, the expectant stroll of someone who knew exactly where they were and what they wanted, hair flashing gold in the sun.

It was too far away to hear, but as the terrifying giants got to their feet they suddenly cowed, broad shoulders shrinking in and lone eyes darting away from the little man at their feet, who gestured at them and the mountain brusquely. One gripped its spear like a comfort item, and the other nodded fervently. Four considered them for a very long moment, before biting out something brief and turning on his heel, leaving the hinox to sag in relief behind him.

The strange nobility in his posture didn't quite fade as Four reached the group again, eyes sparking a venomous purple to rival Legend’s, and he flicked a dismissive hand at the situation in general. “Nothing new here, no monsters with black blood. Let’s move on.”

Hyrule blinked at him, head tilting curiously. “Are you… friends with them?”

“No.” It was a little too sharp, and he didn't check himself like he usually would, already making his way down another mountain path. “But I did kill their leader, and they know my face. Let’s move.”

[fbfh]

Hate to break it to you but Logan Huntzberger DOES talk you through it!!!! He touches your face and rubs your shoulder or waist or back depending on the position. He gives your cunt a kiss before he lines himself up. And he does NOT shy away from telling you that you're taking it like a champ.

"There we go, Ace... biiiiiiig stretch- ahh..."

[babyjakes]

devils roll the dice.

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event | kinkmas 2023

prompts | sex tape + medfet

pairing | hitman!robert pronge x innocent!reader

warnings | extremely dark, the darkest thing i've ever written (we've entered dead dove do not eat territory; please heed ALL warnings.) canon-level mature themes: kidnapping, torture films, murder. implications that reader will be killed. robert is cold and ruthless. innocent!virgin!reader. filming of illicit sex tape. reader is blindfolded and gagged. restraints. medfet elements: robert's little setup is giving vintage white tile exam room, exam table, stirrups, those gd black gloves, speculum use. clit focus (puff puff content incoming.) vibrator. multiple forced orgasms. squirting. overstimulation. mocking and degradation. robert puts a cig out on reader's leg. written in 3rd person idk.

word count | 1,485

an | i'm kind of sitting here like wtf, ,, what is this and how did it come out of me lol. a little nervous to post, but i trust you guys to make responsible decisions about the media you consume!!! i'll probably never write something this fucked up again but for whatever reason it was just flowing out of me tonight folks, please again i'm begging you go read the warnings, like a second time through wouldn't hurt lol, and i hope you enjoy!!

Bringing its bitter end to his lips, Robert used one hand to draw in a deep breath of his dwindling cigarette, the other lazily holding a black magic wand in its designated place. He was nearly an hour into the day's filming session, and his subject was reaching a level of exhaustion and misery that made her more annoying to play with than anything else. But knowing he needed to milk at least a little more footage out of her before putting her back under and calling it a day, the man kept at the task. He tried to remind himself that he should be enjoying himself; considering the kinds of commissions he generally had to choose from, this particular case was a treat. A pretty little virgin, as soft and pure as the early spring rain, with the most stunning body the criminal had ever had the privilege of defiling. He could spend another thirty minutes at his station, watching as all the life and dignity were drained out of his poor little victim like blood dripping to the cold tile floor.

Through the musty cloth rammed between her battered lips, the poor girl's cries were escalating as her tormentor swirled the curve of the wand's slick bulb over her burning clit. Robert knew what her worsening wails meant; with a callous grin, he pulled his cig from his mouth just in time to press its smoking end to the girl's inner thigh as she came. With the howl she let out, he was thankful for the buffer the gag provided. "Noisy little bitch," he laughed as her juices sprayed out against his gloved hands. "That's it, slut. Fucking take it."

Glancing at the camcorder sitting off to his side, Robert considered his options. As much satisfaction as he derived from seeing how many orgasms could be wrung out of the poor thing before her body knocked her out as an act of mercy, his sadistic tendencies were getting bored of the monotony. Tossing the used cigarette to the floor, the man slowed the wand to a stop. He rolled away slightly on his stool, tossing the condom that was wrapped over the toy's head into the large black trash bag sitting in the center of the large room's floor. This far into his career, Robert had his methods down to a science. There was a way to keep everything clean, everything untraceable.

It was the whole purpose of his "worksite"; it provided a secure, controlled environment for the entire job to take place in, from start to flatline finish. The "set" was by far his favorite portion of the space, and understandably so, as it's where his sick imagination got to run wild for hours, days on end. And his clients were just as enthusiastic about the vivid stage he had put together for their subjects to shine on. It was somewhat inspired by a vintage gynecology office. He had the classic off-white exam table, equipped with a daunting pair of metal stirrups that were always positioned just a little wider than what would be comfortable. A sturdy set of restraints were of course a must, and to make sure the camera picked up on every agonizing detail, he had installed an adjustable surgical light overhead that could be aimed and drawn in to illuminate any area or action he chose. He hadn't struggled to gather all the tools and instruments he could ever want, either. A few of his buyers were licensed professionals themselves, opening the door to acquiring inventory from the big-name brands in bulk.

