#also i feel guilty about even the amount of clothes i own and like and wear tbh

[mayakern]

In light of finding out that there's actually people out there being jerks to you in your inbox, I wanted to tell you how much joy you've brought into my life without even knowing about it! My girlfriend introduced me to your art and your clothing and I've been a huge fan ever since! Your art makes me feel more comfortable in my own skin and see beauty where I hadn't thought to look before, and watching you succeed puts a smile on my face. I wish you and your wife a long and happy life full of joyful memories and interesting stories!

aw thank you, this is so incredibly sweet 🥺🥺🥺

we did have a couple ppl being weirdly combative at the combo of me asking why ppl hadn't purchased from the canada store (this was a genuine question to see if there were issues we didn't know about, which there were) and then me talking about what a rough position the business is in currently, but largely people have been nothing other than extremely kind and supportive and wonderful.

i think it often comes down to the sad reality that when a small brand like us, which is more expensive than fast fashion in large part because we use certified ethical labor, talks about our financial/sales issues in a time when most people are struggling, people sometimes get defensive.

even if i am not being aggressive or mean or blaming our customers--i am also a non-wealthy person who lived through 2024, i have not at any point been unaware of just how difficult things have gotten and i don't blame anyone for their financial situation--because of the type of business i run, seeing me or the business fail can make people feel guilty. because even tho a lot of people try not to think about it, when you buy a fast fashion shirt for $5--or when you buy several, knowing that they'll fall apart after just a few wears--there are so many "invisible" costs. knowing that you can afford a shein clothing haul because someone was, at best, paid pennies to make the garments wears a person down. knowing, too, that that piece of clothing that was made by exploiting other humans is going to end up in the trash relatively quickly also takes its toll.

for a lot of people, fast fashion is all they can afford. and also for a lot of people, they have convinced themselves that buying a higher quantity of cheap garments that will fall apart quickly is more affordable or a better deal than saving up for one more expensive piece that will last them multiple years. after all, buying a single garment that you'll wear for years doesn't give you nearly as much of a dopamine hit as getting an entire clothing haul that costs the same amount up front.

and i think because of this--because a lot of people make this choice and do not feel proud of it--when they see me or my business struggle, they project their own feelings of guilt and assume that i must be blaming them personally. that i am figuratively breathing down their neck and haunting their closets.

the truth is, i know the path i have chosen is not the easy one. i could probably make a lot more money and live a lot more comfortably if i operated on a business model that more closely resembled fast fashion. but for as long as i can afford them, i would like to stick to my ideals. and i don't blame other people for not being able to do the same.

[steorran]

feeling guilty in several directions simultaneously bc i feel bad for getting rid of old clothes i no longer wear/like (this is evil due to wastefulness), and bad for having so many clothes in the first place (evil due to consumerism)

i don't even need to acquire replacement clothes!!! i still like most of the clothing i have purchased in the last 5 years, most of the things i don't wear anymore are bc they predate my serious commitment to transgenderism or whatever

[moodymisty]

Oh my gosh, I just saw your post about requests being open again and I am honestly embarrassed about how excited I got. Now I just have to choose which one... which one... Aha!

I am in DESPERATE need of a White Knight Captain Titus fic. Something where he swoops in and saves a fem-reader from a horrible fate. Please give my sweet blueberry boy some good old fashioned romance. He deserves it.

(I will leave the NSFW level up to you, but I wouldn't be opposed if things got very spicy.)

Author's note: I am so sorry about this taking so long, life is kicking my ass; Also maybe not the most horrible fate, but I digress

Relationships: Titus/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Grinding/Dry humping, Armor kink, Clothed sex

“Thank you, Titus.”

Those three words could inspire him do a frightening amount of things, Titus has learned quite quickly.

They drip from your lips like the sweetest, saccharine song, always with a smile. Whether it's an Inquisitor interrupting you, a handsy lord, or the pitter patter of rain threatening to ruin your hair, Titus hears those words not moments after swooping to your rescue.

He had felt so guilty of your over respect that he'd told you of his struck record, his accusations. You'd replied that none of it mattered to you- that he seemed no less than an honorable and valiant Ultramarine. Those words fanned his pride like hot embers waiting for kindling, and Titus preened like a flashy bird under your praise. The praise of a baseline might mean nothing to his brothers, but to him, yours was everything.

It was everything he'd ever needed, and wanted.

Its in the incense choked air of the chapel that he remembers the moment a rogue trader pulled a bolter on you. The deal his captain had given you to negotiate had been tough, and your lips had fumbled oh so slightly, sending negotiations into a spiral downwards. Even your most valiant efforts couldn't save it; but when that man pulled his bolter on you, something in him broke.

That man didn't survive the moments after, and his fellow Ultramarines had cleaned up the rest.

Titus removes that thought from his mind with a literal head shake, one that causes his ear to ring a bit just for a moment.

He wants to go see you.

He knows you're fine, this ship is the safest place you could be bar none, but yet there is this tug on his hearts that demands he go to you. Like he needs to visually see you with his own eyes before he can finally cast that accursed remembrance aside. He wishes he had never remembered it in the first place- though it's an impossible wish for an astartes.

Tracking you down to a dark spot in the Ultramarine Librarium. You're casually perusing, eyeing the tomes at your level before catching sight of him. The way you light up fans the embers of Titus' pride once more, setting them aflame.

"Titus! What are you doing here?"

He instantly comes closer, breaching into your personal space of which you allow with no complaint. Your perfumed scent mixed with your natural scent wafts around him, as you look up at him with a soft expression.

"I missed you." Titus speaks bluntly and truthfully- though it's only half of said truth. Your face blooms into a smile at the sound of his voice.

"I missed you too, Titus."

You always say his name so differently, there's a softness to it- so unlike how most speak his name with disdain. They bring him in like some sort of lure, the still foreign feeling of his lips against your own. Even if he's already kissed you a countless number of times, it still feels off. Like parts of his brain are trying to lock the things he's discovered in his mind once more.

His lips dance with yours, his slightly larger mouth awkwardly pressing against yours. It may not be the perfect elegant kiss you read in your hidden novels, bound in solid black to keep the contents secret, but the passion is sevenfold. The soft mewls from your throat he greedily swallows, feeling the way your hands wrap in the hair at the nape of his neck. The feeling on your fingers grasping it makes him groan, the pain is so light but just enough to make his hearts hitch.

His massive gauntlets slide down the curve of your back to cup your ass, bunching the fabric of your dress. If he moved a bit more inward, you could feel his fingers against your cunt. Your back scrapes against the shelves behind you, knocking books out of alignment.

"There are others here, Titus,"

You whisper against his lips, feeling one of his gauntlets pulling away to your front in order to barge it's way between your thighs. The feeling makes you whimper- even if it's his unfeeling armor, even if it's through layers of clothing, your deprived senses delight in the sensation enough that your hips jerk forward of their own volition.

"They're all servitors or servoskulls, anyone who is normally in here left to listen to our chapter Librarian speak."

His lips brush against the corner of your mouth, and that hesitation no matter how minute is brushed away by the heat of his breath over your skin- the tickle of his lip scar.

"I cannot remove my armor for another two cycles, but allow me to have something I can look forward to."

He wants to hear the noises you make; the ones just for him. His duty according to his captains might be to just protect you from physical harm, but in his hearts tending to your whims is just as important.

He needs you to want him. Command anything of him, it's bred into his DNA to serve to his utmost. If only so you'll continue to look at him with such reverence.

"T-Titus,"

You feel your knees tremble but Titus holds you up, ruthlessly pressing the cold, firm plates of his armor against your soaked pussy through layers of clothes. You can feel the way your underwear is soaked, how your outer lips slide against each other slick with your own arousal, clit throbbing as you try to angle your hips just right-

His hand presses against you harder, rocking with your jerky hips. Your hands grip the collar of his armor trying to stay steady, grinding yourself against his palm like lust has consumed every one of your thought processes. Your thighs part trying to find that perfect angle, abandoning any fear of discovery for the sensation of his unyielding armor between your legs.

"M-move your hand like-"

Your breath fans across his armor, face radiating heat as he watches you with a ruthless stare. Your knees wobble and give out from under you, but Titus catches you and makes sure you move barely an inch.

You tug at his wrist and he arches his palm upward, so it's more diagonal than flat. It presses against your clit now as you grind against him harder, quicker- even through your clothes it has you shaking, knees finally giving out with a whimper as you come.

The fractured whimper you let out is nearly pathetic, breath hitching in your throat as your cunt constricts and flutters around nothing at all.

A disappointing reality, but you know his dilemma; this can be not unlike a snack to just barely keep you from starving.

"Thank you," You joke breathlessly, hands grasping the collar of his armor. There's just so much of him, the way he can overtake your entire vision is overwhelming.

"I know."

"I would never let you fall."

He speaks with his normal stoic neutrality, but there's just the slightest tilt of softness behind it. You laugh.

[i-arch-my-backula]

Poly relationship headcanons for movie Louis and Lestat

I'm putting off doing this for the TV Louis and Lestat because I'm still early on in season two, and I don't want to do anything OOC for them. Anyway, I'm hopefully going to have another chapter for my Immortal Lovers fic coming out soon.

Content includes: Brief mentions of a sick reader, Lestat has a temper on him, Louis has Catholic levels of guilt, maybe a bit of an unhealthy relationship

Considering you're a human, you probably either knew Louis before he turned, or you met Louis before he learned to not get involved with 'mortal affairs' anymore.

He'd try to keep you secret from Lestat for as long as he can, but of course Lestat finds out and he quickly develops an attraction to you, and from that attraction grows feelings like Louis has.

There will be lots of back and forth between the two of them about if you should be turned or not. Lestat saying that it's better for you to be turned and Louis saying that you shouldn't.

But in the end, when you get sick and they're not sure if you're going to make it, Louis can't bear to part from you, so Lestat turns you into a vampire.

Or I could see Lestat using you as a way to sort of 'trap' Louis into staying with him if he was going to try to leave. Kind of like what he did with Claudia but this time it's for romantic partners.

Early on in your vampire life you can choose who you share a coffin with until you get your own. If you choose Louis he'll be affectionate, but still get you a coffin in a reasonable amount of time. But if you choose Lestat, he's going to drag it out for as long as he can.

Both men are going to shower you with affection. Louis' romance being more so verbal and through actions, like taking you out for walks together, or seeing plays and operas. Where as Lestat is going to give you gifts and get you fancy clothes made to your every desire.

Lestat isn't the best teacher there is when it comes to the ways of being a vampire. Of course he tells you about not drinking dead blood and using a coffin, avoiding sunlight, never killing in the house etc, etc. But if you want more knowledge on vampires, you'll have to go to Louis, or do your own research.

Louis prefers to hunt alone, still feeling some amount of guilt at having to eat from humans if he wants to sustain his immortal life. But if you insist, he'll let you join him some nights, when he isn't feeling as guilty.

Lestat however, is almost always happy to have you join him on a hunt. He likes to drag his meals out a bit so having someone to share it with is nice.

