#like. idk. it's making me think of a spread in a magazine.

[raiiny-bay]

spent my day attempting more fo4 conversions & it went better than expected actually

[deus-ex-mona]

favourite stupid relationship dynamic: idiots who would immediately protect and defend the other but never themself

[wordsofwhimsy]

❀ꗥ～𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 ～ꗥ❀

❀ꗥ～ Part Two ～ꗥ❀

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x Southern Belle!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff, slice-of-life, southern charm overload

Word Count: 2,303

Synopsis: Mark is definitely not obsessed with the new girl in school—he’s just... curious. Totally casual. Until she invites him to lunch under the big tree out front and serves up a full-on southern picnic. Between the cloth napkins and sweet tea, Mark finds himself spiraling farther into the honey-soaked abyss.

a/n: we in this y'all!!!! idk how many parts i'm gonna make for this but reader really got my ass in a mf chokehold 😭 boutta write a self insert x southern belle!reader fic LMAO jk

read part one ❀ꗥ～ Here! ～ꗥ❀

Mark walked into the cafeteria like he did every day—casual. Breezy. Totally unbothered. He was just a guy. Just a regular guy getting lunch like everybody else.

So what if he’d spent the last three hours thinking about the girl who sat next to him in biology? The one who talked like sweet tea tasted and looked like she’d stepped off the set of Gone with the Wind. That was… normal. Totally.

His eyes swept across the room as he passed the lunch line, definitely not looking for anyone in particular. Nope. Not at all. He was just… checking the place out. You know. Casually. Like a guy who did not care at all.

And yet—his gaze kept drifting. The same corners. The same tables. Maybe she left early. Maybe she wasn’t a cafeteria person. Maybe—

“So…” William’s voice cut in, eyeing him like he was trying to spot a fever. “You gonna stare into space all lunch or actually eat something?”

Mark blinked, yanked out of his spiral. “Huh? Yeah. I’m good. Totally fine.” He dropped his tray onto the table and shoved a handful of fries into his mouth like that would make it true. “Just thinking.”

“About what? The pizza?” William poked at his slice like it might bite him. “Pretty sure that thing’s been here since last semester.”

Mark gave a weak laugh, but his thoughts were already sliding back to you.

“Have you met the new girl yet?” The words slipped out before he could stop them. Like his brain had just been waiting for an opening.

William furrowed his brow, then his eyes lit with recognition. “Oh, the girl from Georgia? The one in that dress? Looked like she just wandered off the battlefield at Gettysburg?”

Mark choked a little on his soda. “She’s not—okay, she’s got a style. It’s charming.”

William smirked. “She was wearing pearls dude.”

Mark didn’t even try to fight the smile spreading across his face. “I know. It was… kinda amazing. She sat next to me in biology. She called me sugar.”

William snorted, shaking his head. “Are you—actually, yeah I believe it.” He leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “She would talk like a Southern Living magazine. Bet she drinks lemonade out of mason jars too.”

Mark leaned in, too excited to care. “She said something to me—I can’t remember exactly—but it was like… ‘You look sweeter than a cricket dipped in molasses on a June afternoon.’”

William blinked. “That’s… not a sentence.”

“No, no, it was something about pie. Or syrup? Maybe biscuits?” Mark frowned, trying to dig it back up. “‘Pretty as a pie cooling on the sill?’” He paused. “...That’s not right.”

William tilted his head, clearly entertained now. “You okay, man?”

Mark snapped back, blinking. “Huh?”

“I didn’t know you had a thing for southern girls.”

Mark opened his mouth to deny it. To say it wasn’t like that. That he was totally, absolutely fine. But instead, what came out was: “She gave me a butterscotch.”

William stared. Then nodded. “Oh yeah. You’re gone.”

But before Mark could sink any deeper into the warm, sugary spiral that was his brain on you, a flicker of movement outside the cafeteria windows caught his eye.

Under the biggest tree on campus—sprawling and sun-dappled like a snapshot straight off a postcard—there you were. Flowery dress. Ruffled sleeves. Lunchbox open beside you like something out of a 1950s Coca-Cola ad.

And then, like it was choreographed by fate itself—you looked up.

Right at him.

Mark froze. You smiled, your whole face lighting up like you’d been hoping he’d be look your way. Then you gave a little wave, the kind that made his stomach do cartwheels.

His first instinct was to look behind him. Surely you weren’t—wait. You were pointing. At him. Then you lifted your lunchbox slightly, tilted your head, and gave a beckoning little gesture, like Well, come on over, sugar.

Mark didn’t even feel himself move. His body had apparently filed for independence from his brain. One second he was at the table, the next he was halfway to the door.

“Dude,” William called after him. “You haven’t even finished your—”

Too late. He was already floating out the door like a cartoon character, drawn by the siren call of sweet tea, sunshine, and maybe—just maybe—a second butterscotch.

Mark tried to play it cool as he walked across the lawn. He really did.

He slowed his steps. Smoothed his sweater. Tried to remember how arms were supposed to move when walking like a normal person and not a malfunctioning robot. Unfortunately, none of it mattered, because the moment you looked up at him with that sweet, sunshiney smile—he short-circuited all over again.

“Well, hey there, darlin’,” you said, tucking a curl behind your ear. “You looked awfully lonely in that big ol’ cafeteria. Thought maybe you’d come keep me company.”

I will keep you company every day. I will build you a porch swing. I will learn how to make sweet tea from scratch. I will fight a bear for you. Just say the word.

Out loud, he managed: “Uh… sure. Yeah. That’d be cool.”

But as he got closer, he noticed something that almost made him trip.

You hadn’t just plopped down on the grass with a brown bag like everyone else. No—oh no. You had laid out a whole blanket. A soft yellow one, perfectly smoothed out beneath you like you were about to host a garden party and not just eat lunch behind the gym. There were napkins—cloth. A pastel plaid lunchbox. Was that… a tiny jar of honey?

Mark’s brain short-circuited again.

“You brought… a picnic?” he asked, voice caught somewhere between awe and confusion.

You just smiled and patted the spot beside you with one perfectly manicured hand. “Of course I did, sugar. What kind of lady eats her lunch sittin’ in the dirt like a possum?”

He sat slowly, like if he moved too fast you might vanish in a puff of lavender and lemon bars.

“I, uh… I usually just grab fries and call it a day,” he admitted.

“Well, that simply won’t do,” you said, already pulling out what looked like an entire home-cooked meal from your lunchbox. “I brought extra.”

Mark tried not to stare. There was a thermos. Cornbread. A spoon wrapped in a cloth napkin embroidered with your initials. The world around him went fuzzy.

“You, uh… pack lunch every day?” he asked, dazed.

“Mmmhmm,” you hummed, unscrewing the thermos lid. “Can’t rightly trust these cafeteria folks with my grits.”

Mark blinked. “Wait, you have grits in there?”

“Cheddar bacon,” you said with a proud little grin. “Made ’em this mornin’. Threw in just a pinch of hot sauce, too—don’t worry, not enough to make your ears ring.”

“You made these? Before school??”

You shrugged like it was nothing. “Sure did. Even had time to iron my skirt while the biscuits were browning.”

Mark stared. You offered him a spoonful of grits like you were handing him a sacred gift. He accepted it like one.

“Okay, uh, full disclosure, I don’t think I’ve ever actually had grits before,” he said.

You gasped, genuinely scandalized. “Never had grits? Oh, sugar, that’s a sin in some counties. Go on now—first bite’s the best.”

He took a bite. And stopped.

He blinked. Looked down. Looked back up at you.

“…This is stupid good,” he mumbled through a mouthful. “Like—I think I saw God for a second.”

You beamed. “Aren’t you sweet? They came out alright, I s’pose. Didn’t have time to melt a pat of butter on top.”

Mark laughed. “No, seriously. You’re like… a magician. Even without the butter.”

You leaned back on your elbows, pearls catching the sunlight. “And you,” you said with a wink, “are sweeter than my meemaw’s tea.”