The other corners of the room had their designated uses as well: one with a filthy mattress for the unconscious victims to waste away on as heavy drugs pumped through their systems, another with large plastic sheets covering the floor, walls, and ceiling where the poor souls were hosed down (inside and out) before a bullet to the temple inevitably ended their long days of suffering. But most of their waking hours were spent on that dreaded padded table, the very spot where Robert's most recent capture was using the few moments he spent away from his station desperately trying to regain control of her breathing.

He returned to his position swiftly after switching out his soiled pair of black gloves for fresh ones, not wanting to waste any of his or his client's time. The sight of the girl's abused sex was enough to make the man drool; it had been quite some time since he had seen such a marvelous-looking cunt, so glorious in its messy destruction. Knowing he should share the beautiful sight, he took the time to adjust the camera, zooming in from a full-body shot to focus solely on the spot between the victim's legs. With the humiliating inspection he was preparing to perform, he wanted to be sure his buyer got to see each drop of come the poor girl let out, every twitch and spasm he would pull from her helpless body.

"Now let's see here," the man breathed as he brought his gloved fingers up to gently spread out the ruined-looking pussy before him. Noticing the way his subject winced as her puffy folds were pried open, he couldn't help but laugh in dark delight. He drew his attention to her throbbing clit, noting how much it had grown in size from all those unwanted orgasms he had forced out of her. Its hood was completely retracted, leaving the poor bud exposed to the open air. In a moment of perverted curiosity, Robert pinched the hardened nub harshly between his fingers, earning the prettiest sob he had heard from the girl all day. He chuckled once more, rolling and pulling at the knot of flesh for a few more seconds of additional torture before finally moving his hands away.

"What do you think? Should we try for one more?" he mused mockingly as he grabbed a plastic speculum from one of the drawers built in beneath the table, unwrapping it and tossing its trash to the side before pausing to grin deviously over his victim. Glancing up at her head, he realized it was still covered with a black hood he had put on her at the beginning of the shoot. The buyer had requested for her to be blindfolded like this for a decent portion of the film, offering the explanation that she was "afraid of the dark," and that he wanted to see her in as much pain and fear as humanly possible. The hood had served its purpose for the day, but now, Robert wanted the poor girl to see each and every way he was going to be violating her body in real time. In one swift motion, he reached up and pulled the pocket of fabric away, exposing her stunning tear-stained face. "Hi sweetheart," he greeted viciously. Just as he was hoping, her cries worsened as she saw the dreaded tool in his hands. He had a certain liking for holding up the devices he was preparing to use to see his victim's reactions; after all, he got off on fear and dread just as much as his clients did.

"Time to open up this pretty little cunt and see what kind of damage we did," the man enthused as he forced the tip of the instrument into the girl's drenched opening. By now, she had been well stretched out and ruined by her captor's horrific methods. Grappling with his usual lack of restraint and self-control, Robert had barely made the drive back with the girl tied up in his trunk without pulling over and popping that perfect little cherry on his own time, without a single camera properly rolling.

Turning the speculum as it was fully inserted, the man took great pleasure in squeezing the handle to force the tool open, each tiny click that sounded only stretching the poor thing's aching walls out to a further, more painful degree. "There," he sighed in satisfaction as the last notch was reached. Pulling his hands away, he gave himself and the camera a few seconds to enjoy the view of the girl's milky insides, so worn and sore from the days of torture she'd endured.

"Alright. One more," he finally hummed, using his gloved fingers to collect some of the plentiful slick dripping from the speculum before dragging them up to find that adorable little button he loved bullying so much. Her fading sobs were revived in an instant, her throat growing hoarse from all the screaming she'd done. But as much as she cried, Robert was determined to get one final orgasm from her before putting her back under for the day. After spending so much time making that pretty pussy as puffy and sensitive as possible, he deserved to see it coming all stretched out painfully over his instrument of choice.

[mossistyping]

F1 dice roll: Jeddah 2025

Once again thank you to @powerful-owl for this fun concept!!

2 & 7

"So, is it everything you'd imagined?"

Lewis whips around, his eyes piercing through Max immediately. When Max was younger, he had seen those eyes and thought they belonged to a man well put together, a man who could beckon a golden apple in his hand just by thinking it.

But now, after years of sharing the same space - the shifting, merciless paddock; the stupid, over the top galas - well, he knows that's not quite true.

