#imagine the vibes
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studio ghibli + stardew valley omg it would be like the ultimate comfort film
Concerned Ape knows what's up
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So, that happened.
#poppy playtime chapter 4#poppy playtime chapter 2#doey the doughman#mommy long legs#Someone stop me i keep getting distracted from updating my au with lil stuff like these--#Imagine tho#idk why but it makes sense to me that Doey would be in the Game Station cuz hes three kids put together#and MLL being in Safe Haven cuz she has the mom vibes#Using the old concept doey design because i think it fits
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Let me introduce retired!Simon whose life has become cluelessly empty. Morning to dusk he is fixing cabinets, painting fences, oiling cables of his motorbike.
He's seriously so purposeless until, well ofcourse until you move in to the house opposite his, and the first thing you do is crash your trailer into his fence.
“I am literally so sorry ! So, so sorry —” You profusely apologise. Hands on your hip and gaze warmer than the sun.
Simon stands there transfixed, he should say something, he should be angry, he should literally brood, that stuff was painted twice just yesterday. But all he does is watch you get into your car again with a determined streak to turn the trailer.
One, two and — SMASH.
Once again over the fence until it could no longer be distinguished as a fence. Flowerbed mashed all together. Again, you get out of the door, engine dying all over with key gripped in your trembling hands, biting down your lips and head shaking profusely; like you could really use a knuckle knock over your head.
“Da keys,” He grumbles out. His whole heart exploding with the way you looked at him with hope in your eyes.
He has never been more in love.
Masterlist
#i bring sort of “whore for neighbour!simon” vibes to the party#simon ghost riley x reader#call of duty#cod#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost x reader#ghoat cod#cod x reader#call of duty imagine#simon riley x reader#cod simon ghost riley#ghost call of duty#cod x male reader#simon riley ghost#simon riley cod#simon riley fluff#cod fluff#cod ghost#ghost cod#ghost x reader#folkloregurl fics🪩
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Day 12: Core
#art#my art#artists on tumblr#jorm scribs#inktober#wei wuxian#wwx#wen ning#wen qing#mo dao zu shi#mdzs#mdzs fanart#I know the butterflies are vibes from a different book but it felt empty without something#This is supposed to be when they excise his golden core to give to Jiang Cheng#wen ning and wen qing just kinda like. You good buddy. Do you need some water#I imagine the process wasn't clean. Post-op care I guess.#didn't get to finish this yesterday so it's a day late#grandmaster of demonic cultivation
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i suspect they cut the 3rd stage of the manectric line for being incredibly stupid looking, but i think they should have kept it, exactly like that with no revisions. dog that got stuck in its one of its owners shirts and is trying to act like it wants to be there and can leave at any time
#the lack of distinct toes on the front paws really lends to the 'trapped in a fabric prison' effect#imagine seeing that thing galloping towards you head-on#i need a text post tag#pokemon leaks#seeing these together feels like they were a proto-luxray line#star-themed electric type three-stage mammal lines#also getting pyroar vibes but i think that's coincidental#pokemon
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Bloodline of the Sacred Dragons - Chapter 1-4 & 1-5
They only boarded a ship three days later.
It wasn't because Camallia took time to recover. Fortunately, it took her only a day to be able to walk on her own. Perhaps because she had undergone harsh training as a battle priest. Her gorgeous body had no flaw or weakness.
The issue was not the people, but the ships.
The monsters who apparently attacked Camallia's ship had stayed in the waters. Many small fishing boats were attacked and lost. The island country of Waral had sent an official warning to both Uranbatol and Rudo, urging them to be careful.
Because of that, no sailor was moving an inch away from the harbor. None of them could stand the thought of their precious ship getting destroyed, especially after seeing the last shipwreck. Of course they had lost their nerve at that sight.
However, Karin's father, the leader of Rudo Village, had given them a real lifeline. Levering his position, he got the captain of the ship that brought Krin back to action. What they agreed upon was to sail southwest through the bay, and then head to the town of Rindo. That way, they would circumvent the dangerous region.
Bleu, Camallia, Krin and Karin boarded the ship. Marron insisted to the very end that he would come along, but he couldn't find anyone he trusted to do his gatekeeping duties in his place. Until the day they departed, he kept telling Cerberus to protect her master well.
The ship set sail safely, and took the sea route to Rindo's harbor. Should everything go well, they would arrive in a few days.
There was a rowing boat up in the deck, covered with a grey cloth. Karin was sat on its edge, entertaining herself by kicking her feet in the air, swaying dangerously. Bleu warned her a billion times that if she fell and got knocked out, no one would find her there until they reached land. She replied that she wouldn't mess up like that.
"It's my first time going to West Rune. Could it be, that it's the same for you too?" She asked Bleu as she puffed her chest, taking in the breeze.
"Yeah, it's a first for me too. That's why I'm a little bit scared."
