#this has been in my drafts for a while... sorry

[blueberrybirdsworld]

I would LOVE a story about a teacher and Lando. Like she brings her class to the race and meet.

Title: Lost & Found

Summary : Having to take care of twenty eight-year-olds student through the Monaco Grand Prix paddock was never going to be easy. Between roaring engines, flashing cameras, and a sea of distracted little minds, Y/N's just trying to survive the day with her sanity intact.

But when one curious kid slips away into the chaos, panic sets in fast, until an unexpected rescue from someone in papaya orange turns the worst moment into something, unexpectedly unforgettable.

Genre : request, fluff, oneshot

Pairing : Lando Norris x teacher!Y/N

Author note: thank you for your request, it have been in my draft for a very long time I'm sorry, hope you like it :)

The Monaco sun was already relentless by the time Y/N stepped onto the paddock with twenty very excited kids buzzing around her like bees on sugar. With their paddock yellow passes, they should’ve been easy to keep track of. Should’ve.

But the Grand Prix paddock was an absolute madhouse. Engines roared in the distance, cameras flashed, and team members darted back and forth in branded uniforms. The kids were eating it up.

And Y/N, was barely keeping it together.

"Guys! Stay in pairs!" she shouted, waving her clipboard in the air like a traffic officer. "I want eyes on your buddies at all times, understood?"

A wave of “Yes, Miss Y/N!” chorused back, half-hearted and scattered as they peered around with wide eyes.

Her co-teacher, Mr. Dupont, leaned toward her. “I have to take Louis to the toilet. We’ll meet you at the hospitality, yes?”

“Okay, but be quick,” Y/N nodded. “Please.”

And then she was alone. One woman. Nineteen kids. A sea of media passes and chaos.

She did a quick scan of the group: Ella, Noah, Jules, Maelys, Clément...

Her blood turned cold.

Where is Sara?

She blinked, once, twice. Did a full-body scan again.

No Sara.

“Sara?” she called, voice loud but even. No answer. “Sara, sweetheart? Where are you?”

She moved through the group. “Has anyone seen Sara? Anyone?”

Ella looked up at her with wide eyes. “She was next to me… but then I think she saw a car and get excited.”

Y/N’s heart began to race, but she didn’t allow herself to panic just yet.

“Okay. Everyone stay together,” she said, already scanning ahead.

With a firm but quick pace, she guided the remaining children through the crowd toward their next scheduled stop: the hospitality. Thankfully, just ahead, she spotted their designated paddock host, Léa, the official guest coordinator for the school groups. The woman stood confidently, speaking into a radio near the entrance.

“Léa!” Y/N called out as they approached.

Léa turned, immediately concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“I lost one,” Y/N said in a low voice, pulling her aside. “Sara. She must’ve slipped away in the crowd. I think she got distracted.”

“Do you want me to alert security?”

“Not yet,” Y/N replied quickly. “She can’t have gone far. I’ll look around nearby. But please, can you keep an eye on the rest of the group while I go?”

“Of course,” Léa said, already scanning the students. “Go. I’ve got them.”

Y/N turned back to the kids. “Everyone, stay here with Léa. You’ll wait here for Mr. Dupont. No one moves without an adult. Got it?”

A nervous but obedient chorus of nods and 'yes' followed.

“Good,” she said, trying to keep her tone steady, even as her pulse thundered in her ears.

Then she turned and started running.

The paddock had grown busier in just minutes, people pressing in from every direction, staff members and guests weaving through the maze of garages and barriers. She stood on her toes, eyes darting frantically.

“Sara?!” she called again, louder this time. “Sara, please answer me!”

No response.

She pushed further down the alley, ignoring the eyes on her. She must’ve looked wild: disheveled, flushed, panic all over her face. She didn’t care.

Images swirled in her head: the girl crying in a corner somewhere, or worse, what if she wandered into a restricted area? What if she got hurt?

Oh God. Oh God.

She was going to lose her job. She was going to have to call Sara’s parents and tell them she lost their daughter during a school outing to the Monaco Grand Prix. Who thought it was a good idea to bring twenty 8 year-olds into the middle of a Formula 1 race weekend?

“Sara!” she cried, weaving through a group of media personnel. “Sara, please...”

Then she stopped.

Frozen mid-step, heart still hammering, lungs burning.

There, at the far end of the paddock, just in front of the McLaren hospitality area : a little girl with her yellow pass.

Sara.

Her cheeks were flushed pink with excitement, her curls bouncing as she tilted her head back in laughter. In front of her crouched a man, smiling wide, holding out something in his hand.

Y/N narrowed her eyes.

A cap. A McLaren cap.

He was handing it to her like he was gifting her the moon. And Sara, her missing student, was beaming like the happiest kid in the world.

Y/N felt a wave of overwhelming relief crash into her chest. She ran, pushing past two engineers and a cameraman, not caring who she was bumping into.

“Sara!” she shouted, voice thick with emotion.

The girl turned at the sound of her name, eyes lighting up as she spotted her teacher.

She dashed into her arms like she’d never been more thrilled to see her in her life. Y/N dropped to her knees, catching her in a tight hug, burying her face into the girl’s shoulder.

“Oh my God. Oh, sweetheart. I was so scared,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Where did you go?”

“I’m sorry,” Sara said, breathless. “I just saw a papaya car, and then people moved, and I didn’t know where you were anymore!”

Y/N pulled back just enough to look her over. “You’re not hurt?”

Sara shook her head.

Once the initial wave of relief passed, Y/N leaned back just slightly and gave Sara a firmer look.

“I’m really happy you’re okay,” she said gently, brushing a curl from the girl’s cheek, “but sweetheart, you can’t ever walk away like that again. You had me worried sick.”

“I know…” Sara murmured, looking down.

“And you absolutely shouldn’t talk to people you don’t know,” Y/N added, voice low but firm. “Even if they seemed nice.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Sara replied with a wobble in her voice. “I just got pushed a bit and then everyone moved and I couldn’t find you. I was scared. But he...he helped me.”

“She really was careful,” came a warm voice behind them.

Y/N’s eyes finally lifted to the man who was now standing just a few feet away. Still smiling. Curls peeking out from under his cap, which had a small logo and number : 4.

Her breath caught.

It wasn’t just a McLaren staff member.

