#at the expense of others. of course. the torment of others is something they think is justified because of their circumstances

[weirderscience]

its my sworn duty to get people to stop portraying AM as a dommy daddy sexyman type actually. its like portraying glados as a tsundere asuka langley anime waifu. theyre both more complicated than that and its kind of indicative of a shallow or incomplete reading

[bunicate]

Alhaitham making his little sister ride her stuffed toy for him! grinding her pussy on one of her favourites as she whines about how it’s gonna ruin her favourite stuffie!

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ warnings ꒱ྀི incest. infantilization. handjob. brief blowjob. pillow humping ﾉ 18+

“this is so unfair .”

you’d cross your arms if they weren’t currently occupied. reluctantly, one hand knits into the bedsheets to keep yourself in place. the other commits to slow sensual strokes of his cock, timed with the messy ruts of your pussy, defacing the once pale pink bunny.

the innocent stuffed animal with beady eyes, now the color of mulberry from your arousal, was ruined. if you didn’t know your big brother so well, you’d easily miss the subtle flicker of mirth in his blue-green eyes.

“how is it unfair? I'm playing with you just as you asked.”

you narrow your eyes at him, but its merely an undignified expression when the stuffed bunny's hard nose pokes your clit.

“t-this is not — hmmph— what I meant.”

his eyes lower and the side of his lip upturns. it’s not audible, but he’s laughing at you. you’re certain of it, and his cock only hardens in your grasp.

“y’got me ruining mr.cuddles. . .” you grumble.

“I can buy you another.”

a curse dies on the tip of your tongue just as frustration settles from his retort. the last thing you want is to add to your torment. as promising as it could be, al haitham had an immeasurable amount of self-control.

he’d wring your little cunt dry, and you don’t think you could handle much more of his teasing, but god, the poor creature was soiled.

you know how much embarrassing you arouses him and you sure don’t miss the pre-cum that deliciously clumps at the tip of his member. you know it’s at your expense because he throbs within your palm.

his fingers, veiny and all encompassing, cup the back of your head, slightly tugging at the roots of your hair.

it doesn’t hurt, but there’s enough pressure to signal his intolerance of your potential defiance.

“enlighten me. tell me what you meant.”

your head lolls back, staring at the scribe with tears blurring your vision. you thumb his tip and whine when you feel a dollop of his warm seed land on your thigh.

“when you told me you wanted to play, let me guess . . . did you mean on . . . my cock ?” 

theres a swirl of something you can only describe as unadulterated desperation at his show of mockery. there’s a sardonic glint as he soaks in how pretty you look jerking him off.

you nod stiffly. “u-uh huh.”

but he only feigns pity.

“that’s too bad, isn’t it ?” he reaches down to grip your backside. he lifts you slightly and sees crystal strings of wetness connecting from your cunt to poor mr.cuddles.

“look at that mess,” the scribe whispers, and that only fuels your need to bury yourself under your sheets.

“this isn’t what you wanted and yet, you’re dripping . . .” he shakes his in farce disappointment, “but nevertheless, let’s problem solve.”

he lets go of you to stop your hand from stroking his leaking member.

he firmly grabs himself, pumping his swollen cock slowly — roughly, until a pretty coat of pre-cum envelops his tip.

he points his throbbing appendage towards your mouth, pressing it towards your quivering lips. he wipes his head messily around the surface until trails of slick begins to glisten.

you physically resist the urge to suck and swallow even when the faint taste of salt drips on your tongue.

there’s a deep hum when you meet his wanton stare.

“would you have more fun if I put my cock in your little mouth instead ?”

you mewl. god, you can smell him. it’s a rich and musky scent mingled with a woodsy vanilla.

your mouth collects spit as he continues to drag his fat tip down the seam of your plump lips.

his cock is just as pretty as the rest of him. it’s wide with an odd number of veins running down his length. it wilts from its own weight despite being so hard.

his eyes glaze over, chuckling before he answers for you, “yeah, of course you would,” he murmurs. “you’d suck it just like how you suck those lollipops.”

al haitham rubs at your scalp, dragging your head so his member slides against the opening of your mouth. by now, you’re panting like needy pup with your tongue lapping up the underside of his cock.

“what if —“ his eyes flicker down to between your thighs, “I put it right here ?”

his fingers skillfully slide past your overstimulated clit to nestle in your little hole. you breathe out a loud sigh of relief when they slowly sink in, stretching your tight walls.

“h-haithy. . .” your mouth parts as meek cries fall from your sweet lips, breath fanning his dick.

��oh, what cute sounds. is this what you want ?”

“mhm. . . I dooooo,” you drawl.

your hand tangles around his wrist. it was a brave action, but he didn’t seem to mind. you were insatiable at this point as you unabashedly hump his thick fingers, chasing your own pleasure.

“I wan’ it, h-haithy. need your cock inside me.”

slick sticks to your thighs and your cunt audibly squeezes around his digits until he suddenly halts his movement.

“what do you do when you want something ?”

you sniffle, “u-use my big girl words.”

al haitham gives you a subtle look of approval.

“precisely.”

he falls silent, giving you a chance to speak but you remain hushed at first. rather, you’d let your actions allow him to draw his own conclusions.

you pull away to position yourself on your back, his fingers slipping out of your warmth.

he watches you closely, anticipating your next move.

your arms come behind your knees, revealing both of your pretty holes. delicate fingers part your puffy folds like pages of his books, displaying the gaping hole he was moments away from fucking.

with pursed lips and gleaming eyes, you ask just like how he taught you.

“big brother . . . can you please make me cum on your cock ?”

your tight pussy clenches around nothing, pushing out a stringy rivulet of creamy white.

there’s a crack in his composure.

al haitham effortlessly pulls his shirt over his head. his strong abdomen on display flexes with every breath he takes. it’s intimidating how stalks towards you, inching towards the bed with purpose.

he’s eager to mount you, his sweet little sister with a perfect ass, and a fat wet cunt he’d milk over and over again.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König of the Icks (the rage post)

This is the post where I actually got mad at König. I can't stand people like this, but I also love them. If nothing else, life's always interesting when they're around, right?

Art from This Post

König rarely laughs. When he does laugh, it's usually quiet, subtle. If you didn't know he was laughing, you'd probably think he was crying because he just shakes his shoulders and makes soft chuffing noises

It's a bit eerie

However, when König loses control of his laughter, he sounds like a whole damn pigsty

He's snorting, squealing and honking as he tilts his head back with laughter. He laughs so hard he cries

This would be cute if it weren't almost always at the expense of somebody else.

Horangi had the misfortune of hearing it when König tipped all his belongings upside down and then taped and/or glued them to the ceiling. This included Horangi's bed and sheets.

Hutch nearly threw out a computer mouse until he found a piece of tape covering the bottom.

Roze swears she heard König laughing when she found her entire locker filled to the brim with tiny rubber ducks

The rubber ducks became a huge problem with soldiers trading them like contraband and hiding them in weird places around the base

This concluded with snipers using them for firing practise and laughing when they squealed when they were shot, making it to easy to find their hiding spots

Unfortunately for Stilleto, she heard König's laugh when she walked through a line of tape over a door and got it tangled in her hair. She figured out which recruits did it and had them running laps. When they were done, one of them admitted it was Cnl. Leichenberg who set them up and she was furious

See, König loves to set other people up to do his dirty work

He'll gladly set up soldiers to piss other people off so he can watch the fireworks fly

He'll purposefully hold off on doling out a punishment if he thinks it'll be funny to watch shit go south first

He's well known on base as a through and through sadist who relishes in schadenfreude

Hell, he's the one to teach everyone what that word meant

He's the literal dictionary definition of the word

Now, the problem is that König isn't just a kinky sadist (he is, but that's a different post)

König loves to torment anyone he loves. And of course, that includes you

König won't put things on the top shelf, he'll put them on top of the cabinet so you'll have to ask for his help because not even the stool will help you reach that high

He'll doodle over any picture you have of him to 'hide his identity'

He just likes messing with you

He torments his children with wicked pranks and gaslights them terribly

When his toddler offers him a bite of their animal cracker he eats the whole thing and laughs at them

He will absolutely label three objects 1, 2, and 4 so you'll go searching for #3

He will sit on you when he gets mad at you, or when you get mad at him because, well, this is the two of you (and he will do this to you and laugh):

His worst sin was childproofing the house without your knowledge. Ever had a fully childproofed house? If you're not the one installing it, it's an ugly thing to find

He will shift furniture just a little bit to the right or left to screw with you if you finish off his breakfast meals and don't replace them immediately

König takes delight in leaving you cryptid notes (you've learned to ignore the ominous threats because they always turn out to be something completely innocuous)

König is a nightmare of a man to live with. Is it fun? Sure! Is he a menace? Absolutely. He's got a penchant for mischief, and he's used to getting away with it because he's either got the reputation of a battle-hardened colonel that demands respect when he steps into a room, or the soft-spoken gentleman that would never raise his voice against a civilian. This just means he has the perfect fallback for whenever somebody accuses him of being a miscreant. In truth, he's most likely behind it, but the true extent of how many thing's he's behind is terrifying. This man fucks with people as a hobby.

Konig Dump

Konig Headcanons

[veilofaponia]

Actions Better Left Undone

yan chrollo x reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: yandere content, kidnapped reader, unhealthy relationship, shitty first fic

The constant thumping of your heartbeat drowns out the sounds of the movie playing on the television. You’re surprised Chrollo hasn’t noticed (or atleast, commented on) how violently your heart is beating against your ribcage.