There are some occasions that the three of you go out together on a hunt. Lestat is usually the one who initiates these hunts, finding the victims and setting up a private area for the three of you to share. It's not often this happens, but you three still do it once or twice a year.

Louis prefers the dates that he takes you on to be more 'romantic' or 'traditional' like taking you out for the night or spending it at home together, embraced in each others arms, reading books and talking.

Lestat prefers for your dates to be more public. Going out to parties together, seeing plays and operas, going shopping wherever you two please, maybe even using a hunt as a sort of date.

But Lestat also has his outbursts. Getting into fits of rage yelling at you and Louis. His temper gets the better of him at times and he usually leaves for the night to collect himself again. But by the next night he'll apologize with some kind of gift, you rarely ever hear him say that he's sorry.

But Louis can also get caught up in Lestat's yelling sometimes, the two of them getting into arguments of just shouting back and forth. But Louis will come to you after and apologize.

I can see the two of them using you as a way to speak to each other if they're not on speaking terms. If an argument got a bit too out of hand and they're not ready to make up they'll have you relay messages for them, Lestat more so than Louis. For two immortal vampires they can be rather childish at times.

[venuslarkspur]

guys what if concerning dating history batsis did it with deathstroke.. or rose… WHAT IF HE’S HER SUGAR DADDY LMAO

OMG UR SO REAL FOR THIS THOUGH (Bruce is already getting grey hairs from this girl)

LIKE IMAGINE ME THIS ⬇️💗

Batsis and The Tale Of The Sugar Daddy (and gal pal Rose)

Warning: SLIGHT NSFW, canon dc violence, batfam shenanigans.

———————

Bruce: Listen I think it’s good that Batsis!Reader is financially independent now but where is she getting all this cash?

Tim mindlessly typing away: My theory is Roy got her pregnant and now Ollie has to bankroll them.

Damian: That’s ridiculous, they could have just came to father, Drake.

Dick who is sweating cause he knows why: Yeah..you’re probably right Tim..

Tim: What’s wrong?

Jason who is still agitated his sister is not only involved with his ex’s dad but also the ex: I’d tell you, but I was AND still am confused.

———————

- Batsis is definitely Rose’s awakening, she doesn’t care if she dated Jason that’s him fumbling not her.

- Batsis just started off as one of Rose’s friends when the masks were on, she didn’t know she was getting it on with her friends dad of all people.

- It’s difficult for anyone to really refute it when it comes to the age gap, yeah many think it’s gross but when they met she was the same age as Dick. (27-29) so if Bruce finds out not only can he not be argued with, Batsis will also bring up how his exes are just as bad.

- Not bc imagining Deathstroke who is just insanely soft on Batsis, say even if he gets her pregnant he isn’t going anywhere; Rose could use a little sister or brother ig. But y’all are careful, he knows better than to get a Wayne Family Heiress pregnant.

- I don’t write smut but Ik they are FREAKY, the one place they wouldn’t dare do it is Wayne Manor, he is cooked if they’re are caught there. He will have the Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, The Batgirls, Robin, Batwoman, Signal and probs more on him at that point. These mfs will let Batsis’s exes know that’s how petty there are about this.

- Imagine waking up with Deathstroke and ur both barely clothed and outside his window is the entirety of the Batfamily, Arsenal, Three Green Lanterns, Zatanna, Wonder Woman, John Constantine, Booster Gold, Harley Quinn and his own daughter are queuing up for first dibs.

- Slade knows about your problem with some of your exes (cough cough Hal Jordan) and aims to help you by drowning you in jewellery and clothes, like that new faux fur coat and boots? Yeah he bought you that, that new pearl and gold necklace with your initials? Yep he got it. That new skirt that’s shoes the perfect amount of thigh? Yep, his. Like all these past flames and flings (HAL JORDAN) know you’re seeing someone.

- Always reminds you how mischievous you are for getting nasty with him whilst being a “figure of honour and importance”, which quite frankly pisses you off, you’ve slept with most of your dad’s colleagues god damn it! He loves that it makes you feisty.

- Rose is super jealous, and you definitely share a heart wrenching goodbye kiss before she wishes you goodbye, you almost went after her before remembering your dinner date tonight and if went well you’d be confident to let your father know of your relationship.

- If your a vigilante, Rose knows your secret identity (wether you’re batgirl or not), Your Sugar Daddy doesn’t know and you quite frankly would rather he not, you make him swear off the Wayne Family all together, but you feel guilty at not being able to protect them when the masks go on.

- We know Batsis has a limit when it comes to his work, so she will break it off eventually, leaving all the dinner dates, passionate nights and shopping behind. You know you make him very happy (mostly aroused) but happy, so he’s always a phone call away, you’re always down for the occasional fling, and your time with him will always never be forgotten, even if you did the right thing, which isn’t your style at all.

- He’s up there with John Stewart and Wally West with top five men you miss but probably wouldn’t date again for different reasons.

—————————

IDK WHY THIS GOT ANGSTY THIS WAS MEANT TO BE FUNNY BUT WTH. Life goes on yall 😭🫶

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n: 1.6k - immortal!reader asks zhongli to tell tales abt guizhong (this is technically a small blurb linked to my fic Dragonfly, however i've tried to make this so you don't *need* to read it to understand this, but feel free to do so regardless! note-the reader was 'dead' during a period of the archon war)

"zhongli, do you have some time?" you, after having just returned home, pop your head into the tearoom on the second floor of your shared home with zhongli. it was on the cusp of evening, the last light of afternoon shifting into deeper colors that will soon give way to nightfall. your partner in which you hope you aren't bothering after his own long day at work sits comfortably at the small round table with a pot of tea. It must still be fresh since the amount in his clay cup still wafts high with steam.

"always for you," he hums. he turns his neck towards the doorway and jerks his chin inwardly in silent invitation. you make your way to the table across from him as he begins to pour new tea into the spare cup he always keeps along with his kettle in case you join him. he has discarded his long-tailed coat and sits in his buttoned collared shirt that has wrinkles of the day creased into it. still, he even makes disheveled clothing look elegant.

he pours your tea and slides it towards you, along with any additives that you may use. honey, sugar cubes and the like. he never used to keep such additions on hand since he was never fond of sweetened teas. but he always wants to accommodate your presence.

"today, the traveler and i made a trip up to cloud retainers abode."

"oh?" he hums, taking a sip of his warm tea. "that is quite the journey."

"it's not so bad with the traveler's ability to access teleport waypoints," you muse, but quickly catch yourself from going on a tangent since that was not the purpose of your attendance of his time. "while she spends more time among humans as xianyun, cloud retainer was very accepting of us having a meal together aside her home at mt. aozang."

"she's become much more hospitable to humans lately. it is a nice change to witness in her demeanor since she was particularly adverse to mortals for so long."

"she's also quite the story teller. she spoke about so many things over such a short meal. i don't think I've quite seen paimon more confused trying to keep up with everything." you chuckle at the recollection and the dizzing swirls that clouded the confused fairy's eyes. zhongli chuckled in tandem.

a comfortable silence falls over the room like a warm blanket. the sun had changed and evening had begun with it's golden hue. zhongli's focus was pointed outside, watching the day's stragglers dot the streets down below. you tap your fingertip on the tabletop softly, wondering if you could really ask about what you want to. just from hearing second hand, you didn't know if it would be a sensitive subject for zhongli if you breached it.

"you're awfully fidgety," he flicks his eyes towards you as you sigh. tearing his face from the direction of the window, he returns his full attention towards you. "is something on your mind, my dear?"

"here sits rex." zhongli's spine locks his posture. "here sits guizhong." you whisper both short phrases. the small table you shared with xianyun, the traveler, and paimon today was the very table she used to share with her rex lapis and guizhong many, many years ago.

maybe this wasn't a good idea.

zhongli's face did not show any anger or resentment, but the way the aura around him shifted? it made you feel guilty for even bringing it up. you sigh, clear your throat, and shake your head.

"i... nevermind. i apologize for bringing that up. please, forget I said anything at all."

silence returned, but it was less comfortable than before. you take a couple sips of your tea, swallowing hard but the liquid warming your chest all the same. zhongli has not lifted his cup, but he has redirected his gaze outside once again. maybe he really would drop the conversation as you insisted.

half way through your cup, your tea started tasting too bitter for your liking and you thought it would be a good time to leave the room altogether. just leave zhongli to his thoughts and maybe preparing some food as another apology for prying into a past that had nothing to do with you.

you set your cup further away from you, a clear sign that you were finished. your chair pushes back and zhongli looks across the table to you. with your downcase gaze to make sure you didn't trip over any of the table legs, you miss the hard swallow of zhongli's that bobbed his apples adam and the near desperate look he shot towards you. like he was pleading with you not to leave him just yet.

"dear, wait-"

"it's getting late, so i'll start dinner."

"hold on," he breathes. joining you by standing to his feet and rounding the table so quickly his hip brushes back the corner. "please, y/n, wait a moment," he steps in front of you. his arms come up to gently rest his hands on your forearms.

zhongli sighs seeing your dejected look. one of his hands come to hook under your chin to bring your gaze up to his. seeing the sliver of guilt in your eyes made his heart ache. his thumb brushes over your cheek and you lean into his touch, making a weak smile run across his lips.

"please don't misunderstand, i'm not angry." his hand slips down your neck. "I'm not angry" -he reiterates with a sigh- "but could you tell me why you're interested?" his palm rests on the crook of your neck now, thumb absentmindedly rubbing softly back and forth across your pulse point. he's always enjoyed feeling your life under his fingertips.

"i've always been interested," you tell him solemnly. "knowing about the god who was at your side when i wasn't, taking care of you. i've always wanted to know about her." you advert your gaze elsewhere with a small pout on your lips. the silence in the room that follows your reply gives you time to clock how you sounded... and you gasp. with a quick motion that zhongli wasn't expecting, you whip your gaze back up towards him and grasp his wrist in your hand firmly. "i'm not jealous or anything!"

"i didn't think you were," he chuckles, continuing his soft thumb stroke across your neck. he wasn't sure if you heard him though since you continue trying to save face that you haven't even sullied.

"really, im not at all. whether you had any romantic feelings for lady guizhong or not has nothing to do with me- or us? this us, of today i mean. or... i guess of the past? i mean during that time i was dead- so to speak anyway- so, i really don't mind if you two were intimate. she seemed like a wonderful god, and so it-"

"y/n," his voice cuts through your nervous rambles as his second hand comes to rest on the opposite side of your neck. you stop speaking and he chuckles at the flustered expression you wear. using the heels of his hands, he lifts your face up by the undersides of your chin to kiss your cheek. you can feel the smile of his lips on your skin. "calm down," he whispers.

your racing pulse does as commanded and soon you were relaxing in his hold.

"guizhong and i were never lovers," he tells you. "she was a dear friend of mine, but even back then, taking a romantic route with someone other than you was never an option for me, rest assured."

"i was never worried about it," you pout again. "if you two were lovers, at least i would've had the satisfaction of knowing you were being taken care of. according to cloud retainer, guizhong was quite the mother hen."

