#fear street header

[ecnmatic]

[iconsfilm]

sadie sink icons + taylor swift headers PLEASE!!!!

like or reblog if you save | headers not mine cr to the owners

[mondlevan]

fear street: 1978

“♡” or reblog if you save/use — follow me.

twt: @szamofada

[trashedits]

horror movies

[dumpitos]

halloween 🎃 movies headers // like if save or use

[spooky-dumb-ass]

Some random itadori and sukuna headcannons :)) part 3

might suck ass idk

part 1 ; part 2

Itadori Yuji

Ah yes, Mr. Left right, goodnight cinnamon roll sunshine golden retriever ultra pro max.

To make everyone around him laugh he makes fun of sukuna, like a lot. (sukuna bites him with his weird palm mouth)

Avid pitbull and bruno mars listener dont ask me why

Look i know i said cinnamon roll sunshine ultra pro max but get bro in a cod or valorant lobby and hes changing like the gif i used in my header, somehow he has the best roasts and he almost always says it unintentionally

Has a million playlists

he trolls gojo however he can (A for effort) but fails cause either gojo already did it to someone or knows what hes upto

He one wore nanamis tie to seem "cool" like nanami and pretended to be him with coffee and shit. He spilled coffee on nanamis tie. He was killed for the 2nd time.

Calls himself a 'sigma male' and unironically watches sigma male videos on youtube (his sigmaness leaves whenever he sees Jennifer Lawrence)

He and Todo whenever they see someone with a big ass or smn they say GYATT or smn💀💀💀 idk

Ryōmen Sukuna

Sukuna when i catch you sukuna, sukuna WHEN I CATCH YOU. Ahem, anyways (his hcs are based on him entirely and not on which body hes taken)

So king of curses, dresses like a king really, he probably wore grand cloths back in his time (old man) he technically has a good fashion sense but that was during his time

Aside from being extremely degrading (not that way) he can be kind of motivational its like he subtly urges people to come to his level, he definitely likes the challenge they'll impose and he appreciates the genuine talent and power.

He mentioned he was an unwanted child (deserved), so im assuming he lived on the streets. Then he probably learnt how to sew or knit clothes. Honestly might seem like a stretch but if he wasnt a villain he'd be a great fashion designer idkwhy.

Likes animals (green flag.)( also me choosing to ignore his 99 red flags 😍)he def knits cloths for his cats

Good singer. will not elaborate further

has a crippling fear for mundane things like idk dirt or smn

actually does really good origami and pottery, look hes creative ok, if he didnt get rejected from art school gojo wouldn't have been a kitkat today

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Take Me Instead (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader)

Anthony Bridgerton x gn!Reader Modern AU Rated/warnings: T - language, robbery, gun use, blood Word count: 3k

Summary: You and Anthony find yourselves in the middle of a bank robbery on an ill-fated day.

Author's Note: This is a belated birthday gift prompted by the fabulous and talented @broooookiecrisp and a game of prompt roulette that gave me: sad, Anthony, "take me instead". I hope you enjoy my dear 💙 Kudos also to @sorryallonsy who found the perfect header image!

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was something you saw in movies, not something that happened in real life, and certainly not to you. When the doors to the bank were pulled shut by three men who then dropped to their knees and started opening their duffel bags, your immediate thought was that they must be maintenance workers of some kind. Then when the sound of a gunshot tore through the marble lobby you froze with panic, unable to react at all. But you didn’t need to because Anthony instantly wrapped himself around you and pulled you to the floor as other patrons started to scream.

“Stay down,” he urged, his voice the only steady thing within the chaos. Though he was curled over you, you could both look around to see what was happening. The men at the door had risen wearing ski masks and holding assault rifles. A fourth man, the source of the fired shot, held a pistol in the air at the teller window. There were ten or so people in the lobby, all of them instinctively cowering. All the staff of the bank seemed to have disappeared and you guessed were hidden in their own corners. Directly across from you a woman huddled under a counter clutching a boy who looked about nine years old. He was still but his eyes darted wildly.

At the shouted insistence from the four imposing men everyone fell into an ominous silence. You realized you were trembling with fear and adrenaline only when your husband squeezed you tighter. The warm weight of him against your back felt like the only thing keeping you from flailing with panic. 

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispered into your hair, his voice tight. You gave some semblance of a nod. You needed to stay focused in the moment, to do what he told you, to think of a way out, to at least get descriptions of the criminals. But all your mind would do was berate you for ending up in this situation. What were the odds that you would be in this bank at this precise moment? You and Anthony had been downtown, due to meet his brother for lunch at the cafe across the street when you remembered you still had money in your bag from your recent trip abroad. You were just there for a quick exchange, likely the first time Anthony had ever set foot in a bank for a purpose other than closing a multimillion dollar transaction. But he had tagged along, playfully pawing at you while you waited in the queue. Then hell broke loose and now that chance errand may have rerouted the course of your lives. It lit a spark of anger within your fear.

“Where’s the manager?” barked the man at the window. Unlike his companions he wasn’t compelled to hide his face. Red-haired with a scarred and stubbled face and broad build, he seemed to be the leader. 

Everyone stayed silent. No one moved.

He seethed as he surveyed everyone lying on the floor. Then in a few brisk steps he was hauling the little boy out of the woman’s arms as they both screamed. He brandished the gun to make her let go, then held the boy in front of him with the weapon angled to make his intentions clear. “Where’s the fucking manager?”

Before you could react, Anthony pulled away and started to rise to his feet, moving toward them. “Hey, hey! Let him go.”

“Shut the fuck up!” So focused on the scene in front of you, neither of you had noticed one of the other men moving up behind, but he suddenly appeared beside your husband, flipped his gun and cracked him in the jaw with the butt of it. You bit your tongue to keep from screaming as Anthony staggered and fell back to one knee. “Stay down!” The man struck him again on the shoulder so that Anthony pitched to the floor, lying perpendicular between you and the robbers, just out of your reach.

You watched him spit a patch of blood onto the marble then wipe the crimson from his split lip with a swipe of his thumb. Your brain was static, a roar of furious and terrified cries that you were just managing to keep at bay. He turned to you, his deep eyes reading yours and you knew he could tell. He gave the barest hint of a nod. Reassurance. Strength. Insistence. You needed to stay quiet. You treasured the fact that you were able to read each other’s thoughts through your eyes alone, but you could never imagine that facet of your love would prove so vital. 

The leader chuckled then continued to wave his pistol threateningly toward the boy who had gone pale, looking desperately back at his mother. “I’m going to need someone to help us into the vault or else things are going to go poorly. Do you understand?”

Across from you the mother crouched, looking ready to pounce at a moment’s notice but emitting a stream of quiet whimpers. She never blinked as she watched her son. 

Footsteps broke the horrible silence and all eyes turned to a small middle-aged woman who appeared in the doorway of a side office. She walked forward slowly, hands raised in the air and shaking, but she spoke clearly. 

“I’m the manager. I’ll take you to the vault. What…what do you want?”

She halted feet away from the men and the leader lowered his gun but never let go of the child. “We want access to the deposit box for one Jack Featherington.”

Your blood ran cold. Featherington? You knew the family. Longtime neighbors and friends of the Bridgertons. But you didn’t know a Jack. The chances of multiple unrelated Featherington families seemed slim. Who was he and what could he have that they wanted? 

“You can’t…you can’t open it without his key. That’s how it’s designed.” The manager explained, tremulous. 

The leader smirked. “Oh, we are well aware of that. Jackie boy has been evading us and we need some leverage to rat him out.” 

Just then the wail of sirens could be heard narrowing in around the building and you felt a fraction of relief. Someone had managed to ring a silent alarm, or make a call, or someone outside had heard the commotion. Help was just beyond the doors.

“Right on schedule.” The leader smiled, dragging the boy to walk with him as he moved to the center of the lobby, explaining his plans with all the fanfare of a carnival barker. “Alright ladies and gents, here’s the good news. We aren’t interested in hurting anyone.” You heard Anthony snicker as he licked his lip. “We’re going to let you go.” A low murmur of surprise rippled across the floor. “All you need to do is tell all the news cameras and the good officers of the law outside that we need their help finding the lying Lord Jack Featherington and his keyring. Understood?”

You were breathing fast, trying to process what he said. You would be let go. This was just a spectacle, a bargaining chip in some grander criminal scheme. You weren’t targets, you were useful collateral. Maybe you could even help the police by contacting the Featheringtons. It would be over soon.