You try grounding yourself. Deep, slow breaths, occupying yourself with your hands, focusing on the movie playing in front of you on the screen. Focusing on anything but the man sitting comfortably next to you. The way the air feels heavy with his presence. The way his cologne is the only thing you can smell. The way how when you accidentally make eye-contact with him, he simply gives you an easy smile in return.

It does little to reduce your stress. If anything, it just makes you feel more uneasy. Even if there’s no actual proof, there’s just the underlying feeling that he knows. That he’s feigning ignorance just to see what your next course of action will be. Whether you’ll confess your wrongdoing to him (if you can even call it that), or if you’ll remain stubborn and pretend you did nothing of the sort.

Back in highschool, you and your friends would combine bobby pins and paperclips to make lockpicks. Then, you’d unlock the lockers of strangers in your school and fill them with fake letters and secretly giggle at their reactions. In the past, you were embarrassed of how you acted back then. But now, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief and pride that you developed a talent for creating makeshift lockpicks.

Chrollo had supplied you with hair ties and bobby pins when you complained about your hair constantly getting in your face. You felt a bit suspicious at first. Surely he knows bobby pins can be turned into low quality lockpicks. Yet you’d brushed it off, simply deciding he must’ve thought the lock to be of too secure.

You knew this too. There’s no way he wouldn’t have settled for the highest quality when it came to the lock that keeps you confined. But even then, when you came across paperclips in a little container on his desk, it was hard to resist. Without thinking too much of it, you’d already made a lockpick. The rational part of you told you not to bother; what would such a cheap alternative do against a heavy lock? But you had to try, right? It’d be a wasted opportunity otherwise, wouldn't it?

That’s what you told yourself when you inserted it into the lock and continuously tried to twist it open. You opted to try your luck while Chrollo was in the shower; the time at which he might come was always irregular, but you noticed the amount of time he took cleaning himself was constant. You spent minutes messing with the lock, but it showed no signs of budging. Just as you heard the running water shut off, the lockpick snapped. Part of it was stuck inside the lock, while the rest was in your clenched hand. With no other options coming to mind and time running out, you walked away from the door and pretended not to have done anything.

All this brings you back to your current predicament: sitting next to your tormenter on an expensive couch while a romcom functions as white noise for your overactive thoughts.

He’s definitely going to notice. He’ll know there’s something stuck in the lock. He’ll immediately realize I tried to escape. He’s going to punish me he’s going to punish me he’s going to—

“Are you okay, dearest? You’ve been acting off all evening."

Chrollo’s steady voice breaks your train of thought. You just blankly stare at him. It takes you a few moments to regain you ability to speak and give a somewhat solid response.

“No– I mean– Yeah, I’m fine. I just have a headache, that’s all.”

He looks to be considering your answer for a second. He wants to pry for more, because there’s definitely something off. But he merely blinks and responds softly with “I see.”. Then he redirects his attention back to the movie.

A wave of relief washes over you when you conclude he believes your (rather weak) lie. Just as you think you’ve managed to escape the topic, he strikes again.

“If it's that much of a bother, I could get you some painkillers.”

“Oh. Okay, sure.”

He pauses the movie and stands up. You assume he’s going to start walking to the bathroom, where the painkillers are usually kept. Instead, he starts walking towards the door and putting on his shoes. Panic shoots through you. You don’t do a good job at masking it. Sensing your confusion, Chrollo steps in and offers enlightenment.

“We’re all out,” Your blood runs cold. “I’m going to buy some more at the store.” He explains, while now putting on his coat.

You abandon all ideas of trying to remain calm and instead hyperfocus on your next objective: get Chrollo to stay inside so he won’t discover you tried to get out. Granted, it's just delaying the inevitable, but if he notices tomorrow morning while you’re still sleeping, he probably won't wake you up and maybe he’ll be less mad when he returns.

“No! N-No need, really! I’ll be fine, so there’s really no need to go out now. You should just stay inside, the weather isn’t very nice either. I’d hate to be such a bother.”

Chrollo himself remains composed, but his eyes give away how amused he is at your pitch.

“How sweet of you to not want to inconvenience me,” Gross. “but you were shaking heavily,” He’s reaching for his keys. “It pains me to see you like that,” He’s going to put his keys into the hole. “So don’t worry, I’ll gladly buy you— Oh.”

The keys don't fit into the hole. Because of the lockpick in it. That you got in there. Because you tried to escape.

You take a good look at Chrollo’s facial expression while he inspects the keyhole. He looks perplexed, but then again, he’s a great actor, so it’s hard to tell when he’s being genuine.

He sighs. He must’ve figured out what happend. Or maybe he’s just pretending he didn’t already know.

He begins to slowly take off his coat and shoes. You’re convinced he’s doing this on purpose; dragging the process out so you’ll be left anticipating what comes next for longer. You think to come up with another weak excuse or an awkward joke to ease the tension in the air.

Your lips part to speak, but immediately close again upon seeing the expression on his face as he walks back to the couch.

He’s not mad, no, he’s good at regulating his emotions. But there’s an odd look in his eyes that wasn’t there before, one that says more than you need to know. He’s not happy with your stunt.

Your heart is pumping blood through your body at an insane speed. Your breathing is becoming rapid and shallow. You redirect your gaze to the paused film on the television screen.

Chrollo sits down next to you. He doesn’t speak at first. He just fixates his eyes onto your figure while you continue staring at the screen.

After a moment of silence which feels like an eternity, he speaks.

“How did you create the lockpick?”

“I combined the bobby pins and paperclips on your desk.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Did you think a lockpick like that would be enough to grant you an escape opportunity?” He sounds curious, but you’re guessing he’s just asking to embarass you further.

“Well, not really, but…” You can't think of a reasonable explanation.

He chooses not to linger on it and instead asks his final question. “When did you try to pick the lock?”

You mutter your answer. “When you were showering.”

“Oh? Wouldn’t it be smarter to try when I was out?”

“You always lie about when you’re going to get back. If I tried while you were showering, I could hear when you were done and if the lockpick didn’t work I'd just take it with me and walk away from the door.”

He hums in acknowledgement, but says nothing more. Your explanation seems rather flimsy now. You hadn’t considered the lockpick breaking, and you had no way of getting it out.

He’s stopped questioning you. You wish you could peer into his mind to see his thoughts, because yours are only causing you more stress.

If he’s displeased with you, he’ll reprimand you somehow, won’t he? You can’t imagine him getting violent with you, but the countless possibilities there are can’t be much better.

To give yourself some semblance of grounding, you meekly ask him “What are you going to do?”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he answers. “That all depends on you. If you can make it up to me... then perhaps I’ll go easy on you.”

His reply doesn’t comfort you. Instead, now you’re left fretting about how much of your pride you’ll have to throw away to please Chrollo and soften your punishment.

[xesiarah]

“˚₊‧ UNLUCKY ENCOUNTER ‧₊˚ ”

Yan!Loser oc x Reader

Synopsis — some call it a coincidence, some say it's fate, but I say it's absolute utter fucking, bullshit.

—

—

"I'm sorry."

The other line hangs up, the irrational telephone beep ringing against your ear as you genuinely start feeling the symptoms of hysteria bubbling up your chest and clamming up your breathing. At this point you definitely wouldn't say no to a fucking lobotomy.

This week has been feeling like the universe is actively trying to kill you off, like as if already getting coffee spilled on you wasn't bad enough; You, in this modern age and time having to use the telephone because your phone was snatched, along with your favorite handbag, containing the newly expensive perfume you brought still half full, and then just now your partner of 2 years breaks up with you after you asked them for help because you tripped on a rock, resulting on a sprained ankle and having to distressingly limp all the way to the phone booth.

Coincidence? Yeah, I think not. Just before this hell week was 3 days after your best friend ditched you for her new boyfriend, 4 days after you fucked up an important exam, and A WEEK after you befriended that jackass freak at school. Losing a few people here and there was to be expected but, c'mon! Isn't this just a new form of torture? You're sure that he was the one that caused all this, who else is to blame!? Maybe the rumor that said he must have all that hair to hide the dent he got when he was dropped as a baby was true, I mean. He probably performed some dark sorcery on you for whatever reason.. or maybe he's a sick masochist that fucks over people who don't treat him like an accused witch during the Salem Witch Trials. — Seriously, it was as if the universe's will to make that mfs life a living hell has rubbed off on you. But you know what, yeah.. It's fine, you can live with this.

Or not. Your alarm blaring for you to awaken gladly disturbs your nightmarish slumber, this is the 3rd time. The THIRD TIME! You've dreamt about him. — of that freak that brought you to your misery, who knows, what if dreaming about him more then once was some sort of bad omen? The 3rd time being on the first day of the week nonetheless. Of course the birds are extra chirper, you thought that maybe they're basking on your torment, if they were, you hope stray bullets manages to shoot all of them dead because we aren't having that kind of bullshit today. — You have finally devised a plan to avoid Satan's reincarnate for the rest of the school year as if they were carrying a covid variant. Finally getting that horrendous goblin off your back would feel like it's the second coming of Christ, and you're not about to let any twinks get in the way of living your life free from any agony inducing minger either.

