#that's MY cursive header

[rookthorne]

911? Yes, I'd like to report two firefighters starting a fire... in my panties!

I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS BECAUSE IT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐮 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐩

You were quite proud of the joke you had come up with, and you could only hope that they would appreciate just as much as you. Spoiler alert: they did.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ༄ Fireman!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader x Fireman!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ༄ 285

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 ༄ Fluff

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ༄ @allcapsbingo 𝗡𝟭 — Firefighter AU (May Adoptable) — Masterlist

𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“You two are going to have to buy me some more panties, you know that, right?”

The abrupt question, whilst innocent in its delivery, had the exact reaction you had hoped for. 

Steve, who was sitting on the couch with his sketchbook in hand and glancing at a sleeping Cap and Cleo, had choked and spluttered a laugh of surprise. And Bucky, amidst reading a chapter in one of his books, had snorted with laughter and shook his head in amusement. 

“Wha- Why? What now?” Steve coughed; his voice strained as he regained composure. 

You eyed them both, your focus flickering between Steve’s raised brows and slack mouth, to Bucky’s smirk and mischievous gaze, and then to their uniform jackets hanging at the door – suspenders and pants hanging off the hook with their duffel bags.

“I’ve been keeping it a secret,” you ventured carefully, watching as their expressions morphed into ones of slight concern, and you cleared your throat. “You keep starting a fire in them.”

A beat of silence passed, and you fretted that the joke hadn’t landed, when both men threw their heads back with raucous laughter – both books abandoned in their mirth. Cap and Cleo had startled awake from the noise, yipping and howling with their dad’s. 

“That was a good one,” Bucky breathed, reaching for his phone at the same time Steve moved closer to his side. “An’ you made your point, honey. C’mere.” He gestured you over, and you sat next to him nervously while he brought up something on his phone – a web page, with an intricate cursive header, and a shopping cart. “Let’s go shoppin’, but only if you get a set to match our truck ‘n uniforms.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[fordford]

hnghhhh can you draw fiddleford. doing something silly idk

i got carried away with this and lost the plot a bit. sorry anon. hope you like it anyway (text under readmore because cursive is hard with a pixel brush)

Header

Ford: At this point I am convinced the only thing he is wearing that is not stolen is his prosthetic, which he constructed himself. Although he probably stole the scrap metal he used to build it. Fiddleford: i doubt folks care much what happens to their trash once they bring it to the dump and let he who is without sin cast the first stone! [Ford has marked up Fiddleford's sentence, indicating where letters should be capitalized and where a comma should be] Ford: If you're going to vandalize my journal, at least use proper punctuation. [Ford has crossed out Fiddleford's Biblical accusation of hypocrisy] Ford: You can't prove anything and I am immune to your gentile condemnations.

Diagram

Ford: hat stolen from a scarecrow Fiddleford: it was a gift! besides i needed it more than him

Ford: shades stolen from my brother [Fiddleford has crossed out the word "stolen" and wrote "RECLAIMED" above it] Fiddleford: ain't stealing if they were yours to begin with

Ford: shorts say "BAD MOON RISING" on the rear. not sure where he got these. kind of afraid to ask. Fiddleford: no illustrated diagram of the writing? Ford: LEAVE ME ALONE

Ford: sweater stolen from ME! again... Fiddleford: i'm keeping it. mine now

Ford: [pointing to the socks] fairly certain he just plain old shoplifted these. Fiddleford: i did ♥︎

Ford: wlm'g dzmg gl pmld ru sv hglov srh ylcvih Fiddleford: i can read atbash darling Ford: decode this then [message in substitution cipher] Fiddleford: oryh brx wrr

[naeverse]

Extra Credit

🏫staring. Professor O’Hara x Sassy fem!reader

🎒 preview: “Do you agree, Y/N? Will you help me help you?"

🖋️Summary: Miguel O'Hara, a renowned, attractive genetics professor, known for his strict stance against extra credit. As a senior, you struggle to keep up with coursework and Mr. O'Hara's opposition to extra credit makes it difficult for you to pass. However, a chance encounter with you changes everything, as Mr. O'Hara becomes more open to helping you - but you must help him in return.

📕tw/cw. unprotected sex, harsh language, hate sex, rough, hand job, blow job, dirty talk, oral sex, spanking, accidental simulation, multiple reader orgasms, big dick Miguel, mutual orgasm, etc… 

📘pet names: (hers) little puta or puta (Little bitch, bitch), Muñeca (Doll) 

✏️ rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I

📖Word count: 5.3k words

🍎 Credit to Artist in header: Narutoss.ramen

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

Genetics...

Why the hell did you decide to take this class?

That was the question swirling in your mind as you sat in your genetics college lecture, stifling a yawn. 

This was, without a doubt, your most dreaded class.

The workload was overwhelming, the subject matter mind-numbingly tedious, and worst of all, it just didn't capture your interest. No matter how hard you tried, it felt like your relationship with your genetics class was doomed from the start.

So, it came as no surprise that you were struggling in the course...

You reclined in your chair, legs propped up on the desk, wearing a pair of knee-high leather boots adorned with belts and straps. A black crop top with "Baby Girl" written in cursive across your chest covered your torso, while a long-sleeve fishnet shirt was layered underneath. Below, you sported a black and white flannel skirt held in place by a snug belt that accentuated your waist and curves. The skirt was perhaps a tad too short, that with a slight shift of your legs could give a tantalizing glimpse of the black thong you wore underneath.

You were a troublemaker, unapologetically sowing chaos and taking pleasure in the discomfort of others. Manipulating people's emotions, capitalizing on their vulnerabilities, and hurling insults were all routine for you, and you reveled in it.

However, nothing quite compared to the joy you found in getting under the skin of your genetics professor…

Mr. Miguel O'Hara.

The imposing figure entered the classroom, firmly closing the door behind himself. For most, his mere presence was enough to command respect and instill fear… 

But not for you.

You couldn't help but smirk as you observed his stoic, tanned face, his curly, dark brown hair flowing to the back of his head, the black spectacles concealing his amber eyes, and his muscular frame neatly dressed in a simple white polo shirt, black tie, black slacks, and leather oxfords. Even his black bookbag appeared dwarfed by his imposing figure. As he made his way through the rows of desks, greeting his students with a grunt.

Mr. O'Hara was a man on the edge, stressed beyond belief. He had to wrangle with four different classes of young adults, all seemingly indifferent to his efforts to teach genetics. They attended his class merely to mark their presence, spending their time either dozing off, chatting, or glued to their phones during his lectures.

Countless students had been kicked out of his class due to the disrespect they showed him, but it had reached a point where it seemed futile to do so anymore.

As the days passed, the number of students disrespecting him only grew, and it was no wonder that he dreaded walking into the classroom. The exhaustion and stress etched into his features, with drooping shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes, and the ever-increasing wrinkles on his tanned face were visible proof of the toll it took on him after each lecture.

He walked by your desk as you smiled at him. "Good Afternoon Mr. Grumpy!" You exclaimed, causing a few laughs to ripple through the students at your comment. Mr. O'Hara groaned, placing his bag down onto the floor by his desk.

Mr. O'Hara was already annoyed; he had barely had enough sleep last night and was running on only three hours of rest after staying up late to grade these dreadful students' assignments.

He wasn't in the mood for your antics today...

"Y/N, are you planning on being like this the entire semester? Because I just might have to drop you if that's the case," Mr. O'Hara said coldly, turning around to face the girl who was smirking back at him.

You giggled at his threat. "Oh, Mr. O'Hara, but you told me that last time, and guess what?" You held up your hands, looking around the class with a smirk. "Looks like I'm still here." Mr. O'Hara rolled his eyes, ignoring you as he walked to the small podium in front of the room where he would take attendance.

"Okay... when I say your name, I need you to say 'here,' and only 'here,'" he said, his glare directed at you, causing you to chuckle. Mr. O'Hara began going down the list, calling out many students' names, and receiving replies ranging from "here" to "present" to complete silence.

"Lastly...

Y/N."

You couldn't help but wear a mischievous smile. You’ve been waiting for this moment. 

"Yes, I'm present today, Mr. Grumpy Gorilla."

Mr. O'Hara clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the pen in his hand. His hand trembled with anger as he pressed the pen's tip harshly onto the paper, marking a check beside your name. It was taking every ounce of his self-control not to lose his temper with the girl who seemed determined to test his patience to its breaking point.

He exhaled deeply, doing his best to ignore your presence as he scanned the classroom. "Okay, good. Everyone is here," he announced, moving his podium out of the way to begin his lecture.

"So, in our last class, we discussed what genetics is, its significance, and why it is important to be studied," Mr. O'Hara said, moistening his lips. His well-built figure strode over to the whiteboard, where he picked up a dark blue marker.

"To kickstart your minds this afternoon, here's your introductory question: 

How do genes work?"

He voiced the question while writing it on the board. As Mr. O'Hara spoke, your gaze lazily trained on his muscular backside whilst he wrote on the board. Your eyelids were on the verge of closing any second.

Surveying the rest of the class, you noticed some students had already succumbed to sleep, others were absorbed into their phones, and only a handful seemed to be actively engaged with the imposing, tanned instructor at the front of the room.