"she cared deeply for others, that's true. still, nothing between us romatically ever happened."

zhongli should've told you about guizhong long ago. he knows this, but still, sometimes talking about his dear lost friend still stings. such a pure and kind soul didn't deserve the ending she got.

your free hand that wasn't loosely wrapped around your lover's wrist, comes to gently place itself against his chest. your palm resting against the center of his torso.

"you truly do not need to tell me anything. i understand." and zhongli knows you do. you're so sincere that sometimes he truly believes you're too good for him. still, he wants to tell you. zhongli wants to tell you, his partner in this long life of his, all about the lord of dust guizhong; about his best friend from an age long past.

zhongli slides his hands off your neck and down your arms to soon lovingly encase your hands in his. without his gloves, you can see the golden veins running through him. sometimes you wonder if zhongli secretly had the sun inside him. the god of old brings your clasped hands to his chin and kisses the top of them, eyes shut gently to take in the warmth of them against his lips and skin.

"please," he whipsers. "rejoin me for some tea? i'll tell you all about her." his eyes open and there's a shimmer of mirth behind their golden hue. he lowers your hands just enough to show off his mouth. his smiling warmly and nostaligically. "she'd surely give me quite the lecture if i did not tell my dearest lover all about her."

as he leads you back to the tea tables, he moves his chair to be beside yours so he can continue to hold your hand. entertwaining his fingers with yours, he strokes your knuckles as he weaves his words together as fluently and elgantly as possible.

telling you silly things, serious things, sad things, happy things. everything he could think about. he watches you laugh and your eyes mist over at her demise. he smiles as you listen to him so intivitely.

"guizhong would have adored you."

a/n pt.2: this was sitting in my drafts foreverrrr and i could never find a way to feel like it was written the way i wanted it to be?? but im tired of trying to fix it so into the wild it goes (i just really wanted to write about guizhong ;-; )

[dicenete]

I repainted his face more times than probably necessary but something always caught my eye and still does, but it is done. is done. It's fine. xD IkePri Tagteam:

@scummy-writes @goustmilk @solacedeer @m-mmiy @mxrmaid-poet

@pawnkyyy @ludivineikewolf @violettduchess @floydsteeth @wistfulwanderingone

@sh0jun @lorei-writes

A little bit of rambling of him below the break, spoilers (Keith's route, and little bit of Nokto's route) and such :0 so you have been warned.

TL;DR: I enjoyed the route despite its questionable elements. MC is too forgiving at times, but other than that, romanctic route was cute. Licht, the third wheel, was funny but sad.

Okay first about Keith's visual design: I really love how his design is the most asymmetrical from the suitors. Like the jacket and the vest he has. The jacket is very interestingly layered, almost like you aren't sure which part is the main thing and what is the accent. The green or the gold? The host or the alter? : D Same with his vest. His duality is battling in his clothing too hahaha

Keith's route was interesting. I had heard lots of differing opinions about it and I had my own reservations.

One mainly about the portrayal of DID and how the route does it. First things first: I'm not an expert at all. I won't even humor the idea that I had any say in anything regarding it. But overall, it could have been worse? Of course it might be very extreme in the way Alter Keith is hostile towards Host Keith. And of course you shouldn't take this as the only way the alter systems work. But as I said: I'm not an expert.

I had heard that the dramatic route follows Alter Keith and romantic route host Keith. I picked the romantic one. I had my personal reasons for that tho. But aside from that, it was nice to be with Keith that who struggled with self-worth. It was nice to see him grow as a character and find that strength to stand up for himself. (The fact that the host Keith seems to think that he is inferior to Alter Keith and that people would prefer the alter over him. The amount of stress that will bring. )

Keith's uncle was your very generic villain/antagonist without any real depth. He was a spoiled noble and so on. But since this was more about Keith inner journey I thought it was fine that it was like that.

The drugging scene… Well. That's a… a topic. Hmm… Host Keith himself felt very guilty about it and was full of remorse. Not that it was his choice to do it. Alter Keith well… He might justify it because he was gathering information about a rumor that might endanger his home country and people if it were true. I kinda can see where he is coming from, but also...IT CERTAINLY WAS DESTROYING OF TRUST. Like that time when Nokto "accidently" gets MC drunk. but hey ho. Since there is limited time frame for the chapters, I do understand they can't really jam all the things there, but I wanted Belle be more angry with him with Alter Keith for longer.

Maybe that's what bugs me sometimes. That Belle/Emma/MC is sometimes too forgiving and too much of a doormat. It works in routes like Yves and Licht (from the routes I have played, Leon seems like the most respectable gentleman too), because they are not being insulting towards her. I would even think that she works with Clavis, tho I would love to see him with someone who shares his chaotic gremlin energy. But with characters like Chev, Silvio or Alter Keith the their "power" doesn't feel balanced. MC seems to be completely on their mercy even if they stand up to them in some way. (Gilbert is another can of nasty things.)(With Chev's route, well, that is also a rambling for another time. But I haven't finished his route yet. so I will keep my ramblings to myself for now.)

Is Keith's route more about acceptance then? Accepting the good and the bad of a person? Possibly. I would think that is a good way to put it. Both Keiths have good and bad sides. And it seems that they are working on them.

[creedslove]

Hello! Love your writing! Could I please request a Pedro x pregnant!reader fluff please?

Javier Peña x f!reader

A/N: I changed it again, in fact I changed the entire request because I'm a little shit and that's a stated fact. But I changed it for Javi, but not just any Javi, I changed it for asshole!Javi, married lying cheating!Javi

Javier had been married to Lorraine for years when he met you 

In the meantime, she'd gone to Colombia with him when he was first assigned by the DEA, but she quickly hated the country, the weather and the food and took a plane to Laredo 

Which caused him to be a single agent who slept around almost as often as he changed clothes 

He never really got into detail, but he was sure Lorraine also slept around back in town, she was no saint, and he knew that for a fact, after all they got married 

When he returned home, he was seen as a local hero, and it didn't take long for him to get the job of chief of police, which brought him even more status 

And with the status and the money he got from his DEA retirement and his job as a cop, she was more than willing to come back, flash her baby blues and beg Javi for another chance to get back together 

Javi had his fair share of women and he was getting old, besides, he didn't have any hopes of falling in love ever again, so he decided to give it a go 

But it got old fast, he didn't remember Lorraine being so cold in bed, she was all the time complaining of Javier's touches or finding excuses so she wouldn't have sex with him 

And he soon got bored 

So when the two of you met, he felt as if things had some meaning and the attraction was instantaneous 

And it didn't take you too long to be bouncing on Javi's cock, or sitting on his handsome face or being pounded by him from behind 

You kinda felt guilty at first for being with a married man, but anyone could tell Javier wasn't happy with that bitch, and watching the way she was always condescending and rude to everyone, walking into stores as if she owned the place, your guilt disappeared

You and Javi were in too deep to care about anything, your escapades were every time hotter and hotter and you couldn't get enough of each other 

Until you started to feel sick, throw up every morning, and your period was late 

You couldn't believe that possibility was becoming real 

So you went to the drugstore to buy a test, and even if the result came out positive, you still didn't believe it and you went to the doctor 

Who confirmed you were indeed pregnant 

You cried yourself to sleep that night, terrified to what would happen now you were expecting a baby from a married man, you had no idea how Javi would react or what he would think of it 

So you avoided him for a couple of days, until you couldn't escape when he came after you, demanding to know what the fuck was going on for you to be so weird with him 

And then you told Javi everything that had happened 

And oh boy, it felt like his world had imploded. He had never had kids with Lorraine, and he doubted they where would, and there you were, carrying his child 

He was at a loss of words and loss of actions, not knowing what to do as he stared at you with the dumbest expression a human being could display 

Your eyes began watering as you didn't get an answer from him, it all felt so overwhelming as he didn't say anything

"I can't do this, I'm sorry"

It was the first thing he told you. Javi was married and he did have a reputation to stick up to after all, he couldn't just leave his wife for his pregnant mistress 

He saw you walking away from you and panicked, grabbing you by the arm and hugging you 

Javier swore he didn't mean it that way, but he assured you he would pay for all the expenses you would have with your baby, but he just couldn't go public 

You told him to fuck off and never go after you again 

But still, the amounts of cash would appear in your house as the weeks turned into months and one day you got so pissed, you grabbed all the money and drove the police station, returning it all to him 

Though he was afraid of a scandal, he insisted for you to take it welcoming a baby into the world was something so expensive and he wanted to be a part of it, even if it was just financially

It took you a lot of convincing but eventually you agreed, after all it was only fair since he was hiding you and your beautiful baby like a dirty secret 

It killed Javi to see you from afar in the months that followed your pregnancy, he felt a mix of pride to know you were carrying his baby, but also pain, to know he was such a coward who couldn't step in and take care of his new family 

It pained him to see how beautiful pregnancy was treating you, whenever Lorraine talked about how one of her ugly pregnant friends was glowing he always scoffed, but when he saw you glowing, he knew exactly what people meant 

He always went pissed off when he overheard anyone make any comments on you being a single mom. They knew shit and they shouldn't be talking about other people at all 

When you went into labor, he pretended he had a call from the hospital, but couldn't identify who it was, just to pretend he was investigating whoever decided to pull a prank 

But he just paced the hallway worriedly and was only able to breathe relieved when he overheard the doctor say it both you and the baby were alright 

And he nearly died when he found out it was a little girl 

Javi went to your room after hours and watched as you and your baby slept. He wanted to hold her but he was afraid he was too clumsy for that 

You woke up startled at his presence and couldn't hold your tears, asking him to leave as soon as possible as you didn't want your daughter to be attached to a man who couldn't admit he was her daddy 

He asked her name and his heart broke to know her name was Analuz and if he weren't an asshole, she could be Analuz Peña 

Whenever Javi had a glimpse of you pushing down the stroller around town, he would make an excuse to be around you and Analuz 

His daughter was the most beautiful and adorable baby he'd ever seen, and he wanted nothing more than go home to the two of you, instead of going home to Lorraine 

You finally allowed him to hold Analuz, the two of you shocked to find out she would immediately stop crying whenever she was in his arms and he always thought his heart wasn't going to take those beautiful, bright little eyes 

He once got into a real serious fight with Lorraine when she was trying to gossip about people in town and mentioned something about you and your baby, and how people often said your daughter was beautiful but in reality she'd seen far more beautiful babies 

And Javier was pissed 

The two of them had a heated argument which ended up with Javi having to sleep on the couch 

But he refused it and drove to your house in the middle of the night 

You weren't happy to be awoken like that, but he begged you to see Analuz and you eventually gave in 

Javi spent the most comfortable night of his life, sitting in the armchair and dozing off with his beautiful baby sleeping peacefully on his chest, rethinking his life choices and how he wished he could make things right for the three of you 💔

_____

A/N: I'm not gonna lie, besties, I've been daydreaming about being married!javier peña's mistress, there's something so dirty and sexy about it it makes me WANT IT