Away from the cameras, Sir Lewis Hamilton shrinks. There's a weight on his shoulder than even his physio can't fix. Bags under those eyes that the public will never see.

But mainly, there's a hardness there that's reserved only for him.

"The food here? About what I expected," Lewis quips, ever the diplomat.

Max sighs. He knows this dance. Lewis will never engage in a real conversation with him. Max supposes he has contributed to burning that chance years ago.

"Right. Well, whatever you've been eating, you're looking good."

Lewis' eyes narrow at him, trying to find the jab in his statement. But there is none. Max means it. For his age, for the endless sleepless nights Max knows Lewis is plagued with - he's infuriatingly hot.

Not that he'd admit anywhere else than in the cacophony of his own mind. He's about to turn away when Lewis finally speaks.

"Thanks, Max. You've been looking good yourself. It's too bad Redbull won't give you that white livery anymore, the kit suited you."

Max hates that he perks up at that. He can't think on it, spotting a hand wave pulling him to a media event he knows he can't avoid.

He will dwell on it the whole flight home.

[lmx-v3point3]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Jesters Of Ravenloft (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Del Borovic/Lucretia Sanguine Characters: Jesters!Del Borovic, Jesters!Tyler Hewitt, Lucretia Sanguine Additional Tags: Major Spoilers, Spoilers for 3.74, SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3 FINALE, Do I tag for RPF? This podcast makes this complicated because it's not like RPF but..., RPF, This is too many tags for such a short nothing Summary:

Again, and again, and again

[thetriggeredhappy]

i’m cleaning out my inbox since across my blogs i have a combined three digit number. we’re playing fast and loose folks

[vintage-selfshipper]

Gonna toss a few of the F/Os I see in your list at you with the ‘dog breed’ question prompt list-

The prompt shall beeeee ‘Bull Terrier’ and ‘Azawakh!’

And the characters ima prompt this for are:

- Brewster (so valid bro)

- King Dice (also valid)

- Olive Oyl

- Lieutenant Frank Columbo

- Corporal Maxwell Klinger

Lightning round, GO!/j 🫵

Ahh thank you so much Midnight! And these are all great choices, let’s go!

Weird Dog Breed Asks

Bull Terrier: What are your favorite places to hang out/go on dates with your F/O(s)? Do you have any special date traditions?

Azawakh: Tell me an unusual HC you have for your F/O(s)! LGBTQ+, neurodiversity, race/ethnicity…and/or something weird and random! Like what color they like to paint their toenails!

Brewster:

Bull Terrier: The Roost is a given, considering his job. But we also love going to any K.K. Slider concerts or Dr. Shrunk’s standup when Brewster is off work.

Overall, it can be hard to plan specific dates due to his schedule. But when we do, we make sure it’s super special. Such as requesting “our songs” during K.K’s jam sessions!

Azawakh: This isn’t exactly a surprise, but Brewster is ABSOLUTELY autistic. It takes him a while to warm up to those he meets, but he definitely latches onto those who take the time to know him. Also, he is the king of penguin pebbling. Oh? You like fossils? Here’s 10 mugs with different fossils on them.

King Dice:

Bull Terrier: One thing is guaranteed when you begin dating The Devil’s Right Hand Man. You’ll be painting the town red every night! We love going to Inkwell Isles best jazz clubs, The Fly Trap, pool halls, and high-class restaurants. Although, it is nice to have a casual night in every now and then.

Azawakh: Now Kingie is an interesting character to look at for this ask specifically. Going off his character design and inspiration (with Cab Calloway), he’s absolutely a black toon. His dice head is obviously white but his skin is a dark tan.

He was in a relationship with The Devil for quite a while, but ended up separating for a less complicated work environment. He’s still bitter over how Devil’s compassion dropped. And if we’re going with general fun headcanons/facts, he takes a lot of pride in keeping his dice shiny. It’s a some form of beauty or trade secret that I’ve yet to learn.

Olive Oyl:

(Aww, I need to give my queen more attention and go rewatch some old Popeye stuff!)

Bull Terrier: Considering how the fellas clamber over her, I like to spend time with her when the sun goes down. We usually sit on the dock as the moon shines over Sweethaven. But when it is daytime, we usually catch a matinee at the Thimble Theatre or go down to the Rough House cafe!

Azawakh: Despite what more popular media will show, Olive is quite the fighter (this is actually canon, go look it up!) and has honed her boxing skills. And although my s/i oc is the more butch presenting in the relationship, Olive likes to fluctuates her style from femme to butch as well.