"So, does anyone here know what a gene is?" Mr. O'Hara asked the class, turning around to see only two raised hands; the rest seemed utterly disinterested.

'I don't get paid enough for this.'

He thought with a heavy sigh. Running a frustrated hand through his dark brown curls, he continued scanning the class until his gaze settled on a girl at the back, her hand raised high. He pointed at her, prompting a smile to spread across her face as she began to respond.

"Genes are the basic units of heredity... blah, blah, blah."

You rolled your eyes, slumping lower into your seat. This girl was a living and breathing Siri, reciting what sounded like a paragraph straight from Google search itself.

Once the girl finished her detailed explanation, you raised a finger. Mr. O'Hara hesitated to acknowledge you, but he did so anyway. "Yes, Y/N?"

"Out of everything that girl said, was any of that important? I kinda zoned out after the word 'genes...'"

Mr. O'Hara sighed, giving the girl in the back of the class who answered his question an apologetic glance. He rested his hands on his hips, turning his stern gaze back onto you. "Everything she said was, in fact, important," his voice was firm and cold.

"Maybe if you actually came to my class to learn, you'll actually be interested in what your classmates are saying," Mr. O'Hara said, pushing his black eyeglasses up his nose and placing the marker he had in his hand into his pocket. He glanced down at the back of the annoying girl's black boots resting on her desk, a scowl pulling at his lips. "And get your feet off your desk. You're not at home."

You rolled your eyes and begrudgingly placed your feet on the floor, but your expression remained unfazed as you locked eyes with Mr. O'Hara. For a brief moment, he couldn't help but savor this small victory over the challenging student.

You hummed nonchalantly, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest. As you snickered at Mr. O'Hara's faint, prideful expression on his face, you couldn't resist adding, "You had your moment, I'll give you that, but don't get too comfortable... 

Class isn't up yet, Mr. O." 

Your tone held a hint of amusement, which only further irritated Mr. O'Hara.

This woman was unbelievably infuriating. It seemed like she had a comeback for everything, and it was driving him up the wall.

"Just sit there and be quiet. Let me teach the people who want to listen," he spat, his tanned face contorted with anger. "At least be like the ones who don't give a damn and stay silent."

You raised your hands in mock surrender. "My bad, my bad. Didn't mean to ruin your victory moment," you said sarcastically.

Mr. O'Hara let out a frustrated sigh and continued with his lecture on genes and how they worked, determined to get through the material regardless of your antics.

Mr. O'Hara was quite surprised. You remained astonishingly quiet for the rest of his lecture, which was a rare occurrence. He managed to finish his teaching earlier than usual, allowing the students some time to work on their assignments before the class ended. 

Mr. O'Hara settled in front of his computer, launching the spreadsheets for his classes, eager to resume grading the remaining assignments that had kept him awake throughout the night.

In contrast, you let out a sigh, showing no interest in working on your assignment. Instead, you rocked back and forth on the back legs of your chair.

'Well, this class is boring as hell,' 

You thought, casting a glance around the room to see some students diligently working on their assignments, while others were following your lead…

Slacking off.

You chewed your bubble gum, your eyes landing on Mr. O'Hara, who sat at his desk with hooded eyes, peering at the screen in front of him through his black spectacles.

A mischievous smirk crossed your face.

'This should be fun.'

You pushed your chair back and stood up, the belts on your boots jiggling as you walked over to Mr. O'Hara's desk. Even before you reached him, you could hear him mutter under his breath.

“Oh, mi maldito Dios”

His hand ran frustratingly over his face, a clear sign of his annoyance. You hopped onto his desk, your skirt riding up your thighs. Mr. O'Hara sighed, leaning back in his seat, looking at you, his expression making it evident that he wasn't in the mood for any distractions.

"What do you want?" he asked, his irritation palpable.

You shrugged your shoulders, a smirk playing on your lips. "Nothing really..."

Mr. O'Hara scoffed, shaking his head in exasperation. "If you don't want anything, go back to your seat. I'm grading, and you can't be over here," he sternly said, turning his attention back to his computer, determined to resume his work.

You swung your legs, absentmindedly poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. Your gaze drifted down to the stack of papers Mr. O'Hara was currently grading, and you recognized it as the test from last week.

'I probably bombed that shit,' 

You thought, recalling just how challenging the test had been. You glanced back over at Mr. O'Hara, who was staring sternly at his computer screen. His intense gaze made it seem like he was angry at his monitor.

"Have you graded mine yet? Your test last week was really fucking hard," you said with a chuckle. Mr. O'Hara groaned, fully aware that if he just did what you wanted, you'd leave him in peace.

"Yeah, I have," he replied, hastily changing spreadsheets to access your afternoon class. He knew you were likely eager to know your score.

You waited patiently, your gaze shifting from Mr. O'Hara's stoic face to the side of his computer monitor.

Mr. O'Hara quickly located your name, intending to show you your overall grade in his class along with your latest scores on assignments and tests. He turned his monitor towards you, ensuring that only the two of you could see your grades.

You peered over at the monitor, leaning in so close to Mr. O'Hara that your sweet perfume filled his senses. It took him by surprise, leaving him momentarily speechless.

You glanced over at him, your eyebrows furrowing. "Mr. O, are you going to walk me through this?"

Your words snapped him out of his trance. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. Using his finger, he pointed to the 58% you had received on your test the previous week.

"Y/N, as you can see, you've scored below the standard I expect," he said, watching as you grimaced at the score. Your reaction actually shocked him.

"Damn, what's my overall score?" You asked, your eyes locking with Mr. O'Hara's. His heart and stomach did something at the contact. 

He hastily faced his computer, backing out of your test grade to show your overall score. 

Using his finger, he pointed, once again, at the screen, bringing to your attention the 42% that showed your overall grade for his course. 

"You might want to consider putting more effort into your work, and in actively listening during my lectures.” Mr. O’Hara’s voice stern as after showing your scores, he went back to grading. He was ready for you to leave him be and go back to your seat. 

But you did no such thing…

You clicked your tongue. "Well, shit." You glanced over at Mr. O'Hara, who seemed to be determined to focus his attention solely on grading. You looked down at your lap with a worried expression.

‘Shit, I need to pass his class to graduate this year. These are the last credits I need,' You thought, biting your lip as you pondered your situation.

'It's too far into the year to change classes, and I'm sure as hell not waiting another year to graduate,' 

You huffed, glancing over at Mr. O'Hara, who was examining a student's test packet, his eyes fixed on the stapled papers.

"What is it?" he coldly inquired, noticing your gaze on him.

You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him. "You're not one to offer makeup work or extra credit, are you?" you inquired, crossing your legs, causing your skirt to ride up your thighs even higher.

Mr. O'Hara closed the packet he had been examining and shot you an annoyed glance. However, when his eyes fell upon your legs, he was taken aback.

The sight left him momentarily stunned...

Your legs were...

His eyes widened.

Exquisite.

The skin appeared silky and smooth, plush and soft. An almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch them washed over him, expecting them to feel as soft as marshmallows under his fingers.

Your legs were indeed a captivating sight…

His heart skipped a beat, and a blush crept up on his face.

He took a deep breath, turning his attention back to the test packet, hoping to hide the faint blush that had crept onto his cheeks. He cleared his throat, aiming to maintain a professional and firm tone. "No, I don't offer makeup work or extra credit. You know that Y/N."

You sighed once more, your desperation palpable. "Come on, Mr. O, not even a single extra credit assignment?" you implored. You refused to accept no for an answer. "I mean, you saw my grade, Mr. O. I really need the help," you whispered to Mr. O’Hara, your tone hushed.

Mr. O'Hara let out a deep sigh, his frustration clearly evident as he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of your unrelenting persistence. It was becoming increasingly clear that your behavior was getting under his skin.

Even if he occasionally offered extra credit, the thought of extending that courtesy to you didn't sit well with him. After all, you had entered his class and proceeded to insult your classmates, which had only succeeded in aggravating him further. He couldn't help but be surprised that you suddenly seemed so invested in your grades.

Desperately attempting to refocus on his grading, he did his best to ignore your continuous pleas. However, strangely, his attention kept wandering elsewhere. In his peripheral vision, he couldn't help but notice your thighs, which appeared incredibly smooth under your short flannel skirt. It was apparent that this outfit likely violated every dress code on campus.

As he grappled with the conflict between concentrating on his work and being distracted by your constant appeals and your captivating appearance. 

After a while of pleading, you decided to give up, feeling the frustration building inside you as it became apparent that Mr. O'Hara had no intention of helping you.

"Fine then..." you muttered under your breath, hopping off his desk. Unfortunately, as you made your exit, your hand accidentally bumped against Mr. O'Hara's black pencil holder, sending his numerous writing tools scattering onto the ground, along with the case.

"Shit," you cursed quietly, realizing the mess you had inadvertently created. Your outburst drew the attention of everyone in the classroom, briefly interrupting their activities before they returned to their tasks.

The accident appeared to push Mr. O'Hara over the edge. He was already struggling with distractions and inner conflict, and the disruption only added to his stress. With a groan, he stood up from his chair, muttering to himself in frustration, "Me voy a volver jodidamente loco," as he began to kneel down and clean up the spilled writing tools.