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for using my cousin's weed habit to convince my dad to let me go live on my own, making him pay higher rent? Hi so this is kind of a silly idea i had but wanted to see if it would be assholeish. Also it is not the only way out or anything, just a bit of a thought experiment. So i (24x) moved from mexico to the usa for grad school (2 years). For this first year i've been living with my cousin A (23F), A's college friend B (23F) and A's childhood/family friend, C (25F). Now they're lovely and really fun roommates, but honestly not very good to live with on an everyday basis. B and A are really messy (leave everything lying around - dirty plates, clothes, trash, you name it), and none of them are very clean. Other than them occasionally wiping the kitchen counters, emptying the dishwasher, or taking out the trash, i've done all the cleaning so far on my own (kitchen, 2 bathrooms, living room, hallways). I've made my frustration pretty clear (and even gone on strike lol, but i can't deal w a dirty toilet for more then 2 weeks), but nothing changes!! At this point i'm really fed up, and want to move elsewhere next year, preferably to live on my own. The problem is that we live in san francisco, and rent is... well, it's pretty expensive. Sorry californians you really got it rough. However, i've looked into the university's accommodation for grad students and it could be an option. I would be paying about $250 per month more than right now, but i would save on utilities (about $40 per month). The thing is, my dad is the one whose been paying for my living expenses ever since i went back to school. We used to have a rocky relationship (he was really frustrated with me not meeting his expectations; coming out as a homo, being a leftist, doing some weed as a teen...) and i think he sees this as 'making it up to me'. I really appreciate the way he has been trying to fix out relationship, and i'm obviously extremely thankful for the economic support. So i feel really guilty asking for more than he is giving me. Here is where my plan comes in -- my dad haaates drugs, and my cousin A has a pretty intense weed habit. WIBTA to complain about it ('waa the house smells like weed, theyre blazing it all day every day') to my dad, in order to convince him that me moving to the grad dorms is a good idea? EXTRA INFO: Would my cousin get in trouble? - not really i think. Its legal, and her parents are aware of her indulgences (i dont think they're happy with the amount she smokes, but they're pretty chill). I worry that if i complain to my dad, he would tell his sister (A's mom) and make it a huge deal, but as I said A's parents are pretty tolerant, and know of her 'addiction' anyway. Don't i have any money of my own? - not anymore lol, at least not enough to pay californian rent. I'm getting a job over the summer, but with visa restrictions (half time) i doubt i would make enough to make a difference. Working during term time is not possible for me (personal limitations). Also the increase in price would not bleed my dad dry or anything. Can't i just sort it out w my roommates? - they've proven to be admirably immovable objects on the cleaning issue. I mean, i can tough ot out, but at this point it's also the spirit of the thing that is pissing me off so much, rather than the cleaning itself. Do they just dont care?? T-T Do i have to 'manipulate' my dad? - um idk. It's definitely the easy (perhaps cowardly) way, but that's why i want to see if its too assholeish. Thanks for reading! Lay it on me

[shalomniscient]

i feel like arlecchino is the type of parent to attend all of her child's performances if they do ballet or participate in a drama club or something.

arle's constantly busy with lots of dangerous and concerning things about which her children don't really need to know, and yet she makes it just in time every time. she definitely takes a seat in the front row, so she can observe her little star without any obstructions. moreover, this way her baby will see her and understand that daddy's here to support them. this will definitely cast an extreme confidence boost! she's also the type to applause louder than everyone else. she isn't too emotional during or after the performance but she makes sure that her child is acknowledged they did their best and she is proud of them. she doesn't pay attention to other children at all, her eyes are on her baby all the time and once their gazes meet, she gives her little darling the warmest and the most reassuring smile ever. a thought about you also crosses her mind for a second, after all you were the one to rehearse all these things with your baby and arle makes sure to properly show her gratitude to you after the performance when babies are already fed, washed and tucked into their beds by you two...

arle doesn't really rehearse with her artistic children at home due to being in charge of too many things, usually you are the one who's responsible for helping them to memorize their lines ans stuff. arlecchino definitely feels a bit guilty because of it, the amount of effort you two put isn't even in her opinion. so, she takes care of providing her children with best costumes ever created by the best tailors. if you think about it, it might look funny... a big strong influential arlecchino ordering small and shiny princess dresses or puss in boots costumea with tiny artificial swords attached to them. well, that's just adorable.

– milk nonnie

i like to think that arle, as a harbinger, has a personal tailor, likely an ex-hearth member. they are functionally in charge of clothing the entire sevchino family; everything is custom made, nothing bought at boutiques (sorry chiori 😔😔😔 arle just likes to spoil her family). which has its own merits, that being all of our clothing fits really well and lasts a long ass time. honestly, even irl, if i had the money i would be commissioning nearly every piece of clothing i can get. there's just something so special about tailor-made stuff.

anyway milk my beloved this was so <3333 to read, im weak 😭😭😭 arle being sweet and soggy for the kiddos HSKJDSGKHGKDH i need her saur bad........ the next genshin update will either make me or destroy me, fr 😭😭😭

[mikuni14]

Wandee Goodday - Ep 1

The long awaited first episode of Wandee Goodday is finally here, I'm sure I wasn't the only one who had been chanting "save me Wandee Goodday, Wandee Goodday save me" for the past few months lol

What I liked:

lots of humor, especially in the 4/4 part I laughed non-stop, although I must admit that a lot of the laughter was from second-hand embarrassment 🙈

Great and Inn are just beautiful (it's good that Great has loose clothes now, I was always worried about the buttons on his super tight uniform in MoD, fighting for their lives)

Thor and Fluke are also lovely, I really like the fact that their characters are already a couple and are completely in love with each other (and horny for each other 🔥) and so open about it

side characters add a lot to scenes, even if they appear for a moment, like a salesman offering technical advice on sex, or a doctor who sprays water on naughty subordinates, also nurses!

I really like Dee as a doctor, as an employee who doesn't let himself be treated like shit by clients and as a friend. He is nice, strong, confident, reliable and capable. Which is in stark contrast to how hopeless and lame he is in his love and sex life 🙈

I like how Yak and Dee felt an immediate physical attraction to each other, which is fighting against an equally immediate strong dislike lol The natural flow they have in their relationship: from physical attraction, through fights caused by negative circumstances, to the night spent together shows that this kind of relationship can be done, without humiliation bordering on bullying, as it's between Phum and Peem in We Are

I really like Yak who can just… stop when he has any suspicion that his partner is not fully in the moment, not fully sure. It was so cool, no forcing Dee to continue by putting pressure on him, making him feel "guilty", no awkwardness, complete chill. I like it when sex is treated so casually that even if nothing happens, the partners just sit and talk and there is no sense of pressure, everything is just so... normal and chill. I loved it.

Kao as a friend, a sidekick, a "token lgbt friend of the main character" 😄, who has his own life and although he is very funny, he is not a serial clown and comic relief, as is often the case. And he is asexual with credible dating problems. So interesting! Also: Drake 💖

I feel kind of vindictive happy that my most hated trope, wiping food from the mouth of the "love interest", is shown here as messing with Dee and giving him false hope for a relationship (?) The day this trope dies will be the day I win. I plan to get drunk when this happen hehe (vain hopes, of course, this disgusting trope will never die)

What I have a few, teeny-tiny reservations about:

at this point I don't really understand Ter's motivation: was he deliberately seducing Dee, or was he just too chummy with him, which he misinterpreted? Not that it matters tho...

8 years of all this? oh Dee… 🙈 (I love how Kao described this pathetic situation in just a few words)

I also don't really like making Dee a silly kid and a 🤡 when it comes to love and sex, especially since he's shown in other scenes where he's a full adult. He's a grown man with a serious profession, so it felt weird watching him as if he were a 15-year-old kid in a slapstick comedy. I get that there's a comedic element to it and it was funny and I was laughing, but the amount of cringe and second-hand embarrassment was downright overwhelming at some point. What is fine as convention in MSP or Only Boo no longer looks so good in series about adults

the comedy of the sex scene completely stripped away the hotness of these scenes, ngl

the above comments are not complaints, they are just loose observations. It was only the first episode after all 😉

Overall, the series started well, I had a great time watching it, I laughed a lot, the characters are cool and very attractive, Great has the body of a young god 🔥 I can't wait for their first kiss and a truly hot night - with fun, but no comedy. What a wasted opportunity for them not to watch MANNER OF DEATH and the uniform buttons! hanging for dear life! Like seriously, it was right there 😤

The series is very pretty, just look at those aesthetic shots in a public toilet:

Omg, this guy:

Me:

Me 🤝 Dee about coffee:

(I shouldn't pick on Dee, if someone brought me coffee just the way I like it, I'd be as stupid as him 😑)

One of my 457,869 screen shots of this man, gosh, he's so fine:

[diluclover300]

Just One Week (7)

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

also posted on my ao3 account: diluclover300

CHAPTER INDEX:

I H8 U

My Kinda Fun

Balance

{S] Awake

Eggs and Rice

Wait, but I'm broke

Couple's Discount

CHAPTER 7: Couple's Discount

...

Satoru is beyond ecstatic, his vision sticky and gooey at the insane amount of silks and wools carefully hung and displayed. There's a catalog of clothes, an array of expensive clothes. Top-tier luxury brands, ones you'd catch celebrities sporting like a pair of pajamas at the local airport. Ones that he can caress between the delicate friction of his fingers as a warm smile spreads across his face like butter on toast. Oh, how lucky he is. 

To reunite with his long-lost friend, whom he spent years tracking down, whom he was able to convince into allowing this moment to blossom into reality. He feels like a kid in a candy store, ogling at each piece of fabric, at each suit jacket and pant. And how tempting the sight is, how it tempts him to envelope himself in pure greed like a creature of sin. 

The assortment of colors, the breathtaking pigments, the unique textures of each cloth...

The excitement is so wonderful, so captivating that he doesn't even begin to notice the woman greeting him at the door. He takes off like a rocket ship, roaming around the men's section. A maze that he hasn't ventured in, yet one that feels familiar and natural to navigate through pure instinct. 

This must be heaven. 

"I think he, uh... I'm so sorry if he causes trouble." You half-groan, head threatening to hang low at Gojo's energetic aura. "Thank you."

The woman nods, a typical response that you'd expect from someone working customer service. You've been in that position before, squeezing out an exhausted smile at something you had no idea how to respond to. Funny enough, your cheeks sting from the muscle memory. 

You think to apologize once more, but you refrain, biting your tongue as you dejectedly follow after Gojo. He buries his head in a ring of hung-up clothes, swiping through each shirt like a potential match on Tinder. 

"Oh? Do you frequent here often?" 

You turn back, confusion overcoming your face. 

"No, I've never been, actually." You slowly shake your head, examining the woman for a moment. "Why?"

That low bun of hers wrapped in a red scarf, and that sleek, white uniform doesn't ring a bell. Does she know you?   

"Oh, sorry, it's just that your jacket... I couldn't help but notice that it is from our brand." 

"Oh," You smile, the interaction as awkward as awkward gets. "That's weird, I never noticed." 

You walk away with an understanding nod, fumbling with your lips as you fidget with the black jacket lying in the crook of your arm. Now that you think about it, it does feel like silk, expensive silk at that. 