Columbo:

Bull Terrier: Similarly to Brewster, it’s hard to take time off with Frank. It can be especially hard to coordinate date nights. But we don’t mind! Sometimes, the most romantic thing is just to lay on the couch, watch I Love Lucy or Bette Davis movie re-runs, and stroke his fluffy hair.

When we do go out, we usually go to an authentic Italian restaurant or a buffet. The best way to Columbo’s heart is through his stomach!

Azawakh: Buckle up because I have SO. MANY. THOUGHTS. First of all, he is T4T. In college, he got top surgery by an unqualified med student and his scars are unique and a bit gnarled because of that. His family is interfaith, with his parents being Catholic and my version of Mrs. Columbo’s family being Jewish. Even though he struggles with his schedule, he tries his best to give special attention to his family when he does. Speaking of special attention, he does like getting a manicure every now and then. He may struggle with grubbiness, but he still has standards. It’s even better if we make it into a fun family/couples activity!

He also absolutely weaponizes his neurodivergence on cases. Good for him.

Maxwell Klinger:

Bull Terrier: For the love of Allah, PLEASE GET THIS MAN BACK TO TOLEDO!! HE WON’T STOP TALKING ABOUT TAKING ME TO A MUD HENS GAME—

But in all seriousness, Klinger plans dates perfectly. No matter the location. During the war, he’d definitely set up special rendezvous in his tent, with all the special touches he can give with what little he has. He’d even ask me out on a date to the mess tent or to a random screening of whatever film they get this month. The dates once the war was over were a lot more varied as far as activity, but he always makes sure they’re fun.

Azawakh: Similarly to Columbo, I have thoughts™️. Considering the era, he doesn’t have the words to exactly describe his identity, which would probably align with genderqueer. But the details don’t matter, his gender is just a vibe overall. He is however bisexual, with a slight lean towards women. And as for what color he paints his toenails? He’d normally use Flame D’Amour, but he also enjoys it when I pick out random colors. I think light pink and the occasional yellow are really pretty.

[dice-nagito-ace]

Nine Clowns Walk Into A Hospital

king: hey wouldn't it be funny if we started dominating the world like joker keeps joking about

queen: king, you fucking megalomaniac queen: we go with russia first

OR; Post-Game VR AU where DICE, without it's beloved leader, commit to the bit.

so it was real and it wasn't, almost a sick imitation of limbo, purgatory in which they signed their lives away into it.

they're left in a room where they're all fine, technically, but there are echos of the experience that they can't shake off and they can't, exactly, talk about it, NDAs were such a pain.

they've all agreed to keep contact, if nothing else but the fact that only they could understand what it was like, their own bond forged in blood.

except, there was only one left missing, surgery had to be done the moment his simulation was disconnected, to stop the stress on his bones.

they don't know how to approach him, his presence lingered all the same within their minds, either way.

they're not sure on who's going to come out that door, the one before, the one after or an amalgamation of both.

they're not sure what they want to see.

they never get to.

because there's a knock on a different door and out comes and comes and it never stops until it does and now there's nine new people in their fragile haven, all in white suits and wearing masks, falling in line, waiting.

they ask– of course they ask and the one of the smaller ones, smiles, bared teeth and friendly but no doubt, ready to bite.

"we're waiting for joker."

it takes a while, but the detective is the first, easy enough to connect really, when he looks and sees– checkered items, somewhere on their person, black and white, whether that be socks, bracelets or their masks.

"you're- DICE...?"

they grin but say nothing else, waiting, watching, they're not here for them.

and when the doors burst open, grand entrance for a grand leader, heterochromatic eyes– and wasn't that a surprise, it shouldn't but it is– taking stock of the room, pausing in recognition to the lackeys he's missed, mouth parting to call only to stop.

kokichi stares, no grins, no cheeky remarks and it's almost more off putting to see him without his sharp edges and the DICE members fidget and squirm.

"what did you do?"

one of them cracks, "it was king's idea."

"lead by jack's unit!" "under queen's orders!"

they fall into squabbling and they have to blink and wonder why the fuck were they intimidated at all by these people.

"my royal flush, my sweet suits." kokichi trills in the tone of a waiting disappointed father or a simmering angry mother, a role reversal that has them all silenced as he smiles.

"what did you do?"

it's quiet, one of the boys cough.

"you won the russian election?"

...what.

but the biggest surprise was that kokichi wasn't, instead looking exasperated and checking his phone.

"i was gone for a month."

"it was a bet-" "we wanted to see if we could-" "come on, joker, you kept saying stuff about world domination-!" "you like the cold!" "we can go ice skating for free now-" "joker, please don't be mad-" "dad-" "HA! you called him dad, again!" "da- joker, it's a gift, surprise?"

DICE all but scrambles over to their boss, one of them begins putting on a hat and cape and his signature bandana, on top of the hospital gown he was still wearing.