You manage to find the will to exist. Entering the gates of your school muttering prayers to God, and whatever other deity that’s listening, to please not let you set sights of his probably-smells-like-cheese, greasy ass hair, the overgrown bangs covering ⅔ of his hazel eyes that always seemed to bother you, he even has those weird Incel glasses on.. maybe that one rumor that said he had some sort of eye fungus just makes this all more oddly debatable. You wander through the empty hallways, not seeing a single student kinda unsettles you. — makes sense though, It's pretty early, and you've never seen him around this time so, the coast is clear, for now, or so you thought. — You were approaching the rows of vending machines all pushed up against the back of the building when you caught a glimpse of a silhouette you're all too familiar with, he seems to be sketching something, not that you totally cared for whatever it was. You shrug, but when you were about to turn to leave he gets up and walks towards the boys bathroom, leaving his precious notebook unattended, out in the open, where anyone could take a peak... Just a little peak, alright? You tiptoed, walking towards it in longer strides to minimize your footsteps, upon getting closer, you notice the front page already wide open, as if he purposely left it like that, — that should've been the first red flag. Because inspecting it a little further made your jaw slack, the thing he was sketching.. was you. "What the fuck, I look amazing." You mutter, it's a little creepy but you're flattered with the way he straight up beautified you, admiring it for a little longer then you should've had was a mistake though, because just when you took your eyes off of the notebook, you see him literally lurking and hiding behind the bathroom's entrance. He's wide-eyed, and a huge creepy grin plastered on his face. — Genuinely scaring the flattery out of you and making you bolt straight to the opposite direction on instinct, the way he looked at you literally triggered your flight or fight. The sound of your fast footsteps filled the hallways, your heart going pitter-patter, quite literally about to burst out your chest. Fuck. Just your luck. Guess this won't be an easy day to get through.

Morning lectures are finally over. Which means you can finally celebrate the fact that you pushed through and made it to lunchtime! It was still agonizing nonetheless, waiting around corners to let him pass kind of felt like you're stalking him, can't say that you didn't get any weird looks either. The worse part was definitely him searching and skimming through the halls, asking everyone for your whereabouts, half of them made themselves look busy so he wouldn't approach them, and the other half straight up ran the opposite direction as if he threatened to bite their toes or something. Weirdly enough, most of them ended up slipping on wet floor, which just further gives in to your suspicion of him practicing dark sorcery. Anyways, you're proud of the little progress you made, and that's all that matters for now.

—

—

Lucian sits alone, his table is tucked away in the very corners of the cafeteria, no one even daring to glance at his direction, he used to typically eat in the bathrooms but nobody wants him in their presence to the point that they all stand up and leave when he approaches a table. — there's just this weird air surrounding the dude that automatically repels people away, and no it's not body oder dammit! He just gets greasy fast, and probably for threatening to unalive a teacher but that isn't important! The love of his life is avoiding him! He chews on his fingernails as he ponders, possible reasons fill his head, and they aren't very good ones. — Did someone make you do this? Is there someone else...? That surely can't be. That's just cheating isn't it? You love him after all! He saw the glint in your eyes when you looked at the portrait he drew of you. He could even show you his shrine! Made just for you, containing such precious things you lost! — His excessive chewing of his fingernails grow desperate to the point of drawing blood, he grimaces at the sight of crimson streaks, wiping it on the sleeves of his hoodie. — it just can't be. Why would you do him wrongly like this? You smiled at him, you laughed with him instead of AT him, you sat together.. So why!? Are you gonna leave him like his mother did..? Was that all a joke to you..? He just couldn't accept this, you aren't that kind of person! You know what, he finally snaps. he just has to hear an answer from you. — "He's right behind me, isn't he?" The person right Infront of you nods, and immediately scurries away. At this point you're frozen in place, what the fuck do you do? Just make a run for it? "Can we please talk..?" He speaks behind you, his hand is on your shoulder. You swallow, the remaining bits of your conscience crumbling as you fucking make a run for it, aggressive footsteps follow behind and you realize HE'S CHASING AFTER YOU. You have never let out such a gut wrenching scream than what you just did in this exact moment. — You hide behind a wall, thinking you've lost him. Not until a hand grabs onto your arm.

—

—

He caught you. He has you pinned against the wall, not in a shoujo cutsy romantic way, he looks as if he's a starved vampire about to chomp on your neck, and not in a good way. Just no fucking way this scrawny mf outran you. Another 'unfortunately' for you too, the Gods did not answer your prayers. You're trapped in between the arms of the man you swore to avoid like the plague for the rest of the school year, this was definitely not on your 2024 bingo list. You didn't even last till' the end of the day and that lowkey hurts your pride. — But holy smokes, they say that you experience something new everyday, and this is the first time you've seen him up close, messy bedroom hair, teary eyes that looked like he hasn't slept since the first star wars movie came out. Wowza. If he actually made an effort, or if he didn't have such unsettling vibes, you can't lie, he'd be a revelation hottie. — ... Shit. Not the time to be thinking about his potential glow up. — Poor guy, watching him trying to maintain eye contact but just failing horribly is kinda cute.

......

......

......

The fuck? Your face scrunches up just after you snap back out of, whatever that was. Seriously.. say WHAT now? That was a demon possession right there, you need to stop acting as if his existence didn't just cause your downfall unprovoked. "You're avoiding me.." His voice disrupts the silent war you were having with yourself. It sounded meek, he genuinely looked like a shivering wet dog, with those.. tears boiling up his eyes, and.. quivering lips. Fuck. What if you'd just slide down his arms and escape? Hell no, if someone walked in they'd think you were giving him a blowjob and that's honestly worse then whatever's going on right now. "A-Answer me!" He yells(?) hesitantly, the dude genuinely looks like he's about to burst into tears any minute, you're surprised how he somehow grew the balls to yell at you though. "Okay, dude I'm sorry..?" — It's sad how he goes ballistic over a 'friendship' that lasted a week, but he did show you the list of student names he wanted to glock, and you listened to some of his nerdy ramblings, so you guess he did cherish your short time together even if you gave him absolutely zero fucks. — he goes completely quiet for a minute before he finally bursts out crying, fat tears are running through his acne filled face as he drops to the ground. "I really just wanted a someone-" He says in-between hiccups, he's crying as if you killed his mom or something. You decided to just wait it out until he grew tired but his wails started growing louder till' you were forced to crouch down and comfort him. "H-hey, uhm.." Fuck. Screw it. You know what, Who cares if your life starts crashing down, it already was unsalvageable from the very beginning anyway. Everyone needs a friend and you're too nice for this. You finally give in, breathing in a sigh of defeat. "How can I fix this?" His cries shimmer down and you swear to fucking God you think you just saw him flash a smirk. This bitch looks like he's bout to spit out the most outta pocket bullshit. — and he indeed did not disappoint. The two unexpected words coming out of his mouth just further inspires you to jump off a bridge. "d-date.. me."

......

......

......

Maybe hiring a hitman on yourself wouldn't be so bad.

[liliesinrequiem]

Expectations

A/N: You know, it's always Tartaglia hours in my mind. It's like I always end up going back to writing about him lol. I hope y'all enjoy.

Pairing: Possessive!Childe x Reader

Summary: You struggle with your job and the shadow that looms over you - your boss.

CW: Unhealthy relationships, power imbalance (boss and subordinate)

You paced in the freezing cold with a frown. Snezhnaya’s weather never changed, in fact, it felt worse these days. You could feel your fingertips going numb, even through the gloves, as you crossed your arms to try and make some warmth. The coat that you were wearing wasn’t good enough to withstand the cold of the day. You had to ask for a new one, but the thought made you hesitate. The less you spoke to your boss, the better. It meant not giving into his whims. You could already see the glimmer in his eyes at the thought of you asking him for something.

Your boss. Your frown got worse as you thought more about him. Childe, 11th of the Harbingers, was the headache that never left you. Of course, you did your best to make your boss happy. A happy Childe was the only version of him you ever wanted to see. Anything that could make him angry or upset was dealt with immediately. But keeping him happy was at your expense. Rather than oversee the new recruits himself, he’d left you in charge and kept being in far off lands. So, you were shipped back to Snezhnaya rapidly on his whims. “I hate having to send you off, but you get it, right?” Certainly. 

Then, Signora died. You knew that he was in Snezhnaya. There was no way that he wouldn’t be. But where was he? The funeral had come and gone and all that you’d gotten was a letter. A stupid piece of paper that you’d burned in anger after reading its contents. He was in a hurry to ship off the new recruits. 

“Captain?” asked someone. Your pacing slowed down as you turned to look at the recruits. They’d all been quicker with their training today. The one speaking to you, Ilya, was the most promising member of the small group. Though, the whole group had improved greatly over these few weeks. 

“Yes, Ilya?” you asked softly. You kept telling yourself to be gentle with them. You’d be the last kindness they had before being sent all over the world to cruel hands. Plus, it’d be wrong to take your anger out on them. Childe was your reason for anger, not them. 

“We finished our training like you asked. Is there anything else you want us to do?” he asked. You shook your head at them and gave them a strained smile. The weight of their future tormented you. 

Every single one of these recruits before you were younger than you. They didn’t know what it was like. They didn’t know the true horrors that awaited them. It was always like this, no matter how much you tried to not get attached. It was like having a new part of your heart ripped out as they were sent off to their deaths. Perhaps it was ridiculous to care. Part of being in the Fatui meant not caring about others too much because you run the risk of getting hurt. All of you were mere bodies that the Harbingers could move around like pawns. But you couldn’t separate yourself from them. You remembered every single person that had been trained by you. You remembered them because you knew that the rest of the Fatui, the Harbingers, and even the Tsaritsa wouldn’t remember them. 

It wouldn’t be long before someone in this new group died and were replaced with someone else. It wouldn’t be long for them to be separated from each other. It wouldn’t be long before you were assigned another group to train. A puff of air formed as you took a shaky breath. As you prepared to answer, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around you. Your brain stopped thinking for a moment. You were so keenly aware of the recruits looking at the person that was caging you in. 