The leader moved back to the manager. “Okay, you’re staying to let us in and…” He paused, thinking as he looked across the lobby once more. “Well, we need an insurance policy so I think you’ll stay too.” He wrapped an arm around the boy’s neck, grabbed the manager with his other hand and began to pull them both toward the back hall. For the first time the boy screamed, kicking his feet as he struggled against his captor. His mother wailed.

“Let the boy go!” Anthony roared, rising to his knees. 

The second man snapped to face him. “What did I tell you?” You barely saw the slight tilt of his weapon, barely heard the high pitched pop, but then Anthony fell back clutching his side and your lungs knew before your brain did that he had been shot. You screamed and the sentiment was echoed by the other hostages. As you crawled to your husband’s side you were deaf to the fact that the leader was shouting furiously at his colleague. All you could see was the stunned look on Anthony’s face as he sat up and pressed a hand just above his left hip, bringing it away bloody. 

Your heart beat double time, every sense heightened as you took his hand in yours and saw the light reflecting off the wet smear on his palm the same way it glinted off your wedding rings. You sat next to him, hands roving aimlessly, clueless as to what you should do. “Oh my god, Anthony… no…”

“It’s alright,” he said quietly. “It just grazed me, I’ll be alright.” He tried to flash you a winning smile but you saw the grimace underneath it. You weren’t a doctor but judging by how fast the dark stain was spreading across his shirt, you knew he was lying about being grazed. 

Seeing him wounded somehow organized the panic in your brain. You were still frantic but you were going to make a plan. You were going to get him out alive. “We have to leave,” you whispered urgently. “They’ll let us go. We have to get you to a hospital. I won’t let you die…”

His brows darted up with concern and he leveled his eyes on you. “Hey, hey, look at me. I’m not going to die. We’re going to get out of this and it will be the maddest story we ever tell. You understand?”

You saw how the love still overcame the pain in his features and hot tears started to mount in your eyes. You would find a way out together. Of course you would. You nodded, chin trembling. 

The felons seemed to resolve their spat and the leader turned back to address the room again. “Now that we’ve got that settled, you lot stay down. We’re headed to the vault and taking these two with us. They get released when we get Featherington’s keys. You tell them that, yeah?” Once again he started to drag the manager and the boy down the hall.

“Stop!” Anthony shouted, pressing a hand tight to his wound.

The man who had shot him rounded on him for the final time, growling. “You motherf…”

“Take me instead.”

His words hung in the air for a moment. So simple. Spoken so calmly. Everything within you sank. “Anthony, what?! No…” You whispered frantically, gripping his arm.

“Oh, fuck off.” the man scoffed, moving to tower over you both with the gleaming metal of his weapon hanging inches above your head.

Anthony looked up at him with steely resolve, undaunted. “Take me. I’m worth more than every other person in this building combined.” His eyes flicked to the side then he added quietly, “No offense.”

The thug snorted. “What are you, Duke of Sussex?”

“Viscount. And I run a company. A large company. Look.” Hissing in pain as he moved, he reached into his blazer and produced his card, handing it up with bloodied fingers.

At the back of the room the leader had paused, watching curiously. “What’s it say?”

“Anthony Bridgerton. CEO, Bridgerton House Enterprises.”

The way the leader’s eyebrows raised, you knew he recognized the family name and the pit of dread burrowed deeper into your stomach. “Fucking hell, looks like we bagged a silver tuna.” A smile broke out across his face to rival a cheshire cat. 

Now Anthony was removing his watch, gasping as he struggled with even the smallest movements. He held it out to his attacker, further incentive to accept his offer. It was his Omega De Ville, an obscene six-figure wedding gift from his friend Simon. “Here, take this,” he rasped. “You could buy a bloody house with that. Take me and let everyone else go safely.”

“No!” You pleaded aloud, holding tight to his arm. You didn’t care anymore if you upset the man floating a rifle over you both. You’d rather be killed or dragged away with your husband than have him do this. Even though you knew he was right. Even though you knew he was doing this to save an innocent child, to save you, to save everyone. Your heart wouldn’t accept it.

“Yes.” Anthony affirmed, not even looking back at you. He still addressed the criminals. “I won’t struggle. I can’t struggle now that you’ve fucking shot me. And if you wanted national attention…  Taking me will get you global. All the bargaining power you could ask for. Whatever you’re getting out of Featherington, you could double it with the ransom my company will pay.” He was using that tone, that suave confidence that wooed all his business partners and had wooed you. You of all people knew how irresistible it was. You loved and hated him equally in that moment.

The gunman stared, dumbstruck. He turned the watch over in his hand, seemingly impressed, then called over his shoulder. “Boss?”

It didn’t matter how many prayers raced silently through your heart, you already knew how this was going to play out.

“Grab him.”

You sprang forward, flinging your arms around him and finally allowing yourself to weep. “Anthony…no…” He had only been yours for a year. One year as your husband. One year of a life he filled with bliss. It was not enough. You couldn’t let it end now, and not in this way. You would offer yourself in his place except no one had the leverage he did and that was precisely why he was doing this.

He pulled back and brought a hand to your cheek. You could feel the warmth of his blood streaking your skin. “I will see you again, do you understand?” His voice was low and you could hear the slightest tremor in it, a fear he would expose only to you. “This is just temporary. The police know what to do and we’ll both be alright.”

“I can’t leave you,” you insisted, tears running down your face. But you knew you were overruled so you tried to memorize everything about him in that moment. The precise shade of his brown eyes, the callused tips of his fingers as they brushed your skin, the warmth of his breath, the flecks of grey in his beard. An enduring memory that would be replaced when you held him again.

“Stay with my family,” he choked. “I will see you again. I love you.”

“Alright, alright…” The robber rolled his eyes then clapped a hand on Anthony’s shoulder, gripping into his clothes and starting to drag him back toward the leader. He gasped and fumbled to stand as he was pulled along but always ended up falling back, clutching at his side. The red-headed man shoved the boy toward his mother who threw herself around him and sobbed. It was as if the ability to cry was predicated on having your loved one in your arms because as soon as Anthony left your grasp you went silent, keeping your eyes on him as steadfastly as his were on you. The leader seemed pleased with the trade off and ushered the quivering bank manager to walk in front of him down the hall, keeping his gun pointed at her back while his cohort dragged Anthony at the rear. A parade of fear headed toward an uncertain end.

They rounded a corner and were out of sight, leaving a trail of blood behind them. You were frozen, blank, your body refusing to leave even though your mind knew you should. But once again someone came to your aid. The mother, one arm locked around her son, wrapped the other around you and dragged you to your feet. You knew she was whispering gratitude and reassurances but you had fallen deaf. The remaining two men with guns herded your band of hostages out the front doors and quickly locked them behind you. You vaguely registered the crowd gathered around the building - a police barricade, ambulances, news vans, a sea of onlookers. After stumbling down the steps with the woman and her son you were swarmed by people in uniform. Someone draped a blanket over your shoulders while an EMT began wiping the blood from your hands and face. 

“It’s not my blood,” you insisted, finding your voice again as your senses slowly returned. “They shot him. They shot my husband.” You grabbed the nearest police officer and turned them to face you. “Please, he’s in there now. You have to help him! At the very least ask if you can send in medical help. He’s bleeding and…”

Then you heard someone shouting your name. Frantically, repeatedly, growing closer. You spun to see a man struggling and held back by a pair of officers. Benedict. He had been waiting for you both across the street and had no doubt seen the chaos erupt. You ran to them, hastily explaining he was your brother-in-law. The officers relented and you rushed into his arms, the two of you clinging together so tightly it was hard to breathe. He felt like an anchor to your sanity, a reminder that not everything in the world had gone unrecognizably sideways. Anthony’s words echoed in your mind, “stay with my family”, and you knew it was the only way you would have the strength to face this trial - together. 

You leaned against Benedict as officers and EMTs circled you, taking your story, bombarding you with questions and confirming the details over and over. They promised they would get Anthony back. They promised he would be alright. They promised they would work to end this soon. But their promises held little weight next to the one that would haunt your every moment until it was fulfilled. If Anthony had promised you would see each other again, you were going to hold him to his word. He had kept every promise he had ever made to you. All you could do was trust he would keep this one too.