However, as he glanced up, what he saw left him wide-eyed with surprise. Before him, you were on your hands and knees, helping him pick up the pencils and pens that had fallen. But it wasn't the act itself that shocked him. 

It was something else entirely...

Your back was turned to him, and your arching posture thrust your luscious bottom into the air, affording him an unobstructed view of your enticing rear. 

Mr. O'Hara couldn't help but notice that your ass was clad in a black thong, which, unfortunately, did little to conceal your exposed cheeks beneath the black and white flannel skirt.

Mr. O'Hara found himself frozen, and completely speechless

He couldn't discern whether it was his prolonged abstinence from sexual activity that had left him in this state, but his thoughts spiraled into a maelstrom of naughty and lustful fantasies.

His mind became filled with improper and dirty visions of you: 

Images of you on your knees before him, with his substantial member in your mouth as you expertly accommodated it, taking him in the depths of your throat...

Thoughts of him spanking you into submission. Your plump bottom turning red after every smack of his hand as he relished in your body trembling in pleasure and pain…

Thoughts of his hand wrapped around your gorgeous neck whilst he fucked you senselessly. Your velvet walls sucking him in as he had his way with you.  

Mr. O’Hara licked his lips. 

He soon snapped out of his thoughts when he observed you bending over once more to retrieve another pencil, offering him yet another view, but this time, of your clothed pussy. 

He almost salivated at the sight…

"Damn, why do you have so many pens and pencils?" You said in annoyance, standing up on your knees to place the last few in the pencil holder before getting to your feet.

Mr. O'Hara cleared his throat, making an effort to regain his composure and expel any inappropriate thoughts or desires of you and your body from his mind. 

Mr. O'Hara had a reputation on campus for being one of the attractive professors. Being in his early 30s, many college students believed they had a chance with the genetics professor.

On a daily basis, many students tried to get his attention, whether by staring at him for a moment too long, touching his hand when exchanging things, buying him gifts, lunch, and snacks, dropping things to kneel before him so they could come face to face with his crotch, or leaning in during conversations to display their cleavage in the hopes of catching his eye.

Mr. O’Hara was used to women trying to get his attention and seeing explicit things like this…

So why was it so different with you?

Because Mr. O'hara knew damn well that your actions weren't intentional…

You had a sour relationship with Mr. O'Hara. You'll piss him off, he'll yell at you and use all of his willpower to keep from throwing something across the room.

That was your relationship... 

He hated you. 

You hated him.

So he knew you didn't purposely flash him…

And that was the problem…

Mr. O'Hara was still in shock, observing as you placed the black pencil holder onto his desk and then stood nearby, beginning to dust off your outfit.

Soon, he recalled your previous question about the number of writing tools he had. He cleared his throat, averted his gaze to the ground, and noticed another pen nearby. On his knees, he leaned over to pick it up, the dark blue pen appearing rather small in his massive hand.

"It's normal... Every teacher has plenty of them," Mr. O’Hara finally muttered. He stood to his full seven-foot height and moved to insert the two he had retrieved into the pencil holder, then returned to his computer chair.

He attempted to divert his attention away from your physique, striving to put the recent sight behind him, but that skirt... 

That skirt was too damn short, irresistibly drawing his gaze back to your enticing thighs and igniting a stream of inappropriate, and lewd thoughts once more.

Mr. O’Hara shifted his attention to his computer, avoiding eye contact with you. "Y/N, I believe we need to address your dress code violation,”  he stated.

You groaned inwardly at his words. 

'Dress code violation, my ass,'

You thought, rolling your eyes. You believed that dress codes on college campuses were nonsensical. After all, you were an adult.

"What's the issue?" you asked, placing your hands on your hips. Mr. O’Hara glanced over at you, struggling to maintain eye contact.

"The dress code explicitly states that skirts cannot be shorter than three inches above the knee. If your skirt remains like this, I'll have no choice but to send you home, and you'll automatically fail my class," he explained.

Mr. O’Hara struggled to maintain professionalism, but his desire continued to cloud his thoughts, drawing his gaze back to your legs.

You couldn't care less about the genetics class, but this was your final year at this wretched college, and you weren't willing to be set back another year over a skirt.

"I'm sorry, Mr. O, but I don't have a change of clothes," you said with a feigned pout, then flashed a bright smile at Mr. O'Hara. "How about you let me off on a tiny, little warning, okay?" you asked, resting your hands on his desk.

He sighed, clearly frustrated by your attempt to evade the dress code violation. Mr. O’Hara knew your excuse probably wasn’t a lie, but your legs were undeniably distracting.

It was stirring up emotions he hadn't experienced in years, and it was genuinely bothering him.

Mr. O’Hara glanced over at you, finding you still smiling at him, hoping for his leniency. His eyes momentarily strayed towards your cleavage that peeked out from the dip in your crop top and down to your inviting thighs.

Suddenly, a voice emerged in the back of his head, a seductive and enticing thought that didn't want you to change. He found himself actually enjoying the way you looked...

‘At least I’ll have something to look at for the rest of class.’ 

Mr. O'Hara sighed softly, his gaze momentarily leaving his computer screen to address you. "Just this once, I'll let you stay. Don't make it a habit," he remarked, his tone stern. "But do ensure that you don't expose yourself too much."

You responded with a broad smile to his words, glancing down and realizing that your skirt had once again ridden up your legs, revealing more than you intended. In a hurry, you adjusted it.

Flashing someone in class had never been your intention; you simply thought the outfit was cute and wanted to wear it.

Flustered, you muttered, "Shit, my bad" not even realizing how high your skirt had risen.

Mr. O'Hara glanced at you as you adjusted your skirt, and before you drew the fabric down, he had caught a sight of your black, clothed mound.

He quickly turned his head, his ears reddening whilst he tried to focus on his computer. Mr. O’Hara was making every effort to distract himself from the dirty thoughts of you and your stunning thighs and pussy.

Mr. O’Hara cleared his throat, his gaze trained on the monitor as he attempted to resume what he was doing prior to being disturbed. “Y/N, just be sure to be more aware of what your body is showing in the future.” 

"Yeah, yeah, I understand," you replied, waving your hand dismissively as you returned to your seat. With a groan, you slumped into your chair, your gaze instantly fixed on the wall clock in Mr. O'Hara's classroom.

You still had twenty minutes left in this boring, ass class...

Another frustrated sigh escaped your lips. You knew the next few minutes were going to be dreadful...

The next few minutes were, in fact, filled with torture and torment for you and Mr. O'Hara.

He was desperately trying to grade and do his work, but he physically couldn't.

That moment just wouldn't leave his mind...

Your ass, presented clear as day to him. 

Your cheeks plump, round, and squeezed by your black thong, and…

Your clothed pussy… 

His entire body always felt a wave of heat and tingles run through him at the recollection. He had to put his pen down and take a breath.

Mr. O'Hara sat back in his seat and shut his eyes for a brief moment, a deep exhale passing his lips.

When he opened them, his amber-crimson eyes slowly drifted across the classroom, taking in the diligent students who were busily doing their work, and then the little shits who were asleep, typing on their phones, or daydreaming off into space.

And it was one of those little shits that caught his eye...

You…

You ran a frustrated hand through your hair while chewing the end of your pencil in thought. Your legs were crossed over one another as you balanced on your chair's back legs.

Mr. O’Hara continued to stare at you

He couldn't help it...

The more he looked, the more appealing every aspect of you seemed to become.

The black crop top that covered your torso had the phrase "Babygirl" written in cursive across the front. It hugged your body just right and really accentuated your breasts. Your eyes were so gorgeous as you focused them on the wall clock before you. 

The black, long-sleeve fishnet shirt you wore underneath your top hid the minor amount of skin of your stomach. Your stunning abdomen, concealed by the fishnet material, teased any male who desired a good look. On your waist, you wore a thick leather belt that squeezed your frame perfectly, emphasizing your marvelous curves.

As he continued to look at you, Mr. O'Hara's breathing became heavier, his eyes traveling down your body.

Mr. O'Hara was thanking you more and more for wearing that short black and white flannel skirt. Your thighs, with their soft tissue pressing delectably on your seat, were clearly visible to him as the fabric barely covered your bottom.

You legs were crossed under your desk, and the pose made your limbs look even more appealing, and Mr. O'Hara couldn't explain it, but when he actually saw the black boots that adorned your feet, his stomach nearly did a backflip.

The numerous belts and straps on the black, knee-high boots gave you a rather badass appearance that increased your attractiveness in Mr. O'Hara's eyes.

Mr. O'Hara didn't realize how long he had been staring at you aimlessly. He bit his bottom lip in desire, his black dress pants started to get fairly tight around his growing arousal in his pants.

“Beep-Beep!”

“Beep-Beep!” 

“Beep-Beep!”

Mr. O’Hara jumped at the sound of his own phone alarm, signaling that his last class for the day was finally over. 

His eyes immediately landed on you, who was grinning broadly in response to the alarm. You quickly got up from your seat and started stuffing your bookbag with your things.

His mind was racing at the sight. 

His thoughts were filled once more with lewd thoughts of you. His erection in his pants, begging for attention. 

Then a wicked idea came to him…

He knew his idea was dirty, and cruel, but he needed some type of release. 

Mr. O'Hara inhaled deeply, cleared his throat, and his eyes fell on you as you were packing your purple book bag with your journal.  He spoke loudly so that he could be heard over the students' many conversations and movements.