Maybe your memories have faded over the years. It's possible that you snagged this from another one of those annual holiday sales, sort of a bad habit you've accumulated. You always browsed for coats and blazers when no one was around to watch, hunching over that compact cubicle as you frantically refreshed your search engine. Occasionally, when someone would walk past or start conversation, you almost let out a guilty flinch out of fear for getting caught. Almost. 

Nonetheless, the suggestion doesn't strike you. There's not a single instance where you, the loyal slave to some measly corporation, could justify the selfish purchase of a fancy coat. A coat was a coat, no matter the price. It would have torn up in that monster of a washing machine you own either. Not to mention the void and guilt that would stem from such an unnecessary purchase.

"Is that my jacket?" Weird. You don't expect it, but you recall the events from this morning. The skeptical look on his rather punchable face. 

Your fingers trace over the sewn-in label, mumbling the brand to yourself. Even that leaves a pretentious, bitter taste on your tongue.

Nope, it doesn't ring a bell. 

You suppose it's French, and to be honest, you don't have an opinion on the French. There are far more significant matters, at least in your opinion, than some species of European folk. Why would you spend your precious paycheck on such a useless thing?

Everything tells you, everything desperately grasps you by the shoulders and shakes you to your senses. And then you finally uncover the answer as to whether or not you "frequented" such a snobby, stuck-up place. 

"I must be remembering things wrong.." Yeah, remembering things wrong, my ass, you think. 

He lied. Oh dear, you really tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.

And that certain white-haired culprit is currently nowhere to be seen. Quite frankly, you have no idea where you are either. You've lost yourself in the garden of consumerism, swarmed by the amount of clothes and designer bags laying in front of you. A landfill for the rich, you call it. 

But it's peaceful for a bit as it is overwhelming. You're oddly calm when you take in the privilege of Gojo's absence, as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. A heavy one at that. 

Five years was, and is too short, much too measly of a distance. If you had it your way, if the Earth rotated to the drumming of your feet, then you would have never known the words "Gojo Satoru". His face would have been an imaginative blur, those eyes nothing but a mere gaze, and those memories would become one of the infinite "what-ifs" of this universe.

And if you ran into him on a fateful spring day? 

You would have abandoned destiny a long time ago, parted ways like ex-lovers. The occurrence would leave you as you were.

Still, steady, and normal. 

These three values would have stuck with you, through thick and thin. But which one was it? You don't know what to call this incident. Was this the thick? Or was this the thin?

You wonder, mull over it for a bit before you're chained back into the prison of his presence. It's a game of push and pull.

This punishment of a game. 

"Yo! Over here, Y/N." You look up from the leather jacket folded on the display shelf below you, eyes hooked onto that raised hand of his. 

You seem to be on the receiving end, on both sides of that hellish spectrum. 

"Okay." You make your way over to "here", that sigh of yours halted. You have something to ask him anyways, something about that jacket of his. 

His hand is still held up high in the air while the rest of his body entangled in a rack of clothes. Stupid is as stupid does. 

His and Hers, You regrettably read and fully understand the sign hanging overhead from the ceiling, along with the bolded words: NEW Spring Collection.

"Did you find something?" You only ask as a precaution, monitoring his spending habits. An awful habit that solely relied on you and you only for support. 

That hand of his flails around before sinking down into the sea of clothes before him. 

"You're here?" His hands scour and fish into the abyss, voice muffled into the ridiculous amount of suits and dresses stuffed in his face. "I'm surprised-"

A groan follows, the sound of plastic material ringing against his skull. A sound that you would have ignored because it seamlessly blended into the rapid snare of the radio-pop tune playing on the store's speakers.  You could have paid it zero mind if not for the sheer amount of second-hand embarrassment that ensued from your witness of the scene. 

"Careful there," You sneer, watching as his back contorts like a gymnast. "The higher-ups wouldn't want you to come back a complete moron."

Satoru chuckles, scrambling once more before putting an end to his short-lived visit to Narnia. 

"I'm thankful for the concern." There's an array of clothes folded over his arm, and oh, does the sight worry. "Please continue to take great care of me, Y/N."

You give him a strange look, your lips curling in disgust. By no means were you concerned about him, worried about this bafoon of a man. 

"You're dumb." It's a conclusion you should have come to earlier, really.

"Remind me," Satoru's gaze trails off into the air before landing on you. "Who was the one that lost to me last night?" 

You're stumped, mouth opening before it shuts again. That unlucky "who" was you, the loser.

Gojo takes your defeat as an opening, a chance. 

"Wanna try this on?" A dress is shoved into your face, along with that cheeky smile of his that peeks behind the cloth. 

Your attention darts from Gojo to the pink, girlish dress. 

The long-sleeves are puffed just by the slightest bit, and the material a bit translucent until you notice that there (thankfully) is a white cloth underneath to keep yourself covered. Your eyesight was just playing tricks on you. Okay, a bit of decency, you appreciate it. However, you think the skirt is just a little too short, but the sweetheart neckline does look kind of gorgeous, you'll admit. 

"Whaddya think?" He reveals more of that hidden smile of his behind the blinding cloth, along with his now enlarged starry eyes. You don't take that as a good sign, it's more of warning. "Hm?"

Emotionally, you don't exactly feel inclined to wear it, nor does the idea entice you. Logically, you can't and don't want to afford a dress you could easily get for way cheaper on the internet. Besides, you'd rather focus on controlling the inevitable loss of your sweet, hard-earned cash if possible. And with the sleek look of the fabric, along with the carefully stitched in details - the item is nothing but a pure fantasy. 

You intend to keep it that way. 

"No-"

Again. 

Again, again, and again! Satoru groans out of pure annoyance. You're using that word again. That boring word, the word which cages him in like a helpless bird, the word which is so draining, so terribly cruel, absolutely inhumane. 

No. 

How he resents the very existence, the very creation of that word. That word which rolls of your tongue without an ounce of hesitation. 

"No?" Satoru interrupts, raising a brow before yanking off his glasses. 

"Um.." 

When you look into those eyes laced with the pure malice of the devil, your flesh tenses. Your muscles contract, a reaction not one of muscle memory, but one of cold-blooded fear. 

"I, um..." Think, think, think! You can't seem to put two and two together no matter how much your brain tells you to. 

When his eyes release a frosty residue into the air, when you watch the air melt against him, you lose your resolve. Stripped of it, left with the stubbornness lying underneath.  

Telling Gojo Satoru "yes" - you'd rather lie cold in your grave. 

"Is it still a no?" 

No doubt about it, Satoru notices. Your stubbornness surprisingly (as if he hasn't calculated this reaction) clashes with his want. 

Without a single word, you begrudgingly snatch the dress out of his loose grasp, eyes searching around for the dressing room as you turn on your heel, slumping with each step like a deflated skydancer. 

"To your left." Satoru directs, burying the self-conceited excitement down his throat. "You're welcome."

Patience is a virtue, he repeats to himself, over and over as you disappear behind the racks of clothes in front of him. 

...

You don't want to. 

Oh, you really can't stand the look of it because the feeling this dress evokes in you is criminal. The definition of bi-polar, heck, even multi-polar as the fabric drapes around you.

A part of you, the mature side of you, loathes the sight. You feel girlish, frail, and overly-feminine, like a total joke of a woman. You gaze upon the mirror and shy from it, covering your eyes before you peek through your fingers out of pure embarrassment. 

You were well-into your twenties at this point, a young age, but still... weren't you a little too old for this? You can't help but feel that way. With those bags underneath your eyes you look like a princess fresh out of a zombie apocalypse, not some cute, innocent-looking chick. Maybe you look a little fucked-up, honestly. Completely out of place. 

Oh, whatever. You lightly squeeze and pick at the skirt, tracing the pleated lines. 

There's another part of you as well, and you suppose it's your immature side. The side that pokes through your doubts like a roses' thorn. 

It's pretty. You feel kind of special, like an actual princess or some kind of tacky, knock-off Barbie doll. Fluffing your hair, a pit forms in the bottom-left of your stomach, plague pooling up inside of you. 

Envy, desire, selfishness begin to settle in. And to think that you strayed, parted ways with these three "friends" years ago. Only now do they make their grand reappearance. 

So this is what it's like to be normal, isn't it? You ask yourself, only to receive no answer. Surely, this is what it's like to have the world at your fingertips, to have all your wants and desires served to you in silver platter, right? 

You should be jumping up and down right now, squealing like a damn schoolgirl at the idea that you were living out a childhood fantasy of yours.

"It's nice," You mumble, almost as if you're trying to convince yourself to agree. The words don't stick as well as you hoped. 

You're jealous, almost angry you've never got to experience something so trivial, so materialistic. Jujutsu training took up more than half of your youth and those high-school memories you so deeply craved only remained a simple dream. A selfish goal you could never achieve no matter which plan or path you took to get there. The consequences of your choices would always haunt you, and you suppose this is one of those instances when you see the faintest image of a little girl. A little girl with a pair of eyes all too similar, with a nose much like yours, with lips of the same nature. 

You want to scream when your chest compresses against itself, eyes stinging and reddening. 

How tormenting, you would have never imagined your reflection to be one of a burden as your fingers still against the fabric of that dress, lips rolling over each other as a ship sinks to the very bottom of your stomach's oceans. 

You remember. You remember it all too well, those years in elementary school. One question stuck with you in particular. 

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

To first-grade you, that was a simple, easy question. So you churned out an answer with very little thought. 

"I want to be happy! Like... forever?"

Hah. Simple. 

You think, no, you thought that such a simple, inoffensive wish would allow your life to show you a bit of grace, a bit of fulfillment. You were wrong, damn it, you were so wrong that you let out a choked, cowardly sniffle. The little you wouldn't even want to see you face, she'd rather die than accept her reality-

"Yoo-hoo. It's been ten minutes, you done yet?" 

You flinch at his voice, blinking profusely as you touch up your watering eyes. Being sad was one thing, but you were not going to cry around Gojo Satoru. Never. 

"Hello-"

You swing the door open, feeling your eyelashes water before you speak. The sound of your voice is stupid as all can be, but what could you do? You were just crying to yourself like the main character in some cheaply-produced Disney movie. 

"Hi." You frown, crossing your arms as you feel the wind blow against your bare legs. You don't even want to look at him right now. Why? He's not scary. 

It's a silence so thick that follows, so thick that you can't even take in proper breaths from the air that lies between the two of you. 

Gojo Satoru stares, and you hate it. You hate that equally thick stare lying behind those glasses of his, seriously. You want to hide away, crawl into a hole when he hums like that, sucking in his lips as he examines you like a zoo animal. You're going ballistic and all you can do is stand there with your arms crossed as a defense. It's insulting because you're aware of how ridiculous the thing looks on you. Insulting because he makes it so obvious that you look like a little girl playing dress-up.

"What?" You say, tone flat. "Why are you looking at me like that?"  

Oops. He swallows, guilty as charged when he stiffly rubs his neck. Satoru feels like a perv, the memories of that night flooding into the dam of his mind.

No, you're a friend.

Just a friend.

Only a beloved childhood friend of his, so there's no reason that these troublesome fireworks should be going off, bouncing off the barriers of his skin. 