It was Lando, Lando fucking Norris.

“There’s no need to scold her too much,” he said gently. “She didn’t run off on purpose. And for the record, I’m not just any stranger.”

Y/N blinked, still shock. “Right. I guess most strangers don’t get their faces printed on full-size garage banners.”

He laughed, a quick, boyish sound that made Sara giggle too.

“I think your little girl might be a fan,” he added, giving the child a wink.

“Oh, she’s not my daughter,” Y/N said quickly. “She’s one of my students. I’m a teacher. We brought a group here for a school outing.”

Lando raised his brows. “You brought kids… here? To the paddock? During race weekend?”

She let out a long sigh. “Yes. Twenty of them. Which is, in hindsight, a terrible idea.”

“That sounds like an actual nightmare.”

“You have no idea.”

“Let me guess. This one slipped away the moment she saw something shiny?”

“She has a radar for trouble,” Y/N muttered fondly, glancing down at Sara, who now wore the McLaren cap proudly like it was a crown. “But seriously… thank you. For keeping her safe. And calm. And away from the chaos.”

He tilted his head. “I couldn’t just leave her. She looked a little overwhelmed.”

“Because she was,” Y/N said honestly, softening. “This place is like a sensory overload machine for kids.”

“For adults too,” he added with a smirk. “Some of us just pretend we’re not overwhelmed.”

Y/N smiled, finally letting her shoulders relax. “Well, I appreciate you not pretending to ignore a lost child. That was… very decent of you.”

“Decent is my middle name.” he said, eyes sparkling. “And I don’t usually make it a habit to flirt with stressed-out teachers in the middle of the paddock, but you’re kind of making it difficult not to.”

Y/N stared at him for a second, unsure if she’d just imagined the flirtation in his voice.

Sara didn’t miss a beat.

“Miss Y/N doesn’t have a boyfriend!” she announced proudly, tugging Lando’s sleeve. “Maybe you can be her boyfriend!”

Y/N felt her soul leave her body.

Lando burst out laughing. “Oh really?” he asked, glancing at Y/N. “Is that so?”

“I...Sara!” Y/N’s voice was strangled. “That’s not something we say out loud.”

“But it’s true!” Sara insisted innocently. “And you said you like boys with curly hair.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Curly hair, huh? I think I might be in the running.”

“She tells us that one day in class!” Sara added helpfully.

Y/N groaned, half-laughing, half-horrified. “Okay, wow. This has gone completely off the rails.”

Lando crouched back down to Sara’s level. “Tell you what,” he said with a conspiratorial grin. “How about we don’t jump straight to boyfriend, but maybe… a date? Would that be okay with Miss Y/N?”

Y/N crossed her arms, but she was smiling. “You’re seriously asking me out in front of a child right now?”

“Hey, I’m just trying to be honest. And brave. Kids appreciate bravery, right?” He looked at Sara.

She nodded solemnly.

Y/N sighed, fighting the grin growing on her lips. “I guess I do owe you one for finding my student and saving me from a heart attack.”

“Perfect,” he said, standing up again, cocky grin fully intact. “Maybe we could see each other again after race ?”

Sara gasped. “Can I come?!”

Lando gave her a smile. “You already got the cap, little legend. Let me win over your teacher now, okay?”

He looked up at Y/N again, his voice gentler. “So… what do you say? Can I take you out sometime? You know, when you’re not managing a small army.”

Y/N hesitated, caught between her professional boundaries and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“I mean…” she exhaled a small laugh, “as long as you promise not to charm all my students before you charm me.”

“No promises,” Lando replied smoothly, “but I do have stickers in the motorhome.”

Sara gasped. “You do?!”

Y/N gave him a warning look, but she was smiling.

Later, when she rejoined the group with Sara in tow, cap on her head, cheeks glowing, Léa gave her a knowing glance.

“Everything alright?”

“More than alright,” Y/N said, her eyes catching a flash of papaya suit disappearing around the corner.

Sara tugged on her sleeve again. “So… are you going to kiss him?”

“Sara!”

“What? That’s what happens at the end of movies!”

Y/N groaned. “We are never watching movies in class ever again.”

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[wonio]

pretend ‎ ‎ ‎ ﹔ ‎ ‎ ‎simjaeyun

fem! reader ‎‎ ‎ ✴︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ fluff fake dating friends2lovers wc around 1.2k

"you don't have to hold my hand when no one's looking" you say it without looking at him, voice quiet, but jake hears it anyway. he doesn't let go. "i know," he says, like it means something else. like he knows exactly what he's doing. and maybe that's what messed with your head the most. how he's too good at this, how his hand never leaves yours, how he remembers your coffee order and always makes sure you're walking on the inside of the street, how he stares a little too long when you're not even dressed up, and say things like "you're really pretty, you know that?" you don't know if he's acting or not. you don't know if you want him to be. because it was supposed to be simple⎯help him get over someone else, pretend to be together for a while, laugh it off when it's done. no feelings, no confusion. but then it's his hoodie that you wear when you're cold. it's his fingers brushing hair out of your face. it's him whispering, "you okay?" at that party when you looked overwhelmed. you wish he didn't look so sincere all the time. like he really sees you. you're in his car now. parked somewhere quiet, with the windows fogged up from how long you've been sitting in silence. the city hums outside. his playlist plays low. and still, neither of you says anything.

he glances over. "you ever forget we're faking it?" you freeze. you don't answer. you don't have to. because when you look at him, he's already look at you⎯smile faint, eyes soft in that stupid, ruin⎯you kind of way. "i do," he says, like it's a confession that's been weighing on him. and it knocks the air right of you. not the words⎯but the way he says them. like they're the truth. your heart's loud in your ears. and then he looks away. hand still holding yours. "sorry." you should let go. you should say something that makes this easier. makes it safe again. but you don't. you squeeze his hand instead. it's quiet again. then⎯ "can i kiss you?" you blink. you turn, slow. the question just.... hangs there. between you and him. he's serious. a little nervous. your voice is small. "why?" his eyes flick to your lips. then back to your eyes. "because i want to." you pull your hand back. not because you're upset, but because you need space to think. to breathe. to not feel dizzy with the way he's looking at you. "jake.." you pause. "we're not even dating." he swallows. "i know." you glance at your lap. "so if we kiss.. what does it mean?" he doesn't answer right away. you think maybe he'll drop it. maybe this will stay in that weird in-between space where no one has to admit anything. but then he exhales. slow and honest. "i like you," he says, "i think i've liked you since before all this. and this is not pretend anymore. not for me." you blink. once. twice. "then why didn't you say anything?" he lets our a soft, almost-laugh. "because you still think this was about my ex. but the only person i've ever wanted to look at me like you do... is you." silence. then, your voice, quiet but steady. "you can kiss me now." he leans in⎯careful, slower than you expect. like he's giving you time to stop him. but you don't. not when his hands finds yours again. not when his lips brush yours, soft and steady, like a promise he means to keep. and for the first time, it doesn't feel complicated. it doesn't feel fake. just jake, just you. and maybe that's all it ever needed to be. by wonio | ‎ ‎ ‎ can anyone guess what inspired this :P had this sitting in my drafts for forever