“Y/N."  

You had a huge grin on your face, ecstatic that this horrid class was over and that you could finally go home and do absolutely nothing.

Then, you heard your name being called by Mr. O’Hara, and you couldn't help but display an annoyed expression. 

'What does he want?' 

You thought, turning your gaze to him. “Mr. O?” you called back to him, placing your purple bookbag in your lap and zipping it up.

Mr. O’Hara cleared his throat, licking his lips as he tried to find the right words. His intentions were highly unprofessional, but he still found himself wanting to proceed with his plan. 

'Fuck it...'

His amber-crimson eyes peered at you through his black spectacles, meeting your curious, annoyed, and confused face.

“I need you to stay after class.” 

Your stomach dropped, disbelief washing over you. Anger and annoyance began to build up inside. You sighed heavily in irritation, your intense gaze locked onto your genetics professor. “What for!?” You shouted, clearly agitated.

Mr. O’Hara tried to interject, “Y/N-”

But you didn’t let him finish and continued your rant.

“Is it because I was slacking off!?” You exclaimed, hastily shoving your belongings into your bookbag.

“Y/N, if you will just let me-” Mr. O’Hara tried once again to explain, but you were so lost in your own head that you persisted.

“If this is about my damn skirt, I thought we talked about it!” you exclaimed. “I swear you are just so wishy-washy, Mr. O. You can’t tell me you're letting me slide, only to force me to stay after class. Like, make up your damn mind.” You glared at him with frustration.

You were furious that Mr. O’Hara was holding you back while the other students were free to leave through the classroom door. 

Mr. O’Hara sighed heavily, rolling his eyes at your predictable reaction. His plan was already feeling like a mistake. 

‘What the hell am I doing? Y/N!? Out of all the students on campus!?’

He thought with anger, frustration, and a touch of disappointment and shame.

‘Why did it have to be you?!’

He groaned inwardly, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He desperately wished to halt this before things escalated, but an inner voice of desire urged him to continue.

"If you'd allow me to explain, Y/N, you'll understand that my reason for keeping you after class has nothing to do with those assumptions." Mr. O'Hara said sternly, gazing at you through his black spectacles. Your eyebrows furrowed as you studied the tanned genetics professor in confusion.

"Then why, Mr. O?" Mr. O'Hara cleared his throat, briefly glancing at your body before absentmindedly fiddling with a few paperclips and papers on his desk. His attention was no longer on you.

“Y/N… I would like for you to stay behind after class to...

Discuss your grade.”

Your fiery anger soon gave way for hope and joy. 

You believed that Mr. O’Hara might actually want to assist you with your wretched scores, and you were willing to do whatever it took to bring your grade up…

“Okay…” you replied with a tentative smile.

Mr. O’Hara nodded before quickly turning back to his computer, cheeks tinged with a deep shade of red.

His plan was proceeding smoothly so far…

Very Smoothly...

A/N: Part 2 will be posted soon!

Hope you enjoyed the first part of my first one shot! ��🙃❤

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

[transmasc-wizard]

Writblr Intro •°☆

it's me! I live! hi again :)

[ID: an aesthetic photo header of books, a sweater, a typewriter and a candle at a window. end ID]

ABOUT ME:

You can call me Beck or Nathan, I'm a teen writer who used to be really active back in 2021/2022 but had a. really. really long writing slump... 😔. but I'm back now!! (I was chaotic-queer-disaster.)

I love fantasy, horror, and queer stories. I also explore disability a lot in my work as someone with both born and acquired disabilities.

some of my favourite themes to explore are identity, loss/grief, hope, friendship, gender (especially in horror), the challenges of morality, and mental illness

I'm looking for fellow writers to talk to and uplift! I'm especially looking if you're any of the following: queer, disabled, teenaged, horror writer, or fantasy writer. (But all are welcome!)

My main projects are under the cut :)

[ID: a dark academia aesthetic photo of a pair of glasses on a cursive-written letter. end ID]

My Projects:

Bad Things Happen - an apocalyptic horror novel. After a party, three young adults get into a particularly nasty car crash. It rips a small hole in the universe, and they begin to be plagued with identical strings of bad luck. Their luck gets worse and more expansive every day, and soon they're fighting to stop the world itself from decaying around them. [Status: draft zero.]

The Other Ones - a half-epistolary horror novel. A group of true crime podcasters go into the strange forest on the edge of town to investigate a disappearance from 2 years ago, only to emerge hours later--covered in blood, no memory of what happened, and accompanied by the missing girl. [Status: outlining.]

Suicide Ghosts - a film script about a trans boy who is sent to an all-girls school and makes friends with the ghost girl who haunts his dorm room. As the school year goes on, they discover corruption, more hauntings, and the horror of holding identities you never asked for. [Status: outlining.]

Untitled Fairytale WIP/"gfs" - YA fantasy series with dystopia undertones. If you've been around for awhile, you'll remember it as GFS/GFW1! A group of teenagers discover they're linked to an ancient prophecy that states they're cursed to awaken gods who have slept since the last divine war. If this happens, desolation is inevitable. They must find a way to avert the prophecy--while an unidentified figure is doing everything in their power to make it come true. [Status: rewriting/reworking.]

If you've read this far, thank you! I'm really glad to be back and I hope to have a lot of fun in this community again :)

[polarisbear]

it’s summer so you know what that means~ yeah! new outfits of course

(if you want something similar to this my comm’s are open. link is in my pinned post) (image id below cut)

[image id 1: a drawing of inukai iroha with dark brown skin posing with a peace sign. she’s in a strappy purple tank top tucked into ruffly white shorts. she’s wearing sandals with mismatched leg warmers, topped off with a boxy bag. everything is accessorized with bows. she’s in front of a purple background with hearts, with a border around the image. it looks like stitches topped off with a bow.

text id 1: “Cure Friendy,” in cursive in the bottom corner. “犬飼いろは,” going down vertically.]

[image id 2: a drawing of nekoyashiki mayu with medium brown skin nervously holding her bag’s strap. she’s wearing a knee-length dress with puff sleeves and a square neckline. it’s decorated with bows. the whole dress has a green monochrome plaid pattern. she’s wearing a white high-necked shirt under the dress. she has white socks and navy flats, both having bows. the bag is a drawstring bag with a green-and-white polka dot pattern. the background is a green japanese plum pattern with lace wrapping the corners.

text id 2: “Cure Lillian,” in cursive going up vertically in the bottom corner. “猫屋敷まゆ,” is going down vertically. it’s in a box of a lace pattern.]

[image id 3: a drawing toyama satoru with olive skin talking to the camera. he’s in an oversized seafoam button-up with red flower decorations, tucked into honey-colored suspender pants. the pants’ wide legs cover up the top of the brown-and-blue hiking boots. he’s wearing a red backpack with braided straps. the background is an 80’s bowling alley carpet pattern in orange and blue. there are also two triangles with gradients on them behind satoru.

text id 3: “toyama satoru,” in bold text on a header. “兎山悟,” going down vertically. it’s very stretched out and has a projection effect.]

[khae-writes]

point system [ azul ashengrotto/reader ]

tags: fluff, romcom, takes place after his overblot case, azul ashengrotto/female reader

header

               You weren’t there for it when it got announced, but according to Grim, Azul had definitely switched things up in his establishment. Starting a few days after his overblot, he had proposed a new way of gathering money in a less nefarious way.

Grim had told you so nonchalantly, but you caught the gist of it.

‘Earn points through buying food and drinks, and you’ll be granted the honor of consulting with Azul Ashengrotto’. It sounded easy enough, right?

Wrong.

It wasn’t easy at all, especially not for a broke high-schooler like yourself. You had no way of saving up money, no way of getting any discount or coupon or whatever voucher was available, and certainly not a pass for being his friend.

Crowley was being stingy with your budget and telling him you wanted to be able to at least afford the items in Mostro Lounge had him gawking at you in disbelief—that was a mistake on your part, you should’ve been more practical with your reasons and lied about it.

Due to your obvious restrictions, it took you several weeks, maybe even months to save up enough for one consultation with him. And perhaps he did predict you’d be so dedicated to hold one with him that when you finally sat in front of him in his office with a proud grin, he only gave you a mirthful smile in response.

God, you like him so much, you were whipped. Why was he so damn attractive!? It sent you into a wayward spiral.

“You’re finally here.” His voice was gentle, but it was laced with amusement, clearly entertained by your determination to have time with him. “You took a long time to get here, I was getting impatient.”

Your cheeks couldn’t hide the blush that was beginning to flush on your face. “Were you waiting for me?” The expectant tone was out in the open, you were (un)secretively hoping he’d say yes.

Your heart burst at his response. “Why wouldn’t I? Don’t you know how fascinating it was to watch you come and go in my lounge just to stack up points?” Azul chuckled, his gloved fist raised to cover the upward curve forming on his lips, “You’re quite the funny person, (Y/n). Do you not realize?”

“W-Well, I am a character of many talents. To make you laugh is just one of them.” Your lip quivered as you profoundly claimed.

Azul shook his head, smiling still before slipping a sheet of paper onto his desk. The printed text was familiar to you, it was one of his contracts, the very title was bold and gold in beautiful cursive. He picked up a quill pen and prepared it with the stationary, finally interlocking his fingers as he looks back to you.