"who were the other candidates?"

"they were assholes, joker-" "nooo, i don't want them in power." "come on, joker, they're letting us have panta imported there." "the public loves you-" "plus with danganronpa you're already in the public eye-"

they all watch as DICE fall over themselves to make up to their disgruntled head of the organization.

"and i'm guessing we have new recruits?"

"yeah!!! you're not lying when you said you have 10k now, boss!"

"gods, you're all clowns." "hey now, boss you called us a circus for a reason!"

[tilthedayidice]

Could I get a name palette for the name "Drabble" please?

Drabble is of old English origins from the name Drabil or Drabel meaning "To hew wood":

(its the shaping of logs into planks)

Dice Envy Thorn to be Wild

Dice Envy River Magic

Chessex Festive Vibrant

Chessex Lustrous Alpestris

Q-Workshop Green Forest

HD Dice Kiwi

Fennek & Finch Druidcraft

My color associations:

Dice Envy (I lost my name card :( )

Dice Envy Honeyed Words

Chessex Underworld Vortex

Chessex Festive Rio

HD Dice Ancient Gold

Ice Cream Dice Orange Float

Dark Moon Dice Evermore

[anime-in-new-albion]

Crash ~ Dice Arisugawa

Summary: Dice keeps losing and it’s starting to worry you, Perhaps you could lend him some help?

Pairing: Arisugawa Dice X G/N!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 491

Warning: N/A

Masterlist

“You lost again, didn’t you?” You asked, trying to keep the smile off of your face.

Dice gave a sheepish chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe…”

Sighing, you shake your head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Let me crash here for the night?”

You nodded, letting him in. However, before he could get any further than the foyer, you grabbed the back of his coat. “Not so fast. Before you make yourself at home, you need to bathe. You reek of alcohol and the streets. The bathroom is all yours. I’ll get you a spare change of clothes.”

Dice was about to whine but swallowed his protests seeing your sharp glare. “A-alright, okay. I’ll go.”

When he was in the bathroom cleaning up, you went into the back of your closet where you kept spare clothes for him. This wasn’t the first time he has come to your door, asking to spend the night. It’s not that you were upset he wasn’t there. You were actually glad he came here instead of sleeping outside. At least you could feed him and give him a warm place to rest. He was kind of like a stray that way.

But it was starting to weigh on you. You couldn’t keep doing this. You worried about him too much. There needed to be a better way to take care of him. And your mind wandered back to an idea you’ve been thinking about a lot lately. Maybe now it was time to put the plan into action.

As soon as Dice was out of the bathroom, he changed in your room while you set out some reheated food from your own dinner. He sat at the kitchen table, still drying his hair, and thanked you for the food. You gave a soft sigh before drying his hair for him as he ate.

“Dice, I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about how when you lose, you lose big. And I don’t like the idea of you sleeping on the streets.”

“I haven’t in a while. Gentaro and Ramuda let me stay with them sometime and so does Rio on rare occasions.” He paused before adding quietly, “And so do you.”

Nodding, you ignored the heat in your cheeks. “I know. But I was thinking you need a permanent place to stay-”

“There is no way I’ll have enough money to afford a place.”

“Here.”

Dice froze. “H-h-here?”

You nodded again. “Yeah, right here. You don’t have to pay for anything. Just stay here when you need to. Consider this homebase where you can crash anytime.”

He was silent for a long time. You were afraid he was angry at you for thinking he couldn’t take care of himself. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought this up. Maybe-

“Okay.” He breathed with a soft chuckle. “I would love to crash here more often.”

[gust-jar-simulator]

See, I told myself I was going to write 100 word drabbles. The problem is some of the prompts are really fun.

Prompt: Wild, I Wanna Be Your Slave by Måneskin

•🦁•

Wild doesn't change his armor as much as he probably could. The slate is full of options- masculine, feminine, Korok leaves and Zora gorgets. Perhaps even more strangely, apparently his blue shirt isn't a knight's uniform.

“It’s not like we’ve got an army now, anyway,” he offers as everyone sidles close to the cookpot. “Nobody recognizes the Champion’s tunic. Zel- Flora made it though, embroidery and everything.” He grins, taps the stylized white sword, all but preening for her as they make impressed noises.

“But you were a knight,” Wars cuts in, eyeing the slate. “Did you have actual armor, or Time’s pajamas?”

They all ignore Time’s laughing protest, and the way he jostles Wars in retaliation.

Wild makes a few cutting comments about the armor being worthless and tosses a pauldron Four’s way, who promptly makes an irate noise like a teakettle and starts manhandling it like a disappointed grandma, tsking at the bluing of the steel.