Mark was absolutely, positively, entirely gone.

And just when he thought he couldn’t sink deeper—

“Oh!” you chirped, reaching back into your lunchbox. “Almost forgot dessert.”

Mark blinked. “There’s dessert?”

You unwrapped a tiny square of wax paper like it was gold, revealing a perfectly round, homemade pecan pie. An actual pie. At high school.

“I made a whole batch last night,” you said like it was nothing. “Wanted to bring one in case I made a new friend today.”

Mark stared at the pie. Then you. Then the pie again.

He almost said I love you out loud. Swallowed it back down with a wheeze. Accepted the pie like the precious relic it was.

It was flaky. Warm. Sweet. Perfect.

He let out a low, involuntary noise of appreciation. “Oh my god. That’s insane. How are you real?”

You just smiled sweetly, wiping a crumb off your skirt. “It’s just a little family recipe, s’all. Nothing special.”

Mark stared at you. No. It absolutely was something special. You were something special. The picnic blanket. The pearl necklace. The handmade pie. The fact that you didn’t even notice the effect you had on people—that you didn’t seem to realize you were currently starring in a very real, very serious romantic comedy happening exclusively inside his head.

And then you looked out across the lawn, something wistful in your eyes.

“This place is real different from where I grew up,” you said softly.

Mark blinked, the last bite of pie halfway to his mouth. “Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm,” you nodded, brushing your hands together to shake off some crumbs. “Back home, you can’t go ten minutes without runnin’ into somebody you know. My whole high school was the size of y’all’s lunchroom.”

Mark smiled, resting his chin on his hand like a lovesick golden retriever. “What was it like?”

You didn’t even notice the way he was looking at you. You were already off and ramblin’, voice all soft and syrupy and full of color.

“Well, let’s see… mornings usually started with the rooster two houses over gettin’ real full of himself. Mama always made sweet tea first thing—even before coffee—and you better believe if you didn’t say ‘good mornin’’ to every person you passed, someone’s auntie was gonna hear about it before you got home.”

Mark let out a soft laugh, totally enchanted.

“Church on Sundays, of course. Even if you didn’t believe in a lick of it, you showed up dressed to the nines and brought a pie so nobody asked too many questions. Summer nights were all lightning bugs and cicadas. And the air always smelled like grass and honeysuckle and heat.”

Mark smiled. “Heat has a smell?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, nodding like it was a universal truth. “Smells like pavement and freedom and the inside of your daddy’s truck after he’s been workin’ all day.” You laughed softly at yourself, brushing a curl back from your face. “Sorry, I’m ramblin’.”

“No—no, don’t stop,” Mark said quickly, leaning in without realizing it. “Seriously, I could listen to you talk forever.”

You smiled, a little bashful. “Aren’t you just the sweetest…”

But before you could say anything else—

BRRRRRRRRRRRRING.

The lunch bell screamed through the courtyard like it was personally out to ruin Mark’s life.

Mark flinched like he’d just been shot. “No. Noooooo,” he whispered under his breath, staring at the speaker mounted on the side of the building like it had committed a heinous crime against him personally.

You barely looked up, already starting to close your lunchbox with a frown. “Oh, I know, right?” you said, like he’d just commented on the weather. “Lunch period is way longer back home—forty-five minutes, sometimes an hour if the buses were runnin’ late. I mean, honestly, how’s a person supposed to eat a proper meal in thirty minutes? It’s barbaric.”

Mark blinked at you, utterly speechless. You were out here making actual points while he was two seconds away from flying up and ripping the school’s PA system out of the wall with his bare hands.

You just shook your head and sighed dramatically. “No time to digest, no time to gossip… and Lord knows I don’t rush when there’s pie involved.”

He stared. Absolutely down horrendous.

You crouched to fold up your picnic blanket with practiced grace, not a single crumb or wrinkle out of place. It was like witnessing the southern belle version of a superhero packing up her gear.

Mark watched you, stunned. You weren’t just charming—you were a menace. A dainty, smiling, cornbread-wielding menace.

You stood, tucking the blanket into your tote with care, and gave him that signature, sunshiney smile like you hadn’t just turned his entire world upside down.

“S’pose I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’,” you said sweetly, adjusting the strap of your lunchbox like you were heading off to a garden party instead of sixth period. “Thanks for keepin’ me company.”

Mark just nodded, completely useless, mouth opening like he had something to say—anything—but nope. Nothing. Brain? Offline. Vocabulary? Deleted. All that came out was a vague, helpless little “Yeah.”

And with that, you turned and strolled across the grass, curls bouncing, the scent of peach preserves still lingering in the air behind you like a spell.

Mark stood there for a solid five seconds, staring at the spot where you’d been like he’d just watched the sun walk away from him.

Then he looked down at the almost empty pie tin in his hands. Looked up at the bell speaker. Back at the grass.

“…I’m gonna marry that girl,” he whispered, stunned.

He was so far gone, he didn’t even hear William walk up behind him.

“You gonna finish that, or just keep whispering to it like a weirdo?”

Mark jolted, clutching the tin protectively. “Get your own.”

read part three ❀ꗥ～ Here! ～ꗥ❀

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. a flicker of a flame.

about. when satoru notices the flicker of cursed energy within your unborn child, he starts to feel the weight and nerves of becoming a father.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, expecting parents, reader is pregnant, hospitals, nerves about being parents, listen idk how gojo’s cursed technique works so here u go >:( canon verse, expecting father!gojo, fem!reader.

“i can see it…like…flickering inside of you.”

satoru carries an expression of intrigue, like a child who’s just discovered a new sensation.

you flip the page of your magazine, not bothering to spare your husband a glance while you instead choose to admire the many strollers and their offers that decorate the page. “don’t be weird, satoru.” you tap a perfectly manicured nail against the one you like most, leaning over to show the item to him.

“but it’s there… like actually there.” the sorcerer replies, keeping his voice low despite the loud ambience of the maternity ward’s waiting room. people crying, people celebrating, families already full of children gathering around to hear more exciting news. “i like that one. it’ll fit in the hallway too. do you want it in grey or in black?”your husband passes you a pen from the depths of your tote bag in his lap, letting you circle the stroller in the magazine so you know to come back to it.

this time, you do him the honours of looking up at him — a fresh glare settled on your glowing features. “satoru gojo please stop referring to our baby as an ‘it’.” you sigh in exhaustion, watching him slump in his seat because you know he hates it when you’re irritated with him. “i thought you were excited about having a baby girl. and the grey one, it goes with your eyes.”

that seems to perk him up enough, earning you a kiss to your cheek that has you smiling like a fool in the nurses office. “sorry, sorry…” satoru starts to coo warmly, a soft tone that’s usually reserved for you and his students. “it’s just that… every time i look at you, i see two vessels of cursed energy instead of one. there’s a flicker of a flame there, right where she would be. it’s blowing my mind.” he points to your bump, nestled away under the layer of his clothing since they’re the only thing that makes you feel comfortable right now.

you close your magazine slowly, fighting the flutter of your heart and the warmth that spreads through your body. you know that your husband is being cautious, overly observant and extremely over protective — being pregnant and having a baby in your line of work was dangerous. scary, even. but you knew that satoru wanted this with you, and you him. that he cared a little too hard or worried slightly too much because while he was the strongest, you’d become every target and every weakness to him.

you and your daughter.

an unborn child who may possibly have the powers of a god among men.

so, instead you tuck away the irritation that comes with your hormones and let your gaze slink over to the large man squished into the abnormally small seat of the waiting room — just to be by your side. “do you need me to explain how pregnancy works, satoru?” you quip and rest your head on your knuckles, just to make him laugh and ease up a little.

a wiry smile starts to tug at the corner of his soft, pink lips. “i’d rather you show me but i think we got the fun part nailed.” gojo’s face splits into a wide grin, making you roll your eyes. “we made her, yanno. she’s alive in there because you’re keeping her safe.”