“Well, idle chatter aside, what do you wish for? Anything you want, and I’ll make sure it comes true within my power. We can discuss fees after that.” He was very forward. But if he was going to play that game, then so were you. You’ve done everything all to get this chance, you didn’t want to waste this chance.

You slammed your fists onto the table, startling the second-year as he maintained eye contact with your now-determined eyes. “I want to ask you out, and for you to take me seriously.”

Your outburst must’ve been predicted beforehand. After all, who else would go through such lengths just to get ten minutes with him with seemingly no intention of signing a contract? However, Azul couldn’t fight back the raging blush coloring his cheeks at your declaration of interest towards him. It was still pretty flustering to go through an open confession, especially one from you.

There was a beat before he regained his composure, clearing his throat. “R-Right, that’s… that’s really all you want from me?” He hesitated to ask, sweat rolling off his temple. The blush wasn’t fading any time soon, and his hand shook slightly as he rotated the paper on the desk to face your way, sliding the quill pen to you.

Your gaze never wavered once, staring at him and even going as far as to lean forward, “Yes, I like you Azul Ashengrotto. Please let me ask you out.” You immediately grabbed the pen and uncapped it after reading the terms and conditions carefully, hand already hovering over the blank line where your signature goes.

He sputtered into his fist, blushing even madder than before. “Y-You know, there’s really no need to go as far as sign a contract for something like this…”

You paused before you could fully tap the ink on paper, peering at him from under the fringes of your hair. “What.”

“Wow…” Azul sighed, chuckling slightly in a breath of astonishment. “I’m saying, there’s no need to sign a contract for something so small. I can always grant you that wish without needing a paper for legalization and business personalization.”

“I… don’t?” You trailed off, quiet for a still moment before freezing in embarrassment. “Oh, oh my God, you’re right.”

“You didn’t stop to check with me first?” Azul snorted, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “Sure then, we can arrange a date this week. When are you available?”

You stood up abruptly, turning red. “You’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I-I mean,” you stammered, “you’re not lying to me, right?”

Azul smiled, now standing at full height. “I assure you, this one’s free of charge.”

Your eyes lit up, sparkling in joy before jumping over the desk to wrap your arms around his neck in an embrace. Awkwardly but firmly, Azul returned the embrace by gently patting you on the head while his free hand went to your waist. The papers and pens fell off his table, but you couldn’t contain the excitement flowing through your body and brain. You were definitely bragging this to your friends.

“… So, this means I still get to make one other contract with you?”

“Yes.”

“Would you agree to making out with me after our first date?”

“…”

“Well?”

“… That one’s also for free.”

You fainted.

[totallycorny]

Met at a Fête

Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

warnings: implied fem!reader, mentions of bullying.

To start this week off, I thought I might write for different characters. I’ve always been a Harry Potter fan but I never really got into the Marauders Era, Until now that is. Enjoy!

headers made by me!

word count: 1070+ (I lost count after that!)

You and your family were lucky to have been invited to a party, Especially one that was hosted by the Noble House of Black.

They were the talk of the Wizarding World, Anybody who passed by Diagon Alley always seemed to be murmuring about the family.

The Blacks were just that favored and admired.

Nobody disliked them, and if you did, You would be criticized for that matter.

To be precise on the word lucky, It meant that even though your family was of wizards and witches who were pure-blood, A few of them were not. Specifically, Your grandmother. Yet your family was still invited.

Her family was muggle born, She then fell in love with a wizard and well.. You get the rest. Other pure-blood families did not like that one bit.

You’d always get bullied in Hogwarts, Which was a shame because Hogwarts grew to be your home. The only home where the bullying wasn’t that bad.

Out on the streets, You’d be shoved at and pulled by the hair. Some stuck up witches would put spells on you just to make sure you knew your place.

That all changed when Aurora, Your personal owl, Flew in with a black ribbon and a letter attached to it tied to her leg.

“Mother..!” You yelped as you got up from the rocking chair, almost falling over in the process, scrambling to grab the letter.

Footsteps thumped down the stairs as your Mother peeked her head down to see what the commotion was about. “Yes, my dear?”

You carefully turned the letter over, reading the print for a second before smiling wide. Your fingers absentmindedly opened the letter without using the letter opener.

“The Noble House of Black cordially invites you to their ball.” You whispered as you skimmed over the cursive.

You almost screamed right then and there.

All you remember that day was your mother’s frantic responses of “Let me see that letter!” And “My love, Come quick!”, You could tell this was a dream come true for her.

Now here you were, In a black gown your mother had been saving for whenever you’d go to a party or a ball like this. It fit like a charm, Even for how dusty and old it was.

“Padfoot!” A young man called as he hugged someone. You couldn’t see who the other man was, Until he stepped away.

His dark eyes is what caught your attention, They were like eclipse’s in his orbs. Padfoot, You’ve heard that before haven’t you?

A lightbulb went off in your head when it finally clicked, This was the infamous Sirius ‘Padfoot’ Black. The trickster and class clown at Hogwarts whom you’d always seen in the hallways walking with a strut.

In all honesty, He was quite a handsome man, but you also admired him for his kind nature. Even though He was a Gryffindor in a Slytherin family, He wasn’t like his family at all.

You hadn’t realized you had been staring at Sirius’ face for too long until his eyes locked onto yours.

You quickly ducked behind a couple who had been way too into themselves, Maybe he hadn’t really seen you absentmindedly staring at his face.

His handsome, gorgeous and beautiful face.

God, You really were crushing, hard.

Your parents were conversing with another family, So it’s not like you could go to them. That is until you spotted a curtain, wide and large enough to hide you from guests and specifically Sirius.

Quickly, You made your escape to the dark curtain, It’s velvety attire draping over you. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escaped your mouth.

Just as you were trying to relax, your eyes closed until you blinked, Sirius had appeared right in your face.

“Woah!” You jumped, Thumping your head against the wall as you recoiled and hissed in pain. Sirius’ lips curled into a smile as he chuckled.

“Sorry, Sorry. Couldn’t help but notice someone staring at me far too long for their own liking.” A blush crept over your cheeks, Your hand that had been soothing your head finally came down to hold other hand. Immediately fidgeting.

“I was just thinking, M’ Sorry. Didn’t realize I had been staring at you until it was too late.” You awkwardly chuckle, Shrugging off your nervousness as Sirius’ eyes scanned over your form.

His smile was giving you butterflies in your stomach, almost as if you could actually throw up butterflies. “Not to worry, I know I’m really handsome that you just can’t resist me.” A smug smile appeared on his lips as he joked, going into a silly pose just to make you laugh.

And laugh you did. A snort almost came out of your lips as your hand covered your mouth. “I think hiding behind the curtains is not proper of us.” You cleared your throat as you peeked out of the curtain, looking around to see if anyone noticed.

“Right you are,” He said as he peeks out of the curtains as well. “I’ll go first so it doesn’t look suspicious of us.” He gives you a wink as he walks off, joining a group of teens who seemed to around your age and instantly fitting right in.

He didn’t have to speak before fitting into the conversation. He was that effortless. You slowly slipped out beneath the velvet drapes and stood still by it.

“He has a character about him that everyone just loves, doesn’t he?” A taller guy spoke from beside you, Making you jump once again. Why do they always appear out of nowhere?

You realized he was talking about Sirius. “He does,” You look back at Sirius for a moment before speaking up again. “Makes me wonder how him and his family are related.” You cross your arms before looking at the young man next to you.

He nods before giving you his name, His hand outstretched. “I’m Remus, Remus Lupin.” You took his hand, giving him a firm shake before it finally clicked in your head again. “You’re moony, Right?”

He snaps his fingers as he grins. “You are correct, I guess we’re that well known hm?” He shuffles in his position, Nodding at Sirius. “Well, Time to shine, See you later church mouse.” He says as he walks away from you.

Church mouse? Confusion set on your face for a bit. “Quiet as a church mouse..” You chuckled to yourself as you sighed. Guess you had a new nickname.

Your eyes set back onto Sirius, His laughter almost echoing throughout the ballroom. You could get used to his presence, A smile tugged onto your lips as Sirius looked at you and waved at you to come on over.

You won’t mind being a church mouse, As long as you are next to him.

Thank you for reading!

[dreamfyre03]

A Dragon's Love

Warnings: violence, threats of violence, mentions of kidnapping

Dividers by: @zaldritzosrose

Header by: @zaldritzosrose

Chapter 14: The Wrath of Aemond Targaryen

After returning to King’s Landing, and informing the council of Lucerys’s death, he wanted nothing more than to be in Daenys’s arms. He longed to inhale her scent of jasmine and lilies, to hear her soft voice comfort him, after being screamed at by his mother, and yelled at by his grandfather. Thanks to him, the first strike of war had been landed. The greens made the first move. 

He took the tunnels to her rooms, and when he entered, he stood there briefly, stunned. Her dresses, her books, her parchments and perfumes, all gone. Nothing of hers was left, except the lingering scent of her in the sheets. With a rage he was becoming more familiar with every passing second, he stormed the council room for the second time that day, jolting them all in surprise, and asked darkly, “Where is she?”