No tags for prompt roulette, just for dedications and co-conspirators 😜

[airbendertendou]

LOVE YOU, HATE FOOLISH! ♡

synopsis : you work at one of bonten's clubs, but recently, have been acting suspicious. a member is sent to watch you and is met with something completely different.

cw : bonten boys being sneaky , brief violence , mentions of guns , an abundance of pet-names

song inspo ; love foolish by twice

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

someone is following you. the club isn't far from your home — far from your boys. footsteps fall behind yours quietly and you gulp. shaky hands drag your phone from your pocket, pressing on the one until he answers.

"on your way home?" he doesn't say hello. he knows your routine — knows it's time for you to be near him. "[name]?"

"hey! yeah, a pepperoni is fine," you pause before letting out a breathy laugh. "you know how i feel about my pizza."

"someone following you?" his voice turns stern and serious. you let out a quiet mhm as you attempt to locate your stalker from the corner of your eye. it's what you'd rehearsed ; your panic words incase you were in trouble. "how close are you? i'll meet you halfway."

you turn your head with a nonchalant hum before rattling off the street-name you're near. a flash of a tattoo catches your eye before it's out of view — it makes you even more nervous.

you let out another staged giggle, "yeah, just don't watch another episode without me. promise?"

"already on my way, sweetheart."

— SANNOH HOODLUM SQUAD! ♡ ft. ran haitani

the sound of a motorcycle disturbs the quiet neighborhood around you. a breath is let out of your lungs at the sight of headlights coming towards you. echoed footsteps have long since fallen quiet, but that only heightened your fears.

cobra steps off of his bike, face stern and serious as he makes his way towards you. noboru sends a grin your way, yamato towering behind him as they scope out the area around you. cobra frowns at you, "you okay?"

"physically." crunching of glass hits your ears and you spin around. streetlights hit purple hair and you stiffen once more. "ran?"

he looks you up and down, his tongue in his cheek before he grins. "heya, doll."

your chest is pressed to a back before you realize it. cobra is looming in front of you, shoulders and chest widened threateningly. noboru is to your left ; yamato on your right, matching scowls on their faces.

the blond's voice is a growl as he speaks, "and who are you?"

"just the boss," ran raises his hands in surrender. he's too casual ; too relaxed to be outnumbered. sleepy eyes meet yours. "of sorts."

your breath catches in your throat. "he sent you... after me?" ran hums, tilting his head tauntingly. your eyebrows furrow, "why?"

"thinks you're up to somethin'." ran shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. a flash of silver catches your eyes — he's carrying his gun, of course. "in enemy territory. telling secrets."

the words oddly make you relax a little. a misunderstanding, that's all it is. but, before you can speak, cobra does. "just who is your boss?"

ran grins, "you don't want to know."

"i live in... opposing territory," you speak up. brushing past cobra — you smile over your shoulder reassuringly at him — you stand between the men. "that's all. i travel back and forth between other claimed areas."

humming once more, ran thinks over what you said. he eyes the three men with you — sees how guarded you are. his eyes scrape over your figure once more before he nods. "okay. i'll believe you."

turning without another word, ran leaves you standing there. he looks over his shoulder at you, eyes gleaming dangerously. "get home safely, doll."

waiting until ran is long out of sight, cobra wanders up to you, placing his hands on your shoulders. you turn, letting out a breath of relief and grin. cobra frowns further, "don't get in front of me like that again, okay?"

your smiles fades at his words. cobra sighs, hands dropping to your hips as he squeezes. "he had a gun, angel. would much rather i got shot than you."

"whatever you say, mister sannoh, sir." you kiss his cheek delicately before walking to his best friends. "and thank you both for coming with him. i appreciate it."

"whatever you say," noboru grins down at you, "mx sannoh."

— WHITE RASCALS! ♡ ft. kakucho

a white bike pulls up in front of you as rocky steps off. he's got a lollipop in his mouth — blueberry, from the scent — and a nonchalant demeanor as he stands in front of you.

"you're here," you breath. you relax, your forehead resting on his shoulder as you control your breathing. "you got here really fast."

a clink! hits your ears as the lollipop is taken from his mouth. "you were in trouble."

sunglasses sit on the edge of his nose as he scours your surroundings. one hand holds the back of your head, hugging you close to his body. you savor his warmth and the comfort he brings ; the safety he makes you feel. rocky stiffens, his mouth near your ear as he speaks, "found 'em."

"[name]." rocky pulls you closer as your name is called. you turn your face, still hiding in your boyfriend's chest. you see a familiar suit, eyes crawling up until you see an even more familiar man. "may we talk?"

your eyes widen, "mister kakucho! ...were you following me?"

"my apologies," the man sends a half bow your way, "i didn't mean to frighten you."

rocky's chest vibrates with a hum. both of his arms are around your waist, a little more relaxed. still poised to attack if he needed to, though. "so, why are you following my flower?"

kakucho eyes the way you're standing — practically melted into rocky's chest. a small, distant smile curls on his lips before it falls away, back to his neutral expression. "the boss asked me to... check on you."

you face him fully now, your back to rocky's chest. "me? why?"

with a shrug, kakucho looks away nonchalantly. "just as a precaution." he meets rocky's eyes over you, seeing the silent threat in his eyes. he nods rocky's way, "we can talk more at work. get home safe, you two."

it stays silent as kakucho leaves your sight. rocky squeezes your hips, placing a kiss on your temple before backing off. "don't like that boss of yours. seems like a prick."

you snort, "you have no idea."

— OYA KOU! ♡ ft haruchiyo sanzu

it isn't long until murayama is stomping his way towards you. seki and furuya have to almost run to keep up with his hasty pace, failing to keep their serious faces on. you're bombarded with questions almost immediately.

"who is it? where are they? are you being threatened? did they touch you? if so much as a fingernail is broken, i am going to—"

both of your hands clutch onto one of his. a simple, pretty smile is on your face as you look at him. "hi, yoshiki."

"hey, sweet baby," he melts. the duo behind him share a glance as murayama shakes his head, getting focused once more. "i'm being serious. you've never panic-worded before."

pink hair pops up before you know it, a fist swinging murayama's way. in the time that it takes for you to widen your eyes, two bodies are on the ground. seki and furuya stand with you, blocking your body with theirs.

heaving breaths are all you hear until almost identical manic laughs spill from their lips. as the new figure sits up, you blanch. what could you have done for the guard dog himself to be after you? sanzu grins, "you're pretty good."

murayama lets out his own breathy laugh, "haven't had a fight like that in too long."

"boss?" the friendly, sparkling atmosphere is broken by your meek voice. your legs are trembling together, eyes wide and teary. why was bonten after you? "is... is there a problem?"

when sanzu's icy eyes slide to yours, you can't help but wish you never spoke at all. he huffs as he stands, wiping blood from his crooked nose. sanzu clicks his tongue in disappoinment as he stands before you. he says your name three times, "just what have you gotten yourself into?"

"you work for this guy?" murayama is beside you within the next second. his knuckles are worn and bleeding as he clutches your hand in his. "small world."

"boss said to keep an eye on you," sanzu sweeps his striped suit. a diamond encrusted grin is thrown your way — it makes chills run up your spine. "i'll be watching you, [full name]."

sanzu leaves, but your chest still feels crowded, like you can't breathe. you stare with a dead gaze at where he once stood. an arm is slung around your shoulders, heavy breathing echoing into your ear. "that sounded like a threat."

your eyes meet murayama's, "it was."

— RUDE BOYS! ♡ ft. rindou haitani

you're already talking to someone by the time he arrives. sneakily, smoky watches from the rooftop he's perched on as you exchange conversation with the man across from you. lilac hair wasn't something he was used to seeing — the color stood out in nameless.

"yeah," you shrug your work bag further up your shoulder. "that's it, i think."

rindou nods, looking to the ground as he kicks a rock. he goes to speak again but stops at the new figured that has joined you. looming behind you is a man with shaggy hair and a dead look to his eyes.

you tilt your head at rin's silence. you see a flash of green in the corner of your eye. jumping, you step away from the shadowed figure before sighing. "smoky. hi. what did i say about the sneaking thing?"

"sorry," a small flash of a smile greets you. he slides closer, his left pinkie linking into your own. smoky stares at rindou, "who's this?"