[theamberparadise]

Hello, This is my first time making a request on your block.

Can you do a NSFW and dating headcannon for Jeff the killer and ticci Toby x Jessica Rabbit like s/o ( separately ) , please

HI HONEY IM SO SORRY THIS WAS SO LATE TUMBLR DELETED MY 2K WORD DRAFT AND NOW I HAVE TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN IM SO SORRY

TICCI TOBY AND JEFF THE KILLER X JESSICA RABBIT READER

SYPNOSIS; How would Jeff and Toby react to reader who looks like Jessica Rabbit?

TWs; toxic relationship, blood

A/N; hi hon!! welcome to my blog!! im so sorry this was sooo late tumblr hates me sm, i hope you like this as much as i liked writing it!

ps! i assumed reader is also a killer.

"Seriously, what do you see in him?" "He makes me laugh."

TICCI TOBY

The first time he saw you, Toby was beyond bewildered. Were you real or were you another figment of his twisted imagination?

Nonetheless, his eyes were on you now. And he needs your eyes on him.

His first instinct? Flaunting his muscles at you whenever and wherever he can. Getting a glass of water? His shirt is suddenly off. Fixing yourself in front of the living room mirror? He mutters it’s hot then slowly rips off his jacket. Seeing him during training? He flexes his muscles a bit more.

He thinks this is a widely accepted way of getting girls when really it’s so awkward when he does it.

Second instinct? Getting as close to you as he possibly can just to sniff your scent. Even if you’re just leaning gracefully against a counter, he might walk in, head high, shoulders back while he leans right beside you. Not across, not near, beside. Like there aren't any more spots for him to lean on.

“Toby, hon,” you cleared your throat. “You’re getting a little close.” “Am I?” he cocks his head to the side. “My bad, I’ll move aside.” 

He moves literally three inches away.

His third and final attempt? Leaving you gifts! Although it does leave you confuzzled.

One moment your Versace heels are there, and the next second, you hear your door close and now it’s gone. The next day, you wake up to see your Versace heels back again, with a pair of sword heels from Paciotti– in your size.

More of his gifts would include a sketchy brand of lotion from a drugstore, a cracked eyeshadow palette, and a seemingly used lipstick.

You appreciate his efforts but you couldn’t help but feel perplexed.

Once he notices you haven’t been saying “thank you” to him like you should be, he trudges to your door post-mission holding a bundle of snapped flowers that looked like they were pulled from a couple’s anniversary date (it was) with his breathing awry and ragged.

He keeps his eyes steady on yours. And as soon as you asked what was wrong, he shoves the bouquet in your face, like he didn’t cause you to have an allergic attack.

“Fuh–flowers. For y-you.” You gently press the cloud of petals down. “Okay, Toby– Okay, honey.”

He would still press his gaze onto you like you owed him something (which you did) and after about five minutes, he speaks once again. “Why ha-haven’t you wearing m-my gifts?”

You stay silent, backing away as your heel meets the floor again, your face looking to your side.

You feel his thumb and index gently hold your face in the right direction– where he is, and leans even closer than ever.

“I wa-want you. Do you want m-me t-too?”

Ever since you said yes to him, his ego had been fueled to the MAX.

If somebody even slightly mentions you, he’s on them and joining the conversation he had nothing to do with. “Oh, h-her? Yeah, I pu-pulled her. Not li-like you g-guys can do anything ab-about i-it,” that statement earns Toby a nasty black eye, of which he thankfully didn’t feel, but caused his face to swell for a week. He crawls back to you seeking validation even though it was him who started the mess.

He does anything and everything for you if it means he won’t lose a part of his pride like he did last time with Clockwork. Complaining about the heat melting your makeup off? He’s installing a new air conditioner. Notice a rip in your oh-so-glittery dress? He’s suddenly suitable as a surgeon. Need to detangle your hair? He’s treating it like a frail animal.

It’s the same when you’re on missions together. A rowdy victim scuffs your shoe? “That little sh-shit,” he’s off hacking the poor guy to hell.

He blushes shamelessly when you call him "my boy" or "my good little champ" while pinching his cheeks, makes him feel like one of those guys back in his middle school that would steal his crushes.

And although all of this seems sweet, it doesn���t mean it won’t have toxic tendencies.

His jealousy problems can overwhelm the relationship. He immediately jumps to conclusions every time he sees you hanging out with someone who’s not him. “Why were y-you looking at h-him? You’re not th-thinking of talking t-to him, are you?” “Did you go for a smoke with them j-just now? You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

It hurts, yes, but try to actually pursue another guy and he’ll come crying floods with his knees on the floor, gripping on your dress like it’s his life line.

"Toby, baby, no pulling, please." You try to snag the fabric gently from him. "No, no, no, no, don't leave me-- p-please no, I'm s'sorry," he chokes out, "Never again, hon, please,"

NSFW 

The reason why he takes care of your hair so gently and attentively is because he likes to pull on it whenever he’s fucking you from behind or receiving a blowjob from you. Seeing you wince in pain while you’re so used to being taken care of by him is like cocaine.

He memorizes all the spots you like to reveal in your outfits just by him staring at you for hours on end. He uses this to his advantage and cheekily leaves bites on there.

Purposefully buys you makeup that isn't kiss proof just to see your lipstick stain his lips and his cock. Sometimes, he takes pictures of them and sends them to whoever was bullying him recently.