Aegon looked at him confused, while his mother and grandfather exchanged a look. “Where is she?” He yelled, slamming his fists onto the table, as his eye darkened with anger. 

“Where is who?” Aegon asked, genuinely puzzled. “Our sister.” He spat, and Aegon sat up in concern. “She isn’t here?” Aegon paled as he said the words, no doubt thinking the worse.

His grandsire rose, and said, “She is safe. She is off acting on behalf of the crown.” Aegon stood, his face serious. “How can she be acting on behalf of the crown? I certainly haven’t sent her anywhere.” He said to the Hand. “Where is my sister, Lord Hand?” Aegon asked again. 

“Clear the room.” Aemond addressed the council. They hesitated, glancing back at Otto, then Aemond. “You heard my brother. Clear the fucking room.” Aegon said harshly, his gaze never leaving their grandfather.  The men of the council scrambled out of the room, leaving the brothers alone with their mother and grandsire. 

“Tell me where she is. Now.” Aemond drew his sword, much to the horror of his mother. “Aemond, please!” She cried out, looking to Aegon desperately, but he ignored her. “She’s on her way North. To wed Cregan Stark.” His grandsire finally said. 

Aemond felt his blood run like fire. No, no, he wouldn’t let this happen. She was his, no one else’s 

“You grant yourself the power to decide my sister’s marriage without so much as my input? She is sister to the King, and you do not even deem it necessary to inform me of my sister’s departure?”  Aegon shouted angrily. 

Aemond stood there, in silent rage, his mother watching him fearfully, no doubt praying for her father’s life. Good. She should be. “Your sister knew what she had to do. We need the north’s support, she will do her part to get it for us. I made her understand this, and she is willing to do her duty. As we all must.” His grandsire said stiffly. “Your forget which of us sits the throne, and wears the conqueror’s crown. Get out.” Aegon said lowly. His mother and grandfather looked at him, no doubt in shock to see him actually act like a King for the first time since he was crowned. “Both of you. Get out!” He yelled. 

They both walked out briskly, and when the brothers were alone, Aemond said, “I won’t let her marry Cregan Stark.” “I know.” 

“Someone else must have known she was leaving.” Aemond mused. They both seemingly thought the same thing, and quickly made their way to Helaena’s rooms. 

As they burst through the doors, they saw Daeron, who just arrived, sitting with her, as they talked and played with the children. “Did you know?” Aemond cut them off. Helaena shook her head. “My maid gave me this letter the moment you were spotted returning on Vhagar. It is for me, Aegon and Daeron. This one is for you.” She handed him a letter, where he recognised his sister’s familiar cursive scrawl. 

His heart pounded as he opened it, and Aegon sat with their sister to read the other letter. My love,

By the time you read this, I will be on the roads to Winterfell. I want to apologise, for leaving without saying goodbye. I was ordered by your grandsire to not tell any of you, I sense he knew our closeness would prompt unwanted resistance, and he wanted me to leave and secure the North’s support through a marriage alliance as soon as possible. As much as it pains me to admit, he is right. Aegon needs as much support as he can get from the noble houses. I have spent the days since his coronation flooded with nothing but worry and fear for all our lives, helpless to do anything. Do not for a moment think that my leaving has to do with the feelings in my heart changing. This couldn’t be further from the truth. You spoke the truth, brother, when you said the gods made us to burn for each other, together. I realise that now. But I cannot bear the thought that me forsaking my duty means a greater chance of losing our family. Although I am to be Lord Stark’s wife, my heart, my soul, my desires, are forever yours. I pray that the passage of time allows you to forgive me, so that when we meet again, you hold no ill will against me for leaving. I would rather us be apart, but know you are alive, than watch you die knowing I could have prevented it. My darling brother, my love, my dragon. We will meet again soon. 

-Your beloved sister, 

Daenys. 

Aemond let out an angry shout as he punched the wall, making his niece and nephews jump in fear. He didn’t even hear Helaena instruct her maid Diana to take them out to the gardens. Aegon sat across from Daeron and Helaena, the conqueror’s crown off his head, and on the table between them. “What did yours say?” He asked them. “That she’s sorry she left without goodbye, that she loves us all, and is doing her duty to make sure Aegon’s claim is stronger against Rhaenyra. To keep us safe.” Daeron answered quietly, as Aegon seemed to be staring into space. 

“She’s always been looking out for all of us. Our whole lives.” Aegon said suddenly, breaking the silence that had descended upon them. 

None of them responded. The truth hung over them all as they realised that she was gone, off to marry to try and keep them safe, something she had tried to do all her life. While their grandsire used them as pawns, and their mother often followed his stead, she was there, since they were children, at for every injury in the training yard, every argument, every flight atop their dragons, always with her kind smile and loving heart, even when some of them didn’t deserve it. He remembered when Daeron was first sent to Oldtown, how his little brother cried, and Daenys soothed him, promising to write to him as often as they both could, for just because he would be somewhere else didn’t mean she would forget him. And she never did, writing to him all the time.

Helaena sniffled, crying silently at the reality of their sister being gone all the way North, not knowing when they would see her again, knowing they wouldn’t see her smile everyday, or hear her laugh, watch her fly Meraxa, or play with the children. 

Daeron wrapped his arm around their sister, quietly soothing her, and Aemond heard Aegon say, “I couldn’t give a shit about the North’s support. She doesn’t want to marry Stark. Her place is here, and that is where she must stay.” “I’m going to get her back. I won’t entertain this for another moment.” Aemond said, and as he was about to leave and go to mount Vhagar, their mother entered, with a seemingly battered and bruised Ser Arryk. 

“Something’s happened.” She said quietly, unable to look at them. Aemond felt his heart clench. 

Ser Arryk looked between Aegon and Aemond nervously, as Aegon instructed the man, “Speak.” “My King, I was with the guards escorting the Princess Daenys to Winterfell. We were ambushed, and I was knocked unconscious. When I came to, the Princess was gone.” He revealed. 

Aemond drew his dagger, and had the man backed into the wall, his dagger pressing against his throat in a flash. “You mean to tell me, the Princess was kidnapped? Under your watch?” Aemond growled, pressing the knife in deeper, feelings great satisfaction when he saw blood begin to seep through. “Aemond!” His mother shouted, pulling him off the knight. 

“This is all your fault!” Aegon shouted angrily at her. “You sent her away, without even telling your King, and now, my sister might be dead, or gods know what else!” He continued.

“Leave, mother. Aegon and I will decide what to do from this point on. If our grandsire so much as lifts a finger, I will cut it off myself.” Aemond warned her. She nodded, and quickly left the room with Ser Arryk behind her. 

The siblings were left alone again, nothing but the sound of Helaena’s sobs muffled as she wept on Daeron’s chest filled the room. “I will find her.” Aemond vowed. 

As he spoke, the siblings heard Meraxa screeching and roaring out painfully into the sky. “I will rain down Fire and Blood on every man, woman and child in this Kingdom, but I will find her. And whoever took her from me will know my wrath.” 

Daenys awoke with a pounding sensation in her head, and she groaned as she sat up in the bed. As her eyes opened, she took in her new unfamiliar surroundings, the walls grey and carved of stone, with rich tapestries adorning the wall. She could hear the waves crashing into rocks outside, so she knew she couldn’t be in Winterfell. Her dress was slightly torn, and she looked in the mirror, and saw bruises on her chest and a cut on her forehead. Where was she? She went to the door, and tried to open it, but it was locked, and she banged on it with her fists, shouting at her unknown captor to let her out. There was no response, and after shouting and screaming for what felt like hours, she gave up, with nothing to show for her efforts but a hoarse throat. She ran over to the window, and saw the ocean stretching out into the distance, and black, sharp, jagged rocks on the ground below her. The door opened, and she turned around to face her captor. “Rhaenyra?” She gasped. “Sister.” Was her cold response. Her sister seemed to have aged rapidly in the days since she last saw her. Her eyes bore dark circles, her eyes red, her skin dull and tired. She wore their father’s crown. “What am I doing here? Where am I?” She asked. “You are on Dragonstone. You are here, because you are a traitor to the crown.” She answered. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out about your plot to wed Cregan Stark on behalf of our traitorous brother, and win the North’s alliance?” “Sister, please understand-“ “No!” Rhaenyra shouted, angry tears brimming her eyes. “Any kindness and understanding I might have extended to you for our father’s sake died when you stood by our half brother’s side when he stole my crown. They killed my baby, then they took my son!” She yelled, and Daenys just realised the bump of Rhaenyra’s belly had disappeared, and tears filled her own eyes as well. “I’m so sorry, Rhaenyra-“ She began but her sister wouldn’t hear it. “I don’t want your apologises. They took my daughter, then my son. Aegon will pay for this, they all will.” “Your son?” Her mind immediately went to Jace. 

Her sister laughed almost manically. “Oh have you not heard? The brother you love so, who dotes upon your every word for all to see, he and his dragon killed my son in the skies above Storm’s End. My son, my Luke,” Her sister wiped away her tears, willing herself not to cry. Daenys approached her carefully, and said as she too wept, “I am sorry for your loss, sister.” 