"friend from work," you answer before rindou can. a minute shake of your head distracts the purple-haired man. he smirks lightly — you were worried about him beating this frail guy up, right? you eye smoky, "is it jus' you or...?"

he smiles again, "only me. for now."

rindou sighs, scratching the back of his head. he looks at smoky once more before meeting your gaze. "and with that, i'll be off. thanks for the chat, [name]."

as rindou walks off, you lace your fingers through smoky's, leaning onto his shoulder. you let out a yawn, "ready to head home?"

he nods, leading you away. looking back, smoky watches the shadowed figures that follow an unsuspecting rindou. he gives a small nod — they follow their leader's command.

— DARUMA IKKA! ♡ ft. hajime kokonoi

a vibrant, purple car pulls in front of you, music booming from the speakers. hyuga slides off of the hood, standing in front of you meanacingly. he scowls, "problem here, [name]?"

you grin, "no, not now that you're here."

silence and then a snort. hyuga reaches out to pinch the top of your arm before he pulls you close. smoke travels from the pipe he uses, enveloping you in the smell and fog. you narrow your eyes, "that's so unnecessary, norihisa."

his arm wraps around the back of your neck, bringing you close. his mouth brushes against your ear, "whatever you say, baby."

a newer, white car pulls in to your right. the conversation and music pauses, eyes on the figure leaving the vehicle. you straighten up with a widened mouth. "kokonoi? um, is there something you need, sir?"

kokonoi smooths his suit out and tucks his hair back into the low bun it sits in. he greets you with a smile before his eyes fall on hyuga. "i didn't know you knew a hyuga, [name]."

"and how do you know my hyuga?" koko looks at you before tilting his head and smiling tantalizingly. you purse your lips, "right. your gambling problem."

"careful, [name]," kokonoi sticks his tongue out, "i'm still your boss."

you wrap your arms around hyuga's waist, bringing yourself closer to him. half of your face is hidden in his red jacket, barely visible pout on your lips. "we're not in work now, though..."

hyuga kisses the top of your head. "need somethin' from us?"

"just had a little question." koko looks at where you're attaching yourself to hyuga before nodding to himself. "things are starting to make sense now, though."

humming, you frown at your boss-of-sorts. "you're acting shady."

koko grins, closing his eyes with a small laugh. "aren't i always? see you tomorrow, [name]."

hyuga pats your bottom in a pattern as you both watch the white-haired man leave. he honks, flashing his headlights before he leaves. hyuga sucks in air through his teeth, "what a weird guy."

"are you allowed to say that?" a pinch to your butt causes you to squeak. "okay, alright! i take it back."

——♡—— ive decided i love pairing them together <3 but that was a lil obvious beforehand do we like the pairings though?? could’ve changed them but….. if youd like to b tagged / untagged in any tokyorev OR hnl content, let me know! ♡

🍓FOREVER TAGS : @star2fishmeg ♥︎

🍓 H&L TAGLIST : @rouzuchan @yuken-gf @strxwberrychocolate @simpforchuchu @thatpoindexterpixy @cheshirecatuniverse

🍓 TOKYOREV TAGLIST : @night-shadowblood-writes2 @muichirouswifeandhusband

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[dreamfyre03]

A Dragon's Love

Trigger Warnings: A bit of swearing, threats, mentions of violence, Aemond being a little obsessive

Chapter 4: The Woes of Courtship

Dividers by: @zaldritzosrose

Header by: @zaldritzosrose

Five years later

At ten and eight, Aemond Targaryen had now grown to become the man widely known throughout the realm as the feared one eyed prince. Most people dared not look him in the eye, his wielded his sword with indescribable skill, as though it were an extension of his person. His continued his schooling even when he didn’t have to, and tutors from all over the realms were brought the King’s Landing to further his knowledge, at his request. 

He liked his fearsome reputation, no one dared to cross him, and he liked it that way. He liked being feared. 

However, the only rare instance one might see a crack in his carefully curated exterior, was in the presence of his older half sister, Daenys. Aemond couldn’t resist looking at her, trying but sometimes failing to be subtle. She had grown into a beautiful woman, with long silver white hair, much like his own, kind grey-blue eyes one could get lost in. Her body was a woman’s now, with a woman’s curves, and large breasts that Aemond knew sometimes attracted the attention of many a nobleman. She never lost her kind spirit, and although one might make the mistake of thinking she was much like Helaena, gentle and fragile, Aemond knew his sister possessed a dragonfire within her that was just waiting to be unleashed. 

He had finished his training with Ser Criston for the day, spoke with his mother after she attended to the King’s council with his grandsire, and paid a visit to Helaena and the children. He turned the corner and entered the library, where he knew she would be, and was met with the sight of her in a red and black dress, for although one might mistake the colours as a symbol of support to their sister, he knew she simply loved to wear their Targaryen colours proudly. She was sitting on the settee, as Aegon sat next to her, clearly trying to convince her of getting involved in one of his foolish ideas, no doubt. “Come now, sister, you know I’d never let anything happen to you.” He heard Aegon tell her.

She simply laughed and shook her head. “Aegon, I’ve no wish to acquire our older sister’s reputation. You can recount your endeavours to me when you come back, as you always do.” She replied. He watched as Aegon leaned in close to her and whisper something, to which she let out another laugh, until she saw him. “Brother,” she greeted him, with a smile. Aemond took a seat on the other side of her, leaving her cushioned between her two brothers. 

“What is our brother trying to rope you into this time?” He asked, eyeing Aegon who rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter, for I’ve already told him no” she emphasised her answer to him once again, only prompting him to grin at her cheekily. Aemond never understood how his drunken, whoring brother could be so dearly loved by Daenys, but he let it be. 

“You’re a woman grown, sister, a bit of carnal fun might be good for you,” Aegon said, running his finger across her cheek, causing her to roll her eyes at him with faux annoyance. 

Aemond glared at Aegon, who ignored his piercing stare. 

“Brother, I guarantee that should I go with you to the Street of Silk tonight, I will no doubt be recognised and reported back to your mother.” She said. “You wish to take our sister out to the Street of Silk? Are you mad?” Aemond asked incredulously. 

Aegon sighed and got up, “Don’t get all worked up, brother, she won’t come with me. Worry not sister, who knows, one night I might just bring the Street of Silk to you.” He teased, causing Daenys to laugh and toss her book at him, which he surprisingly caught expertly and rested on the table. He soon left them alone, and Aemond said, “You mustn’t let Aegon drag you into such ventures. The Street of Silk is no place for a woman like you.” 

Daenys shifted so that she was facing him, sitting comfortably with her feet tucked under her. “A woman like me?” She repeated his words, with a look of amusement. “Brother, need I remind you, as I often must, that I am the elder of us. Just because everyone fears you so doesn’t mean you can lecture me like I am the younger. I can handle Aegon, don’t you worry.” 

“They fear me for a reason, sister.” 

“Do they? And what will you do if I went with our brother tonight? Kill him?” She looked up at him with those eyes, and Aemond tried not to get lost in them. “I’m ceaselessly tempted to, so I just might.” He said seriously. 

“Hmm, well. You don’t scare me, little brother. Tell me, where is the little boy I used to take with me on rides atop Meraxa?” “He died long ago.” “Pity,” She said, studying his face, seeing him in a way only she could. “I quite loved that little boy once. I know he’s still in there, sweet boy, no matter how hard you try to snuff him out.” 

Aemond finally looked her back in the eye, and said, “Only for you, Daenys.”, unable to fight the small smile she could always coax out of him. 

“I’m glad.” She replied, yawning as she resting her head on his shoulder. Her warmth was like a blanket that encompassed him and made him feel at peace, the incessant angry noise in his head went quiet. 

“I am quite exhausted, baby Maelor is quite the bundle of energy, isn’t he?” She said, snuggling into him. 

Aemond generally didn’t like physical touch, he didn’t care to be unnecessarily touched by anyone, but, as she was with most things relating to him, Daenys was the exception to the rule. He savoured every touch, when she laughed a little too loudly and her hand would touch his arm, when she would reach up and smooth his long, Targaryen silver locks back into place after they came back from taking the skies together, or like now, when she would lay her head on his shoulder, as he would let her talk tiredly about whatever she wanted, for he could never get tired of hearing her voice. 

She smelled his jasmine and lilies, a scent that now, after eighteen years, felt like home to him. 

“But, are you too tired to take to the skies with Vhagar and I? Or are you scared Meraxa is, in fact not as fast as my Vhagar?” She shot up instantly, always ready for a challenge. “I shall prove you wrong again, brother. Come, let us be off to the Dragon Pit.” She said with a smile, her red dress effortlessly flowing around her as she moved, and Aemond followed right behind her. 