"Like what?" He looks away, hands stuffed in his pocket as he occupies his mind with the displays surrounding him. "I wasn't doing a single thing except looking at the dress." 

Your lips tremble, and you feel dumb. Super dumb. Maybe it's those leftover feelings from earlier that begin to explode out of you, little by little. You can't seem to stop it, and it's killing you as your armor cracks. 

"Is it that bad?" Your voice cracks, and he begins to panic as if he wasn't a nervous wreck before. "Be honest." 

"What? Of course it isn't-"

"Stop lying." You let out, eyes burning up into ashes as they redden like cherries. "I mean it."

"Why would I lie? You- you look pretty." Damn it. He's let the cat out of the bag, fingers covering his lips before he decides to just accept his terrible fate. 

No, that wasn't- that wasn't what you wanted to hear. You toy with the flesh in your mouth, the skin of your forehead scrunching and bunching up. 

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no... You shouldn't be mad at him, he was just looking at the dress, he wasn't judging you, you just made him call you pretty. Wait, you're pretty? 

You ignore that, your skin crawls at the compliment. You hate it, you hate him, everything about him. 

Your eyes are - Ugh. What are you doing? 

"Well, it was just because... because.." You stammer, fiddling with the syllables of your words as the image of that particular black jacket appears in your mind.

"Because?" Satoru questions, taking in a deep breath. He feels strange when your eyes swell up like that, so strange that he can't put it into words even if he tried. 

"Are you crying?" He doesn't know if he should ask, and he's especially scared of sounding like a total asshole. What if the tears just poured out when he asked? But, it felt too wrong, so wrong to just watch you fume up like this without adressing the elephant in the room-- the warm beads flooding the crevices of your eyes. 

"You lied." You use the knuckles of your fingers to pat at the corners of your eyes, breathing in a shaky breath as you do, chest slowly rising. "Why did you-"

Okay, he could understand you were beyond frustrated, but falsely accusing him of lying. Oh, he couldn't stand it, even if it was you pointing fingers at him. Even if it was his dear, beloved friend. 

"When did I-"

"Hello, I just couldn't help but notice that dress on you, ma'am. It looks wonderful."

You turn around, looking like a deer in headlights at the saleswoman who probably watched that whole shit-show with front-row seats. Gojo, on the other hand, takes in a sharp breath, rubbing his cheek before acknowledging the fact that they were in public, fighting in public, like a-

"Oh? Are you two a couple? We actually have a His and Her deal going on until the end of this month. Would you be interested?" It's the same woman he accidentally ignored, the same woman who unknowingly directed you to Gojo's lie. She's back, this time to upsell you on products you really don't need and can't afford. You thought you had formed some kind of alliance, but alas, she was just doing her job. Unfortunately, you were her target. 

Now this, this was the reason for his visit in the first place. There was no way he was going to leave without purchasing color-coordinated outfits, the same ones he's been anticipating the release of since the beginning of winter. Usually, he'd be the type to despise such a release, one that didn't serve him any purpose, but because of you, and solely because of you he was...

"Yes. We're interested-"

"No-" You protest, the tears drying up against the dry of your eyes. 

"We are interested." He grits his teeth at you, pulling you in closer to his side, saving face with a smile as his arm wraps around your uneven shoulders. "There's a matching suit for this dress, right? I saw it in the catalog." 

"I-" You try to refuse, but they've already beat you to it. What was this? Your unlucky day? 

You've been having a lot of those recently. And this day is no different when his arm sticks you to him like glue, feeling the outline of his body against your hip. You shudder, skin crawling once more at the mutual warmth. His fingers press against the fabric of your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze and pat. You might as well bark and get on all fours like his dog at this point, that was how you felt. Like Gojo Satoru's pet, always at his service. 

The woman gives him an eager nod, "I'll get the sets out for you two. Please give me a moment." 

Your eyes shoot up at him, and it's an angry look, no doubt. First, your vision traces his fingers that hold you, then at the knowing smile on his face. He knows you hate it, and he's just going to continue this torture of his until he's satisfied. You didn't even have to go through another cycle of defiance only to cower at his Six Eyes. Like a dog, you've been trained into obedience, without a single treat in your bowl or stomach. 

In other words, you're at a loss. Advantage-wise, speech-wise, physically-speaking, emotionally-speaking... all of it.

Even though you eye him with such venom when that neutral expression looks back down at you, those beads still linger. You don't know what to make of your own conflict anymore, having a difficult time as the ground fills your line of vision. 

"Hey, why did you tell her that?" You whisper-hiss, as if those words were meant to be kept a hidden secret. "Now she thinks we're a couple..."

There they are, Satoru takes notes of those tides as his arm slips from your shoulders. They're clashing, the gritty sand soaking those waves dry. 

"Are you okay?" Did he have the right to ask such a question? To show an ounce of his care? Was he allowed to?

"It was for the discount." Is what comes out instead as he widens the small gap between the both of you. Ironically, this much more appropriate response leaves him questioning his own intentions. "Why? Does it bother you?" 

No, it shouldn't bother you. It doesn't. 

"You ass..." You mutter, hoping that somehow a miracle occurs. One so miraculous that his memories of your vulnerability erase.

However, such miracles never seem to hit you - they miss by a large shot.

"I hate you."

Or maybe they do as Gojo just nods. At least this once as you break contact with him, a comfortable silence settling in. 

"The feeling's mutual, don't worry." 

Satoru doesn't want to test the validity his words.

"You lied." 

That isn't so far off from the truth. 

...

"How is it?"

Your reflection is disappointing. The colors that swallow you are lackluster, they trap you. 

"I don't like it." What outfit was this again? You lost track. 

"Oh, that's too bad. Does it fit?" Satoru crosses his legs, resting in a fancy, maroon velvet armchair. 

"...Yes." You answer, rubbing your arm. You're losing. 

"What was that?" He tips his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, I just can't hear you." 

As if. 

"It fits." You speak up, tone numb as you tell him what he wants to hear. 

"Good." 

This, unfortunately, has been the norm of your conversations for the past two hours. Gojo would pick out an outfit from the spring catalog, force  ask you to try it on, then he'd ask for your optimistic opinions which he held zero regard for whatsoever before buying or trashing it. 

"Excuse me," He holds up a hand before pointing at you. You blink at this, dread filling you whole. "She'll take this one as well." 

You did not say that, but you must be remembering things wrong. 

The saleswoman nods. "Of course, sir."

She moves to pack up a fresh set, but quickly presses onto her own breaks when he opens his mouth to command speak once more. Poor thing, you can't help but feel your own foot ache at the amount of times she's had to deal with this. 

"Also, I want all the accessories."

"A-all?" She raises both eyebrows, masking her shock with a boxy smile. "Are you-"

"I'm sure." Satoru nods, finally looking at the woman. 

"Yes, sir. I'll get started on that right away." She scurries off with such urgency that you'd think she was held at gunpoint. 

Your lips flubber as you exhale, taking in your reflection. Today has weirdly been all about you, in the worst way imaginable. You can't seem to catch a break with the absurd amount of haughty-designer outfits thrown onto you. This one in particular was your least favorite. 

A blue shirt, reminiscent of those soul-sucking Six Eyes, short-sleeved with a slight puff in the shoulders, adorned with buttons of a similar shade. Though it is soft to the touch, it's more than unbelievable to you that this costs around three-hundred yen. The white lace skirt draped all the way down your ankles is no cheaper either, but a couple hundred yen was like child's play for the rich. Another regular day, nothing new. 

Furthermore, Gojo hasn't tried on a single thing. He just assumes he'll like his side of the outfit based on yours, a total gamble of your money.

"Is there anything else...?" You decide to follow routine, but of course, it doesn't work when you finally accept your fate. 

"Nah, you can go change now." He rolls his shoulders back before getting back on his feet, the chair as empty as he found it. "I'll be waiting outside, yeah?"

You carefully nod, studying his sudden change in demeanor as he whistles to himself, that stern expression wiped off the surface of his face. Now that was bipolar. 

"Okay." You'd hate to send him into another frenzy of playing dress-up with a doll that was more than unwilling because you would also like to move on from whatever this was. 

One piece after another, as if you're being timed, you strip down your clothes only to re-dress yourself in your original (work) clothes. Oh, how you long for that nine-to-five lifestyle, how you miss being stuck in that stiff office chair. Today taught you that being rich and ambitious was not for the weak, that you, the weak, suited the likes of a corporate, forty-hour work week. Not this pretend fantasy, this mere illusion. 

Right now, you'd do anything to escape this hell-hole of a place and that demon of man. 

"Oh," Your hands reach for your jacket- sorry, his jacket.

"You lied."

You forgot to prove your point, the evident truth that Gojo Satoru was a liar.

...

You can't believe it. Not a single bit. 

"For the last time, and I say this with all due respect, but your items have already been paid for, ma'am." The bald man at the counter sighs, holding a receipt before you. 

You cautiously scan the very long paper, fingers grabbing it's very end as your eyes widen at the total.   

"But... but-"

You profusely rub your eyes, blinking over and over. You might as well go into cardiac arrest at the seven bolded digits, grasping the thin receipt between your shaky fingers. 

"Correct," His voice cuts through your multiple stammers.  "You didn't pay, your boyfriend did, ma'am."

B-boyfriend? Gojo Satoru? That man? 

"He didn't, and he's not my-" You don't even get the chance to make your case clear. 

"The signature is at the very bottom." 

You stuff your face into the very butt of the paper, eyes flickering between the signature line and the uncanny smiley face drawn on top it. What an eyesore.

How in the world did he pay? You chew onto the flakes of your lips, releasing a deep breath from the very depths of your lungs. You were under the impression that Gojo came here with absolutely nothing but himself. And the flowers. You almost forgot those flowers, and you accidentally remember how ugly and spacious they look sitting on the counter of your kitchen island. 

"Ah, I... I see now, sorry." You let out an involuntary laugh, shoving the receipt down your pocket. "I'm sorry for taking up your time, let me just-" 

You grunt, looping one bag onto your arm after another, the worker behind the counter blankly staring as you visibly struggle. Jeez. Were you the one working customer service or was he? 

"Have- Have a nice rest of your day." Somehow you manage to carry all six bags, three on your left and three on your right as you head towards salvation. Which was better known as the exit of this damn place. 

"You too, ma'am."

Thanks, you mouth to yourself. 

You have a feeling the rest of your day will be anything but nice. 

...

[johnentwistlesbassguitar]

Pairing: John Entwistle/Pete Townshend

Rating: explicit (sorta not too much sexual stuff)

Word count: 1k

Was introduced to the idea of feeder towntwistle but with swapped roles (Pete being the one getting fed) and I couldn't stop thinking ab it so...

John noticed that Pete hadn't been eating much lately, he was too consumed in his most recent project to remember. It made him dissapointed to see Pete so thin and sad looking he had to fix this. Walking up to Pete casually he decided if Pete wouldn't eat on his own then John would make him.

"Have you eaten today?" John asked, staring down at Pete, who was bent over some sheet music.