Rhaenyra looked at her with angry eyes, as if stunned at her words, then raised her hand and slapped her, and Daenys felt the stinging sensation as she heard the sound echo throughout the room. “You do not get to mourn him. Or cry for him. You love our traitorous brothers so much, perhaps I’ll send your head back to them. Either way, get comfortable, sister. You aren’t going anywhere.” Rhaenyra said cruelly as she got up and shut the door behind her. 

Leaving Daenys alone, with nothing but the pain in her heart and the bruises on her body. 

[magicalgirlfia]

Started playing Cosmic Turnabout, these are my thoughts so far.

ID:

[A drawing of Apollo Justice running on a blue and white gradient background. The header text reads: “JUST WALK OUT” with smaller italic text below it reading “you can leave”. Next to Apollo there is a list reading

work

social thing

court

home

crime scene

hospital

best friends death

too fancy space station

blackquill if your quick

friend ships

The bottom text reads as “IF IT SUCKS… HIT DA BRICKS!!” With cursive text underneath it saying “real winners quit”]

END ID

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 (ma ange)

valentine's day masterlist - christmas lights

summary - steve writes you something so special.

the gif and header I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Steve peaked his head around the corner, watching you gently open the letter he laid out for you. He put so much effort into the envelope, decorating it with cute red and pink hearts and doodling more on the note with coloured roses. His tiny hands go into his mouth as Steve nibbles on his fingernails, feeling the nerves set in. Steve had taken his time to write you a beautiful love letter alongside a drawing he drew of you. 

You smiled as you opened the envelope, loving how your name was written in cursive. Your smile only grew more prominent as you began to read, tears welling as no one had ever written you something so sweet before. You trace the beautifully written words with your finger, taking them in as you feel your heart fill with love. 

My angel,

I put a lot of thought into what to get you for Valentine’s Day, which was extremely hard as you are the first person I’ve ever had the pleasure of loving. My only hope would be that you’ll also be my last because my heart only belongs to you. I didn’t think I’d ever know true happiness until I met you. Those many Christmases that passed with me only being able to watch you from afar were painful but so worth it when I finally got to have you in my life.

I have to be honest. The thing that attracted me to you the most was your smile. Your smile is the most beautiful thing to me. I have never known someone who could light up a room with just a smile. Yet, you proved me wrong.

You’re so perfect, and you’re driving me insane. I wake, excited to see you, to hear you. You make me so happy that my cheeks begin to hurt from always smiling. You truly deserve the world. Hell, you deserve the universe. I don’t understand how anyone could pass by you without wanting you, but I’m glad no one had claimed you as there’s because then we wouldn’t have gotten to meet you, which was the best day of my life.

God, you’re so gorgeous. You’re my daydream, my angel. 

You will forever be in my heart, 

Love, 

Steve.

You wept, wiping a stray tear from your eye as you finished reading the letter and looked at Steve's drawing. Your eyes drift up from the letter as you hear a sound. A soft smile appears as you spot Steve sneaking forward with a shy look on his face. You kneel, placing your palm onto the ground, giggling as he climbs onto your palm. You lift your hand, bringing the tiny elf up to your face. “Thank you, Stevie. You’re so sweet and so talented!” You place a gentle, loving kiss on his little head.

His cheeks turn a bright red, grinning wildly at you before he leans forward and hugs your face. Pressing kisses on your face, giggling as he goes. “I only speak the truth, you are so beautiful, and I just want to thank you for being here with us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else. I love you guys so much.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[velvetwyrme]

Font anon again! Thanks for indulging me. Yes it is the fic where SF!Papyrus is Palatino. It’s one of my favs. I agree with Serif as a last name because it’s funny.

I’m going mostly off vibes. You completely nailed what I was going for with UF! Papyrus (you are definitely the right person to brainstorm with and have great insight.) My original font search prioritized fonts people complained about, sticking to the theme of Comic Sans and Papyrus being “annoying fonts.” If you can think of any other ones I’m down to hear them.

Here is my list of names:

Courier

Helvetica

Trajan

Bradley Hand

Gentona, Avenir

Calibri

Verveine

Corsiva

Frutiger

Bodoni

Vivaldi

Zapfino

Rockwell

Amadeus

Clarendon

Arvo

Avenir

Casion

Cooper

Didot

Carrington

Anviers

Fontin

Fertigo

Harrington

*waves hand at you* nOOOOO WORRIESSS and thank you for the clarification ;D!! I'm always here for indulgence owu!! And thank you! I'm glad you like my take on things haha! (ANNOYING FONTS LETS GO!!!!)

This is a fantastic list :o!! I pulled up all the fonts in your list in another window for maximum ponderance lol.

I stuck my thoughts under the cut because as usual it got long (and for some of them I'm spitballing more than anything) but hopefully it's of some help ^^!

Swap!Papyrus: Hands down (haha), he suits Bradley Hand visually- the font is like Papyrus (font) but more loose and scribbled- it has more curves and thus has a more laidback kind of vibe, which is why I think it'd suit him... but also I'm losing my mind at the idea of calling him Bradley (derogatory) (/lh).

(I'm also biased though. I used to use this font for writing when I was younger LMAO. You know how people say to write with Comic Sans? I did that with Bradley Hand.)

Swap!Sans: I reckon he'd fit Cooper.

Round, bold, a little bit 'childish' when compared to other fonts, but infinitely more put together than Comic Sans. It also makes me think about comics like Archie or Garfield, which used similar rounded fonts for their titles! Cooper (font) feels so... cartoony to me, y'know? Also it makes me think of Sly Cooper just namewise lmaooooo

Underfell!Sans: Ok. OK. Listen I don't think this font suits him BUT!!! Fontin would be REALLY FUNNY just purely because I think he'd have the time of his life making jokes about "Fonting". Like: "ey! i'm fontin' here!" type of jokes which would get old so so so quickly. Do you see my vision.

If Carrington was less... curly-cursive I'd say it'd suit him purely for the potential visual association with like. the typeface you might see at a stereotypical tattoo parlour or something. IDK it makes me think about tattoos and motorcycles.

SAYING ALL THAT THOUGH: I think he could suit Rockwell! It makes me think of titles and bold headers, also cowboy westerns and Very Masculine and Cool products lol. Except... Rockwell is usually used with Uppercase, Title case or Sentence case. Purely lowercase Rockwell feels inherently cursed to me. (Like truly, what are you doing if you're using Rockwell in lowercase. That's committing a violence.)

Swapfell!Papyrus: Weirdly enough, I reckon I could see him with Corsiva or Fertigo? (Which... looks strikingly similar to Fontin. Huh!)

(Fertigo on the LEFT, Fontin on the RIGHT)

IMO, Fertigo feels more laidback due to the curling tips (which still come to sharp points). The way that the ends of "strokes" get flicked gives it a sort of lazier vibe.

BUT the font choice here also depends on your interpretation of SF!Pap!!

If you want to have a font that's underrated and everywhere?? GO Calibri. It's used as the default font for Microsoft, and is designed to be very easy to read. This is particularly befitting of the interpretations of SF!Pap where he's well versed in computers/electronics and/or doing spywork. His presence is not actively noticed, but he's always there! Alternatively, if you wanted to name him after a serif'd font, similar to Calibri, one of the fonts from your list, Caslon, has a somewhat ubiquitous presence, and also feels a little rougher/crunchier than stuff like Calibri or Fertigo.

Other notes:

I know you already decided on a name for him, but Trajan is also a really good alternative option for UF!Papyrus imo. Similar Roman-Commander vibes except even more explicit LMAO. Plus, it's a solely uppercase font, which is even more fitting.

Didot... if you swap the 'i' for a 'd' and vice versa, you get 'idiot' which is simply ripe for the teasing, but I don't think it fits any of the skeletons lol.

I would have suggested Arial as an option due to it's former prevalence, but honestly that name (+Verdana) have like… cemented themselves in my brain as 'fan-made skeleton' fonts ajbhjsmhjmdh (no shade whatsoever to anyone who uses them ofc, but MAN are they used a LOT.)

[bluejayblueskies]

As the poets say

One year ago today (March 18, 2022), I bound my very first book--@arthureameslove's As the poets say. It was a bit messy and slightly poorly constructed, but I had made it myself, and I could read it, and I was intensely proud of it. One year later, I thought it would be a nice way to reflect back on my progress as a binder if I rebound this fic! Below are the first edition, bound in March 2022 (left), and the second edition, bound in March 2023 (right).

I made quite a few changes between the first and second editions! The most noticeable of these are the size (the first edition is a half-letter book and the second is a quarter-letter book) and the covers (the first edition is half-bound in bookcloth and paper and the second is fully bound in cloth with cutouts that show a printed image beneath). I learned a lot of things between then and now, including:

How to properly measure my materials (no more exposed bookboard for me! 😅)

How to add titles to books (in this case, using both a foil quill and Lumiere fabric paint to reinforce it)

How to add sewn headbands

How to do cutouts (this is actually my first book using cutouts!)

How to wax paper (the paper in the cutouts is waxed and thus [theoretically] water-resistant)

How to make different sizes of books

How to add hinges

I also spruced up the typeset between the first and second editions--pictures of that are below the cut! I've had such a wonderful time bookbinding this past year--learning how to bind is one of the best decisions I ever made, and the sense of community it's given me amongst other binders and with fic writers is unparalleled. I love being able to make physical copies of my favorite works and to gift copies to the authors, and it's really something special to create a book with my own hands. Thank you to @arthureameslove for writing such a delightful fic, and I look forward to many more years of bookbinding to come 💜

(Typesetting pics below!)