“and you too, mister six eyes.” you tap his skull, brushing against pure white locks, as gojo leans over you affectionately — probably in demand for a kiss (which you give).

the receptionist calls your family name from the front desk — no doubt to call you in for your neonatal appointment. another set of scans to help confirm your little girl is nice and healthy before you tell the rest of your friends and family later today.

gojo wanted to hand out copies of your scans to everyone at dinner. show off.

but as you stand, satoru goes quiet, offering you his hand as aid. “do you think…do you want…” pressing his lips into a thin line, your husband mulls over his words whilst guiding you down the hall to the doctors office — nodding to the receptionist to thank her as you pass. “i hope she doesn’t have what i have. i wouldn’t wish this burden on anyone.” he looks you straight in the eye, blue eyes piercing your soul. you feel your baby move and kick, forcing you to wonder if she’ll have the same mind blowing eyes as her father. “i hope she’s like you. beautiful and strong and—“

“ours. she’ll be ours and the best parts of both of us. her daddy’s strength, bravery, good looks and her momma’s wits, pretty ‘get me what i want eyes’ and smarts too.” you laugh, bright and loud as you cut gojo off — turning to look at him with a happy smile. “if she turns out like that, the best parts of both of us she’ll be perfect. i’ll love her because you gave her to me, we can figure out the rest later.”

that seems to reassure satoru, who sags in relief by your side as he wraps an arm around you, his large palm splaying across your baby bump. “you’re right, you’re right,” he grins again, feeling her little feet mercilessly kick at his palm. “as long as she’s healthy, we’ll be fine. i love you.”

“we love you too.” you swoon a little too much.

satoru gojo will be a great father, you think, your baby girl is so lucky — she has the strongest daddy in the world and he loves her a little too much already.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[laughtalelogs]

sick - sanji x reader

rating - mature, MDNI 18+

word count - 860ish, just a quick blurb

warnings: mentions of your chest and piv, no beta reader, slight sub!sanji if you squint, mutual pining, slight exhibitionism, dirty thoughts, idk how to tag this lol it’s not smut but it’s still kinky

crossposted to ao3 @laughtalelogs

-

As much as Sanji denied it, he knew he was a sick, twisted bastard.

Standing like a shadow in the doorway, despite every cell in his body screaming at him to move, his feet planted firmly in the floor. The filter of his unlit cigarette smashed between his gritting teeth as he watched silently.

The way you ate your parfait entranced him, a beautiful display of skill on his part, layers of fluffy greek yogurt he had prepared the day before with spoiled milk, leftover strawberries, and homemade granola loaded on your spoon. The metal slips between plush lips, and when you pull it back out, it sparkles in the midday sun. The demon that resides in him wonders if his skin would do the same in your mouth.

Your pink tongue darts out to lick the remnants on from the corner of your mouth. He clutches the serving tray closer to his chest and he feels his knees tremble with each carefree swipe.

He wonders if you could taste his desperation in the snack, the way he had thought over each layer, scared that it wouldn’t satisfy the hungers in both of you.

Had he subconsciously picked the snack? He asks to himself, the shame of his perversions pulled him deeper in the shadows of his mind.

No, he knew what he had done.

And he enjoyed it.

That sick part of him wanted to see the white drip down your throat, to watch the satisfaction that spread across your face. He watched your fingers trace the edges of the cup, and he had never been jealous of a meal in his life.

You moan, scrapping the remnants of the bowl, you set it down on the deck beside you, sighing in satisfaction. Sanji didn’t think he’d last, recording the sound in his catalog of fappable material for later, as he stepped forward into the light, plastering his usual plastic, dopey smile as he approached you.

You kick your feet as you turn your attention back to the magazine in your lap, a lazy finger skimming the pages. The darkness he casts over you makes you peer up from the page, watching him reach over and swipe the crystal glass you had only set down a moment before.

“Hey, Ji,” the way you sing his name makes his heart hammer in his chest.

“Hi,” He answered lamely, cringing at how how high his voice had risen. He clears his throat, dry from looking down at you, if he looked closely, he could peer down your shirt. “I was just gonna take this for you. Did you enjoy the treat, princess?”

“Like always,” You smile wickedly, ”you always know how to satisfy me.”

He swallowed nothing, his tongue was cotton.

“I always aim to please,” He admits and he feels floaty, the scent of vanilla and strawberries infiltrating his nose. He turns his head to the side. If you kept looking at him like that, he was going to pass out.

“But,” You voice was low, itching the far reaches of his mind where the beast resides, mauling at his rational thoughts. His tie dangles in front of your face, and you reach out, thumbing the silk as he avoids your gaze. You watch his adam’s apple bob nervously as he tugs at the perfect windsor knot. “I want more.”

“Of cours-“ Sanji stops himself though, cursing himself to the pits of hell.

He had given all the crewmates parfaits, and had let Luffy eat the remaining portion. He feels his brow twitch. That idiot didn’t even appreciate it in the way you had, calling it weird pudding, out of all things. Now he had you, begging for more, and he couldn’t even provide that.

“I’m sorry, mon trésor,” He says, voice full of pity, “we are all out. Would you like anything else? I’ll do- I’ll make anything for you”

With a puckered lips and creased eyebrows, you mull over the idea. He wondered if he could get the same look out of you if he was buried between your legs, fanning feathery kisses in the crux of your thighs, sliding ever closer to your center, inhaling deep breaths of your pu-

“I think I’ll just wait,” You sweet voice breaks through his dazed, glossed over eyes, watching his face contort in horror and guilt.

“If you insist.” He jerks up, stiff as board, gripping the glass in his hands so hard his knuckles were stark white, casting a careful gaze that darted over your body. “I’ll leave you to your afternoon then.”

It was cute on him, you think to yourself. The humiliation caused by his own volition.

You watch him march awkwardly to the kitchen, avoiding Usopp and Chopper’s calls from the other side of the deck. The tray he shielded his lower desires, cup tremoring between deft fingers. You sigh, slumping over as soon as the galley doors slam shut.

A sick, twisted part of yourself wondered- what face would he make caged between your thighs? Maybe it’d be that same pathetic look he gave you on more than one occasion. A look that always wound up a tight coil in your stomach, in desperate need of release.

If only he could just take a hint.

—

I hope you enjoyed! I wrote this on my phone at like 4 am while listening to sza lmao. i’m still avoiding the other shit I need to write, but this was a nice break from them. back to writing for zoro!

liked this? check out my other fics - (x)

[deansbeer]

HIIII idk if u remember me but i dm'ed u about ur 40s!dean bot couple of months ago or smth(⁠T⁠T⁠) love ur works and bots queen!!!

so since ur reqs are open now i wanna ask if u have any thoughts on young jensen like in his late teens-early 20s because im wild about him in this era. fluff or smut doesn't matter I'll eat anything with this man on it

hi, sweet angel, i do remember you!! thank you so sooo much 🤍 since you gave me free will, i paired him up with model!reader, since i feel the 90s were very fashion and modeling centered (???) i don’t know lmaoo, but yeah <3

warnings 𓏵 smut | fluff | mentions of alcohol | industry pressures | struggling times | intimidation/nervousness around successful people | semi-public sex | period-typical 90s stuff (?) | oral sex (both f&m receiving) | overstimulation | car sex. (i’m definitely missing some, but i’m too tired to check)

[ cutesy type shit ]

you meet jensen at some industry mixer in a cramped west hollywood penthouse, the kind where everyone’s trying too hard to look like they’re not trying at all. he’s nursing the same beer all night because he can’s afford another one, wearing a dark flannel that’s seen better days over a white tee. when someone introduces you as “that girl from the guess campaign,” he gets this deer-in-headlights look before recovering with ”oh cool, i think i saw that on sunset boulevard.” (he definitely stared at that billboard every time he drove past it).