"Oh c'mon. With your wings, you could cross between the lands any time you wanted. Aah, I wish I had some of that."
She stared at his wings, a bit envious.
"Don't be silly. Not like I can lend them to you if you asked. Besides, it's very hard to keep flying for that long. I won't say it's impossible but it's so absurd I don't feel like trying."
"Oh, but birds seem to do it just fine," Karin narrowed her eyes at him, as if that meant dragons had to be capable as well.
"That's because they are lightweight. I'm bigger and heavier, so it's more trouble than you think."
"Hehe, how much are you stuffing in that belly, I wonder."
Karin said he should try it.
"Well, I guess today it will be a bunch of fish."
Bleu smiled a bit, and Karin joined him. They tried to understand each other's feelings through those smiles.
Bleu had some regrets. He needed Krin and Camallia to come along. But he did not plan for Karin to come as well.
Of course, he objected to it. However, taking her as a representative of Rudo was one of the conditions the village chief had agreed to when it came to getting the ship, so Bleu could do nothing about it. Of course, it was also clear that Karin had convinced her father to help behind the scenes. By persuading or intimidating him, Bleu wasn't sure which.
Bleu questioned himself on why didn't he object more to her coming along. Starting from the fact that demons were attacking the Sacred Dragons and Camallia, this journey wasn't going to be without danger.
He didn't want to involve her, who was not a Sacred Dragon, in the problems surrounding the Manual. He was plagued by self-reprimanding thoughts on getting her wrapped up in this. He was a Sacred Dragon. And protecting the Manual was a Sacred Dragon's one and only duty. It was not something they could burden anyone else with.
With that, Bleu began to get determined to cross the great ocean and save his fellow brethren. Whether bringing the Manual with him or not, he could not let them die without doing anything.
But, perhaps that was a form of escape for him. To run away to others of his race. And once he got to them, would he ever come back? From a land of Sacred Dragons, back to where humans like Karin were…
Karin would never forgive him for that. Maybe crossing the ocean would be their parting of ways. So, he wished she hadn't come along. He didn't want to hear her protests.
Bleu wanted to set out without saying anything. But Karin wouldn't take that quietly.
Looking at her, he saw both her current smiling face, and her angry face from back when they were kids. Her once soft and plump face changed to a slender adult one. What else had time changed, and what did it leave untouched…?
Once a child scared of everything, how much had he grown up as well?
"Why did you come along?" Bleu decided to ask her.
"Because I won't let go of you," Karin answered. "I've known you since I was a little girl. I can see through you, always. You're planning to leave me behind, and there's no way I'm accepting that. Things are different from ten years ago. I hate to stay behind waiting, that's why I became strong enough to follow you."
Bleu was at a loss on how to respond to that.
"It's not like I wanted to leave you behind."
Karin's face scrunched slightly, wondering how true that was.
"If I let you go like before, you don't know when you'll come back to Dragonia…"
"I'm no vagabond," that's all Bleu said.
"But do you know how long it took for you to come back when you went with the Shining Force? It was way more than it should have been to just cross back to the north. So don't tell me you never thought of leaving."
Bleu found the determination to join the Shining Force because he wanted to protect Karin, with all his heart. He thought he could bring peace to the world before the danger reached her.
At the time, he thought Karin had been happy to see him off. But maybe that was just what he wanted to think. He couldn't imagine how she had felt while waiting for him to return. This grown up Karin was not a girl contented with just waiting around. She had become stronger of her own volition.
Having said everything she wanted to, Karin became quiet.
"Sir Bleu."
Going around a pile of rope near the mast, Camallia approached the two. She still had her circlet with the red jewel and her long black hair, which seemed to be faintly tinged with blue, and wore a deep blue tunic, with a lustrous purple surcoat over it. The golden embroidery in it was likely Volcanon's insignia. She also wore long leather gloves and boots the color of cinnamon.
"Have I interrupted something?" She asked, looking at Karin. Karin smiled at her and said no.
"Seems you two have something to talk about, should I give you some space?"
As she said that, Karin hopped off the boat's edge. Her lace-up boots made a soft noise as she hit the deck. The unbound cloth covering it turned over with the wind, exposing the emptiness inside for a moment.
"Please do, if it's not a bother. I have something to discuss with the Sacred Dragon," she politely dismissed Karin.
Karin herself had offered to leave, so she had no excuse to refuse. Against her will, she left.
"What you're going to say is something Karin shouldn't hear, I guess?"
"No, it is nothing like that. I just wish to speak with you, Sacred Dragon."
Confirming with the corner of her eye that Karin was gone, Camallia began to speak.
"Just call me Bleu," he said, frowning at how formal she was.
"There is something I wish to verify… Sacred Dragon — that is, Sir Bleu, I hear you are the youngest Sacred Dragon, born not long ago to your parents. Is that true?"
"Of course," Bleu answered, and then asked back, "what's the problem with that?"