It’s easier than pulling out the fancy silks of the royal guard, and funnier, so he leaves that particular demon only half answered. His brain gets… strange, around Hyrule’s blue and red. Slippery. Cold. Unfamiliar.

Best not.

[dansconcepts]

Lucky DICE

My take on the PhantomThief!Ouma AU (even though I have multiple takes in my docs so really this is more like just a DICE with Komaeda in it AU) based on the prompt in this Youtube short. It's meant to be a whole mystery-esque sorta thing? with some unreliable/misleading elements. The plot's roughly there (plot is really hard for me) but I'm hoping to fledge it out more maybe.

Shuichi tentatively roams the admittedly modest lair, equipped with the darkness of night lit only by a window. Rooms lead out from beyond the table that sits proudly beside a large retractable screen. Closed doors are lined with messages etched into their frames: names of DICE members, as well as personalized touches in the form of stickers and drawings.

The detective would find all of it honestly endearing if it wasn’t for the fact that they belong to the crime organization that’s been terrorizing the city for a while now. But seeing these hints at people, perhaps young, he begins to wonder- not for the first time- if he’s missing something intrinsically apparent in this whole case. What he needs is something concrete, something beyond the measly conjecture he has. 

His feet stop in front of the door he came here for. Supreme Leader it read, in messy scrawl and purple ink. There’s the silly art, serving as the signature that he knows so well beside it- a tiny caricature of DICE’s figurehead, with a peace sign, wink, and a stuck out tongue. And right underneath is the doorknob. It will get him answers, he knows, but he’s slow to lift his hand anyway. 

He bites his lip. Again, he wonders where his hesitance lies- a hunch with no evidence, reliant on a lingering feeling despite being met with all the facts. Shuichi doesn’t owe him anything. The Phantom Thief committed his crimes with an edge, a malice, and that strengthens his resolve.

The detective turns the door, slowly. His eyes dart around the room as the crack widens, absorbing the calming light that comes from a nightlight perched on a nightstand. A chessboard lays in the center, most pieces having remained and yet are arranged out of place on the board, only having a white king, black bishop, and assorted black and white pawns. Cans of Panta are haphazardly sprawled out everywhere. The bed looks pristine besides a slightly ruffled sheet. Alternatively, the desk, a beautiful dark wood, is a frenzy of suggested activity with papers and photos in seemingly disorganized piles and-

Is that a whiteboard? 

Normally, the idea of having a whiteboard in one’s bedroom isn’t the strangest thing, but the way it’s filled out with photos hung by tape and lines connecting both text and images makes him think he’s looking at a reflection of his own thinking board for this case. Perhaps a corkboard is too old-fashioned... Yet, he muses, he’s evolved from simple burglaries and mysteries to a syndicate of crime, and sticking to basics was the best way for him to start tackling such a jump. 

He approaches the board. The connections being made… it’s recent hits, with some locations being X’d out and others highlighted. There are faces he doesn’t fully recognize in most of the photos. Most of them seem to suggest DICE members, if the clown mask covering their faces are anything to go by. One white-haired man is circled in red, with a large and sloppy, as if angrily written, LIAR over it. 

His eyes roam lower, and he’s greeted with a shock. Small text, in the same handwriting as outside, forces his brain to run a mile a minute.

Detective Shuichi Saihara, it read, …trustworthy?  

And on the ledge underneath, surrounded by a couple of markers, are a pack of cards. Non-standard, if the navy blue look embedded on the pack was any indication. He opens it, expecting to find dark cards to match the box’s aesthetic, and pulls out the first one near the front of the deck. White. He flips it. Also white, purely plain, identical to the front. Widely untypical, but highly familiar. The detective thumbs at the glossy finish. Memories of a beautiful checkered backing hit him unbidden, and playful text laughing at his expense, yet cheering him on… Except for the most recent time, where it was leering, conniving, borderline threatening in a faux-pleasant tone-

Nope. Not the time. 

The detective laxes his grip. Ah. The card now has a permanent score in the middle. 

He brushes it aside- although he murmurs apologies into his head- and looks through the rest of the cards. Finally, he finds what he’s looking for in the form of a date written along the top. He picks through the cards which contained a similar look, and it was all consecutive, almost as if the cards served as a journal or diary of sorts. There’s a handful of cards left that appear blank. 

He’ll examine the rest later. Instead, he focuses his attention on the first card. It outlines, he skims, the third heist DICE carried out (and, he remembers, was when he was enlisted on the case officially). “Detective… new… told Ace not to be an idiot… no Kyouko…” His eyes dart to a passage that actually catches his eye. “This new Detective seems like a stick in the mud anyway, a complete anxious nerd type. But he did figure out our whole MO, so maybe he’s more interesting than I thought.” Shuichi flushes. It was true, but still, to be called out so blatantly…

Next entry. “He did get more interesting. I just had to get up-close and personal, y’know? He’s so convicted for a guy who could barely look me in the eye! That needs to be changed and fast. It’s cute,” And now he’s flushed for a whole other reason, “But that’s only because underneath is this really determined guy who wants to figure things out. And man, do I enjoy someone who plays the game.”