he’s so broke in those early days, like scary broke. you catch him at craft services during a modeling gig where he’s doing background work, loading up napkins with bagels and fruit “for later.” instead of calling him out, you just start inviting him to lunch after shoots. he always protests at first — “nah, i’m good, i got...” — until you say it’s your treat. his pride takes a hit but his empty stomach wins.

jensen’s got this beat-up toyota corolla that makes concerning noises when it turns left. you’re used to drivers and being driven around, but there’s something charming about him picking you up for dates in his piece of shit car, apologizing when he has to slam the door three times to get it to close properly. “sorry, she’s temperamental. like an old cat.” the radio only gets two stations clearly — classic rock and spanish — so you learn all the words to the songs that had a catchy tune or beat whether you wanted to or not.

he lives with three other aspiring actors in a two-bedroom apartment. the first time you come over, he spends twenty minutes frantically cleaning, which apparently just means shoving everything into closets and spraying an entire can of febreze. his roommate walks out in boxers halfway through your movie date and jensen looks like he wants to die. “dude, i told you she was coming over!” “oh shit, this is her? nice.”

watching him at auditions is painful in the sweetest way. he practices his lines in the car beforehand, running them over and over until you have them memorized too. when he comes out and you ask how it went, he always shrugs and says “probably terrible”even though you know he nailed it. the day he books his first real speaking role (two lines on sweet valley high), he picks you up and spins you around in the parking lot.

he intimidated by your modeling career at first, not in a macho way but in a “what are you doing with me?” way. you catch him looking at your magazine spreads with this expression like he can’t quite believe you’re real. “you know you could date like... actual famous people, right?” he says one night. you shut him up by kissing him senseless. he never brings up the topic again. and if he does, it’s because he loves when you slam your lips on his as a way of shutting him up.

jensen writes his parents these long letters every sunday, telling them he’s doing great, bookings are rolling in, everything’s perfect. you watch him carefully craft these lies with the sweetest intentions, not wanting them to worry. when he finally books days of our lives, the first person he calls is his mom. you can hear her crying in glee through the phone.

he’s weird about money in that prideful small-town texas boy way. when you try to pay for dinner at nice places, he gets this look like you’ve physically wounded him. you learn to be sneaky about it — “accidentally” leaving your card at the bar, telling him you have a gift certificate that’s “about to expire” he knows what you’re doing but eventually stops fighting it.

late nights at denny’s become your thing. 2am grand slams after you wrap a shoot, him coming from waiting tables at some beverly hills restaurant where they make him wear a lil’ bow tie. he does impressions of the customers, you tell him about the photographer who made everyone do nude yoga, and somehow these fluorescent-lit conversations feel more romantic than any fancy date ever.

the way he looks at your portfolio is different from how other guys in the industry do. instead of that calculating, “what can you do for me” gaze, he studies each photo like it’s art. asks about the locations, the photographers, if you were cold during that beach shoot. he remembers every detail you tell him!

when he’s learning lines, you help him run scenes. you’re terrible at it, of course, making him break character and laugh when you dramatically overact the nurse or secretary role. “baby, that’s not... i’ve never heard anybody talk like that.” “excuse me, i'm giving you range.” he starts requesting you specifically as his scene partner, swearing you’re his good luck charm. and he never ever criticizes your bad acting, always finding it amusing.

jensen gets star-struck in the weirdest ways. not by the big names but by working character actors he recognizes from childhood shows. “holy shit, that’s the guy from murder she wrote!” he’ll whisper-yell in your ear at catering, making you giggle. but when actual celebrities hit on you at parties, he just gets quiet and holds your hand a little tighter.

he keeps every magazine you’re in, even the random catalogs and newspaper inserts. you find them stacked neatly in his closet one day. “it’s not weird,” he defends, ears red. “i just... when you’re famous-famous, these’ll be worth something.” you both know that’s not why he keeps them.

summer days by his apartment complex’s questionable pool become your escape. he’s self-conscious about being pale (tv auditions always want that california tan), so you lie on cheap loungers and quiz him on lines while he slowly burns then freckles. the pool is probably 40% chlorine but it’s free and private-ish, minus the kids doing cannonballs

he practices his headshot poses on you, trying to find his “angles.” you teach him the modeling tricks — how to find his light, the tiny chin movements that make all the difference. he feels ridiculous but listens intently, and when his new headshots book him three auditions in a week, he credits you entirely.

[ freaks come out at night type shit ]

that texas boy thing extends to the bedroom — all “yes ma’am” and polite restraint until you make it clear what you want. then something shifts. he’s got this whole southern gentleman act that dissolves the second you climb into his lap, his hands gripping your hips like he’s been thinking about it all day (news flash, he has).

car sex becomes a necessity when you both have roommates. his Toyota’s backseat is barely big enough but you make it work, windows fogging up in some lonely parking garage at 1am. he jokes about feeling like a teenager until you do that thing with your tongue that makes him forget how to speak.

he’s got a praise kink a mile wide, even if he doesn’t know that’s what it’s called. the first time you tell him how good he feels, how perfect he is, he actually whimpers. gets this desperate look like he needs to hear more, so you tell him exactly what he does to you, how he’s ruining you for anyone else, and he loses it completely.

jensen’s possessive in this quiet, intense way. not jealous of your job — he’d never — but when photographers get too handsy or male models hit on you, you see that jaw clench. that night he fucks you like he’s trying to mark you, sucking bruises low on your hips where they won’t show on camera, making you say his name until your throat turns hoarse.

hotel rooms after your out-of-town shoots become your paradise. he drives hours to meet you in random cities when he can scrape together gas money. shows up tired and scruffy from the road, but the second that door closes, he’s all over you. months of sexual tension worked out on random hotel sheets.

he’s absolutely obsessed with going down south on you, could spend hours between your thighs if you’d let him. gets actually upset when you try to pull him up, mumbling “not done yet, darlin’” against your skin. you learn to just let him have his way, gripping his hair while he takes you apart for the third time.

the first time you blow him in his car after an audition, he nearly puts his fist through the window. “fuck, fuck, baby you can’t— ‘m gonna—” barely gets the words out before he’s coming everywhere, then apologizes for like twenty minutes after. you shut him up by climbing onto his lap and riding him until he stops talking entirely.

he’s surprisingly dominant once he gets comfortable, that whole ‘yes ma’am’ thing morphing into him calling the shots. pins your wrists above your head and makes you beg for what you want. “that’s not very specific, sweetheart. tell me exactly where ya need me.” makes you spell it out while he smirks down at you.

quickies in your agency’s bathroom become risky routine. you on the counter, legs wrapped around his waist, his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. the thrill of maybe getting caught, ruining both your reputations, only makes it hotter. he always fixes your hair after, makes sure you look perfect before you go back out.

phone sex while he’s working late shifts at that fancy beverly hills restaurant. he huddles in the back alley on his break, whispering filthy things while you touch yourself in your empty apartment. “wish i could see you right now, bet you look so pretty falling apart.” his voice gets rougher when he’s close, forgetting to be quiet. he almost got caught once by his boss who stepped out for a smoke and he played it off as if he were trying to scare away a raccoon he’d found digging in the trash cans outside.

that texas stamina is no joke. young and eager and so focused on making you feel good. recovers stupid fast, ready to go again while you’re still catching your breath. “just gimme five minutes,” you pant. “i can wait,” he says, then proceeds to kiss down your spine until you’re begging for more and more rounda.

he’s got this thing about marking you where others can’t see. loves leaving bruises on your inner thighs, bite marks on your ribs, fingerprints on your hips. gets off on you being at some fancy shoot, knowing what’s hidden underneath all the designer clothes you wore. “think about that when they’re posing you,” he murmurs, admiring his handiwork.

hotel balconies at golden hour become your favorite risk. you in his lap on some tiny chair, sundress hiked up, him trying to keep quiet as you ride him slowly. the city spread out below, chance of being seen from other buildings, his hands bruising your thighs as he fights not to thrust up into you.

he starts getting more confident as pilot season approaches, that nervous energy manifesting in the best ways. fucks you against his apartment door when his roommates are home, hand over your mouth, daring you to stay quiet. takes you in casting office bathrooms, in his car in broad daylight, anywhere he can get you alone for ten minutes.

the night he books his first series regular role, you celebrate in every room of your quiet apartment. kitchen counter, shower wall, living room floor — he’s insatiable, high on success and possibility. keeps saying your name like a prayer, like you’re his breath of fresh air, like he plans to keep you forever. “gonna move us somewhere better,” he promises between kisses. “gonna give you everything.”

you believe him. because in your eyes, jensen can do anything.