Aemond was in lighter spirits after spending hours in the sky with Daenys and Meraxa, and his usually cold disposition was slightly less guarded as they walked the halls together upon their return. That would not last for long, however, as they rounded the corner and met the handsome young Lord Linus Tyrell. “My Prince, Princess.” He greeted them. Aemond nodded in acknowledgement, his gaze hardened when he observed the Lord of Highgarden’s gaze lingering of the sight of his sister in her riding leathers. 

“Lord Tyrell, lovely to see you,” Daenys said politely, and the man smiled in response. “Not as lovely as it is for me to see you, Princess.” He replied, and Aemond felt anger creeping up his spine as he noticed the man taking in his sister in an unsubtle manner, looking at the shape of her body through the fitted riding leathers, which was arguably less conservative than a dress. 

Daenys simply gave him a cordial smile, as he continued to speak. “I’ve only just arrived from Highgarden today. It is particularly lovely this time of year.” “How sad it must be for you to leave it behind then,” His sister replied. 

“Indeed. A beauty such as yourself would put the blooms of Highgarden to shame, Princess.” He said, and Aemond fought the urge to roll his eye. “You are too kind, my Lord. I’m afraid I’m awfully tired, my brother and I have just returned from the Dragonpit. But I do hope you enjoy your stay in the capital.” 

“I believe I will. I hope to see you again soon, Princess.” He told her, as he bid them both farewell on went on his way. 

They walked on in companionable silence until they reached his sister’s rooms, and she bade him goodnight with a chaste kiss and went into her chambers. Aemond began to walk to his own rooms, only a few doors down, but could not get they way Lord Tyrell oogled this sister out of his head, and thought he might speak to his mother as to if she were aware of the man’s intentions. 

He quickened his steps but stopped outside the door when he heard his mother and grandfather conversing quietly. “He is a good match. We can never have too many allies in the Reach.” He heard his grandsire say. “Indeed, but it is not I who can grant Lord Tyrell permission to court Daenys, only the King can.” His mother replied.

“Yes, daughter, but we both know the King is in no state to consider such an idea. Not to mention, in the past he has rejected every marriage proposal that has come her way. In any case, when the King meets the stranger, it is the next ruler who will be responsible for her marriage.” “Rhaenyra will not care enough to see her sister wed.” His mother said. “You know that is not of whom I speak. Aegon is rather close to the girl, I suspect when he is king, he would marry her to a lord present at court, to keep her close to him. But that won’t serve our purposes much, will it?” 

He heard his mother sigh. “Very well. I shall grant him permission to court her, but should a match be the outcome, it is the King who has the final say.” “A wise choice. She would make a fine Lady of Highgarden, I believe.”

Aemond felt himself fuming with anger. He immediately turned himself away from the doors and walked away, lest his rage get the better of him and he did something he might regret. It didn’t surprise him that they spoke so openly of usurping his sister, and in all fairness he didn’t care, for why should the mother of bastards sit the throne? Although, his brother wasn’t exactly suited for the role either. But the politics amounted to nothing when compared to the fact that they wanted to marry his sister off the that Tyrell lord, who was clearly not worthy of her. He felt as though he could burn down King’s Landing with Vhagar at the very thought of her wedding him, letting him touch her, bed her, it made him sick. She wasn’t the Lord of Highgarden’s to claim, and he would damn well make sure of it. 

The next morning, Aemond stopped by the nursery to see Helaena and Daenys with the children. Helaena was braiding Jaehaera’s hair, while Jaehaerys played with a toy sword he had been gifted by his father. Maelor was sat atop Daenys’s lap, who bumped him gently on her knee as she sang softly to him. 

He sat with them, conversing about a number of things, including the upcoming celebrations to be held in a few months for Aemond’s name day, which he didn’t care for, but his mother insisted. He still hadn’t forgotten what he’d heard last night, and it returned to the forefront of his mind when he heard Helaena ask, “When will you meet Lord Tyrell?”

Aemond’s head snapped to attention, turning to listen as Daenys replied, “After his meeting with your mother and grandsire, I believe.” “He is quite handsome,” Helaena teased, and Daenys shook her head at her sister with an amused expression. 

“I suppose.” Was all she said. “He’s a pompous ass is what is is,” Aemond muttered under his breath. “What was that brother?” Helaena asked innocently. Daenys eyed him with a knowing expression, but instead he said, “I was only asking why are you meeting Lord Tyrell, sister?” 

“Your mother suggested I take him for a walk in the gardens. I don’t mind, really.” She told him. His mother had clearly began the matchmaking efforts already. He hadn’t a moment to waste. 

He abruptly bid his sisters and niece and nephews farewell, and walked until he saw the Lord Tyrell himself, seemingly heading for his mother’s sitting room. “Lord Tyrell.” Aemond greeted in a dark tone as he the man greeted him. “Prince Aemond. A pleasure, my prince, to see you this morning. I’m on my way to speak to the Queen, as it happens.” He said, seemingly eager to get to his destination. “My mother can wait. I believe we ought to have a word, my lord.” Aemond spoke clearly implying the man had no choice in the matter. He saw him gulp nervously at Aemond’s terrifyingly calm expression and nodded, as he followed Aemond into an empty study nearby. 

Aemond shut the door, creating a menacing feel in the room that was totally silent until Aemond spoke. “It is my understanding that you wish to court my sister.” Aemond finally broke the silence, looking down on the older man, who wasn’t that much older than Aemond, about twenty and six, but Aemond’s towering frame and commanding presence clearly set the tone that he was the one in power here. “I do, my prince.” He replied, unsuccessfully hiding his nervousness. “So, you think yourself worthy of my sister? Of the blood of the dragon, do you?” Aemond asked as he somewhat absentmindedly pulled out his dagger and looked at it with a bored expression. “Well, I would like to hope the Princess finds me worthy, my Prince.” He answered, his eye darting back and forth from Aemond’s face to the dagger in his hand. 

Aemond looked at him with an amused expression. “Allow me to spare my sister the effort. You are not. You are not worthy of my sister, you will rescind your request to court her, you will stay away from her, and you will return to Highgarden back to smelling the flowers or whatever the fuck you Tyrells do there. Am I clear?” Lord Tyrell bravely look Aemond in the eye and said, “Forgive me, my prince, but you do not decide who can court the princess. Only the King and Queen boast such authority.” Aemond gave a small laugh, but it lacked any warmth, it was a threatening laugh, one that struck fear in the Lord, who suddenly wished he didn’t try to stand his ground with one of the most feared men in the Seven Kingdoms.

In a flash, Aemond had the man cornered into the wall, and had the blade pressed to his neck before he even had a fighting chance. “I am feeling merciful today, so I will repeat myself again. You will withdraw your request to court my sister. You will stay far away from her. If I see your hungry gazing so much as linger past her face, I will personally carve your eyes out myself, and have them sent back to Highgarden. And if you breath a word of this conversation to the Queen, or the Hand, or Princess Daenys, then I will ensure that you are begging for the mercy of a quick death. I am a patient man, my lord, I am more than capable of keeping you alive for days whilst I feed you torture in ways that would have the bravest of men cowering. Do we have an understanding?”

As he spoke, the blade in his hand was pressing harder and harder into the man’s neck, until a spot of blood appeared and leaked onto his collar. He nodded fearfully, saying, “Yes my prince, I apologise.” Aemond withdrew himself. “Good. You may leave.” Lord Tyrell all but ran from the room, and Aemond wiped his dagger clean before putting it back in his scabbard. That very same day, his sister no longer met Lord Tyrell in the gardens, as he informed the Queen of an unexpected emergency back at Highgarden, and left King’s Landing that same day, and Aemond smiled in satisfaction at the man’s petrified expression as he bid them farewell and left to return home. It was that day Aemond knew, he would never let anyone take Daenys from him. 

[ecnmatic]

Fear Street: 1994 (2021) dir. Leigh Janiak.

[seat-safety-switch]

Every afternoon, I hear a really bad-ass four-banger exhaust scream. It sounds like there’s a race car going down my block. Every time I hear it, I think that the kanjozoku – Osaka’s feared Honda Civic street racers – are getting ready to tear up my street and start a street fight with the cops. Our civilization will finally honour the small-displacement economy street racer in the way that it must in order to survive. As it gets closer, I realize it isn’t a high-revving Honda at all, but instead something industrial and rude.