"It is not a problem, but it is the first time I see a descendant, a Sacred Dragon of a new generation. The Sacred Dragons of Parmecia are said to be immortals with no successors. I was, how should I say, very surprised at you being a special case."
"That sounds very different from us. Though it's true that I am a bit of a strange case."
Bleu laughed a bit at how she had struggled to say that. She added that she wouldn't word it like that.
"It took a long time until I was finally born. Maybe the Sacred Dragons of Parmecia just didn't have the same time yet."
"You needed time, to be born?" Camallia asked. The feeling that such a thing wasn't all it took lurked deep in Bleu's heart as well. Why had he been the only one to be born? What kind of creatures were the Sacred Dragons, what kind of creature was he?
"Once we meet the great Sacred Dragons of Parmecia, perhaps the mystery of your birth will be unraveled as well, sir. There might be answers within the Manual as well. As of now, we can do nothing but hope."
Having inquired what she wanted to, Camallia left.
She figured more time was needed until she could find the answer.
5
The eastern wind continued to carry the ship with no issues through the night.
"Yes. I couldn't believe it, but he is truly a second generation Sacred Dragon," Camallia, alone in the deck, watched the reflection of the stars in the ocean, whispering low so that no one could hear.
"…Certainly, he might be able to fill the place of the lost warriors. That one is without a doubt, obsessing about number and power."
Within the reflection of the stars in the waves, there were two notable lights shining. They were like eyes, one silver and one crimson, blinking in the water's surface.
"However, I feel something about that Sacred Dragon that has gone beyond the gods' expectations. Perhaps that one also cannot conceive of someone like him. We should keep him under our control somewhat."
The stars blinked once more.
"…Understood. As you desire, our great leader. I will bring the Sacred Dragon to Parmecia, and to you, my lord…"
Camallia pressed hard on her head.
The lights of those stars in the ocean faded away and disappeared, as if their face had moved away from the surface.
She let out a heavy sigh, brushing away her dark hair as if trying to cool off her flushed cheeks.
The wind blew, caressing her neck as her hair fluttered.
Camallia rested her back on the ship's edge, bending to gaze at the stars above.
The night had just begun. The journey had just begun. Yes, everything would begin from here onward. And who knows what the ending would be.
She grinned widely, excited for what she also couldn't predict.
To next part>
#shining series#shining force#shining force 2#shining force novel translation#bloodline of the sacred dragons#sf bleu#sf karin#sfbotsd camallia#i don't think i have translation notes for this one it flows very well#and most of my thoughts about it are spoilery as you can see it is hinting at a lot#i will say though. knowing that karin's father is around is so wild#did the parents just. come back. after leaving their children behind during a war#does marron look at his own parents everyday remembering how he once put a whole barricade up in town to not see them again#imagine the vibes#and yeah goodbye marron you weren't important enough to come along#and i can't say i'm sad to see one less bad romance on this thing#you were the worst of krin's two dogs
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#hes so dad coded
#911#911 abc#911 spoilers#911edit#8.05#bobby nash#bobbynashedit#gifs#mine#Bobby was in his element having a time with the kiddos#hes such a dorky dad vibes i love him#that's the man Athena married alsdkfjksdf#i need to see him having play dates with Jee Denny and Mara#like imagine the chaotic goodness it would ensue.....yeah I NEED it
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mannerisms
#no dialogue. you guys can imagine it <3#these are the kind of little things that i adore about secret identities well done#gtws#goodtimeswithscar#grian#desert duo#hermitcraft#life series#hotguy#cuteguy#aaahhh i have too many thoughts about them that i still need to sort out but i love spinning them in my head#i think making secret identities work is tricky...#the two-sided interactions are always so fun but it's easier for them to make sense if they don't know each other much as civilians#i tend to think way too much about the practicality of these things#art tag#comic#but barely#anyway yeah. i care them.#also i was going for promare vibes on the colors for this one hope it kinda shows hsldkjflskdfs i love u promare my comfort movie#the coloring is a bit all over the place i shouldve stuck to my usual but well#i do like it#comics
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knight!ghost x reader. hand-waving details. all vibes, as usual. cw: noncon touching, manipulation
After years beneath your mother’s watchful eye—less a daughter than a jewel kept safe under lock and key—you are at last released.
Invited to accompany your elder sister to court following her marriage to the esteemed Lord Garrick. Your first steps beyond the confines of home toward something far grander. The world opens before you like a storybook.
It’s a rare opportunity for a young lady of gentle birth. The kind of chance your mother spent years safeguarding you against, fearing the pitfalls of courtly life. An opportunity your sister now extends like a gift.
You intend to follow in her footsteps. To make the most of it.
As his carriage ferries you across the countryside, Lord Garrick indulges in his role as guide and guardian. He names estates and their residents you pass, calling out their banners and bloodlines, reciting them from memory like a living codex, its margins filled with his own notations and stories from years of soldiering in the King’s service and court.