Have a meeting with the major proxies and need to orgasm in the middle of it? No worries, he’s under your dress sucking your clit like there’s no tomorrow.

Loves it when you wear heels during sex. He cums in his pants by the thought of you stepping on his dick with them.

Once he gets home after a particularly frustrating day of missions, he drops down to his knees and starts humping your leg with his bare cock while massaging your hands and arms through your silky gloves.

He circles his thumb on the seams of your long dress while you give him the best titjobs of his life.

Lives for the idea of you having a wardrobe malfunction in front of him and the other proxies. Lowkey a cuck.

Bites every cellulite line he finds, every stretch mark he finds, kisses every scar you might have and thanks you for even letting him.

Moans a little louder than he’s supposed to when you suck on his adam’s apple.

He finds cumming in your hair so enchanting, seeing milky white beads of his honey absorb into your smooth hair has him groaning.

JEFF THE KILLER

“Holy shit,” were the first words that escaped his mouth when he first saw you. 

I mean, how could he not? Look at you, all shiny and pretty, it’s like you were made by an angel from heaven. He’s seen his fair share of hot supermodels and sexy porn stars, but none of them even come close to a creature as beautiful as you.

His approach for you is… not great.

Catcalling, whistling, and pervy pick-up lines were his first thoughts. “ *wolf whistle* Nice tits, dollface!” “ *imitates animal clicking* Here, kitty, kitty.” “Over here, sweetcheeks!”

He does this especially when he knows others are watching. It’s his twisted way of calling first dibs.

Jeff loves how you play hard-to-get with other guys in a smooth, jazzy way. Even more when you do it to him.

When he feels as if you were ignoring him (which you were) he likes to leave twisted drawings of you taped on your door. Nothing too crazy, just you in your usual outfit of glamour and heels, but this time your boobs are way bigger than they are and your butt is wider than they should be. You figure that it’s how he looks at you.

You crumpled his drawings and threw them away? That’s fine, he’ll just go a little bit further and bring you a severed finger in a ziploc bag with a ring still on it. Surprisingly, the ring is actually a real diamond worth fifty thousand dollars. And it fit perfectly, too!

You thank him a day later and he thinks he’s the sexiest man in the world.

He then takes it even more up the road– weirdly just touching your hair with his grimy hands until you turn around and gently ask him to stop. Taking extreme observation of your face like it’s an art piece. Even stealing your perfume and spraying it on him even though he has never come close to even hugging you.

After Jeff feels like it’s time to go in for the catch, he breaks inside your room while you’re sleeping and hovers over you, caging you with his body. You’re still sleeping, face freshly moisturized and pretty. He lets his ragged, heavy cold breath blowing onto your face to wake you up, and once you do he grins even wider than humanly possible.

“Y’know, you coulda been sleepin’ in my bed.”

Once you said yes, he was on top of the world. He got cockier than he should really be.

He makes uncomfortably loud grunting and throat clearing noises to make everybody look at him and you, with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, beaming wildly like he just caught a bear.

He purposefully makes out with you in public view, not caring about your lipgloss absolutely coating his face

For his bit of toxicity, he isolates you whenever too many people serve as competition.

This stems from his insecurity of not protecting what he should be protecting, so to keep your eyes only on him, he either locks you up in his room or a wide plain full of nothingness.

He ventures and finds you pretty daggers to keep on a garter on your thighs especially if you have a dress with a huge slit, both for show and for protection, even though he’s there beside you practically 24/7.

Goes crazy for you in red. Going out in an all-red outfit for a date? He’s insisting you stay at home.

He lets you use his blood from his mouth slit as lipstick.

Speak to him in that sultry voice of yours and he’s in love forever.

"Jeffrey, baby. Get me my eyelash curler, will you?" "Oh, shit," he groans, throwing his head back. "You sound like sin, sweets."

NSFW

Remember him dragging you back to the house because you wore red? Well, you’re now on the floor, getting plowed into next week.

Also goes crazy for you keeping your heels on during sex, especially when you can’t take it anymore and you’re pushing him off with them, just for him to push your legs up to your ears and fuck you deeper.

He likes it when you keep your dress on while you ride him. It makes the whole thing feel risky– forbidden.

Jeffrey likes you to get messy. One time, you come back from a rough mission looking like utter shit. Hair tangled like matted fur, dress ripped at the seams, stockings ruined, makeup smeared to hell… It took him everything from within to not pounce on you right then and there. Instead, he drags you by the arm, skin bruising under your glove to his bed and makes you look even worse the following morning.

He loves it when you have a full face of makeup and a pretty outfit before you have sex. It’s like a trophy to him– mascara stains on his pillows, your poor dress ripped to shreds on the floor.

Remember your sultry voice? Use it on him when you order him around and his heart will stop. He might cum in his pants without you touching an inch of his pale skin.

He likes making you stumble out of the door, limping out with his cum still inside and your panties in his pocket, leaving you to pray that your dress doesn’t fly up in the wind.

Do you like your bra being stolen from you? I hope so. Because he’s not going to return it after making you strike up a conversation with everyone while your tits threaten to pop out.

He purposefully messes with your clothing, cutting the seams just right so when you put it on it rips at the most ridiculous places. A huge rip from your clavicle to just under your tits. The seam at the slit of your dress lets go when you take a little step.

Loves watching your usually tired and sexy eyes shoot open when he hits that sweet spot.

[hollowcryofthegodless]

I get nothing on the sengoku era Hashira, so thank u for feeding me 😞😞❤❤❤

me too! i'm gonna make more dumb drabbles for them BUT here's some more headcanons for nourishment:

Hijurou may have been the first Flame Hashira, but his family has been in the scenes for centuries prior to the creation of Breaths. right now, Rengoku is the last ancestral slayer family, other than the Ubuyashikis.

Yuuya came from a noble family living close to the sea, that was attacked by a sea-based demon. Yuuya sold all his belongings and turned to the life of a commoner so he can track down the being that killed his family.

Masaaki's origins are from a humble family deep in poverty, and saw his father become a demon overnight. He was rescued by Hijurou who gave him purpose to enter the Corps.

Tsuyoshi was a priest in training whose temple was ransacked by a demon. He was the one left alive, and would've been arrested if Yoriichi didn't step in.