"Hmmm -" Pete was about to say he was fine, but he was cut off by a loud growl from his stomach. Maybe he was hungrier than he thought.

Seeing the way Pete flushed in embarrassment made John want to laugh. "C'mon, you should have something, I can cook for you"

Pete seemed a little surprised by John's offer, but he accepted, being cramped in his tiny home studio was starting to make him claustrophobic. Letting John help him up off the floor, they went down to the kitchen. Immediately, John started rummaging through Pete's cabinets, trying to figure out what to cook. Pete decided to just sit down and watch. He wanted to comment on how cute John looked, but he kept it to himself.

John made sure to find the biggest pan possible and choose the most calorie dense ingredients. Luckily, Pete had a lot of unused food lying around since he didn't cook much. It was making Pete anxious just how much John was preparing, I mean, he assumed that John was making it mostly for himself, right?

It didn't take long for John to finish preparing and slide his creation into the oven. Pete could practically smell how greasy and fatty whatever John had made was, he was off put but didn't say anything. He could tell that John had put on weight recently, and this was probably why. Not that Pete was unhappy about that. He just wasn't interested in picking up those same eating habits.

John set a timer and then joined Pete at the table. Looking Pete over, John could tell he hadn't washed his hair or changed his clothes in a while. Reaching over John started to comb his fingers through Pete's hair trying to make it look a little nicer.

Pete flinched, John felt a bit guilty for not warning Pete beforehand. "I'm just trying to make you look pretty for dinner," He grinned. Pete tried to keep calm as John ran his hands down his torso, smoothing the wrinkles in Pete's shirt. He could feel the warmth in John's strong hands. Leaning back, John gave Pete a once over. "Looking good," he nodded. Pete couldn't help but blush even if John's behavior was a little odd.

Suddenly, they were interrupted by the timer John had set. He set dinner down on the table and scooped a large amount onto Pete's plate. Instead of eating, Pete just poked at it with his fork, trying to make it look like he was interested. He couldn't eat this, but on the other hand, he didn't want to make John feel bad. Also, he was fully aware he hadn't eaten anything for an unhealthy length of time. Unfortunately, John noticed his reluctance.

"Is my cooking not good enough?" He asked, trying to get sympathy from Pete even though he really didn't care what Pete thought.

"No, no! It looks fine...I'm just not very hungry, " Pete shrugged, trying not to meet John's eyes.

John had an idea. He picked up Pete's utensils and cut off a large chunk of his messy food. "Open wide," John asked as he held the fork up to Pete's mouth. Pete struggled to conceal his grossed out expression, John couldn't care less, though.

Hesitantly, Pete parted his lips just enough for John to fit the fork through. Pete was shocked that it wasn't as disgusting as he thought it'd be, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to eat much.

John smiled at Pete's compliance. "Good boy," he always had the overwhelming urge to praise Pete for everything. For some reason, John's words made Pete want more. It made John happy, so maybe it wasn't so bad.

Pete enjoyed the attention and the feeling of a warm meal in his stomach after barely eating for longer than he cared to remember. It was clear that John was loving feeding Pete and watching him eat. 

After finishing his first plate, Pete already felt full, but John seemed so eager to feed him, and he'd made so much food a little bit more couldn't hurt. Without saying a word, John pulled the entire dish in front of them, Pete wasn't aware that John intended on making him eat the whole thing.

Pete only realized just how much he'd been fed when he felt like his pants were about to pop. He could've sworn they'd been too loose just a second ago. Either way, he wasn't interested in stopping. It disturbed him that it felt so good to be stuffed to the point of not wanting to move.

John reached down to press his hand into Pete's swollen belly. He couldn't stop picturing how adorable Pete would look with a little more weight on him. Maybe he'd have to make a habit of cooking for Pete. He moved his hand to squish Pete's expanding waist, Pete groaned and leaned into John's touch. Humiliation made Pete want to pull away, but John's hands just felt so amazing.

"So cute," John muttered, then picked the fork back up.

It was obvious that Pete was starting to get too full to do anything, but John didn't seem to mind he was willing to take care of Pete for the night. John continued to shovel food into Pete's mouth. He couldn't help but stare at how the buttons on Pete's shirt were barely holding together, parts of his pale belly visible through the gaps.

Soon enough, John finished up feeding Pete everything he'd made, Pete seemed slightly relieved at this he didn't think he could fit anymore in his stomach. John placed a kiss on Pete's tummy and squished it tenderly. Pete hiccuped and blushed. He was horribly embarrassed by his current state of helplessness.

John was still able to lift Pete up with ease despite his increased weight. Holding Pete tight, he brought him to his bedroom and laid him down on his back. Once he started to undress Pete, John noticed that he was rock hard. His eyes widened he couldn't just leave Pete like this.

"Awwww," John cooed pawing at Pete's crotch "would you like some help with that?" He made his voice sickly sweet.

Pete didn't have the energy to form words, but he moaned and pushed his erection further into John's hand. Slowly, John undid Pete's pants and slid his underwear off tossing both articles of clothing aside.

John gripped Pete's cock and tugged on it roughly. Pete couldn't help but let out a loud whine. It didn't take long for John to find just the right way to touch Pete, every stroke of his hand had Pete gripping the sheets and whimpering. Pete's panting got louder as John squeezed and pulled harder. It was embarrassing how quickly he came but with how tired he was he couldn't hold back. Hearing Pete moan his name made John so proud, nothing felt better than giving Pete any form of pleasure.

John bent down to kiss Pete's soft belly and sink his teeth into it. He adored the sight of his own marks on Pete's squishy body. The idea of showing off and worshipping Pete's belly made him excited. He'd have to remember to do that. It didn't matter to him that Pete would hate it. To John, Pete was the prettiest boy in the world and deserved more attention.

Feeling too tired to support himself anymore, John slowly lowered his body on top of Pete. At first, Pete seemed nervous, but John's heavy weight felt surprisingly pleasant. Despite not being able to move, Pete was completely comfortable underneath John. It was also comforting to know that however large Pete got John would always be bigger. John just tucked his face into the crook of Pete's neck. He was satisfied to know that Pete was finally getting the food and rest he needed.

[33max]

this might be a tough one but how does daddy deal with an overtired maxy after today’s vegas shitshow? (considering DANIEL is also probably dead on his feet)

They don’t usually share a room on race weekends. Sometimes, they don’t even stay in the same hotel, both prioritising their space if it means better racing. It’s out of sheer exhaustion that Daniel decides to crash in Max’s room after free practice two. Red Bull Racing’s team hotel is closer to the track and therefore he can face plant the bed fifteen minutes sooner than if he was to go to his own room.

They’re both grumpy. It’s been a seriously long day and they’re getting snappy with each other, annoyed by things that usually wouldn’t even be a problem. Daniel knows Max doesn’t mean it when he tells Daniel to stop fucking humming. He definitely doesn’t mean it when he tells Max to stop being such a nag. They just need some sleep.

They had both expected it to be a late night, but 5 am is a little ridiculous. Especially considering the amount of media commitments they’ve had jammed into their schedules.

Daniel feels like his eye bags have eye bags. One look at Max confirms he’s feeling the same, the way he rubs at his eyes and tries to clear his sleepy vision as they walk through the hotel hallway is a bit of a giveaway.

Max is swaying on his feet by the time they get to the door, and Daniel puts a steadying hand on the small of his back, their earlier snappy comments are completely forgotten now.

After several minutes of Max routing through his wallet for the hotel keycard, spending way too long trying to slide it out of the correct pouch, they finally get the door open and stumble through into the room.

They both throw their shoes off. Unbothered where they end up. That’s tomorrow's problem.

Daniel knows he should shower. He’s not showered since practice, neither has Max, they’re disgusting.

“No,” Max pouts, as if reading Daniel’s mind. He’s not having a shower now, not when the bed is right there. Daniel can’t blame him for that, so he simply nods, accepting they’ll just be gross together.

Daniel starts peeling off his clothes, stripping down until he’s just in his underwear. He expects Max to be doing the same, but when he looks up Max is still standing there, looking at Daniel with pleading eyes.

He’s looking at the tattoo on Daniel’s ribs, the one of Max’s plushies. The one that Daniel got for Max to show him how much he loves his little counterpart too.

Max needs caring for right now, Daniel can tell. He might be as exhausted as Max but he’s always ready to show Max the affection he needs. It’s just- he feels a little guilty for hoping it won’t take long, that Max won’t need much from him right now. Even if Max would tell him that’s stupid, that Daniel should put himself first.

“I got you,” Daniel says, taking Max into his arms and then tugging Max’s clothes off for him. It’s not sexy, it’s clumsy and uncoordinated. Max holds onto Daniel to stay upright.

As soon as they get into bed Max wraps himself around Daniel, nuzzles into his neck and takes a few deep breaths. Daniel can tell he’s trying to clear his head, to relax now that they’re away from the hustle and bustle and it’s just them.

“You feeling okay?” Daniel yawns, eyes starting to fall closed. He suspects Max is on the edge of a drop from how exhausted he is. At least if that is the case the little guy will be just as tired as Max.

Max doesn’t answer, instead he brings Daniel’s hand up to his face and sucks Daniel’s index and middle fingers into his mouth. Daniel doesn’t think he’s small, he suspects Max is just seeking comfort and is tired enough to not have any inhibitions about it.

“Good boy,” Daniel whispers to him, “Go to sleep, baby.”

He can tell when Max falls asleep because the rhythmic sucking on Daniel’s fingers slows down, and Max’s warm breath puffs out across the back of Daniel’s hand and the skin of his neck when Max’s face is buried.

The last thought that Daniel has before he drifts off to sleep is how he can’t wait for the season to be over so they can do this more often. He knows Max feels the same, he doesn’t even need to ask, he can see it in Max’s tired eyes.

[my-sibling-wears-a-muumuu]

man fuck it

Colin Gray Headcannons

He likes all types of music, industrial, post hardcore, pop punk, you name it, he's heard it!

Colin def resonates more with the scene/emo style, with his love for all things gothic.

I think he likes to read Edgar Allen Poe, and thats where he gets most of his inspiration for his own writing.

I gotta say it, in the movie, colin deffo knew that was NOT jennifer's house, he's a teen boy, he wanted sex. (not headcannon, just unfortunate teen boy fact)

He has that like, trailer park feel about him.

THRIFT. SHOPS. Thats where he gets a decent amount of his clothes, so while he tries to make everything like newer, he has a few outdated pieces, a few are a little odd fitting.

his guilty pleasure is playing the sims and listening to hollywood undead.

circling back to the emo style, i think that and grunge was just the easiest way for him to also express how he felt, he deffo didn't fit into the conservatives, jocks or populars of his school. So he took a step outside the norm and found a safe space.

Crazy movie/cd/cassette/vinyl selection, special collector's editions of things, deluxe albums, a lot of it older because of thrift stores.

sometimes he be reading, even when he's not supposed to be. (colin, this is math, put the book DOWN)

I couldn't think of much else, romantic headcanons may come soon!! :D!

(if you have any ideas for more on colin gray, you could dm me or send an request !)