[bennyboyfics]

lol could you do actress!reader where she’s going to watch Ben and idk people find out that their dating?!!

thanks don’t feel the need to that one specifically but something along the line of actress reader.

Grand slam surprise || Ben Shelton x actress!reader

A/n: Ty for the request xx

Wc: 510

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

-

The murmurs started the moment you stepped onto the Arthur Ashe Stadium grounds. Cameras flashed, heads turned, and whispers spread like wildfire. Your name wasn’t exactly unfamiliar here—celebrities often came to watch the US Open—but this? This was different. You weren’t just here as a spectator. You were here for him.

Seated in his player’s box, right beside his team and family, your presence alone was enough to send shockwaves through the tennis world. Ben Shelton had always been private about his personal life, never one to entertain gossip or speculation. You, on the other hand, were one of Hollywood’s brightest stars—your face gracing blockbuster films, red carpets, and magazine covers.

The two of you had successfully kept your relationship under wraps, navigating clandestine meet-ups and late-night FaceTime calls in different time zones. But now? Now, you were making a statement. Dressed in a sleek, all-white ensemble, your sunglasses perched on your nose, you looked effortlessly composed—though, internally, your heart was racing. Ben had no idea you were coming.

He thought you were stuck in L.A. for a press tour. So when he stepped onto the court for his quarterfinal match, eyes scanning the stands out of habit, his movement stuttered. Just for a second. And then he saw you. His jaw clenched, his grip on his racquet tightening, but not in frustration—in pure, unfiltered shock. You watched as he exhaled sharply, blinking as if to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating under the New York heat.

The commentators noticed. “Wait a minute… is that—?”“Oh, wow. I don’t think anyone saw this coming.” The crowd had started buzzing too, fans nudging each other, pointing in your direction. Social media was already losing its mind. “WHAT IS SHE DOING IN BEN SHELTON’S PLAYER BOX?!” “Are they… dating???” The match began, but you could tell Ben was still reeling.

He fought through his first service game with gritted determination, stealing glances at you between points. His parents, seated beside you, were trying to suppress their knowing smiles. They had always been warm to you, treating you as if you’d been part of the family long before today. And when he won the first set with an ace down the T, his reaction was unmistakable. He turned toward his box, eyes locking onto yours, and pointed—directly at you.

The stadium erupted. The cameras caught everything. The commentators fumbled over their words, social media exploded again, and your cheeks burned as the world finally, undeniably, knew. Ben, still grinning, mouthed something before walking back to his bench. You surprised me, baby. You smirked, crossing your legs as you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. Well, I had to keep you on your toes, didn’t I?

[viperixsworld]

GUTS, luke castellan x oc

(chapter one: new kid)

summary: Arianne and Luke just existing in camp and being the it couple.

disclaimer: im in introduction mood, so sorry. im thinking of making this story a full of oneshots and not a chapter after chapter think, idk. Enjoy this!!!

Set in Percy Jackson and the Olympians E1S1

Cabin ten, home to Aphordite's children. If Barbie and a military battalion had a kid, it would be the tenth cabin on Camp Half-blood. Arianne Deveraux was named captain and head counselor of the tenth cabin the day of her sixteen birthday, and since then she had to deal with all her brothers and sisters.

Two days later, Luke Castellan asked her to accompany him to a counselor meeting.

Said counselor meeting was actually a secret, not so secret, party for older campers, that had absolutly nothing to do with the fact that Chiron was out of camp in a secret quest and Mr.D had being persuaded with coke zero.

"Come on lovie, let's have some fun"

Wasn't he charming?

Apollo kids were at some (probably stolen) dj stuff, while Castor and Pollux were serving drinks and food. And every camper at sight waves and said hello to Luke. Three years at camp, and Ari was just starting to understand how deep Luke's influence run in the campus.

"So... are you gettin me a drink or what, champ?"

"And they said you were meek" laughed the boy.

"What can i say? Looks are deceiving"

"You don't have to swear it"

Later that night, when they had to break up the party after the earlier arrival of Chiron, some Demeter kid spread the rumor that captains of cabin 10 and 11 were making out behind a tree at the bonefire.

Some months after that, it was natural to see the two of them walking aroud camp, training together or swimming at the canoe lake. Her brothers and sisters would wait in the door of cabin 10, waiting for her to arrive past the curfew just to watch them say their goodbyes until next day.

"Quick! Hide behind the curtain!"

"Mitchell, she's gonna see you"

"Shut up, Val"

Arianne just draw her palm to her face as they stayed at the front door of cabin 10, her back facing the window while Luke only bit his tongue to avoid laughing at he situation. When Ari lifted her eyes from the floor, she found Luke's eyes just looking straight to her, as if he was trying to remember every little spot of her face, as if he was about to spend so much time without seeing her.

"Guess we have public tonight".

"They being spying us the whole day, I really hope they're not that bad when monsters are around"

Luke took a step foward, and before she could say her goodnight, he grabbed her face with two hands and kissed her on the lips. It was sweet and innocent and felt like being on a Pegasus. Her heart was beating faster than being chased by a monster and she actually heard the voices of her siblings giggling and clappin their hands.

"See you tomorrow at training, lovie"

Ari opened her eyes, finding Lukes mischievous grin, who was already on his way to his cabin.

"You just gave them a show" the girl complained

"No, your face did" responded the boy.

"I hate you".

"Nah".

She waved her goodbye to her boy with a foolish smile plastered on her face and prepare herself mentally for the nightmare of children behind that pink door. So, before entering, she breathed in and out three times, and stepped inside. She found all of her siblings looking at her, grinning at her, while poorly hidden behind curtains or under blankets.

"If your not dead sleeping before the count of ten, I will personally hunt you one by one in Capture the Flag"

This being said, the children practically flew to their bunkbeds as she directed herself to the twinbed she shared with her half-sister Silena.

The black haired girl was pretending to read a Vogue magazine when Ari just threw herself on her bed.

"Stop the act, Silena. I saw you looking out the window with Mitch and Val" said the captain.

Silena just left the magazine on the nightstand and looked at her big sister. They endured this for five seconds before brusting in laughs and putting her hands over their mouths to avoid bringin the attetion of the younger.

"Is he a good kisser?"

"Silena!"

"Don't shout! A girl just wants to know, don't blame me"

"It was all right" Ari said just staring at the ceiling "He felt right, get me?". Silena just looked to her sister in admiration, a look of pure happiness.

"Got it" she responded "Ugh, I'm so jealous... wish Charlie wasn't that dense".

"Give him time... it's not an easy task falling in love with a daugther of the goddess of love".

"Says the one with a boyfriend".

"Hey! It took time too, you know? Charlie will get it, don't worry about it. And if not, you can always leave it to your big counselor sister who can give him more chores!"

Silena just pushed her a little and they laugh again, falling sleep on the same bed after their conversation.

Later the same night, Arianne and Silena were woken up by a loud thud and the sun rays that sneak to the pinkish courtains. Apollo was feeling it today, huh? Arianne got off the bed, stretching after spending the night sharing a single bed with her dear sister, who kicks like hell.

"Mitch, what's going on si early?" she asked her little brother, who was running around the cabin with only one shoe one.