You looked up and felt your heart stop. Dark, sapphire eyes looked back down at you. It was that look. The one he always got when he had you right where he wanted you. You were his cherished prey. A chorus of cheerful greetings filled the air. You remained frozen in your spot. He’d made no mention of personally visiting the group before sending them off. You could only assume that he was purposefully trying to agitate you. There was never any freedom from him, was there?

“Look at how well behaved these recruits are, (Y/N). Why am I yet to hear your voice?” he asked. Behind the cheery tone, you could hear the underlying disappointment. Your stomach plummeted. 

“Master Childe! I-I’m just surprised is all,” you whispered. The smile returned to his face. He turned his attention to the group.

“All of you are free to go back to camp. When you get there, someone will give you details on your next mission.” 

“Yes, sir!” said the group as they hurried back to camp. As you watched them disappear in the snow, you bit your lip. You’d told yourself that you were going to be strong. You couldn’t cry. Especially not in front of him. It’d upset him to see you cry for others when you refused to be emotional with him. You couldn’t afford any misunderstandings. 

“You’re shaking,” he said. “Are you that happy to see me?” You didn’t know how to respond. The emotions were overwhelming.

“Always am, Master Childe,” you answered. You hoped that your smile didn’t seem forced to him. 

“I’m happy to hear that. You don’t know how difficult these last few weeks have been. Not being able to touch you in any way has been awful. I’ve been counting down the days for when I could see you again,” he said. His grip on you tightened more. It wasn’t like you could even escape him. No matter where you went, the shadow of Childe loomed over your existence. At its core, there was no hope for you. You were bound to this job. “You know, I’m so proud of you. You trained them in record time.” You knew that he had to have been watching them for some time. Perhaps the whole training run. He would ask for details if he wasn’t aware.

“Just wanted them to be the best for you, Master Childe.” You didn’t have the strength to fight against him. In gentler terms, you were a mere plaything to him. In reality, he felt like he owned you. Your own movements within the Fatui were restricted because the world knew what you were to him. You knew that the trainees only respected you because of the man that was eternally attached to you. Your title might as well be: Captain (Y/N), Harbinger Childe’s Pet. He orders you to do something and you do it.

But you had to maintain it. Maintain it for the smiles that waited back home for you. Your family couldn’t survive without you providing for them. “I expect nothing else,” he said as he nuzzled your face. “Since you’re done with these recruits, I can take you on my new mission.” 

“Yes, Master Childe,” you said. You secretly wondered how much more you could take of any of this. The nature of training people just to send them off to their deaths, the constant moving around with no stability, and the suffocation of the man who held you. 

But it was expected of you to be able to handle all of this, so you would. 

[astrum-aetherium]

begging on your knees to go down on henry, like full on crying and whimpering on your knees

there is simply something so helplessly wicked about begging and pleading and reasoning with your partner to pleasure them, for merely their own good, out of the sheer kindness of your heart (and, admittedly, the unbearably fervid stirring in your gut). and do you know what? henry would delight in that a whole lot; he would put that tendency of yours to use so frequently it could be considered routine.

as i've discussed on this blog, i believe him to be someone who isn't exactly in dire need of intimacy, let alone anything of overly sexual nature, wherefore he would be perfectly willing and even eager to tease it out of you for as long as you can bear, as he wouldn't be the one to have launched the initiative (the fact whereof he would use against you shamelessly). in fact, he would urge you to the limits of your sanity — have you teetering around them sheepishly, and you'd still follow his every order. plus, we know he has that elitist urge to force people into submission with his charm and imposition, so this is only an added ego polishing for him. painfully true, and yet too good not to give in to. he would 100% have a thing for degradation, and who are you not to play into that? antithetically, it would be an utter sin not to do so.

as for a specific scenario, i'm thinking it would have to take place during the late hours of a day which has left you feeling useless and idle, with you merely being set on doing what you know and have numerously proven to excel at: pleasuring henry. he, on the other hand, would have to be in one of his more sullen, stern moods — more rigid than usual, perhaps even angered — in order to elicit that acrimony, that torment out of him. he'd have to be so utterly spent emotionally that he would abandon his studies for the night, and instead merely linger, sunk in an armchair, nursing a tumbler with scotch that is considered far too expensive for a university student. he will have just finished his third cigarette in a row, when you, all class and dignity at first, would initiate, “is there anything i can do for you?”

of course, the inquiry would be vague enough not to immediately translate as being of lascivious fashion (even though that would be your honest and admitted goal), and he would simply scoff in response, if offer any answer at all. this is when you'd approach, maybe adding a pinch of suggestiveness to your air by innocently undoing the topmost button of your blouse and gracefully lowering yourself into his lap. he wouldn't flinch nor try to remove you in any way, though express his distaste differently: having briefly drunk, he'd scrutinize you fiercely, and maintain that strict expression one could easily crumble under after a certain amount of time. you'd wiggle in your seat, then, and your intentions would be clear.

this is when he'd say, “i do not like this backward strategy of getting your way by asking for something you so clearly seem to want.”

“henry—” you'd want to put forth an argument, maybe even try to charm him into thawing for you, and reach out your palm to slide up his thigh, and yet, to no avail, as...

“no touching,” he'd interject firmly, gaze fixed, “in fact, get off me. humor the floor with your crude ideology instead.” the command would be sudden, not entirely surprising, and thrilling at once — you'd do precisely as said, scramble to your knees before his spread legs, and fold into a position so small and passive that it would immediately translate to him as an act of submission. nonetheless, it simply wouldn't do.

“if there is something you want, you can try to appeal to me for consideration.”

for this precise reason, you'd begin: lightly at first, holding back for the most part, half-heartedly at best. as a reaction to multiple sequences of rejections, one more blunt and striking than the other, however, you'd soon enough be reduced to a begging, blubbering, sobbing mess for him. your make-up would be ruined before you'd even as much as laid a finger on him — or he on you — with your eyelashes stuck together as a doll's and your face aglow in the dim light, upsettingly. and still, he'd string you along, growing more and more derisive each time, more hurtful, more harsh — “can't you do better than that?” — which would affect your act tremendously. you'd sit there, restless and needy, with streaks of tears, some dry and some being drawn in real time, gasping for some of the tension-thick air and whimpering for him to have mercy on you. the situation would only be exacerbated by the fact that all the while, you would be able to see the clear, prominent, swollen outline of his hardness in his strained slacks, and instinctively grow even more frustrated with the realization he would deny both of you this kind of pleasure — until he wouldn't, and the permission to do so would finally glide from his lips.

you wouldn't need to be told twice, then. the tears of pleading would dry, only to be replaced by new ones, except this time for an entirely different reason — a reason you'd shed them for more gladly, in all honesty. and in the end, it will have been worth it. especially worth the deep kisses he'd place upon you after pulling you up by your face and folding you back into him upon his lap as a crooked rendition of gratitude.

[kafkaoftherubble]

185.2章：放下？还是压抑？可贺，抑或可悲？

// Chapter 185.2: Detachment v. Repression

This ramble concerns To Your Eternity manga Chapter 185.2. It is edited from a conversation between (yea you guessed it) @bestbonnist and me after the chapter dropped before I had to hastily run off because sorry gotta see shits with my Besto Furrendo! Lisan al-Ghaib! Lisan al-Ghaib!!!

Although this chapter is devoid of hype moments—unlike C184.1 where plenty of us were sent into a frenzy— and good old macabre, this is genuinely one of my favorite chapters to date.

Because it became a really nice philosophical discussion between friends. Sounds a tad cheesy when I say it like that...

(1) Two Different Perspectives on Fushi's Latest State of Mind

Ray expressed dismay that Fushi's coping mechanism seems to gave become even more terrible because they are essentially repressing their emotions. They are telling themself not to feel anything and to be detached. In the Wish Era, Fushi seemed to have become more resigned to their fate, which became starkly apparent when contrasted by the Doll and Andy's loud, outward desire to see Abel live.

That dismal observation actually stunned me���because I happened to see this development in a positive light. What better state of mind should Fushi aspire to attain apropos to their immortality... if not a state of non-attachment? After all, if they don't learn to be so, then the sheer impermanence of life will torment them forever. To me, non-attachment—or in a more English-natural manner of speaking, detachment—is a goal worthy of pursuing, even if it is often fraught with erratic instances such as mistaking "repressing one's emotions" as similar to "being genuinely unperturbed."

----

(2) The Benefits of Attachment

In this story's universe, attachment keeps a person's faie (their soul) around.

Hence, to Ray, Fushi's loss of attachment implies their death (which I agree is a reasonable projection for the end of this story). When they no longer have anything to do—no goal—then it is time for them to move on.

But more than that, there's this other thing Ray is worried about. The manga asked whether Fushi is human, especially in its earlier exploration. Whether they think they are human. Therefore, it's hard to see Fushi's detachment as anything other than dehumanizing themself ("I'm not human so I don't deserve to be attached/feel bad when people I care about die.") It's one step to Fushi's progression into becoming a deity at the expense of their humanity.

This prospect is upsetting because they wanna see Fushi leave as a human being, as someone who dies after living a satisfying life like Yuuki did.

Ray also argued that there's a difference between acceptance and detachment. "Acceptance is acknowledging that something is out of your control and acknowledging that the way you feel about that." To them, Fushi seemed to have acknowledged that something was out of their control, but they hadn't yet acknowledged their feelings toward it.

Then, they conceded that while Fushi was frank about being pained by people leaving, ultimately, the dude seemed deadset on trying to ignore that pain altogether. "Fushi isn't good at being 'above' feeling things!"