Akito was an orphaned boy who begged and stole so his younger brothers could have a future. However, during an awful winter, one of Akito's brothers died due to the cold. He was approached by Hijurou who gave him purpose by letting him join the Corps.

Yuuya's reasons for his infidelity are because he refuses to be tied down to one woman and sees marriage as a scam. He likes his libertine and independent love life more, but was entered into a marriage with a powerful slayer family that has already been extinct now. He often scoffs when the other Hashiras start to talk intimately about their women, and isn't ashamed of showcasing numerous of his lovers.

Speaking of Yuuya's lovers, he passed down his technique to one of his lovers who became the Water Hashira after his death.

Masaaki has a sister, Hana, who was one of the reasons he became extremely stressed and was thought to be the reason for his premature death. She became a Hashira after him but was never given the same respect.

Speaking of Hana, she's the Wind Hashira Kokushibo killed when he went murder happy on the Pillars. Yuuya's lover was also the one he massacred when he came knocking.

Yoriichi likes Michikatsu, Hijuro, and Tsuyoshi the most. While he respects Yuuya, he has an extreme dislike for him. Michikatsu finds Yoriichi tolerable, despite gunning to surpass him, and hates Akito.

[puppyclover]

Bluey Rain Stimboard!

[afterthelambs]

Ushijima-Oikawa parallels with Kageyama-Hinata

To me, Ushijima and Oikawa are like a tragic parallel to Hinata and Kageyama. If Oikawa had gone to Shiratorizawa then he and Ushijima could've had the partnership that Kagehina had. But because he didn't, they will never know what it's like to make the other feel invincible.

Shipping goggles aside, the parallels have to be intentional (haikyuu is too well-written for it to be just a coincidence): Both Ushijima and Kageyama were framed as naturally gifted volleyball monsters. Meanwhile Oikawa and Hinata believed that they were just average (even though the people around them know that they have their own strengths). Ushijima was the one who kept winning against Oikawa, just like how Kageyama was always ahead of Hinata. Both Hinata and Oikawa went abroad to gain experience so they could finally beat their rival. Ushijima and Kageyama are both awkward, intimidating, and ASD-coded while Hinata and Oikawa are framed as easy-going extroverted chatterboxes. These pairs are literally so similar it's crazy. Look at them and tell me it's not intentional

It also makes sense when you consider that their playstyles are also complementary. Kageyama and Hinata were a good match for each other because Hinata needed Kageyama's precision and Kageyama needed someone agile to match his own speed. But Ushijima's only requirement is for the ball to be set high and the right distance from the net so it's easy to hit. And which setter is known for dedicating themselves to their spikers, giving them easy sets? Oikawa. They truly could've been a terrifying duo.

I think Furudate was trying to show what Kageyama and Hinata could've been if they didn't team up. They'd still be strong, sure, but not invincible like they were in Karasuno. (as opposed to the Miya twins, who were supposed to show what they could've been like if they had an equal from the very beginning)

But in the end it all worked out for everyone! They all got to play on the world stage together. Ushijima and Oikawa even had their reconciliation at the all stars match (still waiting on the Oikawa-Kageyama reconciliation please please please 👀). They're all happy so I suppose it isn't actually tragic. I just cant help but wonder what could have been if Ushijima and Oikawa learned what it's like to be each other's greatest ally. Hinata and Kageyama were so lucky to have found each other after all.

[desertduality]

a post secret life au based off of orpheus and eurydice. the watchers allow grian to try and bring scar home, but he has to lead scar through the watcher realm without turning around. and we all know how it ends.

[mcaelius]

much like the figure of alcibiades in plato's symposium, by virtue of attempting to become the ideal eromenos caelius instead perverts the mentor-mentee relationship and becomes the pursuing erastes <- totally real quote from an article that i would write if i knew anything about anything

[tangents-within-tangents]

Thinking about the song "Ship in Port" by Radical Face and clones

Thinking about the line "Farewell to the chains we were born into" and what that can mean for the clones

Thinking about how "But I have always stayed in place/Under that old illusion that it's safe" could equally describe Hunter, Echo, and (s1+2) Crosshair's complete opposite approaches to the Empire and post-war life.

The way Crosshair clings to his identity as a soldier of the Empire

And Echo as a soldier of the Republic

But Hunter puts his identity as a soldier behind him

Crosshair fights for the Empire to gain purpose

Echo fights against the Empire to save his brothers

And Hunter decides the Empire is too strong to even try to oppose

"A ship in port is a safer one"

"but it's not the reason it was made"

"So forgive me if I wander off"

"And forgive me more if I just stay"

Thinking about what The Bad Batch could have been if it had more fully explored the differences between those ideologies

(Thinking about what The Bad Batch could have been if it had dedicated more screen time to the 'reg' clones within the Empire and the underground network's fight to free them , instead of just sidelining Echo and Rex for a hypothetical clone rebellion show we might never get)

[homeofatlas]

Only Tonight (And Maybe Tomorrow Too)

Summary: Vaguely Before sunrise Au. Elisa and reader meet and can’t help but feel drawn together for a night of philosophy, romance, adventures and a once in a lifetime kind of love. 

Authors note: based on this one ask someone posted a while ago idk who about Elisa and the reader meeting at a wedding and spending the night getting to know each other i think. Also yes loosely inspired by that one greta monologue about love. Yall i too wish this was written better with more depth and detail but I can only justify so much writing during exam season. When I show up to the loser competition and then I’m there but I’m talking to someone I think is hot. 

WC: 3.6K

Warnings: Swearing and Some Suggestive Content bc Elisa be hot. 

3 PM

Weddings are stressful. Between your outfit, the gift, and your family you’d been stressed out enough for a lifetime and it was only 3 pm. Is there anything worse than being at your younger cousin's wedding and having all your relatives bombarding you with questions asking when it was your turn? You didn’t think so. On top of all this you’d been relegated to being the person who fetches everything for everyone who needs a water, an eyelash curler, or a set of pearl earrings. You loved your cousin, your aunt, and all your female relatives who were cooing over the bride but it was a little much. 

Your cousin had always had a flair for the dramatic, so when you received the invitation saying you were invited to her destination wedding in Malta you hadn’t been surprised. In fact you’d welcomed the vacation. The stunning water and architecture had been an amazing get away from the writer's block you’d been experiencing……... .except for when you’d been around your family. Cost wise you knew it was better to share a room with your mom but for your sanity you’d opted to stay elsewhere. 