Next. “How often is he going to linger with the notes I leave him? I’m going to get caught this way! But he always reads it with this small smile, and I don’t know why, but it makes me stupidly happy. Yikes. Time to not dwell on THAT thought any longer.” 

Okay, now he’s sensing a pattern. The navy blue on the box, the name repeated in every entry… is this whole deck about him? 

No way. No way at all that’s it. 

But the evidence speaks for itself. He reads further, skimming, his name or a variation always sticking out, and he can’t help but finish every entry as it dials further and further into something that seems… adoring. Borderline affectionate. Shuichi honestly can’t believe it.

The last words of the final entry catches his attention. He recalls the date and his jaw tightens. A day before the latest heist. “Joker said he’ll be making the next heist ‘a celebration of hope’. It’s bound to be a whole ploy to get me closer to my beloved, from Queenie’s laughter and all. If anyone can make it happen though, it’d definitely be him. But I’m concerned. I’m a little worried there’ll be an explosion, knowing Joker. But I know he’s learned his lesson.” 

Hmm. 

He looks through the remaining blank cards, flipping them just to make sure he doesn’t miss anything. On a seemingly random card, 4th last, he finds familiar purple handwriting. 

It’s a lie!

Cold sweeps through his system. A lie? What was a lie? Where? He took everything at face-value, but there’s a lie? The detective frantically looks around, the shadows suddenly seeming oppressive and choking. Was it the whole deck, or something specific? A single card? A handful?

Was it the feelings he thought were there?

He steps back, the card mocking him. 

It’s a lie! It’s a lie! It’s a lie! rings through his head, hearing the voice that often accompanied it. And as it ricochets in his head, he hears faint murmurs permeating through the walls.

God, what was he thinking? He needs to get out of here. He can’t believe he just let himself come in here, spurred by a single letter.

The detective looks to the door, but no, can’t go through there. He peers through the window. Seems clear. Luckily chasing the Phantom Thief gave him some practice in endurance and balance, because this patio wasn’t going to scale itself. 

He jumps, roughly skidding down the slope before landing on his feet. Luckily the house wasn’t too tall. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, the detective slinks off into the night, wondering if this is how he feels after a heist.

[agonizedembrace]

oooo resisting the urge to play league ( yasuo ?? ) by still playing this tcg sim...

[wyrd-syster]

slice and serve my worries away (sugar, butter, flour)

The Rings of Power Fanfiction Pairing: Galadriel | Sauron Rating: M Word Count: 1k

READ ON AO3

Halbrand lived for Tevildough’s, had grown up surrounded by sugar and spice. He knew what it took to survive life in a bakery. And when he said that he’d never met anyone as ill-suited for it as Galadriel Noldor, he meant it. . . OR . .

Day 5 Drabble for Hellbrand & Ghouladriel Week!

Prompts: Spices / “A deal with the devil.”

[rafesangelita]

₊˚⊹♡ RAFE CAMERON PROMPTS + DRABBLES

below is a list of what i consider, for myself at least, drabbles and prompts that mostly you lovely readers sent in! any and all fics paired with my !readers can be found on their own masterlists. if you’re interested in all things rafe, feel free to click the [ ₊˚⊹♡ rafe] tag down in the tag section. there you will find all the works i’ve ever published with his character + discussion posts, thinking thots, moodboards, etc..