Most names you know from lessons or gossip: daughters and sons married off, the odd spoiled reputation and scandal, matriarchs and patriarchs pulling strings. But being the sheltered girl that you are, one name catches your thoughts like a burr.
Lord Garrick slips a miniature into your hand. It is no larger than your palm, with rich watercolors painted on smoothed ivory: a large man, almost comically set in the tiny frame.
His skin is pale, his eyes a warm, untroubled brown. He wears a slight smile, and his armor gleams with the seal of the King.
“An old comrade—Sir Simon Riley.”
You run a thumb over the edge. “Is he as handsome as his portrait?” you ask, shy as a girl should be when entertaining fancies.
Lord Garrick only grins. “He is, dear one.”
“And noble? Chivalrous?”
“The very image,” he assures. His wry expression is lost on you.
You are too steeped in fantasy to notice. Already imagining the weight of his hand around yours, already composing the vows he might whisper when he asks you to dance. Him, tall and solemn. You, breathless and giggling.
You do not yet understand how generous portrait artists can be, the choices they make to soften a mouth or warm a gaze.
When you arrive, you trail in your sister’s shadow, a daisy behind a rose, trying not to stare too openly at every knight that turns his helm. Try not to appear too eager.
You curtsy. You dine. You take your place among the constellation of other young and unmarried ladies, each one a little star burning with her own hopes.
Time passes. You thrive. You charm. You are granted permission and invitation to winter beside your sister, a small victory. Come spring, you’ll be presented formally.
On the morning of the first frost, Lord Garrick finds you in the solar, where you sit with your companions and needlework, your thoughts pleasantly idle.
“There’s someone I’m due to introduce you to,” he says. “Sir Riley.”
He offers you his arm, and you take it. He guides you through the winding halls, past tapestries older than your bloodline. The keep quiets as you tread through an unfamiliar wing. The room he stops at is narrow and dark, the hearth cold, the shutters drawn.
It rouses an unsettling feeling in your stomach. A wrong note, a song sung off-key. Doubt prickles, fine as thorns. The chamber is too plain, too tucked-away for an introduction.
But the man you’ve come to love as a brother—steady, kind Lord Garrick—pats your hand, and the doubt recedes, momentarily quieted.
He bids you wait. He’ll fetch Sir Riley himself.
You let him go with a wobbling smile.
When the door creaks open again, it is not Lord Garrick who enters.
It is Sir Riley. You know him at once, though the helm conceals his face. Your heart skips.
“‘eard you been wantin’ to meet me, girl,” his low voice rolls thick like smoke. Heavy, like the blade at his hip.
You do not move. The knight fills the doorway as he did his portrait frame. Your hands knit loosely before you, trembling.
“It’s…an honor, sir,” you manage. Your eyes dart toward the door, hoping Garrick will follow, show his face. “I wasn’t expecting…That is, I thought Lord Garrick would–”
“Thought he’d stay? Look after you?” Sir Riley asks, stepping inside. “Nah. Garrick’s a busy man. ‘Sides, if it’s lookin’ after y’need, no one’ll do better.”
The door shuts with a click, and the bolt sliding shut might as well stick between your ribs.
You offer a smile, trying to summon the composure that’s served you well in the halls. Yet even your propriety has teeth, and it gnaws at the edges of your nerves. This isn’t how introductions are made. You know that. A lady does not meet a man alone, knight or not, not without a chaperone.
And yet here you are.
He moves further in, slow and certain, untroubled by the circumstances and its consequences. He unfastens one gauntlet, then the other, metal clinking as he sets each piece aside.
You step back, heart kicking against your ribs.
“I only meant…we’ve only just met, and I’m sure your time is better spent elsewhere—”
He says nothing. His fingers move next to the clasps at his shoulders. One pauldron. Then the other. Each piece comes away with unhurried care, as though he has all the time in the world.
The bulk sloughs off like a shell, revealing more and more of his frame until only the breastplate and helmet remain. You realize then that you’ve backed into the wall.
“I should go,” you eke out. “I’ve no doubt you’re very tired from your duties, and this isn’t right—”
Sir Riley laughs, rough like the scrape of flint.
“You’re a nervous one.”
He reaches up and unhooks his helmet, slow as sunrise. When it lifts off, you are not prepared.
He is not unhandsome, no, but he is not the man in the portrait, either.
His nose has clearly been broken more than once and healed crooked. A jagged scar bisects an eyebrow with a fleshy knot on the end, mirrored by another that pulls taut across his lips. His skin is a map of violence—keloids, silvered cuts, and pitted lines all speaking to a life earned inch by brutal inch.
He tilts his head, eyes catching yours. Rich brown, as the painting promised—but the warmth there is tempered with something else. Hunger. The kind you’ve spied in the King’s hunting hounds. Not the gentle yearning or tender longing you had quietly imagined for yourself.