Finally when the wedding arrived you were relieved. Five days of amazing weather and smothering family, you were ready to go home tomorrow morning. Back to your real life in Paris, where you’d taken a job as a secretary while you wrote your next play. It had been months since you’d last touched your latest ideas though. You’d been hoping this trip would be what you needed to start writing again but you hadn’t found anything truly inspiring….yet. 

Being sent to go grab more tissues for the bride's mother you slipped out of the bride's dressing room again. Making your way down the hall to where you knew the elevator was you pulled out your phone to check the time. 

3:15

Great, only 18 more hours before your flight tomorrow you thought. 

Looking up you only see yourself about to crash into someone wearing a suit before you actually do. You immediately look up and make eye contact with what’s possibly the most gorgeous human you’ve ever seen. Their arms come up to grab your biceps to stabilise both of you. Tan with freckles lining her cheeks and nose, her furrowed eyebrows pulling together even tighter as she puts together that you’ve just crashed into her and haven’t said anything.

Crap, you haven’t said anything.

Say something, anything but just staring at her. Her arms begin to lower trailing down your arms before dropping to her sides completely. 

Finally the word burst from you, 

“Oh my god i’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going, I was distracted, that one's on me, again i’m so-”

“It’s okay” She quickly interjects, a soft french lilt to her heavy voice. 

A small smile begins to grow on her face. As she continues to look at you she shakes her head laughing to herself and walking away.

You feel your cheeks growing hotter. Only you would crash into the hottest real life person you’ve ever seen in a desperate escape from your family. You wince in embarrassment thinking about it. You look back to see where the woman has gone only to see her turning the corner. Damn it. 

From down the hall you hear a door click open, you expect to hear a close instead, your mothers voice calling your name. 

Shit, the tissues. 

6:30 PM

After what you have to admit was a lovely ceremony, comes the game of how to indirectly tell people you’re gay without coming out explicitly when they ask if you even have a boyfriend yet. Your cousin did a marvellous job of choosing the flowers, the music, the venue, everything down to the last minute detail was gorgeous. It’s hard to imagine someone you used to push on the swings as being married. You remember the days where you’d hide in pillow forts and talk about your future children's names and what your weddings would look like. You’re glad she got to have the picture perfect wedding she always dreamed of with a husband who loves her dearly. 

Excusing yourself from the table you go up to the buffet which holds finger foods to eat through the reception. Deciding on which fruits you feel like adding to your plate you barely notice when someone else grabs a plate and comes to stand beside you. 

Breaking you out of your trance you hear the voice that’s been replaying in your head for hours. 

“It’s like you’re stalking me.” She teases.

You exhale slightly in lieu of a laugh, relieved the person standing beside you is someone you might actually like. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” You tease back.

Glancing to your left you see she’s ditched the black blazer leaving her in a white button up with black dress pants. Running your eyes up and down her you are thoroughly impressed. Her legs look especially toned in the dress pants telling you this is NOT someone who skips leg day. 

“Are you with the bride or groom?” She asks. 

“Oh neither, I’m crashing this wedding. I'm only here for the free food.” You answer, gesturing to the fruit tray in front of you. 

She stares at you as if unsure whether or not you’re joking. 

“I’m kidding,” You laugh and lean over to nudge her shoulder. “I’m the bride's cousin.”

Her brows part and she begins to laugh again. Good god, you could listen to that sound forever and never get bored of hearing it. 

Once she finishes you ask how she knows the happy couple. 

“Family friend of the grooms, you know the groomsmen de almeida? He’s my brother.”

As she points to a figure on the dance floor you begin to recognize him, you had seen him during the ceremony. You’d also met him and his family at the rehearsal dinner last night, but you definitely would have remembered this girl. 

“I met him last night. I think I met your mom and dad too. Didn’t see you though, I think i would have remembered that”

“Haha I flew in this morning, I’m a footballer for PSG feminine so I had training up until yesterday. I fly out again tomorrow morning.” 

“Me too. Maybe I’ll see you there?”

“Maybe you will.”

Your gazes linger. 

It’s been so long since you bantered with someone so easily. This girl was already making you feel things you’d forgotten how to feel and you’d only know her for five minutes. You had to prolong this conversation. 

“I’m y/n.” You stuck out your palm for a hand shake. 

“Elisa.” She responds, her warm hand reaching out to grab your extended hand. 

The small smile gracing her face takes your breath away. 

As your touch lingers a slow song starts. You see couples begin to wrap their arms around each other and sway. You never feel more single than right now at weddings. Although with this beautiful woman who is no doubt taken but you’re going to ignore that for your own sanity right now, it feels less lonely than it usually does.  Trying to think of something to say, you breathe in to ask about her work, or her favourite colour, or why she gets up in the morning, she steals the breath from your throat by asking if you like to dance. 

“Never been a dancer per say but yes I dance”

“Come with me.” She gestures over to what must be the table where she’s been seated and your legs take you with her. She puts down her plate of food before taking yours as well and placing it next to hers before turning around and extending a hand. Her eyes flicker from you to the dance floor. It’s crazy to be able to communicate with someone this well when you just met them right? This has to be some kind of sick twisted sapphic dream where a gorgeous athletic masc is asking you to dance with her on your last night on a beautiful island in Europe. There’s no way your life is real right now. But if it is a dream you’re going to make the most of it. You place your hand in hers again and let yourself be led to the dance floor. 

She pulls you around to face her and pulls your arms up her shoulders while hers wind around your waist. She’s too good at this, you think. Smiling to yourself you mentally roll your eyes. This girl. 

“What?” she asks looking at your smiling face. 

“Nothing…..Just laughing at you and your moves.” How are you already comfortable enough with her to tease her?

Elisa scoffs playfully. “Me and my moves," she says. “Tell me the moves aren’t working.”

She cocks an eyebrow at you. 

You stay silent. She’s got you there. But you’ll be damned if she knows it before you let her.

“The moves aren't working.” You say as you let your face go slack and your eyes fall blank as if you’re looking straight through her. All traces of your earlier engagement gone in an instant. 

“You can’t trick me with the deadpan again, it only works once, cherie.”