I agree with this. Of course, they aren't! One of Fushi's powers is supernatural empathy. They can't ignore the sensation of pain or (occasionally) love in their vicinity even if they try. Feeling shit is what they do, willingly or not. And from an emotional connection like that, one easily forms attachments.

---

(3) The Common Error: Mistaking Detachment with Apathy

Strangely, at that point in our conversation, it became clear that Ray thought Fushi should not be detached because it stops them from accepting death—while I think Fushi should learn to be detached because it helps them to accept death. Same destination, but different ways of assessing detachment as a path.

Now, of course, when I use the term "detachment" or "non-attachment" (preferred), I'm once again drawing it from a Buddhist philosophical perspective. Because dude, it's me, 睿得失。You fucking signed up for this the moment you talk to me, bwaahhahahahaha!

Even Buddhists, born and raised, often make the mistake of conflating "equanimity," which non-attachment encourages, with "apathy."

One of the four sublime qualities (brahmavihārā), equanimity (upekkhā) is the state of being unwavering and unperturbed even in the face of loss and gain [1], good-repute and ill-repute, praise and censure, and sorrow and happiness. Its far enemies—as in, its direct contrasting vices—are greed and resentment. But its near enemy—the quality mendaciously close to equanimity—is apathy.

[1] Just a little aside: this is why I joked that Fushi should take up my self-given Chinese name in our conversation. 睿得失 means "being wise (about one's) gain and loss." The hope of attaining some semblance of upekkha is built into the name already.

Plenty of people think being detached means being uncaring and indifferent, and that it has some elements of dehumanization to it—be it to other people or to yourself. But it's not. Being detached is to keep a balance between concern and coercion. It's expressing compassion while being mindful not to conflate your genuine care with your desire to will things and people to bend to the state or situation you wanted.

Fushi and us mortals could easily realize one fact about life: it is truly impermanent. The desire to impose our will on the universe—as if there is some supernatural feature to our will that can influence things to happen—is a source of agitation. Life doesn't bend to our will; it indifferently stays impermanent even when we demand it to be permanent in some sort of personal bliss.

In Buddhist thought, it's our actions and intentions that impart changes. Our will (and our demanding desires) don't. We'll revisit this in our 5th Chapter later.

In other words! Contrary to Ray's interpretation, I see being detached not as imposing a limit on your compassion but liberating it from constraints. Now that you're detached, your mode of compassion is centered around the situation and people as they are, not as you hope them to be. True compassion asks for nothing in return—not because you suppress your demands, but because you genuinely have none to begin with.

----

(4) Fushi's Laudable Baby Steps

What really made me think that Fushi had grown here was their insistence that whether Abel lives or dies is "his decision to make."

Not Fushi's, despite their god-like powers. Not Doll or Andy, despite their love and attachment to Abel. It's Abel's choice. All Fushi can do is to accept whatever the man says—and that acceptance is only possible if they begin practicing detachment. After all, attachment results in the reactions Doll and Andy expressed.

To me, Fushi is taking a step in the right direction already. This is the kind of wisdom I think an immortal, most of all, should gradually pick up (I also think mortals like us should, too, but that's beside the point).

Here is where I think Ray's criticisms warrant merits in my interpretation: Actually practicing detachment/non-attachment is hard as fuck. I wouldn't deny that though it doesn't make you an apathetic non-human, you're not gonna be very normal-humanlike if you manage to be equanimous either. While learning to be detached, one often takes up a lot of problematic tactics and mistakes it to be detachment.

One such misguided tactic? Suppression of emotions. You force yourself to pretend you're not feeling anything instead of facing them and realizing their falsity while believing you're being detached. So Ray's concerns are completely warranted, because I don't believe Fushi has consummated their learning either. They wouldn't have lied about the massacre if they were really that detached.

Repressing your emotion, as a tactic, is wrong, but it is the hallmark of someone who's trying to get there, especially when you compound it with the philosophy Fushi was articulating. They care. But they are also being clear-eyed about the limits of their demand.

I don't think they seem resigned here. I think they are being wise. Baby steps, and their method is imperfect, but good nonetheless.

----

(5) Yuuki the GOAT and His Biggest W Yet

Fushi grappled with wanting to impose their will to make others live as long as they in the Modern Arc, right? That's one of their biggest and most constant sources of dukkha (dissatisfaction/suffering). But Yuuki's satisfying death and life... actually steered him in the right direction!

Fushi didn't come to earn detachment because of some horrible, tragic death turning them jaded and cynical. They learned because Yuuki's life and death were that fucking good.

Learning philosophy from pain is all well and good. It is usually how people learn it (few would give a fuck about existentialism or Buddhist philosophy or stoicism or what-have-you if they weren't in a personal crisis). But learning philosophy from joy is a whole other thing. Whatever you learned from that instance has no hint of jadedness and cynicism to corrupt your thinking; it's like making a decision when you're at the most optimal state.

This is Yuuki's victory. He influenced and taught Fushi without giving him pain or trauma to live by. He was not some main character of a tragedy despite outwardly looking like a bumbling normie.

Think about it: none of the Immortals who were attached to Fushi, until now, had been capable of influencing and teaching them without accidentally leaving some grief, pain, and trauma!

Why does Fushi take on Yuuki's form so much lately—if not because Yuuki is the only one who managed to teach them without the use of pain or trauma or anything like that?

And as Ray pointed out, Yuuki was the form embodying "Peace." Even his death was offscreen and peaceful. On a bed, unpoisoned and unhurt. Fushi remembers him constantly because he makes them feel at ease.

"It's our actions and intentions that impart changes," that was what I mentioned in Chapter 3 of this long-ass ramble. Here it is exemplified. People inherit the fruits of other people's actions (and you yourself are one of those who will inherit your own actions, too). And well? These are the fruits of Yuuki's actions that Fushi continues to reap even now.

That's how complete Yuuki's W is. He managed to leave just the kind of food for thought for an Immortal that eventually set them up to grasp the kind of wisdom they lacked. Who says the Modern Arc has no lessons?

----

(6) Conclusion, or The Abrupt Ending of a Conversation

As you can tell, I really don't think Fushi's latest development is bad. Bittersweet and a bit of a mixed bag, sure, but I ultimately think it's commendable rather than worrisome. Of course, my ass interpreting things through a Buddhist lens has a lot to do with it, but brutha, this is exactly my niche! You should have seen me talk about non-self vis-a-vis Fushi in a YouTube comment section!

Ray did leave this paragraph that had eluded me because, again, the Muaa'dib was calling me and I really gotta go:

"I have a potential counter-argument for you, which is about how Fushi's ideal person to follow is kind of a mix of Yuuki (as you explained) and Kahaku (bag of mess and you haven't read that part of the present era anyways), which is putting the concept of detachment together with a really selfish kind of selflessness (as we talked about). But I'm not clear on whether that's still there after their fight with the left hand. I feel like it's lingering a little but I haven't seen much evidence for it in the wish era."

Now, I don't really know what that whole bit was like because I didn't actually read all of the Modern Arc—just the latter half. But again, "detachment" and "self-lessness" are complementary and forward-feeding to one another in Buddhist Philosophy, so on this concept alone, I don't see a clash.

I should probably clarify what Ray's "selfish kind of selflessness" meant here, but... I'm kinda tired now. And I've briefly touched on this in my essay about... Gojo Satoru, goddamn it.

Or maybe Ray should explain it themself! I distinctly remember someone owing me like, 3 essays or something. I'm such a kindhearted person I'm willing to give them a discount and accept just one essay for this week, though. Don't squander it, you!

Thank you for reading my ramble.

----

Did you enjoy this? If yes, wouldn't it be really fucking cool if you get to read essays and commentaries like these, alongside fanfic and fanart and other interesting bits, in one place?!

BECAUSE! We are thinking of starting a To Your Eternity zine! It's merely in its Interest Check phase, but you gotta fill this form up so we can see just how many people in our modest little fandom want this! Be a supporter or a contributor, it don't matter at this stage! Support is the currency here!

[lilithsterrarium]

Family Pet

The first chapter in something I hope to expand on soon!

Contains: A pervy trans girl, her two trans siblings, and her mom, alongside her VERY strong tastes for size stuff- more to introduce characters than anything.

The soft, carpeted hallway did little to muffle the footsteps as Lilith quietly tried to sneak around. Down the hallway, a collection of bedrooms- each belonging to another member of the family- and each one something she had to carefully sneak around, for fear of being heard. Her socked feet gently pressed against the ground as she passed each door in succession, taking a moment by each one to make sure she wasnt heard.

Her mother's room was closed off, a cute, welcoming space she always tried to get her girls into- to mixed results, of course. Inside, the middle-aged woman was peacefully snoring, and Lilith couldnt help but stare at her body as it slowly rose and fell with each breath. While she never had the chance to meet her father, she was seriously skeptical anyone in their right mind would pass up on someone like her mother... quickly feeling the bulge in her pants swell as her mother stirred, Lilith quickly ducking away. The hallway split off here- parts leading to the kitchen, bathroom, and living room, where Abby, the family dog, peacefully snored away. The hallway continued on in the other direction, and Lilith quietly continued her journey.

Her little sis came out as trans almost right after her, something that Lilith couldnt be prouder of... Katie was an absolute sweetheart, and the moment she declared she would rather be a princess than a superhero, her whole family had her back. Her older sister came out a long, long time ago, and was still comfortably resting in her room. The scent of weed and cheap beer wafted from the doorway, an almost intoxicating mixture as Lilith tried to peer inside... she loved her sisters, more than she would ever admit- and in more ways then even she knew. The door creaked as she tried to peek inside, and Lilith quickly sucked in her breath- hearing a weak, sleepy grunt from her older sibling as she hurridly darted away.