“What’s wrong? Kyle said you found me pretty, pet.”
The word—pet—snaps like a ribbon.
In its reverberation, you feel the whole truth of it: you are very much alone, and Sir Riley is very much not what you were told.
You open your mouth, but no sound comes. You are caught between alarm and something stranger. It burns low in your belly, confusing and unwelcome.
You look at him again, truly look this time.
And realize: perhaps the artist hadn’t lied or embellished. Not entirely. Perhaps the man in the portrait once matched reality, before war carved itself into his skin. Before duty hardened whatever youth he’d once had.
You try not to flinch when he steps closer, but your body betrays you—a stiffening of the spine, a renewed tremor in your limbs.
Sir Riley notices.
He watches you the way a wolf watches a fox kit or rabbit. Clearly delighted by the prey he’s cornered. He lets the silence sit, lets your discomfort curdle before breaking it.
“You’re more beautiful than your picture,” he murmurs, almost to himself.
Your mouth dries. There aren’t many portraits of you beyond your family’s walls. Yet months ago, Garrick had insisted on one—a secret commission, a memento for your sister, a gift. All before your invitation to court.
You never questioned what became of it.
“I—I should go.”
You move to slip past him, but he doesn’t allow it. One step, and he cuts off your path with his bulk, the door now out of reach. Trapped between the edge of the room and him, the air tastes different—ash and smoke, hay and wet dog. It wrinkles your nose.
You try again. “Lord Garrick—he didn’t say—he never said you—”
“Yeah?”
He smiles. Not kindly.
“That I-I,” you whisper, heart beating hard enough that you’re sure he must hear it. “That I’d be alone. This isn’t right—”
“Not alone, pet,” he shakes his head. “I’m here, aren't I? I’ll see you well looked after.”
Without pause or permission, he takes your hand.
You could faint.
Your bare hand disappears, swallowed by his callused palm. His thick knuckles are as battered as his face, broken and reset countless times. His thumb brushes the inside of your wrist and applies a brief and slight pressure, just enough to remind you of his strength.
You jerk instinctively, a soft tug.
He doesn’t let go. Instead, he brings your hand to his mouth.
“No need to shy from me,” he rasps.
Your breath catches.
(You really could faint, but a deep, sharp fear urges you to stay upright. Awake. That to fall now—the alternative—)
He kisses each of your fingers, one by one, unhurried. His lips are cracked. Chapped. Your skin burns under each press. You can’t move. You should, but your feet fail.
He smiles into your knuckles. Almost fond. “You’re shaking.”
You don’t answer. Can’t.
“You don’t know what to do with yourself now, do you?” he drawls. “Bet you had a whole story in that pretty little head. Knight in shining armor, riding in to sweep you off your feet.”
His grip tightens, and he leans in, breath fanning over your cheek.
“Want me to do that, pet? Sweep you off your feet and take you away?”
Your heart screams no.
But nothing comes.
He watches you in that awful silence—measured and methodical. Like he’s trying to decide what to do with you first. His hand, still curled around yours, begins to move again, with new purpose.
He lifts your fingers and guides them toward his face.
You resist, weak and instinctive, and he overcomes it with barely a flick of his wrist.
“Go on. You’ve been staring.”
Your fingertips brush the ridge of the scar across his lip. It’s rough, raised, healed poorly. You flinch, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he shifts your hand higher, until your touch ghosts over the thick welt at his eyebrow.
“Ugly, isn’t it?” he asks, almost amused.
Your throat tightens. “No—no, I—”
He clicks his tongue. “Don’t lie. Don’t like liars. You scared?”
You are. You’re mortified, shaking with it now—caught between a girlhood fantasy and the brutal reality of the man standing before you. There’s something violent in your own confusion. In the heat crawling down your neck and into your chest, in the tears prickling hot behind your eyes.
He sees it. Of course he does.
And he pounces.
One blink, and then his mouth is on yours without ceremony. It’s a brutal kiss, a claiming thing, harsh and sudden and full of heat. Devoid of the romance you once imagined.
You gasp, startled, but his free hand comes to the back of your head, fingers spanning your skull to hold you in place. He doesn’t let you pull away. He licks into your mouth and steals the air.
It’s too much. He is too much.
When he finally pulls back, your breath is ragged and your tears have finally broken free, hot trails slipping down your cheeks. The horror of what’s just happened crashes over you all at once, like a bucket of cold water sloshed down your spine. Your legs nearly buckle.
He stares, thumb wiping spit from your chin.
“There she is,” he says quietly, near reverent.
You stand there, unmoving. Caught. The pounding of your heart drowns out every thought, each beat frantic, panicked. A bird slamming itself against a windowpane in desperation. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what you’re allowed to say. The room grows smaller by the second, the walls pressing in.
He studies you, a delicate thing worth examining up close.