Did she sleep in? Why is everybody up that early? It was only 8:30 in the morning, most of the campers (especially HER campers) wouldn't leave their cabins until 9:00 for breakfast at mess hall.

She was sure as Tartarus that it wasn't inspection day, and she knew because the one in charge of that, was still lying in bed trying to get up. And Silena was really serious when it came to inspection day.

"A new kid entered at camp last night! Michael from Apollo said he killed a minotaur entering camp with Grover! Gods, he said the kid kept the horn!" said the boy before sprinting out the cabin.

What?

"Sil? Wake up, come on".

"Only five minutes" she murmured.

"Get your ass up!"

They dressed as quick as they could, (easy for Ari because she went to bed with the clothes from the day before). When both of them get to the mess hall, everyone was talking about the mysterious kid that one handedly got to kill a minotaur.

Apparently, poor boy passed out from the attack and was recovering in the infirmary, not even Apollo's children had access right now by Chiron's orders.

Silena went to their table, as for Ari, she was getting her food when Chris Rodríguez and Clarisse La Rue were having a conversation about it.

"I mean, a minotaur is big thing Clarisse".

"Beginner's luck, Rodríguez" said the Ares kid.

"Don't be mean, Clarisse" scolded the Aphordite's daugther entering the chat.

Despite being two opposite poles, La Rue and Deveraux had a good friendship and mutual respect. That probably comes from the close relationship between their godly parents (so to speak).

It was kind of relieving for Clarisse to know someone that she didn't need to impress. And for Arianne it was nice to have someone that wouldn't just underestimate her because of her looks, and actually saw that she wasn't a shallow, pretty face and that she could defend herself as well as any other demigod.

"Bet he's the son of Ares" said Chris "A new baby brother, Clarisse!".

Needless to say, Chris earned a hit from the Ares girl.

"What problem do you children of Hermes have with betting?" asked Arianne laughing while serving herself some pancakes with strawberry syrup.

"Make's life more insteresting, lovie" said a voice behind her, while an arm rested comfortably on her shoulders. "What are you three bickering about this morning, huh?" said Luke's voice.

"Good morning for you too" Arianne greeted.

With his arm still on her shoulder, Luke left a discret kiss on her hair. " What are the news?" he asked.

"Newbie kill a minotaur last night, and everyones freaking out" Clarisse said disdainfully.

"Unclaimed?".

"Seems like we'll have the bullslayer at our place, bro" said Chris before he and Clarisse went to their respective tables.

"Be nice to the kid, he is probably super scared right now" Arianne told Luke, gettin face to face.

Luke raised an eyebrow questioning her words.

"Im always nice to new campers".

Arianne just grinned and pecked his cheek before going to her sister, who was eagerly waiting for her pancakes.

[alexsiple]

Any hxh fic recs?

delighted by this ask. all right freaks i'll see you under the cut

fun sss tier challenge for you, dear reader, is to find what my ao3 account is because i'm narcissistically obsessed with my own hxh fanfics. anyway you should read the tags on these before reading if you have an inkling you'll need it- they're mostly rated explicit because again i like weird sex stuff and apparently most of them are hisoillu? lmfao. i also struggle to find genuinely well-written stuff in the hxh tag (sorry) so i'm always open to new recs if you've got them ^__^

hisoillu fics

the teeth of oversight by lances / explicit / 4k words / i like my hisoillu to have bite... i like when hisoka's mean. i like stuff about their marriage contract. this does all of this. delightful

Front Row by ohofcourse / explicit / 7k words / i enjoy this au a lot... i think illumi in a modern au needs to be in some sort of fucked up nepo baby occupation, yes. in general this one is so fun and i love ohofcourse's work. such specificity! such edge!

aftercare by antkidu / explicit / 2.6k words / heeheehee exactly

Crawl Home by JM_Eiche / explicit / 6.8k words / i would say this is my favorite hisoillu, actually... makes me cry. i love JM_Eiche's work in general, so if you like hisoillu or like, any other hxh pairing you'll probably enjoy her other stuff too. agh. this fic is about grief and desire and loneliness! and grotesque, fantastical death! how does one find love in a world seen through illumi's eyes! like this, i think!

Show of Confidence by JM_Eiche / explicit / 77k words (ongoing) / this one's nearing its end and is a feat of hisoillu and also hxh fanfic writing, lol. it's not just hisoillu but hisochrollo and leopika and also includes the best phantom troupe characterization i've read! just a joy to read every time. i love it very dearly. dig your teeth into it. voyeurism! more loneliness! violence! friendship! idk it has it all

other fics

Hail Mary by ohofcourse / explicit / 54k words / my favorite hisochrollo, probably! again so specific, so interesting to me! welcome to my twisted mind

Solo Male by JM_Eiche / explicit / 10k words / leopika! my favorite leopika, in fact. in-canon phone sex stuff. leorio starts posting porn. kurapika gets obsessive about it. boar and rat dynamic. what else could you want. (like hisoillu, i like my leopika fics to be sharp and mean...)

Blue Moon by Deos / explicit / 5k words / knuckle x shoot. the best of the tag, actually. they're both so in-character, it just fucking nails it. there should be more knuckleshoot in the world

If You Obey, I Might Give You a Treat by JM_Eiche / explicit / 9k words / if you know me then you know that i love pariging. they're my favorite pairing in hxh. unfortunately the pariging tag is barren and full of weird characterization, and so JM_Eiche writes all my favorite parigings... this one is my favorite of all of those. how many times can i write the word favorite. this one is canon compliant and just captures everything i love about pariging. to me, pariging is about a weird dom/sub dynamic! it's incredibly beautiful to me!

official pariston hill fanclub magazine issue #84 by orphan_account / G / this fic is a series of spreads for a gossip magazine about the zodiacs, and it's a short little gem in the tag for me. idk i love works of passion

On Whale Island by orphan_account / G / 3.6k words / here's a rated G fic for you. i enjoy a good gon or ging related character study. this one's post election arc, and i like the way it characterizes everyone...

there we go for now... i haven't searched through the killugon tag as much as the others, as again it's hard to find good prose (lmfao) but please send any of your faves my way if you'd like!

[caffeinatedmunchkin]

Tag requested by @emmg ! Very late to this party, as usual. Doing this made me realize how much I miss my girl Ariadne. I'd like to think our Rooks would be tight ngl, I think their wine fueled girls nights would be both legendary, and not for the faint of heart

LUST: desire for connection. pursuit of pleasure. emotional intelligence. obsessive. lovesick. one-night stands. seductive encounter. flirtatious conversation. erotic party. seductive attire. revealing clothing. passionate gaze. provocative makeup. sensual expressions. suggestive gestures. flirtatious smiles. lingerie. love letters. perfumes. provocative behavior. love poems. erotic art.

→ Her sexuality and carnal desires/expertise are fully weaponized. A professional heart-breaker, full time tease, she's an adventurous hottie and makes no bones about it. Baby gets what baby wants (◡‿◡✿) Emmrich's sentimentality, affection, and emphasis on the tender and romantic make her a tad squeamish. Doting nags that she's undeserving, being she never really experienced it prior, but she only has herself to blame. My snarly chihuahua girl snapped at any hand that offered it before him.

GLUTTONY: indulgence in experiences. savoring moments. hospitality. generosity. hedonism. culinary expertise. wine-tasting. excessive snacking. overloaded plates. excessive portions. bloated stomachs. messy eating. greasy fingers. full tables. indulgent spreads. overflowing cups. satisfied expressions. wine bottles. just can’t get enough. fast food wrappers.

→ Once settled in Emmrich's swanky Nevarran town home, she regularly plays hostess to get the gang together again. My Italian loves to feed people, and that's something I've given her. That girl has perfected 'Artcuterie'. Lots of poured wine and scream-laughing. She's happiest when she's a tiny blonde blur around the table pouring re-fills, fixing someone seconds, etc. She even loves that hazy, post-social high when it's just Neve and Lucanis lingering behind. Taking her time while cleaning up at the end of the night, in a comfortable, reflective lull of Emmrich's cigar smoke, and rumbles of laughter.