"Shit, shit, shit, SHIT-" her heart was racing as she entered her room, quickly closing the door. She listened for any movements, but couldnt hear anyone- and after a few seconds, she trusted the silence enough to slink over to her desk and open her laptop.

Glancing over her shoulder, she gently put on her headphones- blushing as she typed in the same search she had countless times before. It wasnt an uncommon occurance for people to shrink- a surprisingly simple (and suspiciously easy) to obtain feat now able to be bought for cheap. The issue is, it also became easier to unwillingly shrink people- all it took was a simple drugging, and people were as small as bugs within the grasp of their captors. These people went by a variety of names; tinies, micros, anything you could think of.

Those who underwent it for a variety of reasons were met with disdain- and it was widely agreed upon that these people, if you could call them that, were no longer human. Laws no longer covered them, people would often purposefully make their lives a living hell; it was something that less and less people were willing to do, at least not willingly. Lilith's cock jumped at the thought... she had asked, begged her older sis to buy the formula so she could be tiny- she knew her mother would say no... sure, she could buy it herself, but it was expensive, and she was unemployed... biting her lip, she sighed as she fantasized about being tiny. About being helpless, vulnerable, weak- sub-human, less than even insects, the very scum of the earth... her dick eagerly throbbed along as she whimpered gently. God, she wanted it.

The screen before her finally loaded, her internet slow but reliable as the fishy site came into view... dozens of videos lit up, all with a focus of tormenting tinies... these bug-sized shrimps Lilith was so, so jealous of. A variety of titles caught her eye, as she scrolled to find something to get off to.

"MICRO RIGHTS ACTIVIST KISSES MY BOOTS"

"Calling my Micro Pet Mean Names Until It Cums"

"tinies vs my blender lmao"

"Feeding a tiny to my pet cat~"

"Tinies v.s Daycare (The End Will Shock You!)"

"Tiny Gets Fucked by Cockroach"

"How to Start Collecting Tinies!"

Lilith let out an annoyed sigh, murmuring to herself as her dick throbbed.

"Seen it... seen it... that one was horrible, the tinies screamed way too loud... ungrateful little shits... seen it..."

She sighed, grabbing her dick and starting to gently stroke herself. She finally found a video she hadnt seen, clicking on it absentmindedly as she stroked herself... she hated how scared the tinies looked. They were so lucky, and they didnt even know it...

She brought herself to climax quickly, shooting ropes of cum into a tissue and quickly tossing it into a garbage bin... sighing as she closed her laptop. She slowly made her way to her nightstand, where she grabbed her pills... a mix of estrogen, progesterone, and an antidepressant... quickly pushing them into her mouth, and swallowing. Her mouth felt... off. A strange aftertaste stained her lips as she washed it down with a glass of water. She layed down, sighing as her eyes gently fluttered closed... the last thing she saw being her stuffed plushie. A cute stuffed bunny, it gently sat in her arms as she hugged it tight- her little snuggle buddy. She didnt care how old she was, she would always adore her plushie...

Lilith slept peacefully, unaware that her entire life would change the very next morning.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Hi! I've got an au to share with you! I love your writing and the ideas you have for all of these different aus, i feel like im being fed a three course meal 🤤. Bonus points if you want to write a little one-shot based on this, feel free not to, tho! I see you're pretty busy with other aus, so I'd be perfectly happy just hearing your imput- but if this tickles you, feel free to write something for it 😝 (no pressure, of course)

My au is a fluffy whore!Adam au!

Just tit fluff, Angel Dust style, bonus points if he's pink and feminine.

Maybe he works for Valentino, because Adam was so desperate after falling and to save whatever dignity he had left, he didn't go to the hotel or ask Lucifer for help.

Of cause Angel is super pissed because some new hire is nearly becoming as popular as him? Like the fuck? This rando JUST signed a contract!

He's super shocked when he finds out it's Adam (I dont think Val or the rest of Hell would know), he's even more shocked when he's acting like a total whore (I guess this is on parr with the succubus au- don't sue me pls).

Angel complains to Husk, Husk either gossips to Alastor or Alastor over hears (more like easedrops because he's a bitch like that). So Alastor uses this information to maybe torment Lucifer a little.

Alastor: a little pussy cat told me that a certain first man is making quite the name for himself in the entertainment scene- he's well on his way to becoming Hells number most sort after porn star (insert old timey word for porn star lol)

Lucifer: Adam? He's dead asshole. I'm the king of Hell, I'd be able to tell if he was still alive-

Alastor: ah, so not only are you a useless father, but you're also a poor excuse for a king! I've seen him myself- feel free to book a session, he's expensive~ (I like to think Alastor booked a session with Adam, it could be for sexual, torture or humiliation purposes or all of the above)

Alsator shadows away before Lucifer can reply or attack him.

Lucifer manages to book an appointment threw Valentino, who by the way, was not a pleasure to work with. And boy, Adam was not cheap. Because of Adam's contract he's not allowed to speak about anything that isn't fucking, flirting or dirty talk while on the job, so while Lucifer is trying to get any information out of Adam while shoving him to the ground (I like the idea that Lucifer would be violent with Adam if he saw him again, just for the angst of cause).

Adam can't say anything of use, just choking out "harder Daddy", and other words that makes Lucifer think he's a carbon copy of Angel Dust.

Lucifer can't decide if he's concerned about Adam or finds it funny. Maybe at first he had a good laugh at Adams expense, but when he didn't snap back or insult him, Lucifer was kind of taken aback.

After throwing Adam around for a bit, trying to get him to talk to him like he use to, but all he's saying is cringey one liners, he has no idea what to do. He's not even making it obvious that he knows Lucifer, just calling him "you're highness" and coming up with sexual scenarios about what a king could do to a little sinner like him.

That's all I've got, but I'm kinda keen for it. I think I've strayed away from the Succubus au, this one is just more horny and angst filled. Also Adam being on the short end of the stick when dealing with Valentino? What better way to piss Lucifer off.

Anyway- let me know what you think 😫🙏

Ooooh I love this so much, let Adam be a little whore. And no of course he wouldn't be cheap lol

Thank you!! There is so much I want to write.

Maybe one day. I really love this idea.

[kevotsuka]

I want to hear more pregnant Bezz thoughts of yours. What's his pregnancy like? Cravings? Illness? What does he do most of the time? You mentioned he isolated himself, does he get sad when lonely? Does Pecco visit him and help him with stuff? Does Bezz attempt to remember who the father could be and contact him? How does Bezz feel isolating himself when he's usually a very social person? Any preg!bezz thoughts you have, I love your cute au 🩵🩵

ANON I'm sorry I'm so late but my head has lately decided go to a writing strike HSHSHSHS but I've been listening to Alejandra Guzman, Cristina Aguilera and RBD in loop and now I'm better

You have very VERY important questions.  Preg! Bezz has been spinning like a piece of spicy chicken in my brain and im go and talking to a bunch of moms to project my man into their problems wuwuwu

This answer is going to be too long and a mess, I'm so sorry orz orz orz

(and each pregnancy is completely unique. What is normal for one person may be a sign of absolute danger for another. Always remember to go to your trusted gynecologist/obstetrician!)

1. What's his pregnancy like? Cravings? Illness?

He craves Japanese food but is banned from sushi!  He is an unhappy Bezz when people told him that sushi is dangerous for the baby.  Beyond that, he doesn't really have food cravings, he just eats a lot (and then throws up because he feels guilty for eating so much. He has more problems with food than cravings. TCA/Eating Disorder Bezz is very personal to me- but it's going to therapy and continuing with a new nutritionist!)

About symptoms.  At first he thinks it's an asymptomatic pregnancy, and it's more like the pregnancy is camouflaging itself.

Like. He's throwing up his guts, but he think “its relates it to the end of the season and the stress causes that in him” (even though he's no longer in line for the championship) (and he's never thrown up from stress before).  He then feels fatigued and can't sleep, but that's all because he travels a lot, jet lag and all that.  He misses his dog and cries looking at his photos. He has belly cramps, but it's probably something he ate in the paddock when he had a sudden aversion to the smell of chicken and he couldn't eat anything from the hospitality.

On top of that, his painkillers are kicking him between physical therapy.

When the season ends and his body has a chance to catch up, all the symptoms hit him like a truck. Headaches, heartburn, constipation and generally the desire to die to end the torment of him. He is also bloated…? and feels like shit. The bug is charging for every fall he had at the end of the season, or at least that's what Bezz thinks as he gets up for the second time in the night to urinate at the end of the second trimester or when he has to drink his calcium-fortified milk -very expensive and he hates the taste-.  The bug is really demanding with they needs!

2. What does he do most of the time? You mentioned he isolated himself, does he get sad when lonely?

I said “practically vanished from the face of the earth.”  He wasn't really alone, he is a family man, and of course he returned to his childhood home!  His older sister was very happy for him!  (The youngest offered him a rue tea as soon as he mentioned that he are pregnant, before Marco clarified that he was going to keep it- wait “Laura, how do you know that these are abortifacients?” “Oh Marco, don't ask questions for which you don't want answers.")

 (i'm sorry i love his sisters so much hshshs)

But yeah, he feels so lonely because he went from spending almost all the time with his team or the people at the ranch, not just the other riders, and now is just his family and his new “medical crew” (obstetrician, psychologist, nutritionist).