“Didn’t think you’d be this sweet,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Garrick said he had a girl for me. Said you were pretty. Polite. Court-bred. Figured I’d ‘ave to steal into your rooms, take some insurance to make you mine, you know. But Garrick said there’d be no need. That you’d behave. A proper good girl. That what you are?”
His eyes flick over your features—warm cheeks, wet-eyed, lips parted in confusion and fright. His thumb grazes beneath your chin.
“Look at you. Shakin’. Precious thing. ‘Course you are.”
He kisses you again. Harder.
No longer exploratory, no longer testing the waters. His moves as if owed. He takes and takes, lips dragging against yours, breath hot and heavy through his nose. Teeth sink into your lips, imprinting themselves on the pith of your mouth, sucking your tongue. You whimper, but his hand is already sliding down the line of your throat, splaying wide to feel your pulse.
Another panicked noise makes him smile.
He sighs. “Didn’t guess you’d be this soft. Bet you’re soft everywhere.”
Then—
The door bursts open.
A gasp of startled voices—servants. They freeze in the doorway, wide-eyed at the sight of the two of you locked together.
Panic explodes inside you. You jerk back from him, gasping, desperate to speak, to explain—this isn’t what it looks like—but you never get the chance.
Sir Riley doesn’t release you. His arm tightens, his grip anchoring you in place. He turns toward the intruders, unbothered and unashamed. Cold.
In a few short, lethal words, he promises consequences. He names each one of them—their roles, their kin. Swears they’ll feel his hand and blade personally should they utter a word of what they’ve seen.
They flee. Mute. Terrified.
When the door shuts again, it’s like the last breath is sucked from the room.
You’re a mess. Shaking, weeping, mouth swollen and burning. You are ruined. You know it. They will talk. People always do.
With the cuff of his sleeve, Sir Riley dabs your cheek, and then your chin. A mocking taste of the tenderness you’d dreamt of. He hums, too soft for the wicked glint in his eye, and tips your face back up with two fingers beneath your jaw.
“What a predicament we find ourselves in, hm?” he murmurs against your damp skin. “How fortunate that Garrick and I already ‘ave an audience with the King.”
He plants a chaste peck on your cheek.
“Dry your tears, pet.”
He smiles. A pleased shape that rekindles the hunger in his eyes.
“By spring, you’ll be Lady Riley. That’s a promise.”
#ghost x reader#all vibes as usual#anyway i spent a lot of time in museums on vacation and enjoyed the kind of historical catfishing in portraits.#i imagine queen laswell orders kyle to help find simon a wife. price's influence isn't enough to keep him in line anymore.#he needs someone soft and sweet to wed and bed. pop out a litter of brutes. etc etc.#and kyle struggles for a year. simon has the audacity to be picky after running so many girls off.#then when kyle meets your sister and finds out you exist? and you're just simon's type and so impressionable? bingo#bribes simon to sit for a portrait. he makes it a half hour. kyle forces the artist to literally paint simon in a flattering light.#i could go on.
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AU: Kuina lived and her father was supportive of her ambition. He sent her to Wano to learn the way of the swords so they meet again when Zoro arrived at Wano.
I just rlly wanted to design a giant Kuina after seeing how big Kiku is :)))
#zoro is gay but big women has a special place in his heart#i imagine kuina's vibes to be sooo different from tashigi's#she's definitely masc#and so cool#i love my giant swordswoman#roronoa zoro#shimotsuki kuina#artists on tumblr#one piece#one piece fanart#VERY MUCH not a ship if u havent realized#theyre canonically related ppl
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Columbo and the Knight (1984)
put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.
Autism W!
#columbo#knight rider#art#michael knight#kitt#comic#highlight reel#crossover#telebeast#there are two small easter eggs here. can you find them. they were somehow not Entirely lost when i resized these for the public#this is what i mean when i say I Draw And It's Everyone Else's Problem. look at my INCREDIBLY niche crossover comic boy#if the knight rider fandom has like 12 people in it. how many of y'all have seen columbo#this comic is for like 4 people and me and phoenix are already two of them#niche is my specialty lets be real. weird niche obscure shit and ships nobody's paid attention to yet#not to suggest this is ship art. columbo has his wife and michael has his car lmfao#stylizing real people is EXTREMELY hard btw sorry for when they get off model. its partly a 'better imperfect than never finished' situatio#cant tell you how much i redrew some of these panels. weeps#this took me 2 weeks but i think i thumbnailed it all in may and the ideas been rollin around in my head since march#is anybody good at editing. please edit michael and columbo into an image together like its a screenshot. NOT generated. edited.#it would be so cool#ive drawn columbo a lot but i haven't drawn a lot of michaels. i was learning things about his outfit AS I WAS DOING THE DAMN#COLORS ON THIS. all the lines done. it was too late to change anything. i did all the lines and colored page by page#i realized my mistakes on like page 3. 1 and 2 were already done. it was Too Late.#imagine it though. them working a case together. switching between the more serious tone of columbo vs the goofier#action antics of michael and kitt. columbo being so impressed by Modern Technology. there's more i could say but phoenix may write#more of this crossover and i don't want to spoil it :'3#there's opportunity here though i swear. there's gold to be dug.#i like how kitt gets shading but columbo's junker peugeot doesn't. kitt looked wrong without any. columbo's car is matte and dirty#i also applied effects to this to make it look a little film-grainy and VHS like. some CRT TV vibes#the only question left is. did they put knight rider into columbo; or columbo into knight rider 🤔
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i just. i just think katsuki would be the absolute best boyfriend in the world.