Her since refined palate does not absolve her weakness for deliberately unhealthy, cheap, greasy-spoon slop. When she gets pregnant all she wants is whatever the Thedas equivalent of disco fries is. She absolutely does not share in Emmrich's veganism.

ENVY: motivation. competitive spirit. strategic planning. observational skills. bitter rivalry. contest. envious gossip. resentment-filled argument. social media jealousy. furrowed brows. clenched jaws. side-eye looks. pursed lips. tense posture. whispering behind backs. crossed arms. gossip magazines. keeping up with the joneses. the grass is always greener. feeling inadequate.

→ She can be a vicious little thing, with a mean jealous streak. Though she likes to pretend it's not the case, she absolutely has something to prove. Largely to do with her parental abandonment, her ultimate dismissal from the Watch, etc. etc. Emmrich has never given her cause to doubt herself, though one of these days I'll get around to a oneshot just to explore what an insufferable bitch she'd be; catching him with an old flame in an horrifically unfortunate misunderstanding. No part of me think's that any part of her would believe him capable of such behavior, but crazed and jealous? Could be fun idk !

GREED: resourcefulness. entrepreneurial spirit. negotiation. materialistic. aggressive investment. lavish spending spree. resource-hoarding. get-rich-quick schemes. auction-bidding war. property acquisition. piles of money. overflowing wallets. luxury items. locked safes. penny-pinching. rare collectibles. selfishness. unwillingness to share.

→ She likes luxury and shiny things, what can I say. She never experienced wealth before Emmrich, and he's as willing to indulge The Princess as much as she's willing to milk him for it. Not that it's entirely selfishly driven - she needs the premium self-care products, pretty jewels and clothing to keep herself dolled up and pretty for daddy, obviously

SLOTH: calmness. stress management. nonchalance. relaxation techniques. lethargic. apathetic. inactive. lazy weekend. binge-watching marathon. neglected chores. skipped workout. long nap. lounging on the couch. missed deadlines. unkempt appearance. messy hair. pajamas. blankets. slippers. procrastination station. self-care routines.

→ She's for sure not a napper, she couldn't shut her brain off midday and then function afterwards. She's either on and non-stop, manic energy, or she's shut off for the weekend. There's no middle ground. She's either productive or she's not. She's super woman, or she's a cave troll. Either sleek and done up to the nines, or a bum. 

PRIDE: confidence. self-assurance. self-respect. dignity. public speaking. self-promotion. arrogant. conceited. egotistical. self-important. vain. boastful speech. puffed chest. raised chin. smug smiles. spotlight. tooting your own horn. showing off. refusing to admit mistakes. feeling entitled. personal branding. leadership development.

→ She knows her good looks and her confidence are intoxicating. She knows her adeptness with the Fade is a thing to envy, but this girl is a MESS. She's on her game until she's absolutely not.

WRATH: assertiveness. decisiveness. strength. intensity. boundary setting. courage. indignant. heated arguments. road rage incident. physical altercation. angry outburst. clenched fists. glaring eyes. tense muscles. raised voices. reddened faces. aggressive gestures. stormy demeanour. intense frowns. destructive actions. broken objects. punching bag. out for blood. fists. simmering anger.

→ She knows what she wants, and how she wants it - and she wants it when she wants it. Patience is not one of her virtues. When you're small, weakness can be assumed. Often, short/un-assuming statures go hand in hand with feistiness, and certainly in her troubled youth she made up for her size with her mouth (see: scar on her nose). As she aged and got a better handle on her magic she sort of simmered down, but Emmrich was being polite when he mentioned the rumors he had heard of a certain young Watcher sneaking out to be a little menace. I took his brat-taming so seriously but he's only sometimes successful with this one

She's got a hot-head and a short fuse. She explodes. Her tongue is venom, her glare is lethal and her edge cuts even herself. But when she's in the wrong, she goes above and beyond to make up for it. She's exhausting.

No pressure tags! @xxnashiraxx @khywren @obsessedwhyyes @bardic-inspo @verbenaa @jainydoe @crepsley dish about your OCs pretty pls

[asukiess]

okay sorry, kind of a rant but something that just clicked for me is that Loveybug isn’t yknow, what I want ladybug to be, but the facet of her being over the top in love, super into romance and being what most would consider an annoying lovesick teen girl? I eat it up. like all the lame takes about her being a stalker and too pushy and blah blah. I want my goo goo eyes marinette. I want my teen girl with hearts in her eyes!!! because young love is so pretty and idealistic! I want Loveybug over her Teenbeat magazines with full spreads of chat and adrien. I want her feeling no shame in falling in love. I want her watching sailor moon (that normally marinette would probably find too silly/trite, which is also good bc THATS truly marinette) but idk. Does this make sense. I want her (desperately) wanting to believe that magical ice cream exists !!! soulmates !!!

Like it’s not who I want Maribug to be, I love her character - but I think it’s. fun. to really go ham about this side of her that’s usually mocked. and stuff young girls are mocked for. which isn’t saying much bc teen girls are mocked a lot for their interests but lol

[no-passaran]

a few years ago, someone in university told me she didn't want to be friends (we had met up for coffee once) because I'm *xyz sign* and her experience has been that *xyz sign* tend to be emotional master manipulators, they like to play the victim in situations where they caused the drama. Obviously every person is entitled to whatever boundaries they want to have for friendship and dating but it's not ok to just accuse me of being a certain way on grounds of... the date I was born lol.

Like I used to think this stuff was ok as long as people didn't take it seriously, and as long as it's just "oh I'm a *xyz* that is why I'm artsy :-)" but now I honestly just want nothing at all to do with it, and I don't want to know anything about it either.

Wow, I'm so sorry you were told that. Thank you for sharing your experience.

Astrology is a form of bigotry, after all. Assuming that a whole demographic (people born in x time) share a series of personality traits, assigning those personality traits to people you've never even met because of this aprioristic belief about their demographic. It's the definition of bigotry.

In Western society, astrology is less of a problem than other discriminatory systems (racism, sexism, homotransphobia, classism, etc) because it's not as widely believed and hasn't become entrenched in the societal organization to be a systemic issue present in the social, cultural, and legal spheres and interpersonal relations that affect us everyday. (That is not the case in other places like, for example, India, where astrology might dictate who you can and cannot marry and where the victim's astrological sign has been used in court to refuse justice to women who have been raped, justifying the man who raped them because women born under certain star positions are believed to be astrologically "bringers of bad luck" and even bringers of death, so they're free game to abuse!)

So I'm not comparing it when it comes to the effects it has, but on a personal belief level it's just as discriminatory. It's as stupid to say "I don't want to be friends with this person because they were born at X time so I assume Y bad things about them" than it would be to make the judgement based on someone's gender, ethnicity, class, etc. There have already been people (in Western countries where we don't traditionally have an astrology-based oppression system) reporting discrimination for their astrological sign: I've heard experiences similar to you with that "friend", but some have even explained how they were not believed about their pain when they could have found out earlier about their illnesses and refused renting a room because the flat bans people of certain astrological signs!

It can seem like it's harmless fun, but this is what the belief is promoting. It's only a logical continuation of believing in horoscopes to start making these generalizations. It also contributes to normalizing these patterns of thought according to which it's "normal" and "truthful" to consider that whole demographic groups share the same traits (that is: bigotry; lowering our guard in front of more serious ones like racism, sexism, etc).

I don't think we should go around shaming people who talk about it, but I am certain that it is a responsibility not to contribute to spreading this form of bigotry, especially now that it's on the rise and becoming more popular among young people. For example, it goes against our interests as queer community to make space for astrology in our events (making people introduce themselves with their name and their sign, or painting astrology as some kind of radical queer thing somehow just because it's trendy??), I think we should stop promoting these beliefs in magazines, and start challenging our friends who believe in it to think of how it works (and how it prepares them for other forms of discrimination).