Also, He is an unemployed man!  At least until Valentino calls him and tells him he has something for him to do at the academy (like Migno, lol)

He can't help in the mechanical workshop (although now that Vito goes to the races with him, I wonder what's happened with that), so he goes with his mom to do the administrative work.

 He hates it so much :)

Those first months are torture for him and his family. His two sisters capitulated as soon as they could and left (they have a life to, Marco!). When he's not helping his mom or learning to become expert in Excel, he's watching old seasons of MotoGP, F1, and NBA. He stays at home mostly. He gets in a bad mood about it, but he prefers it to having to face his friends :(

But he can now recite by heart the podiums of every MotoGP and F1 race from 2007 and 2008!

3. Does Pecco visit him and help him with stuff?

Yeah! Bezz calls Pecco to tell him because he knows he can't run away forever for his friends, but he calls him at week 15 which is a long time past the period for a termination of pregnancy (wait, are abortions even legal in Italy?).  He called pecco when he say himself “there is no turning back from this.”

 (He's a fool...)

Pecco, once he discovers that Bezz is no longer going to lock himself in and respond to his messages (although not those from the academy's WhatsApp group...), finds out his home address and appears from time to time to check on him and take him out to eat Japanese food (but not sushi :c).  He texts him constantly and listen to Marco when he calls him to tell him something about how horrible he feels and how none of the websites he's seen talk enough about back pain (they do, he doesn't really read a lot).

Bezz is also ignoring the absolute circus that is the 2024 season because he feels rubbish not being there, and Pecco is happy not to touch on the topic at all because talking about the season is talking about Martín and Márquez and no, thanks.

 Pecco invites himself to the baby reveal date in the obstetrician (Marco doesn't throw a reveal party, booo) and together they discover that the bug that Bezz is having will be a little boy.

It's Pecco who brings Luca and Franky when Bezz says he's ready to mention it to more people (after finding out the sex of the baby).  Luca is the obvious choice for everything and Franky is Franky, so he has to be there. And they go on a shopping trip - with Pecco’s bonus - so they don't have time to process anything at all.

Franky keeps trying to buy VR46-themed things (why are there so many?) while Luca asks the -no- innocent question of “who is the father?”

4. Does Bezz attempt to remember who the father could be and contact him?

NOW. THIS QUESTION.

Short answer: no :)

Long answer: To each person who asks, Bezz will say a very eloquent “I am the father of the baby :D”.  He admits that he had sex with a lot of people at that time and doesn't remember most of them, so it's not worth looking for the child's other father. The bug is his, he is carrying it in his body and they don't need anyone else.

REAL Answer: Marco absolutely has an idea who the father is and will DIE before telling anyone, not even his family.  He will take that secret to the grave.  When his little bug is born and grows with brown eyes and to have curly brown hair, no one will ask about it anymore.

(when the boy grows up to have blue eyes and straight hair, people have QUESTIONS. Marco is not answering.)

 SORRY IT'S SO LONG it's just- pregbez

[teecupangel]

Catboy Desmond nonny here: holy shit I love it. I wasn’t really planning out anything when I asked I just had the mental image

Ezio finds Desmond pretty soon after time travel isu bs and is like “u need a bath” and thus Desmond has now discovered he hates water.

The catboy!Desmond ask for those unfamiliar with it.

I’m glad you loved the idea (and by mental image, I assume you meant catboy!Desmond and not catgirl!Juno or catboy!Bill XD

Remembering Desmond is a grown-ass man who could be around Ezio’s height makes this all the funnier because cats will always cling (with claws) to the person holding them when they know they’re going to get wet. Hell, it could be a surprise attack and a cat’s first reaction is to zoom out of the room. Ezio didn’t think of that though. He always thought Desmond’s excuses not to take a bath were just him being stubborn.

He had just dragged Desmond into the bath house because they both fell in the canals and need to take a bath… desperately.

He did not expect Desmond to run out of the baths faster than the one time they had been running for their lives because someone decided that collapsing the entire building was the proper trap to place after taking something that looked very expensive. (Desmond didn’t even grab it, he batted it off its pedestal and it took Ezio’s quick reflexes to catch it before it fell to the ground and shatter to pieces)

That was the day he realized that Desmond inherited a lot more feline qualities than he initially thought.

The next time he tried to make Desmond take a bath, he locked the door after pushing Desmond inside, telling him he wasn’t going to open it until Desmond takes a bath.

It was an unnecessary battle of attrition, complete with a lot of loud yelling from the other side of the door as if Ezio was tormenting him for keeping him inside.

He finally admitted defeat after Claudia came to talk to him, telling him the rumors of how he was torturing Desmond because of some silly misunderstanding that was starting to spread to all the recruits. No one believed he would do such a thing, of course, but they run the risk of the rumor breaking out of their Brotherhood and into Borgia hands so Ezio finally opened the door.

Desmond’s yells of pain and indignation stopped mid-scream and he just greet Claudia with a light “Oh, hey, Claudia” as if he didn’t just spend the entire time he was in the room screaming.

Ezio’s third attempt was also a failure and he has so many scratches to prove it.

He had locked the door with Desmond and him inside.

He had managed to grab Desmond and tried to gently place him in the bathtub. Desmond showed that his nails are as sharp as a cat and that even slow movements are seen as an attack the moment the tip of his foot touched the waters.

What was supposed to be a gentle prodding turned into a wrestling match in the bathtub with Desmond screaming bloody murder while Ezio is left saying words like “Stop it, Desmond! Desmond! Stay still!”

A new rumor started circulating in the headquarters after that and…

Ezio figures that Desmond was sorta clean at the moment for him to retreat and plan a new way to get Desmond to actually take a bath.

He needs reinforcement.

Machiavelli and Leonardo.

Yes.

Those men were smart.

They’ll find a way to help Ezio get Desmond to take a bath.

(They were also unsuccessful)

[cqthqrtic]

A, J, and O for Mori and Kunikida?

sfw alphabet.

mori ogai.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Mori’s affection depends on how busy he is with work. If his mind is preoccupied with the state of the mafia, the most you’ll get is a chaste kiss on the lips. On days he’s free from the fast paced happenings of the mafia, which are rare, he’ll be pretty loving and somewhat clingy. Overall though, the most common ways for Mori to show affection is through quality time and gift giving. When he has the time, he likes to take you on relaxing dates at nice (and expensive) brunch cafes, shopping at those luxury malls, and walking through quiet art museums on a weekday afternoon when few people visit. Mori’s actually a pretty good gift giver. He��s very observant and takes time choosing gifts for you. He’s not a particularly sentimental man though, so it won’t seem very romantic in the moment. He won’t write love notes in the books he buys you or engrave his name in a necklace but he’ll buy your favorite book he knows you’ll be excited to talk about with him and he’ll buy necklaces he thinks will look good on you. Mori’s a lot more subtle but he’s practical and his feelings get across.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Mori is like,,, insanely jealous and possessive. To the point where it can be a legit cause for concern. He’s mostly needy when he’s jealous and he doesn’t really see most men as a threat. So 90% of the time, he’s just pouting and whining for your attention or glaring at people who stare at you a bit too long. But when he does feel threatened, he gets quiet and sweet. There’s a dangerous glint in his eye. Next day on the morning news, there will be a report of the guy’s head found on a stick at a random park. God save us all...

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Mori keeps his cards close to his chest. Depending on the information, he’ll tell you whatever it is he thinks is appropriate to tell you over a period of time. There’s a lot he won’t tell you, regardless of how close you are to him. Especially if it’s concerning his work. Overall, Mori doesn’t view openness as a testament of love and his secretive nature will remain throughout the relationship, regardless of how you might feel about it.

kunikida doppo.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Kunikida is actually pretty affectionate, he’s just not affectionate in the typical sense. He shows his love by almost “mothering” the people he cares about and remembering the little things. The most common form of affection Kunikida gives is looking after your diet. He often makes lunch for you in the mornings while you get ready and makes sure that it’s both delicious and well balanced. Kunikida is also pretty observant of the people he likes. He’s often checking in on you and while he can be brash while doing so, he has good intentions and takes care of you. He wants to lessen your burdens and shoulder them with you. That’s Kunikida’s way of saying he loves you. He’s quite a romantic!

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Kunikida is comical when jealous. He thinks of himself as being above jealousy and that it’s something only mentally weak people succumb to. So when he experiences it himself? Oh, he is suffering. Kunikida’s coping mechanism is mostly through denial and distraction. Of course, Dazai picks up on this and riles him up by saying “Oh that other man is just so strong, isn’t he?” or “Doesn’t the other man have such impressive ideas?”. After some torment from Dazai, Kunikida will become very snappy and sulky. Please baby him a bit when he comes home. Kunikida won’t act on his jealousy though. He’s too ashamed for that and he’ll avoid taking it out on you. So there’s not much to worry about on this front.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Kunikida has a lot of pride and a lot of shame. He wants to look his best in front of you. He wants to be able to stand tall and never let you see him falter. But obviously, that isn’t realistic. It will take some time but not too much time. The pressure to seem perfect and unbothered around you will cause him to break down and all of his worries and burdens and weaknesses will come flooding out. He’ll be greatly ashamed when it happens but after consistent assurance and love, Kunikida will feel more comfortable being vulnerable. He’ll still be a little embarrassed though. 

[soft-cookie-aka-aquadrop]

Ever hear a parrot swear? I'm guessing you probably have, if you've watched parrot videos on YouTube. Now, imagine that you had one inside your head, which repeated every single swear word you heard or read, over and over, whenever it felt like it, just to torment you. Just to remind you how little power you have over people, over media, over pop culture. To remind you of what you've lost and can never get back.