but at the same time… like.. it’s gonna take a fat minute to get to that point. my katsuki and reader are always gonna have the dynamic of she fell first and hard but he fell absolutely harder. like face smashed into the ground, concrete cracked beneath his body, harder.
your story was never mutual love at first sight, no. you fell first. the kind of fall that leaves you breathless and stumbling, but still willing to get up and run straight toward him again.
you admired katsuki in every way imaginable. his strength, his drive, the way he never wavered even when the whole world seemed to be against him. your admiration turned into something deeper, something that made your heart squeeze and stomach flip. and you didn’t bother hiding your crush.
why should you? why would you ever keep your adoration for the man you loved a secret?
so you let it show. you gravitated towards him during class breaks, in the little favors you did for him without him asking, in the shameless way you told him over and over again that you liked him.
but back then, katsuki was an idiot.
a dumbass so hyper-focused on hero training and his own ambitions that he barely spared a thought for anything else. he knew you had a crush on him- how could he not? but at the time, he equated it to nothing more than annoying persistence. some stalkerish, over eager need to be by his side.
and oh, how he wants to throttle his past self for thinking this way.
because somewhere along the line, after countless battles, after seeing you at your highest highs and lowest lows, after realizing that no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t shake you off- he started to not mind your presence.
then he started looking for it.
started craving it.
and like that, he fell.
only by the time he realized it, you weren’t the one constantly chasing anymore.
now it was him hovering near you at all times, subtly making excuses to be closer. he stole glances, catching himself staring at your hands and wondering what it would be like to just hold them.
and when you finally got together, when it turned into something real, katsuki was left fumbling into unfamiliar territory.
because he had no experience being this stupidly and sickeningly in love.
was he doing this right? was he too much? was he not enough? what the hell did a girl like you see in him?
and most of all, were his hands too damn clammy to be holding yours right now?
but then you squeeze his hand. and he squeezes yours back.
and just like that, all his doubts settle. because you’re his person. and he’s yours.
but yeah anyways lovesick reader and even more lovesick katsuki on top
#bakugou x reader#bakugou#mha x reader#mha#bakugo x reader#my hero academia#bakugou drabble#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki#katsuki#katsuki x reader#katsuki drabble#katsuki imagine#gruvia vibes#they’re so in love#he’s whipped#gruvia
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the fact that Jeremy Brett played both Dorian Gray and Basil Hallward AND both John Watson and Sherlock Holmes throughout his career. he has the range.




#it's also wild to me that he played maxim de winter in rebecca opposite his ex wife as mrs danvers . can you imagine the vibe on set#(sorry everyone I've found a new guy to obsessively research on imdb)#if anyone is wondering he played dorian gray in armchair theatre and basil howard in play of the month (both tv play anthology series)#and he played watson in the play crucifer of blood#jeremy brett#the picture of dorian gray#sherlock holmes
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Sunk and Gone
Yandere! Gangster x Mafia Boss! Reader
Fluff, needy yandere, age difference, slightly suggestive content
He was just some dumb kid who played with fire.
Before he knew it, he was getting his ass kicked by the real deal, the big time guys.
He dropped your name out of pure desperation. He had no clue who you were really. He just wanted to save his own skin.
He never expected you to actually show up.
In your white tailored suit, you were like some mafioso guardian angel.
You tilted his chin up to face you and he couldn't bear to meet your eyes. You were goddamn terrifying.
"This little punk says he's one of mine?"
You lazily blew your cigar smoke into his face. It was black cherry, high class stuff. He can still remember the taste of it on his tongue, the way it made his whole body tingle.
He thought he was done for. You were probably gonna set your own guys on him for dropping names he had no business knowing.
He never expected you to save him.
His beat down gurus were cussing up a storm, saying he practically maimed one of their guys, he wouldn't even be able to walk for a week.
What bullshit. The most he did was give the guy a shiner before he was getting his own ass kicked.
You smiled at him then, like you knew exactly how much crap they were spewing.
You nodded and your guys threw a fat stack of cash on the table. All 100s. God, there must have been at least 5k just sitting there.
You hauled him to his feet and that's when he realised you were stronger than you looked too.
"Why?"
He barely even managed to ask that.
You were trying to light a new cigar and get back in your fancy car, but your lighter was just throwing up sparks.