Idk sorry for answering with such a long text but I'm tired of seeing it rise too and I had a friend who went though that, she got really into astrology because her other friends were into it, and once that anti-scientific proof door was open she got into moon landing denialism and now she believes in conspiracy theories and it's very annoying to talk with her lol.

[jfashion-confessions]

I feel so sorry for the mod because of all the Jirai asks that get flooded on here daily but I literally won’t shut up about this…

the only reason we’re even having this stupid Jirai discourse in the first place is because people love mindlessly consuming shit and spreading misinformation from overseas and that being topped by brands using words they shouldn’t use for their money hungry profit and stupid aesthetics. Consumerism has rotten everyone’s brains ever since aesthetics became this insanely important thing to make someone feel connected to whatever they do. The rise of aesthetics as a whole has ruined how people consume and enjoy things and it’s gotten to the point where people mindlessly use a slur for their clothing style.

I also don’t understand why it’s so hard for (especially western) people to stop using the word Jirai, if y’all are against using slurs like the r-word or n-word (which you should!) then why aren’t you against using Jirai? Just because Japanese girls use it for themselves? Most of the time that’s not even the case and you are the ones calling them Jirai girls because of their style. The tag is literally overflown with white women or fashion influencers. And even if a Japanese girl calls herself a Jirai, that would be the same category as black people calling each other the n-word. Its not your word to use since it doesn’t get used against you and it doesn’t involve you, no matter how much you think it does. You don’t get called Jirai by other people and get looked down upon for being mentally ill in a Japanese society that has the highest suicide rate. It’s not for westerners to decide what they are allowed to use or not. Idk why everyone is so obsessed with using whatever word they want as soon as it’s connected to Japan. The word doesn’t belong to westerners and they shouldn’t use it. Point blank period! Is it so hard to not call yourself a slur? Just because y’all want clicks on instagram and feel like you belong to a group? It’s disgusting. Nothing else. Use the BPD tag or Menhera tag for all I know. But don’t use a slur.

And I swear if I see one more person say girly kei isn’t a thing is gonna have to fight with me…the fashion has been called that for ages and just because some stupid YouTuber and afterwards fashion magazine decided to connect it to a slur everyone thinks it’s ok to use it? Pure insanity.…same goes for a bunch of famous western „Jirai influencer“ (Jesus that word alone makes me sick, imagine profiting from mentally ill people) shaming or trying to remove mentally ill girls from Jirai just because it makes them uncomfortable. It’s insanely annoying to see how many westerners are trying to erase Japanese people from the conversation and origin of Jirai just because „i want my silly little clothes and aesthetic that have a dark origin but I’m not like these people so please pay attention to me and give me clicks and likes but don’t associate me with these disgusting people thehe“

Anyway. I’m fucking tired of this discussion and every day I get reminded why I stopped engaging with the j-fashion community as a whole just because people forgot how to act and think critically about things all for the sake of profit and consumption and some stupid likes on the internet.

.

[slabmaxxing]

i love your nppp designs so much EEEEEE it’s just made me realize how much cool merch lifestealers & other mcyts could be making… and now it’s all i can think about… the worms in my brain….

THANK YOU AI PURJOPA giggles and kicks feet >_< ... im still coming up with the outfits themselves but i really want to make likr . posters and magazine covers/spreads (outfit and composition practice bundle deal..?)

lord i need more mcyts to make cool merch. like for example mumbos merch is very cool ... id genuinely buy nppp or osc or Anything merch. i need more graphic tees and hoodies... paces around. i wish more mcyts branched out from the typical hoodie/shirt/wtv but idk what theyd do. spoke should make rainbow headband merch though

[nokonomi]

Just…Clara Nightingale in General? Idk, random post.

She stages that she “likes” animals, and uses them to promote them in her films, but offscreen she doesn’t like animals. She doesn’t like them. They remind her of wet dogs. And she does not like getting wet. She thinks their feral animals who need rabies shots.

But she does have a secret soft spot for on specific animal, the wolf. She loves wolves. absolutely adores them. But onscreen she hates animals and doesn’t show the public her vulnerability and everything else above it all.

Honestly she doesn’t give a damn. You can say all you want about how she’s cruel to animals, but she don’t give a damn. She be snapping at you in the next 3 minutes and you get drop kicked into a dirty alleyway out of her fancy mansion located all the way in France.

She has 2 mansion estates! One is named “The Grand Nightingale Estate” which is in Hollywood, Los Angeles. She goes there when she visits Hollywood for the summer, but she usually resides in France, where movie stars are more common there nowadays, and the mansion in France is called “La petit paradis”

Which directly translates to in English, “The Little Heaven” google translation may be wrong though correct me if so please!

The Kratt Brothers make a spontaneous appearance in Hollywood and spread their magazines, books, and kids plushies and their merchandise and answer questions at the Hall of Fame, and when you see Clara getting all jealous and mad, she will not hesitate to kick them out and dump truck their asses.

She’s kind of like Fiore from Disventure Camp mixed with Darla Dimple from Cats Don’t Dance. We’re always finding some little girls that are so threatening in TV Shows! 🤭 Anyways so as I was saying…sassy and exposing attitude, ATTITUDE WALK OFF!

She don’t give a fuck about anything. She just be on her way, you could be complaining, girl she be ganging up on you with her 40 bodyguards. If it’s serious then Rudy it is. Don’t mess with that 9 year old little girl. Attitude is on work and fire.

The Kratt Bros would be suffering probably and she would be like sipping a cup of tea next to a warm fireplace and sitting on her velvet chair and being all like “I’m feeling something right now and it good Rudy” LIKE AHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHHA-

anyways, more lore coming soon! Just some random ass facts I came up with…

[crehador]

package day! it's nuis nuis and more nuis this time (plus misc but all smic)

first the asanuma cover issue of seiyuu animedia aka the only thing i was originally going to buy lol

it's a lot bigger than i thought it would be and the pages are all thick like a proper photobook, asnm's warumono-san photoshoot is fucking glorious in its entirety and there are soma and shoutan spreads in here too (which is written on the cover but i was too asnm-focused to even notice until i flipped through)

got two copies to potentially cut one up for poster-making but... idk if i can bring myself to do that, might just keep a spare lmao

OK SO NOW THE NUIS. ALL THE NUIS

the family grows!! and by like a lot lmao

ew02 nuis have finally been obtained, and yes i got the new ones that i said were ugly (it was like an affectionate sort of ugly!)

i still need to get clothes for the 15cm fanmade ones, they're absurdly adorable (more stiff than i imagined, in a good way) but completely naked. so photo gets cropped here for now lol. did pick them up a... familiar-looking jacket they can share in the meantime though

ichiro cosplay jumpscare! not for wearing, will see if i can somehow incorporate it into a nui house/nest area

(just to be fair to the two blorbos i picked up a set of samatoki cosplay bracelets too lol)

anyway. most of the nuis are new but the orig design ichinui and samanui are dupes because......

these new ones have bones! and beef. with the original originals. but. surely they'll start to get along soon......

i thought a lot about getting just the bones and doing the surgery myself but honestly i don't have the heart to cut them open. or the skill lmao. so luckily managed to find a listing for bone-in ones

grabbed a bunch of clothes for them too

and love them, holy shit they fit so well. if i can find this shop again i might buy more next time

(they're too cute for me to change their clothes now... will get around to letting them try on the other outfits later)

last but abso-fucking-lutely not least FOOD CRIMES GEORG HAS BEEN PROCURED

been on the hunt for these stands since the designs first came out tbh, candyapplegate will never die. to me. ichiro what is the matter with you

(the stands are TINY but i love them to bits)

so yeag the "just two magazines" order became very much. not that lmao. there's also a postcard that deserves its own post so i'll get to that once i clean everything up

think i finally have enough nuis now <- guy who has 2 more on preorder for this month lmao