But most of all, it swears at you to remind you of how pathetic the uncountable masses of strangers on the internet think you are for being emotionally weak enough to allow this bird to take residence inside your mind in the first place.

And that's me. That's what I have to deal with, every day and every night. It wasn't so bad back in the 2000s, before social media pushed all the other websites out of the spotlight like a cuckoo chick kicking eggs out of a nest (guess I'm continuing with the bird metaphors, here). It wasn't even as bad in the 2010s, before the lockdown happened.

But as I've said before, my time spent on Twitch over the course of the lockdown has set me back in my ability to tolerate swear words. Not all the way back, otherwise I wouldn't be using social media anymore at all, but far back enough for it to become a problem.

The best solution to this problem would be to find a way to stop my mind from copying others' swear words, because everyone would benefit from this solution. Having me decide which people and/or media can have swear words and which ones can't would only benefit me, and trying to force me to fit in with the internet's swear-positive culture would benefit others at my expense. Silencing the "parrot in my head", however, would be something that we could all be happy with.

The question is how to do it... 🤔

[kaleiphant]

Loki Streak: Sort of an Uberhood Challenge

I say "sort of" because I got to the end and realized I forgot about Downtown. There weren't any playable Sims there, anyway.

This was inspired by aledstrange's moonbeam trail challenge and "Stranger in a Strange Land" by pascal_curious.

Content warning: This features some dark topics (human experimentation, domestic abuse, you could maybe say Loki and Nervous were trafficked). I'll put more warnings in future chapters as they appear.

-O-o-O-o-O-

Some Sims believed that money could buy anything.

A luxurious house,

the finest foods and fanciest kitchen in SimNation,

only the best skill-building objects,

a fancy parlor and library to impress the colleagues,

very expensive lab equipment for scientific pursuits,

a test subject for some of the riskier experiments (albeit a supernatural one),

and even a husband.

Circe Salamis came from a rather wealthy family. While this had its advantages, it also had its downsides, one of which was the annoying tendency for other Sims to call her a rich brat who never did anything herself and only succeeded by the Salamis name. There were also her scientific critics who doubted the experiments' validity due to the strangeness of the test subject. So Circe found a way to shut them all up and get a non-supernatural test subject in one tidy move.

On the other side of Strangetown lived a woman named Gundrun, her son Loki, and her daughter Ermintrude (who insisted on being called "Erin"). The father, Bjørn, had recently passed away and their combined household income was not quite enough for the small family. The younger daughter was still in high school. The son was in the science career track, a noble calling in Circe's eyes, but Gundrun had little faith in his plans to become an inventor. His father had been an inventor and the salary wasn't great. And being new to the country (all the way across the ocean from Norssimskland), they had no family nearby to help out.

Circe and Gundrun struck a deal: in return for Circe's financial help, Gundrun would offer her son as a "lab partner" and husband. Circe would take the invented surname of Beaker (while Loki changed his name from Bjørnssen), so nobody could call her a product of nepotism.

Of course, she kept the rest of the Salamis money. She wasn't crazy.

Unlike Vidcund Curious, her ex-boyfriend, Loki didn't piss himself in fear at the suggestion.

He dutifully accepted the proposal and endured all that went with it.

-O-o-O-

Nervous was freshening up the kitchen and making dinner when he heard the screams. Circe was playing with the sanity vacuum again.

"Stop struggling," Circe commanded. "You should be used to this by now."

Loki tried his best to cooperate. He didn't want to mess up the experiment, but he was having trouble staying conscious.

This particular experiment always left him feeling a little out of whack.

He was sure that someday he'd get used to it. He was usually able to recover.

Mostly.

Every day, Nervous saw everything. The twitching, the drooling, the talking to an unseen psychologist; he'd seen and done it all before.

Nervous and Loki bonded over their shared plight and each could easily understand the torment the other Sim experienced daily. What Nervous couldn't wrap his head around was why Loki insisted on staying behind.

"We could go any time this week," Nervous whispered to Loki over dinner. "She'll be working overtime at the lab, and I think I've found a way to disable the alarms."

"I'll make something up to cover for you," Loki offered. "She won't suspect you're gone for at least a day."

"What do you mean, you'll cover for me? You're coming with me."

Loki gave a tiny wince of a smile.

Nervous looked Loki dead in the eyes. "Aren't you?"

Loki cast his eyes downward. Every cell in his body, though unthinkingly carrying out its biological programming, wanted to do nothing more than run away with Nervous and never look back at this failed experiment of a marriage.

But as much as Loki loved Nervous, he could never accept the invitation. Circe had paid a pretty simoleon for Loki. He couldn't back out of his end of the deal.

Nervous seemed saddened by his refusal to answer. "I know I'm not the easiest to get along with sometimes, but--"

"It's really nothing personal, Nervous. I just can't leave Circe."

Nervous sighed. "Of course not."

Loki glanced around apprehensively. "She's done so much to help my family. It wouldn't be right for me to leave."

Nervous seemed to understand, but Loki could sense that he wouldn't give up so easily.

-O-o-O-

The experiments continued.

Morale did not improve.

Loki begged Nervous to leave before they got worse.

"I can't go with you, but I'm sure you've met someone else that you really like enough to run away with."

Nervous shook his head sadly. "There's really no one else. Everyone else seems to think I'm crazy. Except for Pascal and his brothers, of course, but they're not planning on leaving Strangetown any time soon."

"You're really the only one." Nervous leaned in close to Loki. "And you're the only one I'd want to go with."

Loki hung his head. There seemed to be no convincing Nervous that he'd have a much easier time looking out for just himself, especially without the fear that Circe would retaliate for "stealing" her lab assistant. Why couldn't Nervous see that he'd be better off leaving without Loki?

"Am I really?" Loki murmured, his gaze planted on the stone floor.

Nervous tilted Loki's face up, forcing eye contact. His bony hand lingered against Loki's even bonier cheek. "I love you," he stated bluntly.

"I love you too." Loki squeezed Nervous's hand, blinking hard. "But they always say if you love someone, you have to let them go."

Nervous let his hand fall to Loki's shoulder. "Then I'll have to give you something to remember me by."

It was at that moment Loki had his first real kiss.

"You're not getting rid of me that easy." Nervous nuzzled his snub nose around the pointy tip of Loki's aquiline one, causing Loki's twirled moustache to tickle them both.

Loki smoothed Nervous's mohawk. "I wouldn't want to."

-O-o-O-o-O-

I have to split this into two posts and Loki's not even out of Strangetown yet. What did I get myself into.

[balladofthewhitehorse]

🫂👗😻!

Thank you so much for the ask <3 I love answering these, cos good lord is it easier to explore characters through little emoji asks rather than entire fics (I do love writing though, I prommy <3 I am just a chronic procrastinator)

🫂 A friendship headcanon

England’s a bit of a friendless sod. Odd way to start off a friendship headcanon, I know. Nevertheless, I think it’s important to understand that England is a pretty lonely figure; He tends to frequent quiet, lonely corners of that same pub he always goes to - either that, or England puts up walls that nobody with anything short of terrifying determination can scale. It’s easy to then presume that England has never made, nor ever has been friends with his people; He can defend them with life and limb, but he cannot - as if God cursed him to fumble small-talk - integrate himself in conversation with them. These are all first-level assumptions that one would make if they ever had the (mis)fortune to cross paths with England, and of course…not entirely true. When he was younger, a long time ago - in the hazy mess of the Tudor era, England was rather close with a local innkeeper and even went so far as to love him deeply. It is, in-fact, the innkeeper’s pub that he still frequents long after the fellow passed away and England is deeply sentimental about it. There is a rumour that their friendship would’ve been something a little more, but England was a young man back then and inexperienced - so the innkeep politely turned him down and they remained close friends since. Growing up since then, England has befriended humans less and less. It feels almost pointless to him at any rate to seek out their companionship, when their lifespans are so much shorter than his. I think, while England spends a lot of time surrounded by humans, it is very rare that he truly makes friends with any of them. In terms of other beings like him, he’s friends with Denmark (a strange one, built on teasing with a pang of competition, but also a sense of kinship; Were they not one once?), with Norway and Netherlands - although he tends to be far warmer with Norway and some individuals could easily be led to think that England and Netherlands were a bickering couple, the way they like to pick apart at one another’s ideas and challenge each other. Japan is another friend too, so England’s really not as friendless as first appearances might suggest - just a bit awkward. 

👗 A headcanon about their clothes England likes to pretend that he’s not so picky about what he’s wearing compared to others (France especially being the target of England’s ire, the old man often snarkily stating that he’s little more than a frilly peacock; Nevermind that England can be quite the frilly peacock himself from time to time). However, I think although he has some very expensive and fashionable items, England’s favourite clothes tend to veer much more on the sentimental side. Sweaters that he has patched, embroidered and mended over the years; Others by Wales’ gentle hand, a sister’s affection and patience that begrudgingly remains over the long, tormentous centuries that he has cast upon her, and England’s clothes (while by-large moody colours, navy and brown and black and grey) are often made a little brighter by the odd patches and embroidery here and there.

😺 An animal related headcanon (Couldn’t see one with love-heart eyes on the original ask, so I assume this is what you were referring to!) England had a colourpoint cat that he plucked from the streets one day; It was a random chance and he wasn’t actually looking to keep the animal as a companion, but nevertheless it happened. The poor thing was hungry and flea-ridden, and England for whatever reason was feeling especially sorry for it; From that day on, that cat was spoilt silly - given the name, for whatever reason, of Hilda and was deeply clingy to England until it passed away of old age. I am hoping to write a fic about Eng and Hilda someday so :)