And then they turn the corner and it turns out to be my middle-aged neighbour, Heng, who owns a 1995 Kia Sephia with a hole in the muffler. He’s not going fast, but he’s also not embarrassed of the meaty shriek either. Once, he saw me mowing the lawn as he went past, and dumped the clutch to give it a quick rev-up, making a sound that was not unlike a lawn tractor winning the Indy 500. I am already jealous of his expensive, modern car, which features amenities like “mirrors” and “overhead camshafts,” whatever those are. Why does he have to rub it in that way?

I don’t say anything. I can’t. He’s too fast, and he’s definitely too loud. Whatever I yell is just drowned out by the wall of sound generated by the muffler-less Ford/Mazda BP engine. By the time I can hear myself think, he’s turned the other corner and parked the car. The only thing I could do is to sabotage his car somehow: but how do you sabotage a car to make it quieter?

To answer my question, I turned to AI. Sorry, I mistyped that. I turned to Al, my former mechanic buddy who lives at the bar. Medical reasons. Anyway, Al suggested going onto eBay and picking up the cheapest turbocharger I could find. Heng wouldn’t mind having the extra zoot of a turbo, his iron-block four can easily take wastegate pressure without an intercooler, and Dodge applied to the government to have a turbocharger legally described as a kind of muffler. It’d keep the cops off of our block, which would make the $65 I passed to Shenzhen Farm Supply a work of philanthropy.

The next time I saw Heng, he was pulling a savage one-tire-fire down the street, the open differential straining to keep up with the mighty puff of additional air. He was genuinely fast now, and did not need to be loud. He did a perfect autocross tripod turn around the corner, and dropped into hyperspace as soon as the wheel straightened out. All I heard was the pleasant whoosh of a wastegate and the roar of a badly-worn wheel bearing, which was inaudible over the previous exhaust noise. I probably saved his life, I told myself as I returned to my garage. There’s no reason to have such a loud car in this day and age, I chuckled while firing up the open headers on my daily-driver Volare and watching the visible edge of the nitromethane flames play on what was left of the hood paint.

[acustardduckling]

I wanted to make a redux of Julia's playlist! It has a few songs that weren't on the original, and it has now been separated into categories based on, er ... personality facets? Tone? Something like that.

Also I made a header image that I got completely carried away with. Content warning for vulgar language, violent language, and excessive alcohol and/or drug use in quite a few of these songs. Just in case!

Party-Ghost Grandma Runaway Baby Fear & Delight Peeping Tom Chocolata Mi Mi Mi Maneater Womanizer Cannibal I Wanna Go Easy Lover You Give Love a Bad Name Fight for Your Right You Spin Me Round (Like a Record) Mambo No.5 Dirrty Heads Will Roll Livin' La Vida Loca Rasputin Material Girl (Sorry Queenie) Mansion Party (Sorry Tay) -

Playing On Serious Mode I Can't Decide Love Me Dead Hellbent Alejandro All That She Wants Under Heroine ‘Cause I’m a Liar Bad Guy Drunk Ghost Wonderland The Wolf Antihero Midnight Sky -

Vibe Check Dragons Roundtable Rival (Nightcore) Dragon Battle // Bonetail Last Surprise The Dirty Side of the Street Corset Theme Candy's Music Store Madame Flurrie Veilstone City // BDSP ver. Route 228 // BDSP ver. K.K. Milonga K.K. Oasis Boo House Play with Bowser Sirena Beach Silent Chasm Mt Pyre Peak Pyrite Town World Bowser

[elbertsbabygirl]

Title: A curse by Accident

Fandom: ikemen villians

Note: Hello everyone and for my Jude Wifey's here is my version of His fanfiction but I based it on his curse and special skills so I hope you enjoy it I am sorry if it's not a good reader style I promise to improve more 🥹

Jude jazza x Y/n ( Reader)

Headers and spacers: @natimiles

In the bustling streets of 19th century London, amidst the smoke and shadows of the industrial revolution, there lived a notorious mob boss named Jude. With his sharp mind and ruthless demeanor, Jude ruled the underworld with an iron fist, feared by many yet respected for his cunning. One fateful evening, during a lavish ball hosted by the city's elite, Jude, disguised as the enigmatic 13th guest, laid a curse upon the newborn daughter of a prominent noble family.

Jude: When this girl Turns 18 or older She will prick her finger in a spindle and she will die at that time she pricks her finger.......

Noble woman: Please don't do this to my daughter I beg you.....

Jude: to late old woman she will be the sacrifice for you all * evil laughs*

After Jude's cursed pronouncement, chaos ensued at the lavish ball. The noble family, horrified by the curse placed upon their infant daughter, sought counsel from the city's most revered mystics and sorcerers, but none could offer a solution but to accept what Jude did from the poor infant.

The noble family, desperate to find a solution to the curse that had befallen their daughter, spared no expense in their quest for answers. They sent messengers far and wide, seeking out every mystic, sorcerer, and wise woman rumored to possess knowledge of the arcane.

Despite their efforts, each attempt to break the curse ended in failure. The noble family grew increasingly desperate as the years passed, their once-great household now shrouded in sorrow and despair.

After A few years the young woman became a blossoming hope of her beauty and grace

The young woman became a successful doctor and Graduated from college not knowing who is the one who cursed her the day she was born .. one night she came to her parents and ask...

Y/n: Mom dad am I cursed?

The parents are completely shocked after what they heard from there daughter

Y/n's mom: yes Honey you are cursed that day when you were born he cursed you from an unknown reason .....

The princess looked shock and asked

Y/n : how do I Lift my curse out

Y/n's mom: we tried looking for great sorcerers to fix and lift your curse but it's not working and we failed to find one

Y/n: what's gonna happen to me now!!

Y/n's mom: it's ok honey we will protect you from any harm so don't worry sweetie you will be alright with us

After a long chat the cursed princess sets up and plans a mission to Find the person who cursed her with an unknown reason...... But suddenly her head starts to hurt and a flashback of her Appears

* Flashback on the day she was born*

???:When this girl Turns 18 or older She will prick her finger in a spindle and she will die at that time she pricks her finger.......

* flash back ends*

Y/n: I must find the man who cursed me !!

The next day the princess goes to work when suddenly she got bumped into someone with white hair with a bit of black tips on his hair with a purple cloak on

Y/n: Oh my gosh I am sorry sir did I hurt you

The man looks at her and grinned

Jude: Oh my you are one silly one don't ya....

Jude: you don't need to apologize missy.... It's just a dumb fall

Y/n : here let me help you .......

The princess helps Jude up but his hands felt cold

Y/n : umm why is your hands cold? Is this your normal body temperature.....

Jude: oh you silly missy that's just my dumb body temperature..... And it's just normal so it's fine.....

Y/n : oh I see I better get to work now I hope you take care of yourself

After the princess walks away Jude grinned evily

Jude: nice meeting you again princess you are the target I have been looking for *evil laughs*

He quickly laughs and Goes back to his company and After a few days Jude and princess became good friends and hangout together..... Sometimes Jude will bring his henchmen which is Ellis to have fun but Ellis knew that one day Jude's curse on you will make the things a wrong turn..... Until one day while Jude and the princess are Alone Jude revealed something shocking that made the princess shocked

Y/n: you were the one who cursed me all along....why

Jude grinned

Jude: I just want to take my revenge on ya... Princess

Y/n: what did I do to you...

Jude: you will find out soon once my curse effects you* evil laughs

After that night the princess doesn't want to go out with Jude anymore and she felt betrayed after all his kindness and support she doesn't have a clue that Jude is the one who cursed her all this years....

After a few years one day while Jude is doing his Work as a cold mobster traider Ellis came to Jude with a report....

Ellis: Jude did you still remember the day you were finding the victim who killed your mother ..

Jude: what type of question is that you dimwit

Ellis: I know you are still looking for the Killer who killed your mother ....the one you cursed is not the killer bit instead the killer is still at large....

Jude doesn't believe a thing and laughs

Jude: come on Ellis you stupid or something get back to work.....

At the day of the princess the princess is about to turn 20 and it's the middle of her birthday

Suddenly the princess saw a golden butterfly and follows the butterfly that leads her into the top of the castle tower where one of Jude's henchmen disguised himself as an old man

Y/n: hello there what are you doing

Old man: oh my I am just sewing my socks

Y/n: what is that thing you are sewing on

Old man: this is a spindle would you like to try

Y/n: of course can I try it

After the princess played with the spindle not knowing that when she touches the spindle she will fell into deep slumber for 100 years the princess plays with the spindle and suddenly she pricked her finger mistakenly and Suddenly she felt dizzy and the curse effected her and collapsed and the old man Transforms back into his Original self and reports to Jude about her.....