[topofmythighs]

same soul

sam winchester x gender neutral, plus size reader

rundown: reader has a bad mental health day but sammy is just oh so sweet

word count: 2.5k

their home is cold, even with the autumn heat and chunky knitted blanket thrown over them. the television is playing their favourite show, but the volume is only on five. on the side table beside the couch they’re curled up on, an iced coffee sits - a special order they get only on the days where they absolutely need it.

today was one of those days. it felt like everyone at work needed them, the phone was never hung up, and like their mental well-being drained with every minute that passed by. when they woke up this morning, they hated the way their clothes clung to their body and felt like their pants fit in the most unflattering way possible. today was a day where their bed begged them to crawl back in it, to cry and not feel anything, but their resilience won the battle.

they made themself look as good as they felt like they could look, pushed through the work day, and treated themself to whatever lunch, beverage, and guilty pleasure they craved. this carried through the rest of the evening, hence the special sad day coffee, their favourite show, and the only blanket in the house that still smelled like sam. there were a few of his hoodies that he purposely bought a few sizes bigger so they could comfortably fit into them that still smelled like him, but those were reserved for the nights where nothing helps but him.

fearing that tonight would be one of those nights, they sent a text to him, prefacing it with, “i don’t mean to be annoying,” and hoping that he was close enough to them to convince dean to drop him off for the night.

his reply is lightening fast, and one text turns to a spam just as quickly.

duh

i mean

no

not duh

not duh like ur being annoying

but duh like i will bribe dean w anything if it means i can see u

hopefully i can make tn better

i’ll text u when i’m omw there angel x

a small smile tickles its way onto their face. they never expect anything less than unconditional love from sam, but it’s hard for them to judge how others feel when their own emotions are winding together into a nasty, record breaking hurricane.

unsure of how long the tall, doe-eyed man would be, they leave their warm spot on the couch to get dressed from their work clothes into comfy sweatpants. they text sam quickly, too.

pls don’t show up in anything but relax clothes

u could show up in nothing and i’d also be happy but for tn the dress code is not nudity

just sweatpants and a hoodie pls :)

they fix their hair as best as they can, put on their comfort sweatpants, and slip on their fuzzy slippers. they scan themselves in the mirror, worried they look frumpy and even larger than they already are, but decided not to waste too much time on caring about their insecurities.

they know sam loves them. even if it weren’t for the amount of trust that goes into intimacy with the two, they know sam loves them from the constant reassurance he gives them. it’s hard to not over analyze their body in the mirror, even though they know it doesn’t hold them back from living a beautiful and fulfilling life. they find that their heather grey stanford sweatpants are fitting a little tighter around their thighs than normal and that their tummy is still bloated, but through years of pulling themself from such a negative mindset, they’ve learned nothing good comes from tugging at clothing. they can feel themself become sucked into the obsessive cycle of tearing apart every part of their body, but a text chime refocuses them.

literally two mins away, be there so soon

another smile dawns on their face, a blush accompanying it. it has been so long since they’ve seen sam, both jobs getting in the way of their time together. they run in and out of the bathroom, scrambling to get things together when their doorbell rings. their heart flutters like it always does. they hurry quickly to the door, opening it to find sam standing there in a similar pair of sweatpants and a large hoodie with a tote bag in hand, seemingly very full.

his heart flutters the same way theirs does. he smiles down at them, swiftly sliding into their home and hooking his bag up on the hooks near the outside light switch. he kicks off his unlaced chuck taylor’s and immediately places his hands on their face to kiss them deeply. he’s glad they managed to close the door past his stocky body, but he wouldn’t have been upset if someone saw him and his angel reuniting.

“i missed you,” he mumbles as he pulls away.

their hands are on his elbows as they whisper it back and looking into his glossy eyes. they smile together and kiss again quickly before sitting on the couch under the same chunky knitted blanket as before. he stretches his long legs out onto the ottoman, covering his legs with the blanket, then letting them rest their head on his lap. he plays with their hair, but notices the iced coffee on the side table.

“sad day coffee,” he says, squinting his eyes to read the order to double check. he looks down at them, furrowing his eyebrows. “what’s wrong angel?”

they sigh and grab his hand, bummed that they didn’t think to chug or chuck that. “just not feeling well,” they whisper. “been a bad day up there.” sam frowns, his bottom lip almost jutting out. he’s about to say something before they sit up and interrupt him. “it’s okay,” they say, turning to get up off the couch and grab things from the side table drawer. “i figured we could do some self care stuff together?”

sam notices how apprehensive they are, but also the glimmer in their eyes. he smiles softly. “i’ve never really done self care stuff before, but, uhm, yes, we can do that.”

they smile and kiss him quickly. “look,” they say, pulling a jarred face mask out of the drawer. “a face mask for us. and also nail stuff. thought it would be fun to paint our nails together?”

sam smiles again, taking their hand as they stand beside the couch. “angel, i’ll do whatever you want.”

they smile, kissing him again, then sitting down next to him with everything in their lap. they both adjust so that they’re sitting cross legged facing each other, still able to look into each other’s eyes and kiss.

“face mask first,” they mutter, still quite apprehensive about dragging their boyfriend into this.

sam smiles and watches fondly as their hands open the container, seeing the brown, grainy face mask and smelling the coffee scent from the jar. sam watches his partner intently, mentally tracing every inch of their sweet face. a few freckles here and there, a wrinkle beginning to set in on their forehead, a blemish on their cheek. he studies it all, falling more in love with the person who’d give him the world.

“wait,” they say, pulling sam out of his trance. “need to grab us headbands.”

sam smiles and nods, watching as they walk to their bathroom to pick some out. he chooses to continue the show that’s on the television, knowing it’ll calm them down. they return with two pink cat ear headbands, and sam laughs as they try and fit it over his head.

“your head is huge, sammy. don’t break my headband, please,” they giggle, finally adjusting it correctly on his head.

he smiles, dimples on display, and says, “of course, angel. i’ll try not to.”

they smile and kiss his soft lips quickly before dunking their fingers into the jarred face mask. they’re careful and slow as they bring their fingers to sam’s face, gently smearing on the coffee scented mask. sam holds the jar for them, asking them a bunch of questions about the brand, the mask, and really anything to try and distract his partner from what’s going on in their head. they notice this and kindly answer all of sam’s questions, grateful that he can read them so well.

“all done,” they say with another smile. “still very handsome.”

sam can feel a blush on his cheeks, but he’s grateful for the brown gunk on his face to hide it. “i can do it for you now,” he offers.

without a face mask on yet, sam can see the blush on their cheeks. he gently holds their cheek, letting them rest their head on his hand. they close their eyes and stay like that for a moment before picking their head back up and nodding, giving sam permission to rub the face mask onto their face.

“okay,” he says, slowly sticking his fingers into the goopy face mask. “i’ve never done this.”

they smile at him, eyes sparkling. “just do it gently.” they walk him through it all: “you picked up lots, ‘should cover my whole face. dot it on, y’know? yeah, like that. smear it around now. okay, perfect, i can feel it all over.”

they’re sure that theres some in their eyebrows and in their hairline, but sam smiles proudly about his application, and there’s no sense in bursting his bubble.

when they both wipe off their hands, they move onto nails. they spend time doing both their own nails and sam’s, letting him watch them shape the nails, fix the cuticles, and make sure everything is even. sam admits to them that he hasn’t had this done before, but that it feels nice.

sam watches as they giggle at him. “hush,” he mumbles. “what colour are you doing?“

they smile again, the feeling of a smile and the face mask uncommon. “i’m not sure. figured i’ll probably just choose whatever you want,” they shrug.

sam can feel his heart warm up, appreciating the little things that his angel does that make his world brighter.

“i was just thinking black,” he suggests, and they nod.

“black it is.”

they spend time meticulously painting their nails and sam’s, careful not to put the polish on too thick or on his skin.

sam begins admiring them again, but this time, he’s unable to help himself from speaking aloud.

“y’know,” he begins, gaining their attention. they look up at him, hands still holding onto his and the nail polish. “you’re awfully cute.”

they blush and look away from him, going back to painting his nails. “hush, sammy,” they say.

“it’s true,” he mentions. “you’re adorable, and i-“

“ugh, got it on your skin. stay still.”

sam rolls his eyes. “angel,” he says, their eyes meeting his again. he watches as their eyes glimmer with only the light of a few small lamps. “i love you.”

their eyes dart around his, flicking their attention all over his face. they smile, finding it sweet how sam wanted all of their attention on him while he said it. “i love you too, sammy.”

sam smiles, his dimples n pearly whites on display. “and, y’know, i’m sorry i don’t say it enough. i really do love you, angel, and i think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

their heart is beating so quickly, and their cheeks are flushed a bright pink. they can feel their whole body warm up, even though they’re feeling shivers from their head to their toes. they smile shyly at sam, feeling small under his watchful gaze - feeling whole again from his kind words.

“thank you, sammy,” they manage to mutter out after a few moments pass. “i needed that today.” they close the nail polish bottle and set it down on the ground. “be careful not to smudge them.” they wrap their arms around sam’s neck, sitting up on their knees and leaving a peck on his lips with an over dramatic “mwah”.

sam chuckles, carefully wrapping his arms around their waist to bring them into his lap. he’s careful not to ruin his nails, not letting his hands touch the back of their hoodie. he squeezes tight though, looking into their eyes and seeing the whole universe. he smiles at them again, analyzing them more and more the closer they get to him. with another short kiss, they offer to wipe their face masks off since their nails are dry.

there’s a comfortable silence between them as they lay on the couch together, faces fresh and nails manicured. sam takes their hand in his, interlocking their fingers and blushing at their matching nails.

they look at him fondly, needing to be as close to him as possible, but they take the hand holding and appreciate it just the same. they shift closer to him so their shoulders are touching, and sam lays his head on theirs.

“i feel so safe with you,” they whisper, holding his hand tighter.

sam kisses the top of their head, squeezing back. “good, that’s my job.”

they giggle and nuzzle their face into his arm, turning the rest of their body so they’re snuggled up next to him.

“angel, just come here,” he says, patting his lap.

they blush and accept the offer, putting each of their legs on either side of his and laying their head on his chest. they’re always apprehensive to rest their body on top of sam, but the way he wraps his arms around them and never complains about his legs getting restless eases their worries. they press small kisses onto his neck as a silent thank you, and he does the same back.

“i’m in love with you,” sam whispers, his large hands rubbing their back.

they lean back slowly, looking into his eyes, bracing their hands on his chest for support, and feeling his hands fall to their thighs. of all the times sam has said “i love you,” he’s never specified that his love for them ran deeper than baseline.

they smile as their eyes dart around his face. “i’m in love with you, sammy.”

he smiles and holds their face, kissing them deeply, and leaving small kisses all over their face. they giggle as sam does this, their hands playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

“you’re adorable,” he says, feeling his heart best out of his chest from their giggles.

they kiss him again, pressing a few kisses over his cheeks. “thank you for making me feel better today, sammy,” they say as their hands continue playing with his hair. “i’m in love with you.”

“i’ll never get sick of hearing you say that, angel.”