The typeset for the first edition was quickly done because I was eager to try binding a book but didn't want to use the fics I had gotten printed on nice paper at the print shop. I had planned to bind As the poets say at a later point, but I decided to instead turn it into my first project! I've made some changes to my typesetting process since putting the first edition together, including completely reformatting the front matter, cutting the half-title page (I often feel it's unnecessary, particularly in quarto books), getting my images from entirely public-domain sources, changing around my preferred fonts, and generally getting more creative with my typesetting! I've included pictures below of the title pages, front matter, and chapter header pages for the first and second editions. I tried to keep the general theme (cursive font, ocean iconography) the same between both versions to better explore how I've grown over the year. I'm quite proud of my progress!

[fulgrimsrefuse]

On Marazhai's brand

I'm new-ish to 40k (my family was into it, so it was the background radiation for my entire life) so imagine my surprise when I learned that it's been around for this long and there is no functional eldar alphabet because the direction of the worldbuilding just hasn't gone in much on linguistics.

A couple of admirable supernerds have compiled various resources on what we DO have. This for grammar, terminology, and just how context heavy the language is:

This for runes. Some people who got a specific Nocturne of Oblivion ending slide might see something familiar:

Something interesting in the comments:

"I emailed Gav Thorpe 10 years about the eldar runes, and he forwarded my email to Jes Goodwin - here's the reply I got from him: There are three systems of Runic Markings

The Runes used for the aspects and other troop types/concepts. These are the geometric runes that are generally based around the triangle. They are simplified versions of the actual runes that a Warlock/farseer uses to divine the potential futures in a given situation. The are based on the use of the Norse Futhark for divination, although their forms are not nordic.

Eldar script. This is the stuff behind the eldar headers. These have no ascribed meanings, I.e there is no 'alphabet' of them. These are generally cursive and we use them in various places to give flavour, they sometimes include elements from the runes [Which would give them a kanji-like relationship to the runes] and are sometimes more blocky/simplified as on the warning markings on vehicles.

Eldar Seals. These are the complex symbols found on Titan Banners and on the back of the Wraithlord. They are used to represent the seals of Noble Houses or the Bonesinger schools of design. They are based on the idea of the Turkish 'Tugrah' , complex signature seals associated with the Ottoman Empire, meant to stop forgeries. To summarise, the forms of all the symbols don't have a single real world source, but their functions are influenced by real world sources"

I was just curious and wanted to know if we could build Marazhai's name out of what we do have from these sources. A lot of words beginning in "Mar-" seem to refer to death or death related ideas, and "Zai" is a known name meaning "morning". But there's nothing that I found in a written form for those sounds.

They do have a rune for Ynnead, their god of the dead, which looks like this:

Eldar runes can stand for an idea and not just one letter per sound. If this is their rune for a god of death, I'm making the wild assumption that somewhere in that rune is something that could be read as "Mar-". Since we have no idea how to properly "read" that rune, I just tried looking at their lettering runes for shapes in common with this, ssssort of like how kanji multiradicals work since that was the given example.

(Sort of. Kind of. If you squint at it and look at it sideways, maybe.)

It's a doomed prospect, because once you go looking at the runes, it becomes increasingly clear none of this follows any logic, or maybe it's just logic my simple mon-keigh brain lacks.

So, possibilities for "Mar-":

(Not quite, but close. Chalk up the difference to calligraphy styles, maybe)

(again, only close, but radicals in kanji can look subtly different depending on where in a given character they appear, so I just shrugged and said fine, elf logic.)

(Also only close, also operating off of elf logic.)

As for "Zai", the sun does appear as a pretty recognizable shape in some runes, like these:

(Craftworld Lugganath)

Without a linguistics person at GW telling us how to read this stuff, I say we have pretty free rein to figure out what the heck Marazhai burns into our necks. Like, we don't even know if it's read left to right, up or down. So I just made something up as an example, using what I posted above:

Trying for a balance of "relatively easy to burn into a person before they pass out from shock" and "cute", though it is missing the jaggy quality of Drukhari lettering. This is just an idea though, y'all go wild and have fun!

If you are a 40k lorehound and you think I'm W R O N G that's fine, I only got into this hobby a couple months ago. I'm curious if you know more about eldar writing, actually!

Edit: lmao how did I miss the literal “zhai” entry. I’ll try that later.

Edit 2: I tried it later. https://www.tumblr.com/fulgrimsrefuse/741450381287096320/on-marazhais-brand-2?source=share

[unmotivatedblogname]

A collection of observations(for DC's Deadman)

Okay so I've been re-reading some Deadman comics and I needed to empty my brain. So here is exactly what the header states. It's kinda long and I'll probably add more.

•The name of the circus is Hill's circus, I've also seen it called Hill bros. Circus. It's owned by Lorna Hill, who is occasionally an old love interest for Boston when he was alive.

•Boston was 34 years old when he died.

•During his search for his killer, Boston was mainly an angry, sad, and lonely ghost that occasionally used humor to cope. He is more at peace after finding his killer and becoming a hero.

• Was called 'son of Rama' a handful of times.

•It is implied and sometimes stated that Boston was a runaway when he joined the circus.(I want to guess maybe tween to early teen years.)

•He writes in cursive. This was shown in his run when he was still looking for his killer.

•Boston is really good at haunting people and scaring them. In order to capture a hitman he possess the murdered man's father and disguises himself as the victim and stalks the killer to freak him out and force a confession. He also does the classic writing on the mirror multiple times.(There is more examples of this and I might expand upon this.)

•Good at makeup which makes sense for his costume and years in the Circus.

•Surprisingly good with kids.( Especially when he meets Jason in Dead again and in an old valentine special where he helps a bullied kid.)

•Has possessed corpses and 'lives' in them till the bodies rot. Usually squatting in abandoned areas during those times. (This is seen in a Batman team up and later in Wonder Woman's arc when she came back from the dead. It's implied that he does that occasionally.)

•There is no way he is straight or really cares about gender. At least an ally.

• This is mainly for the DcxDp fans- Boston is made from ectoplasm(as well as magic) and is referred to as a wraith a couple of times.

•Called Batman his only friend and immediately learned his identity after possessing him before officially meeting. ( 'brucie-baby')

• Has kissed Constantine as a distraction in order to possess him, which leads to Boston dragging Constantine's body as they argue.

• I want them to bring back his crow friend from the DC nation shorts. Or atleast continue with the idea that animals can see ghosts.

That's all for now. Deadman is a favorite of mine and it hurts to see him sidelined.

[custom-pronoun-pins]

Can you make one for he/she please?

of course :)

[ID: Eleven circular pronoun pins with transparent backgrounds. The first is black, with a white ring around the outer edge, with "he" written in white text, and "She" written in yellow. The second is a stock photo of a cyberpunk, Matrix-style person in dark sunglasses, holding a neon rod behind their head, with "he-she" written in neon-style green text. The third is covered in different wild flowers, with "he she" in light and dark purple text with a white outline. The fourth is a grey brick wall, with antique style white font with a black outline reading "he she" The fifth is a drawing of a crescent moon with small white stars, and black text. The sixth is a half photo, half digital painting of a realistic crescent moon in a black-to-blue gradient sky scattered with tiny stars while clouds lit grey and orange by the sunset below, and cursive white text that reads, "my pronouns are he she". The seventh is a purple galaxy background, with concentric white rings, and "he/she" in white text with a bold outline in a computerized style font. The eighth is a phooto of ocean waves from above, with bold black text that reads "he she" The ninth is a swirling abstract background of black, blue, and red, with white text that reads, "My pronouns are he/she - that means you refer to me as both 'he' and 'she'". The tenth is half yellow and half black, with black text curving across the top that reads, "my pronouns are", then "he" in black on the yellow half, and "She" in yellow on the black half. The eleventh is colorful stripes of rainbow paint, with text with a black outline and center, and pastel inner edges, that reads, "please use He/She pronouns for me!" End ID.]

You can download the HD versions from the web archive!

"https://archive.org/details/he-she-pronoun-pins-by-request-september-5th-2023"

These are free to download and print out, and you're welcome to share them to other sites, or use for icons / headers, in art, ect! All I ask is that you include an image description to make the post accessible! Copying and paste the relevant section above is the easiest way to do this :)

Requests are always open!

These designs will appear in this collection in my threadless store when they're done uploading, so you can buy them as buttons, shirts, stickers, ect! :)

[ratislatis]

I’m revisiting my teen wolf phase (sue me) and I’m going to be honest I kind of missed clicking on a fic and it has one of those really dramatic photoshopped screenshots from the show that are supposed to be like. the main couple being in love. and the title is something like “𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾” and its in pink cursive and you can barely fucking read it. AND ITS LIKE THE HEADER FOR THE FIC ITS AN EMBEDDED IMAGE IN THE PAGE. god I think those are so funny I cant get enough of them

can you imagine if I wrote a dndads fic and made one of those headers. its a cropped picture of darryl and ron (taken from the podcast art obvi) and the contrast is turned completely up and theres five different cutesy filters over it and smacked right on top is the title

𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓹𝓲𝓭 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