Henchmen: the curse is activated now my lord

Jude: *evil laughs* that's what she gets for Taking revenge on me she is such a dummy...

At home the noble family noticed that y/n is missing they looked for her and after dew minutes of looking for her they were shocked to see her laying down unconscious ly like she is already in her deep slumber the family had no choice but to accept the fate of there daughters sacrifice and layed her down in her bed and dresses her up in a white clothes and puts flowers in her bed

Y/n's mom: until we meet again after 100 years ( In a sad tone)

As whispers of the curse spread throughout the city, that about a woman who already fell asleep for 100 years begin to spread leading to Ellis Informing it to jude....

Ellis: Jude what have you done....this is not going well but why did you do that to her ...

Jude: Ellis I just want to take revenge on what she had done to kill my mother!!!!

Ellis: Jude I know you are still finding the killer of your mother but she did kill your mother .. Jude the killer is still there and you cursed her accidentally without even knowing that she loved you.....

Jude's eyes widen

Jude: what she loved me?

Jude drops his pen on his desk facing with regret and Dissapointment

Jude: why did I do this to her .... I am such an idiot...!!!!

As whispers of the curse spread throughout the city, Jude watched from the shadows, his guilt weighing heavily upon him. Though feared by many, even he could not ignore the suffering he had caused Determined to find a way to break the curse and redeem himself, Jude embarked on a journey of his own, seeking out forbidden knowledge and ancient artifacts that held the promise of salvation.

During his journey to break the curse and redeem himself, Jude delved deep into the hidden corners of the world, seeking out elusive clues and ancient relics that could hold the key to salvation.

His quest led him to encounter enigmatic figures and treacherous challenges, testing his resolve and cunning at every turn. From darkened libraries filled with forbidden texts to remote temples shrouded in mystery, Jude left no stone unturned in his pursuit of redemption.

Along the way, he faced temptations and trials that challenged his morality and resolve. Yet, fueled by his desire to right the wrongs he had committed, Jude pressed on, driven by an unwavering determination to break the curse and free the princess from her eternal slumber.

As he ventured deeper into the heart of darkness, Jude discovered ancient prophecies and forgotten rituals that hinted at a path to salvation. With each new revelation, he grew closer to unlocking the secrets of the curse and fulfilling his quest for redemption.

But as the forces of darkness closed in around him, Jude realized that his journey was far from over. With danger lurking at every turn, he knew that the ultimate test of his courage and resolve still lay ahead.

After a 100 years past Jude came into the noble familys house where the princesses room is locked with the help of Ellis Jude and Ellis managed to get inside and Jude saw how y/n is in the middle of her curse and Jude felt sorry for it

Jude: I am sorry I love you too y/n even I have no Idea I cursed you you are always will be the one in my heart

Jude entangles your hair and brushes it and cups his hands in your cheeks

Jude: I will break this curse of mine in you and we will be together forever...

With one final vow he leans in and kisses you on the lips and he broken your curse

Y/n: Jude.....

Jude smiles and hugs you

Y/n: I love you more Jude I promise to always be there for you

Jude: me too we will always be together and I will never forget about this love you gave me!

Jude found redemption not only for himself but also in the eyes of the revenge he had once feared and ruled over. And though his journey had been fraught with darkness and despair, he emerged from the shadows a changed man, ready to embrace the light of a brighter future.

This story is for @judejazza I know she likes Jude so much so I hope you like it if you want me to make more of this plss feel free to message me ❤️

[gojou-violin]

the romantic type

| header by: @mangaterial (dm me if you'd like me to remove it!)

| pairing: chobei aza x fem!body!reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. ig out of character chobei? meh? pregnancy. mentions of kidnapping, breaking and entering, executions, stealing, other criminal behavior. brief mentions/descriptions of unprotected sex.

| wc: 1.1k

| taglist: @aylitgirl , @justanotherpasserby , @lyteatus , @bakugosgorl , @diorsbrando , @saintbvnnii , @pinkhorangnabi , @lex-dear

| a/n: i was only on chapter 48 of the manga at the time of writing this, so i'm only using the context i had from chapter/episode 1 to chapter 48. i might write a follow-up to this if something happens throughout or at the end of the manga.

Chobei was never really the romantic type, at least not back when you met him. Thrown into the dirt more times than he could count, Chobei had been alone with his brother through the worst conditions the world had to offer, ever since they were kids and their parents died, leaving them with nothing except Chobei's drive to protect his brother and make something out of himself. When you first met, Chobei was the type of guy that ran around putting his dick in anything that moved. He thrived off of the power he got from commanding his men and from putting women under him. You'd heard the stories about what he liked-- How he could be so scary and ruthless that women stumbled out of his shitty little shack, stumbling, crying, bruised up and bleeding. Part of you couldn't believe those rumors. The Chobei you knew was kind... Well, he wasn't the best kind of guy around, you knew that, but he was nice to you, and he always took time out of his day to come see you at the market-- and while he stole from all the other stalls, he would always grab produce from you and pay for it. Always. You never caught him pocketing something or distracting you so that he could throw apples to his brother to run away with. No, Chobei was kind, and it seemed like he respected you. Maybe that was why you ignored the horror stories and decided to go home with him one night. How could a man who treated you so well be such a monster? Surely they were lying.

The first night you two spent together, Chobei was as kind as he'd always been at the market. He teased you and took pleasure in making you scream his name, but he never once laid a hand on you in any way that you didn't want. The way he hid his face in the crook of your neck as he thrust inside of you at a wild pace, murmuring your name a thousand times like it was a prayer, that felt like the exact moment you fell in love with him. You tried to deny it. You had to remind yourself that, despite how he was with you, Chobei was still a criminal with only his and his brother's interest in mind. So you tried to avoid him. You'd hide when you'd see him at the market, you'd never linger in the streets out of fear that one of his men would grab you, and you never talked to anyone about what you and Chobei did. Not only were you concerned about the criminal himself, but if people found out what you had done, you'd be shunned from society. You'd have been worse off than he ever was.

But Chobei had his ways. He had his men find out where you lived, and one night, when he was sure you were home, he crawled through a window to confront you about why you'd been avoiding him since the two of you slept together; and when you admitted to him that you were scared of him and how he could hurt you, you saw the face of a scarred criminal be replaced by a concerned boy who didn't know how to reply. Such a confident and terrifying man he'd always been, yet there he stood in front of you, speechless and seemingly on the verge of tears. All he could do was grab you. He pulled you close and kissed you. He told you that he was the one who was scared because he thought he had hurt you, and he was unsure of what to do with himself because he thought he'd lost you forever...

Chobei wasn't the romantic type. He never was... But then he met you. Behind closed doors in the home the two of you shared for years, he was the kindest man there ever was. He cherished you, the love you had for each other, and the family you were creating together. The day he found out you were pregnant was the best day of his life, according to him. He even started crying. Chobei, of all people, was crying! You couldn't believe the sight, yet you were so incredibly relieved.

But like the idiot he was, Chobei let his confidence get the best of him; and one day, as you were at the very same market you used to work at, buying produce from the same stalls that your husband used to rob, Toma found you and took you home. He had to sit you down as he told you the truth. Some of the men had been out for the past couple of weeks, that was never news to you, but Chobei, for some idiot reason, decided to go with him, and being the asshole he was, he just had to go and get himself arrested. You were livid with him. You thought about how he'd likely spend the next few years in prison, missing so much time with you and your firstborn. He was so stupid! Fuck!

"He'll be executed in a month," Toma admitted quietly.

Your heart dropped in your chest. At first, you thought you heard him wrong, maybe Chobei was only going to be imprisoned for a month, which meant that he'd be back just in time for the delivery, so everything was going to be alright! But, no. When you didn't reply, Toma asked if you were alright or if he should go get the doctor Chobei had so kindly "hired" for you. (He and some of his men found a doctor to take care of you and help you give birth, and they kidnapped him, of course).

Toma promised that he would get his brother back safe and sound, if not for himself, then for you and your child.

That was one month and three days ago. Chobei's execution was supposed to be three days ago, but you never heard anything about it-- Not even your men had an explanation because they went to witness the execution and see where Toma was, too, yet no such execution took place, and your husband and his brother were no where to be found.