“Oh, rats.” You remove one of your hands from her shoulders to swing it diagonally while snapping. 

She smiles widely and laughs at your actions. The older couples around you look over and you only feel a little bad because you made her laugh. Have you ever felt like you understood someone before you really knew them? It must be the romantic in you because swaying back and forth with her laughing right now feels like a rush of adrenaline and like you just crossed the threshold of being home after a long day. If she isn’t single, you’re going to have to kill someone. 

11 PM 

You’d talked and laughed all evening. It’s been a long time since someone made you feel alive. Your cheeks feel tired from smiling so much, when was the last time that had happened? You can’t even remember. 

People are starting to wrap up and leave the wedding. She’s not technically part of the wedding so she’ll be leaving soon. Your mind is racing to find some excuse to see her again or keep these good vibes going. This is the lightest you’ve felt in a while. As you're going through your catalogue of excuses to get her to stay or go or anything as long as you’re together, you’re startled by a soft touch to your arm. She’s looking at you again, god will that ever get less scary? She’s maintained eye contact with you most of the night and is an active listener as you regaled her with childhood stories about the bride. It’s no less electric then it was the first moment you ever looked into those brown eyes. You can feel your heartbeat throughout your entire body, pulsing at the heat of her slight touch.  

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Shit, you think. She stole my line. 

You feel bashful all of a sudden, what if she can see your mind racing trying to get her to stay? What if she thinks you’re some kind of creep? Worse, what if she’s actually hitting on you? In first aid training they should really cover how to restart your own heart after an attractive person, a hot person, let’s not downplay it here, the most mouth wateringly beautiful person you’ve seen in your whole life, asks you to get out of here with them. Suddenly the oversight seems fatal. 

Deep breath. You can be cool about this. You give her a small smile trying to not appear too eager. 

“Yeah, I really do.”

3 AM

Your legs have a burning sensation in them from the running around, dancing, and hours of walking you and Elisa have done. You feel as though you’ve walked the entire island of Malta. Not true, of course, but it feels like it with how tired you are. Yet you can’t imagine being anywhere else in the world right now than in the quiet warm night next to an interesting, beautiful, heartbreakingly charming girl. You’re praying to god this isn’t just a you feeling. Can she feel the easy dynamic between you two? The shoulder bumps, easy laughter, and meaningful conversations have flowed between you two all night. You’ve never believed in magic or soulmates but tonight, her, this moment in time, it’s making you question those beliefs. The soft glow of streetlights and lights spilling out from shops open late add to the ambiance of the warm, if not slightly breezy night. This is perfect. This is everything your hopeless romantic heart could ever want. It feels straight out of a movie or some cheesy book, meet-cute with a dorky girl and cool charismatic athlete, they get along really well and somehow have chemistry, cue falling in love montage, the almost kiss, the third act miscommunication, the eventual resolution. Okay well you could do without the miscommunication but this night? It’s so making the falling in love moments montage. 

Your fingers brush against each other and your breath catches in your throat. This is insane. You feel electrified, as if someone just took defibrillators to your chest and you were still conscious. You’re loving every minute of it. You’re brave enough to reach out a little and brush purposely against hers again. The tips of fingers tangle together momentarily before the breeze parts them. Emboldened by what could be you reach out and tangle your fingers fully in hers so you’re holding hands on a dimly lit street. 

You’re trying hard not to look like a tomato, you're blushing so hard. What's even more embarrassing is how you’re already thinking about a great story this night would be to tell your future kids about, holy crow you need to get it together. This momentary lapse in silence for the first time all night is so peaceful, a bit like falling into your moms embrace when you aren't feeling well. The silence cradles you in her arms safely cooing you into sleep. You see her look down at your entwined hands and the sides of her lips pull up. You breathe a little easier. She squeezes your hand to let you know she’s okay with it. You’re already coming up with secret gestures to let each into your feelings. 

The walk back to the hotel is mostly silent. Tiredness creeping over you both. It had been a long day from start to finish. You still don’t want this night to end though. You’re so close to everything you’ve always wanted. You’re debating whether or not it would be creepy to invite her to your room when you arrive at the hotel. You don’t want to sleep with her, okay yes you do but not now, maybe tomorrow when you have the energy to really give it your all, you just want to be next to her and exist in her space. You want her arms wrapped around you and to lay your head in the crook of her neck. You want to feel her skin warm with fatigue. Distantly you wonder if this is a liking women thing or truly a you and her thing. 

In the elevator up to your floors you lean your head on her shoulder, her hand leaves yours to duck around your back and pull you into her so her hand drapes over your waist. Keeping you close. You like this more than anything. Top 3 sensations ever. The doors slide open knocking your moment of paradise away. You shuffle out and then this is it. The goodbye. Oh fuck you’re far too tired to do this properly. You should say something suave and charming that will make her want to keep in touch. A swooping sensation appears in your belly at the thought of never seeing her again. That can’t happen. 

“I think-,” The tiredness is making you entirely too truthful and too much and she hasn’t gone running for the hills yet so that has to count for something right. You bite your lip as you debate whether to continue on. You’re standing in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hotel but she’s gorgeous everywhere, how is this even fair? “I think-,” Your tongue feels almost numb, your eyes can’t stay open any longer. “I think this is how the poets must feel about different worlds, you know? Like the multiverse but it’s between people. Lovers, people who love each other. That secret language.” What are you even fucking saying but you think she gets it because she’s just as tired and shes nodding and smiling and this quiet moment, oh god you want to live here forever, on the precipice of something great, life changing. 

“Yeah no I get it. I feel like that tonight too.” 

It occurs to you that you don’t even know if she likes you as more than a friend or even thinks you’re pretty at all. Which is cool, you could totally live with that…..yeah no. Love at first sight is bullshit but you’re thinking this is pretty close to it. More like I think you’re going to be the love of my life realization at 9 hours ish into knowing you sight. This is the moment in the movie where you almost kiss. You don’t even register the heat of her body extremely close to yours until you feel warm breath ghosting along your cheek with a small kiss left there. You wish you were more awake, but you feel like you’re being lit on fire while being weighed down at the same time. You’ve never cursed the human need to sleep more. You have better things to do!