୨୧ rafe + gunplay ୨୧ rafe + size kink ୨୧ rafe + voyeurism ୨୧ comforting s2!rafe ୨୧ rafe + choking kink ୨୧ rafe + lactation kink ୨୧ rafe + breeding kink ୨୧ bsf!rafe takes viagra ୨୧ frat!rafe + daddy kink ୨୧ rafe + corruption kink ୨୧ fourth of july with rafe ୨୧ rafe + degradation kink ୨୧ rafe + overstimulation kink ୨୧ rafe fingering you at a party ୨୧ rafe fucking insecure!reader ୨୧ toxic!rafe manhandling reader ୨୧ reader leaving rafe after he cheats ୨୧ teasing stepbro!rafe until he snaps ୨୧ exbf!rafe who calls you late at night ୨୧ rafe fingering you until you're crying ୨୧ be mine (valentine's day celebration) ୨୧ sex dice (valentine's day celebration) ୨୧ frat!rafe's first time being restrained.. ୨୧ softdom!rafe taking reader’s virginity ୨୧ innocent!reader is forced to do drugs ୨୧ rafe unwrapping reader like a present ୨୧ asking frat!rafe for permission to cum ୨୧ fwb!rafe and reader make up at a party ୨୧ covering rafe's mouth while you ride him ୨୧ sucking off bsf!rafe while no one's home.. ୨୧ tunnel of love (valentine's day celebration) ୨୧ bsf!rafe lets you use him to get yourself off ୨୧ mean!rafe fingers you in front of his friends ୨୧ bsf!rafe showing reader how neck kisses feel ୨୧ stepbro!rafe gooning to your instagram page ୨୧ stepbro!rafe fingers you while no one’s home ୨୧ rafe eating you out while forcing your legs open ୨୧ toxic!reader finding out rafe went to a strip club ୨୧ when you're so wet that rafe keeps slipping out.. ୨୧ covering stepbro!rafe's mouth while you ride him ୨୧ riding rafe speechless for being on the naughty list ୨୧ rafe showing you just how much he loves you back ୨୧ cockwarming stepbro!rafe until he pounds into you

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well! Your account has been such a comfort for me these past few months and I’m so grateful for you! I was wondering if I could request a poly!marauders drabble where one of them calls the reader a pet name but they’re still really new to the relationship so they don’t realize that he’s talking to them?

Thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 598 words

You take quiet, giddy pleasure in the chaos of all four of you in the boys’ kitchen. It’s not the tiniest of kitchens, but small enough yet that you can’t move about without brushing or bumping various body parts into each other’s. Honestly, you wouldn’t want to. 

You find yourself deeply enamored by the sound of your knife hitting the cutting board in time with James’, by the way Remus touches your back to reach into the cabinet above your head and Sirius sneaks little bites of your unfinished dinner and slips you some too. Your voices overlap and intertwine, making requests or directions while you dice potatoes at a steady pace. 

“Would you call these finely chopped?” 

“Yeah, I’d say so.” 

“Give that a stir for me please, love.” 

“Where do you guys keep the spices?” 

“Jamie, I’d say that’s more than enough cheese.” 

“Spices are right in that cabinet above you. See? Yeah, there you go.” 

“If, in theory, I forgot to get paprika at the store, would cayenne be a decent substitute?” 

“Do we have chili powder?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Use that.” 

“Would you pass me the thyme, sweetheart?” 

“Sweetheart?” 

You turn only when the kitchen is silent. Remus is looking at you, kind eyes kindly prompting. He nods to just above you. 

“It’s in the spice cabinet there,” he says. “The dried thyme.” 

“Oh.” You blink, reaching for it. “Sorry, I didn’t think you were talking to me.” 

“That’s alright,” says Remus. He takes it from you, a bemused smile playing on the edges of his mouth. “Thank you.” 

“Why wouldn’t he be talking to you?” Sirius asks. 

“I don’t know.” You return to your potatoes, knife thunking against the wooden cutting board. “There are four of us in here, so.” 

Sirius makes a humming sound you know means trouble, and then his arms are needling underneath yours, winding around your middle. His voice is saccharine beside your ear. “Do you not think you have a sweet heart, my love?” 

You laugh. “Don’t,” you say, though you let some of your weight lean backwards into him. Sirius takes it happily. 

“You know you’re our sweetheart.” You may never get used to this, how Sirius can go from teasing to earnest in a second. You can’t always tell which is which, either. He seems to find something worth notice in the crook of your neck, resting his lips there in a long, funny kiss. “Don’t you?” 

You roll your eyes. James shoots you a grin. “I just thought,” you say, “that he might be talking to one of you.” 

Buried beneath your jaw, Sirius makes a noise of disapproval. 

“What?”

“You knew he could be talking to you too, though, right?” James prompts. 

You shrug, moving your eyes back to your work. “I guess.” 

“You guess?” Sirius sets his chin on your shoulder. 

“It just didn’t occur to me in the moment,” you admit. Your potato pieces are getting smaller and smaller. 

Remus laughs. “That won’t do, dove.” 

“See,” you point, smiling, “that one I know.” 

James laughs, too, bumping your hip. “I’d hope so! We’re going to need to start calling you things more often, get you used to it.” 

“I just wasn’t expecting it.” You’re shrinking in on yourself a tiny bit now. Sirius only holds you closer, cooing. 

“Start expecting it,” Remus advises you. 

“Let’s practice.” James raises his eyebrows at you pointedly. “Angel, would you pass me the salt?” 

You huff a laugh, grabbing it for him. “Sure.” 

“Such a quick study!” Sirius praises, mushing another kiss to your cheek. “That’s our girl.”