You began to wonder if he was dead. Surely he was. If he wasn't dead, why hadn't he come back to you? Part of you second-guessed your husband, figuring that maybe he really was the type to use a prison break as an excuse to run away from the burden of having a family; yet the rational part of you was so sure that Toma would have dragged Chobei home to at least tell you the brutal truth first of, "I don't love you. I never have. I don't want a baby, especially not with you. So I'm leaving. Forever. Goodbye." No one came home, though. No one gave you answers or excuses. All you could do was wait for a month and three days as you watched out your window, wondering if he'd come home on time to meet your baby.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Kaili Joy Gray at Daily Kos:

The Wall Street Journal published a seemingly damning story on Tuesday night about President Joe Biden’s diminishing mental acuity, with a headline guaranteed to cause panic: “Behind Closed Doors, Biden Shows Signs of Slipping.” With a header like that, you might think the Journal really has the goods on Biden this time, with quotes from dozens of sources within the White House, likely speaking anonymously for fear of appearing to betray their boss with the damaging confessions about how he, in fact, is too old and unfit to be president for another term.

But no. Who does the Journal have? Republican House Speaker Mike Johnson. And former Republican House Speaker Kevin McCarthy. And Idaho Sen. James Risch, who is—as you might have guessed—a Republican. Contrary to its terrifying headline, what the Journal has is a blatant hit piece from Republicans who are shamelessly pushing the Republican talking point that Biden—who is only four years older than Donald Trump—is oh so very, very old. Concerningly so.

[...] Well, there was The New York Times, where the opinion pages were filled with hand-wringing about Biden’s age and how voters are so much more concerned about the 81-year-old president than his 77-year-old opponent.

The Wall Street Journal wrote a brazen hit piece attacking Joe Biden’s supposed diminishing mental acuity by citing Republican sources and ignoring Democrats who praised Biden.

See Also:

MMFA: The Wall Street Journal’s story about Biden “slipping” is comically weak

MMFA: Leading Democrats say WSJ ignored their on-the-record comments praising Biden's mental acuity

[justanotherblonde]

it's sasodei week 2024!

i have precisely one thing to contribute, but ffs it's not done yet grr!! maybe we can blame my dog... she demanded i come play with her no less than nine times (i kept track) as i wrote this post (she does this by shouting at me then humping my leg to show me who's boss, sometimes pulling on my sweater sleeve with her sharp li'l teefs, beagles, man, i tell ya...) 🐶

anyway!! here's a TEASER of my Day 3 Band/Rockstar/Idol AU story ahhhhh!!! it's not even titled yet!!!!! i don't even really know what the tags will be! and i haven't had time to make a header image!! 😫

but this i know, oh this i know:

Sasori is first chair cello of the Sunagakure Philharmonic

He has a dirty little secret hobby: listening to metal (among other genres that are definitely not classical)

One of the bands he listens to is called C4

Guess who's the lead singer???

Yes, you guessed it, it's Deidara, singer/song-writer, perhaps much more...

In this AU, everybody lives!! Well... okay fine, Sasori's parents still didn't make it, i'm sorry

But that means two important things: Third Kazekage is alive! And there are a LOT of Uchiha running around.

There's more, a lot more, but you'll have to wait until i steal more minutes and hours from my dog and my work! but i'll give it to ya, come hell or high water! or wildfires, earthquakes, debilitating PM 2.5 ratings, or uh... dare i say... another pandemic??? FEAR NOT!

if you want to wait for the full thing to drop to read, i've left the teaser excerpt below the cut.

a million thanks to @sasodeiweek for hosting this event and encouraging us SasoDei creators to flex our creative muscles! loving all the contributions so far!

and without further ado...

Rehearsal ran circles round Sasori’s ears. The music followed him always, all hours.

Chapter 1

Rehearsal ran circles round Sasori’s ears. The music followed him always, all hours.

The fine, agile fingers of his left hand twitched; his right hand swayed side to side, marking the strokes of his bow. Eyes half-closed, his feet kept time on the pavement as he walked. It was Haydn this week, Cello Concerto No. 1 in C major. A weighty yet familiar responsibility for Sasori, first chair cello of the Sunagakure Philharmonic.

He sighed. Rehearsal had wrapped half an hour ago. He was on his way home, and tomorrow was a rest day. He didn’t need to torture himself like this. 

The headphones around his neck were a comforting weight, as friendly and intimate as the straps of his cello case on his shoulders. He flipped them over his ears and dug in his coat pocket for his phone. Scrolling through the saved playlists on his music app, he skipped all of the classical “homework” and went straight for his guilty pleasures: dance-pop, glam-rock, musicals… and heavy metal. 

No one at work knew about his low, low tastes.

Well, the Third had known. 

Sasori gritted his teeth, biting back unbidden memories. Now he definitely needed to blast his brain clean with some noise. 

Something heavy.

Something loud.

Something to transport him far away from the sand-scraped streets of Sunagakure.

His thumb landed on the album he was looking for.

Art is an EXPLOSION by C4. Track 1: “Light It Up.”

From that first haunting guitar chord, the tension Sasori held in his chest and face dispersed. He rode that twisting whine down, down… someplace dark and cool, far beneath the earth. As the barreling drums built to a crescendo, he held his breath—wait for it!—

A million years, through timeless stone I’m damned to walk this path alone This darkness, all I’ve ever known…

The lead singer had a deep, melodic voice. He molded each word of the verse carefully, tenderly, as if he were embarking on a ballad… then WHAM!

Cymbals crashed; the roaring chorus caught the last two notes of an electrifying riff like a surfer hopping a wave:

Light it up! Hey, light it up! Strike a match and light it up! My fuse is short, ’m ready to blow, Crush the ceiling down to the floor!

Not in a million years would Sasori admit out loud to anyone that he listened to C4, especially not now that the public were actually aware of their existence. The metal band had catapulted to fame last year with their single “Burn Down All the Discos,” but Sasori had been listening to them well before that. Three years ago, his music app had recommended him a track from Art is an EXPLOSION—C4’s debut album—based on his eclectic streaming history. 

If the first song Sasori had heard by C4 had been anything but “Artist,” he’d probably never have given them a chance: their usual sound was, on the surface, sloppy, and most of the lyrics were childish boasts. “Look at me!” their vocalist seemed to say in every song. 

But “Artist” was different. It was, inexplicably, an up-tempo perversion of Vivaldi’s Winter Largo in F Minor, lamenting how hard it was to live for art’s sake when the world ran on money and heroic virtue. Listeners without classical training would be unable to appreciate or likely even identify the subtleties of what had been done with the classical score, but the first time he heard it, Sasori had been riveted. Vivaldi’s rhythmic harpsichord had been replaced with a softly tapped snare drum; a mournful electric guitar carried the melody when it wasn’t sung. 

Curiosity piqued, Sasori had investigated the rest of the album, and found similar nods to classical music throughout the tracks, much harder to notice than the adapted Vivaldi, drowned as they were in a thunderstorm of electric guitar and percussion. C4 were more than just a metal band: they experimented with typical traits of the genre and also drew from pop rock, classical music, even musical theatre to create a sound unlike anything Sasori had ever heard. They broke all the rules and they did it with glee.

One day—a rest day—home alone and bored, Sasori had looked up the band online. It surprised him to learn that the lead singer had been only sixteen when the band was formed. That powerful voice certainly didn’t sound like it belonged to a teenager. But the band’s website was light on biographical information, and Sasori hadn’t felt like digging deeper. An overwhelming amount of fan sites and social media accounts had sprung up since “Burn Down All the Discos” and C4’s world tour. Bored as he was that day, Sasori wasn’t about to use his precious free time to obsess over some flash-in-the-pan rock band, especially one fronted by a kid.

And yet, he still listened to them.

“Artist” often competed for the position of most frequently-played song on his app, but only when he was feeling particularly moody. 

It crossed his mind that he ought to check if C4 had come out with anything new lately—the app usually sent a message when artists he’d followed released new music. Pausing to wait for a traffic light, he dug for his phone again.

Lo and behold, a new album had dropped not three days ago.

Beauty of a Moment, it was called. The cover art featured the Venus de Milo... mid-explosion.

Sasori chuckled under his breath. “He really does fancy himself an artist, doesn’t he…” 

What a fool. Popular music was not art. Rock music was not art. It came and went, but the classics stayed. For centuries. Forever.

It was the one thing Sasori and the Third had always agreed on, despite all of their differences. 

Speaking of which… 

...