She pulls away and tucks a hair behind your ear. Your hair must be so knotty from the wind. Ugh you’re probably an eye sore right now, not cute. She’s looking at you the same way she looked at the boats in the harbour and up at the sky earlier though. Full of awe and wonder. Like she’s looking into a world beyond her. Your heart clenches painfully. Please, Please, Please. You don’t know what you’re pleading for but you need more. Her nose brushes against yours and you aren’t breathing. Her lips ghost across your cheekbone and trail to your ear. The palm of her hand rests against your hip. The heat is burning through your clothes. 

“If I give you my number, are you going to call?” She breathes into your hair with a smile. 

You’re nodding at a ferocious speed. Yes, absolutely you’re going to call. You’re going to blow up her phone. You tilt your head to angle your lips towards her ear. How can she make anything sound dirty? It’s a talent truly. 

“Yes” I will do anything for you.

You feel strung out. Tired and drunk on attraction. A shiver runs down your spine at her proximity. You want her hot hands all over you. You think if she whispered in your ear you could probably climax from her voice alone. You want to groan and throw your head back thinking about it. Your fingers in her hair, the smell of her around you, in you-

Best to cut that thought off there. You were always a bit turned on when you got tired. Doesn’t help that you have a professional athlete trying to give you her number and whispering in your ear too. 

She pulls back and smirks at you like she can tell what you’re thinking. She’s good at that. She’s either going to be great for you or your downfall. You’ll take both. You always did like the myth of Icarus. And just like that she's swaying into you again. This time she’s got a hand around the side of your neck pulling you to her and one hand on your hip and those lips you’ve been staring at all night are on yours. Holy shit, you could never have daydreamed it would feel this good. She tastes like the food you ate earlier and something sweet. This must be what ambrosia tastes like. She pulls back slightly panting a into the small gap between you,

“Sorry, I had to do that once, just in case you don’t call.”

“Trust me,” You breathe partially into her mouth. “I’m going to call.” 

Then the heat of her is gone just as soon as it came. You hadn’t realized the hard line of her body was fully pressed against yours until it’s gone, leaving you to break into goosebumps in the hall. She walks backwards until she goes to turn around the corner where her room is. Before she leaves your sight she drops a wink and a lazy smile at you. You think you’re starstruck. As you wander back to your room you think just maybe you’ll have tonight and maybe tomorrow too. 

[basiltonpitch]

byler having sex could be extremely important to will's coming of age as a gay man.

hear me out.

(also - before anyone comes at me for sexualizing minors - i'm not saying i want an explicit sex scene. i don't! something like jancy's s2 fade to black would be more than enough for me.)

now back to the point:

will has heard his whole life how being gay is this disgusting, dirty, vile thing - from his father & from bullies at school. likely other adults around the town, as well, considering we hear troy referencing what his dad said about will being killed by "some other queer" in season 1. not to mention this story is set in the midst of the aids epidemic. i mean, he's from a small town in bumfuck indiana, he's no doubt heard his share of casual and overt homophobia throughout the years. (and then there's the alan turing poster in s4...) long story short, he's only heard negative things about being gay. about loving other boys and wanting other boys and desiring other boys.

but then there's mike. his best friend. the one person that makes him feel like he's not a mistake for being different. for being gay.

mike & will having sex, being intimate and together in a way will was always taught was gross and wrong, and learning that it isn't any of those things - will learning that loving mike and wanting mike and desiring mike is beautiful, and wonderful, and right - and having mike want him back, desire him back, learning that it's okay, it's good, continuing that arc of mike making him feel like he's not a mistake, that he's better for being different because he gets to have this with mike - he deserves that moment, i think. and mike does, too.

[daily-odile]

peak physical condition

[yellobb]

So like…. Yall remember when the met gala theme was catholic stuff? Crowley would’ve eaten that shit right up

[rwrbmovie]

TAYLOR ZAZHAR PEREZ for Port Magazine

[abnormal-vacuum]

task force 141 supernatural au, anyone?

price: he was in the military for years. still became a captain until his team encountered something supernatural— a monster of sorts, maybe. something big and scary. he was the only survivor and afterwards the SAS was trying to be very hush hush about it, so they ‘honorably discharged’ him. for years he tried to ignore / rationalize what he saw until he couldn’t take it anymore and became a hunter. didn’t realize other people went around ‘hunting monsters’ until he met laswell. often uses his military connections to get what he wants / needs for the ‘jobs’.

gaz: he was just some guy, living a fairly normal life until he moved into a new apartment building (that was haunted) and met john on a hunt. after that he couldn’t live normally knowing shit like that was out there and decided to join price. they became a hunting duo, traveling all around the uk together.

soap: his mum always told him ghost stories growing up so his whole life he’s been fascinated with the supernatural. he actively tried to put himself into ‘spooky’ situations as a hobby, trying to find ‘proof’ of the unknown. published a book about local legends from various places in the uk, illustrated it himself.

ghost: his father raised him and his brother as a hunter. he hates the profession but does it because he feels like he ‘needs to’. he (kind of) died once and came back due to a demon (roba) thinking he would be ‘useful’. he was not. lives now as a figment, pretty much not existing on any records. presumed dead, long missing. he’s a local legend that johnny covered in his book, since people say they ‘see him’ when he’s supposed to be dead. like a ghost.

laswell: used to be an active hunter, now just collects cases for the regulars at her pub. nobody knows how she got into the business, and she won’t tell anyone. seems to know everybody and everything. has more connections than anyone.

alex: was on vacation in the uk when he had an encounter with some sort of monster. farah saved his life but he lost his leg to it. with all of this having happened he decided to stay in the uk and work at laswell’s pub. (he fell in love with farah almost instantly)

farah: used to be a hunter in her country until her brother tried to sell her to a demon. he was killed and she packed up her stuff, going to the uk for a while, the memories too painful. she had become close friends with laswell on a hunter forum when the latter was searching for a monster and its mythos that originated from urzikistan. they became friends and when farah told kate what had happened kate told her that she should come stay with her for a little while. she works at the bar and sometimes goes on hunts, although only if an extra man is needed.

[woolydemon]

oh my god i just saw that post about making characters fat and saw you were thinking about cole ninjago. youre so fucking real and true. cole Must be fat

thank you so much i wanted to draw a cole for this but have a sketch i did of all the guys i drew somewhat recently instead,,

^as you can see I am particular abt how I think each one would be built