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#slayed
mi-kko-ran-tanen · 5 months
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hockey players acting like neck guards are lame as if the little mock neck popping above the jersey isn’t the cuntiest look of all time
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wateveriwant · 11 months
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Michelle Yeoh, Ke Huy Quan
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and Stephanie Hsu at the 2023 Met Gala
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blesby · 1 year
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edgarallenhoe31 · 1 year
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The father, the son, and holy spirit
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bastardbvby · 7 months
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sapnap: shit pisses me off bro oh my god – some people are too stupid man, some people are too fucking dumb i mean god damn. fuck dude sometimes i'm like should i just hop in? fuck it let's go
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swedenis-h · 4 months
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“My father ain’t worried about me.”
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chiperti · 5 months
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stay glam I mean
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old sketch I finished today
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doctorcurdlejr · 9 months
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Veronica lodge is beating jughead to death in terms of little homie gayass allegations this season. She stole his entire life down to the homeless movie theater and Betty Cooper
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metukika · 1 year
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when you and your gf are first years with a sense of style
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atlantis-area · 3 months
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KEY (Music Bank Global Festival, 231215)
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mafia-bella · 4 months
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Ivy Wolfe x Vicki Chase
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cowboyscarters · 1 year
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JISOO Vogue France, 2023
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jungilhoon · 1 month
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jamminvroomvroom · 5 days
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amelia dimz had something to do with this.
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lovelydivs · 7 months
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WHY HAVE I NEVER SEEN THIS
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senqv · 18 days
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HOUSE OF KINGS.
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blue lock ! royal / fantasy au series featuring : michael kaiser x fem! reader
warning(s): 1.1k , asshole ism , more traditional feminine roles , arranged marriage , lmk if there are more !!
a/n: how r we feeling
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ONE. CHILD OF PROPHECY
in the reign of the first emperors, or so said the tales, the child of god is born — in silver moonlight and touched with the whisper of divinity.
they said that in his birth, the muses came and told it to his half-nymph mother, a beloved daughter of the water gods. they landed kisses on her sweat-sheened temple and sang each unravelling prophecy with the golden strings of their lyres; chosen by god, they purred, the emperor of kings.
they did not stay for long, but they had no need to. word travels swiftly in the whirling halls of the palace.
michael, gift of god, whom the divine had gingerly formed in their image, golden and jewel-eyed. the one who will fell men like wheat beneath a scythe and have them all crouching at his heel.
a godly son means haste to find a wife to carry on the bloodline, hungry in hopes that the gods will shine their divine light again with each beautiful son to come. and thus, the one they chose is you, daughter of house adalheidis, rumoured to have had divine blood from a sea nymph mixed in aeons ago. a nymph is the least of the lesser gods, but still a god, nonetheless, and divine blood purified the muddy dust of the human race to mould saints and heroes.
the divine blood of your house has long been watered down, with no traces of any deific features that might make an appearance in fables or folklore. but still, it is enough.
nymph, in the olden languages, is the same word for bride.
so perhaps your fate had been preordained long ago.
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and so, when you first meet god, you are just short of thirteen years old.
they twine your hair with ribbons and strings of pearls, silent tittering as they dusted a pearly powder over your cheeks, an incandescent glow illuminating against the bronze mirror. your head lolls to the rhythm of their chatter, following the direction your hair was gently tugged at, eyes slow and blinking, not quite shed of the silvery sleep.
when you arrive, the sun shines brightly in the transparent sky, casting a golden glow over the white plaster of the palace architecture. banners hang from the ceiling, a royal blue, fluttering in the wind; your gaze climbs upwards, following the inscriptions of ancient fables, the effigies of the gods carved into the ceiling. the sunlight dancing in the curve of their marble eyes was so fervid you tore your gaze away in fear they might come alive.
a servant you had not caught the name of led you through the halls. he looked your age, maybe slightly older; not quite grown out into his lanky frame, eyes downcast and shy.
the emperor was not present, he had told you with nervous hands, and so you were being brought directly to the son of god himself.
your steps halt at a side door in the northernmost part of the palace. from what you could see, it was not as grand as the throne room you had passed by earlier, but it was obvious how pampered this boy prince was; before you, arched pillars loomed over the doors of imported oakwood, engraved with gentle carvings of even more obscure fables of prophetical sons and warrior kings.
he is lying on his side on a wide, pillowed bench, thick furs strewn all over the velvety couch. his eyes were half closed, lashes fluttering against his cheeks each time he blinked.
at the purposeful scuffing of your sandals against the floor, he glanced up briefly, lolling his head to the side to look at you.
lazily, his hands stroked the majestic forest cat on his lap, golden fur streaked like a lion, mirroring its owner. but no — it would be wrong to compare it as such. his hair was entirely different, lit by the sun with a spring honey lustre, spun from threads of gold. if you looked closer, within it glints the golden circlet of a prince, nearly black against the brightness of his hair.
you felt your breaths slow, gaping at the cold shock of his beauty. he was not much older than you, but incomparable with the boys your age; of jewel blue eyes sharp as a beast, cheeks and mouth tinted a cherubic rose, painted by the careful muses themselves.
if you were not a child of noble birth, you're quite sure your jaw would have been hanging slack by now. instead, you pressed your lips together and tore your gaze to the floor.
you can feel his eyes on you, and hear a slight shuffle of him leaning more forward to regard you. "what is your name?" his voice is silken, tinged with the slight crackle of sleep and boredom. you keep your gaze screwed to the ground out of spite, a muscle in your jaw ticking. your family was one of the great pillars of the empire, flourishing in trade and commerce. you were his arranged bride, to be the empress of his nation. and yet he still did not know you.
now, he sits up completely, cat yowling faintly in his lap. he speaks again, louder, clear as the glacial waters of the north. "what is your name?" the first lapse of silence was excusable, perhaps you had not heard. now, the boy prince demands an answer.
and so, you level your gaze with his, staring with all the conviction and animosity of a noble girl who had never experienced such blatant disregard. you speak your name as if casting a spell, each syllable strong and resonant, muttered with intention — to engrave your name in his mind, to make sure he could not forget it even if he wanted.
"of house adalheidis," you added in finality.
he's focused on you now, silvery blue gaze as cutting as a knife. he tips his chin up, staring downwards. "my name is michael," he purrs, "kaiser." the side of his mouth quirked slightly at the intensity of your stare. from the corner of your eyes, you faintly notice the dimples appearing at the sides of his face.
you both held the other's gaze in silence. the amusement on his face was obvious, and your brows melded together in confusion for a split second.
then he blinked, mouth cracked open like a yawning cat, mirroring the feline on his lap.
kaiser's interest came as quickly as it left, as if everything was a divine comedy preened before him to garner his delight. he no longer was looking at you.
"welcome to the palace."
you were raised in court, and you knew dismissal when you heard it. you lowered your head with clenched fingers, bruising the crushed silk of your dress.
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