He found himself reaching into his pocket and pulling out his shitty gas station lighter. He struck a flame and held it out to you.
You leaned in and caught his eyes for the second time that night. The flame was dancing in your eyes and you looked just like the devil.
He was sunk right then and there and he knew it.
He showed up outside your office everyday, waiting with his lighter clasped in his sweaty palm.
Everyday without fail, you would give him a chance to light one of your smokes for you.
"Don't you got someplace better to be kid?"
"No ma'am."
And he kept doing it, rain or shine or snow. On bad days, he'd bring his umbrella and unfurl it for you before you even stepped out of the car.
"You shouldn't keep hanging around kid. It ain't safe."
"I know ma'am."
He stayed, despite the dirty looks from the gangsters, despite the way they bumped into him hard enough to bruise. He stayed, stubborn as a goddamn mule, until you gave up on getting rid of him.
"I got a job for you kid."
"Anything you ask ma'am."
Oh he was a sucker for you. You had him hook, line and sinker without even trying.
And he worked hard. Running errands and then pushing drugs and then beating down the folks you set him loose on. There weren't any limits anymore, no line he wouldn't cross for you.
After a while, you let him in your guard rotation. And he was in bliss. He watched you constantly.
Hell, he couldn't take his eyes off you even if he wanted to. The capo himself said he was impressed with his diligence.
"Come here kid. You ever had oysters before?'
"No ma'am."
You were in one of your favourite restaurants, finishing up your meal and just drunk enough to have given yourself a pretty flush across your cheeks.
You made him lean toward you and gripped his chin before tilting the oyster into his mouth. It was salty and soft and his mind was going awful dirty awful fast.
After that he would order oysters whenever he could. He could almost feel your fingers on his skin when he ate them.
And soon he was part of your interrogation crew. His shirt sleeves rolled up and his forearms splattered with blood. He was putting on muscle now too and his punch hurt worse than a hammer to the face.
One unlucky son of a bitch made the mistake of insulting you right in front of him. God help him, when the anger cleared, the man's face was nothing more than pulp.
And you were watching him. One arm crossed under your breasts with the other balanced on it, a cigarette held up to your lips.
"You're a real good guard dog, you know that kid?"
"Thank you ma'am."
The next time you summoned him, you were in your office. Your heels were off and your legs were crossed, your stockings showing off the curves of your feet.
"Grab that pen for me."
It was on the floor under a side table and he had to get down on his knees to get it. When he moved to stand, you interrupted him.
"Don't get up. But bring it here."
"Yes ma'am."
He was grinning like a dog in heat. He put the pen in between his teeth and crawled on his hands and knees to you.
He sat at your feet like a goddamn puppy, his boner so fucking hard he thought it would rip through his trousers.
You cupped his chin in your palm and looked down at him. From down here, your legs looked a mile long and he wanted to lick every inch.
"You're such a loyal little thing, you know that?"
"Ysss mmm."
It was muffled because he still had that fucking pen in his mouth. And he was damn thankful for it too. Without something to bite onto, he was sure he'd actually be panting.
You took it carefully out of his mouth. A string of saliva followed it and you twitched your thumb across his lips to break the connection.
"Good boy."
You turned away from him, shaking the pen off a little and getting back to the books you were balancing.
He whimpered.
He actually fucking whimpered.
You smirked a little at that and shooed him away with one perfectly manicured hand. He dragged his feet walking out of there, his boner killing all higher thinking. Just hoping and praying you would call him back.
He turned to look at you before he closed the door. You had your face resting in one hand and you were tapping the pen against your lips with the other. Your eyes were entirely focused on your books.
And he felt it all over again. He was sunk - hook, line and sinker.
He was your loyal dog. Now and always.
#big makima and denji vibes#oh he's down bad#loyal as a dog#needy yandere#age difference#yandere mafia#older reader#x reader#reader insert#yandere drabble#yandere#yandere scenarios#yandere imagines#yandere x reader#yandere oc x you#yandere gangster#puppy yandere
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Doodles of the boy(s) cause I adore them so 🩷💙
(Fullscreen version of the screenshot redraw below!)
#x men 97#gambit#nightcrawler#remy lebeau#kurt wagner#x men the animated series#x men fanart#Gambit in a crop top makes me salivate#his hair is fucking HORRID#but i can fix it nw#a small price#for those hips#also#i cant be the only one who imagines kurt with fur right?#for some reason im like- convinced#so i did it#cause he give cat vibes#and i do what i WANT#theyre besties#in religious truama#i said so#my art
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I like to imagine Jevil as homie to Spamton
#my art#art#comic#digital art#fanart#deltarune comic#deltarune#spamton#spamton g spamton#jevil#tenna#mr ant tenna#spamvil#if you want to see it like that#i like to imagine Spam and Jevil having a college roommates sort of vibe#deltarune spoilers#deltarune chapter 3
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