#don't treat this as anything well thought out. very much thinking out loud.

[disquiet-dream]

Actually, now what I think about it, prev reblog is probably why I roll my eyes hard at the like, "Japanese writers keep writing extremely transfem characters and then not having them call themselves trans"?

(Long ramble below, also read prev reblog first I think)

Well, not the whole reason. There's also the part where "Japanese people [negative thing X] all the time!" is you know. Usually racist.

But even that aside, like... When we're talking about characters who are definitely amab, present feminine, are often treated as in some way separate from both the male and female csst members...

I dunno, seems pretty transfeminized to me! And so it feels like arguing over whether they have to turn to the camera and go "I Am A Trans Woman" to "count" is just... Not something I can bring myself to care about, and while I respect that others do it just feels silly to make a big deal of them not using specific identity terms.

And I mean, part of this is also that these archetypes are like, usually (not always) treated reasonably kindly? Not necessarily the most nuanced portrayal of gender and often there will be some uncomfortable shit, but like, ime usually overall treated as "good if kinda weird" rather than "disgusting and evil". Which is nice!

(This is of course not to pretend there's never transmisogyny going on here. Like even if we pretend - and it would be pretending, because it's wrong - there's never a transmisogynistic element to these characters...

There's also much more directly bigoted "man in a dress" archetypes quite frequently - although certainly no more than are in Western media, to be clear.

And like, there's even shittiness in how they're divided: Ones who pass well, regardless of how they identify, get to be treated as weird but harmless. Characters that do not are jokes at best and degenerate perverts at worst.

Which you know. Does suck!)

Anyway, yeah. Just something I'm thinking about again. Because like, even when I had a much worse theoretical framework and vocabulary on the subject, I did broadly hold this view. Kind of always been on the "if they are going to treat someone like a tranny faggot regardless it's really not worth spending all of your time splitting hairs here." train.

(I consider this distinct from the like, "it's bad to say tme because everyone is affected by transmisogyny!" argument because like...

To put it in oversimplified terms:

I think if e.g. a cis butch woman is identified as a trans woman and discriminated against then that's a misidentification and so meaningfully distinct - although, to be clear, homophobia and misogyny are you know, still very real and almost certainly something this person deals with (+ often other forms of transphobia as well) - in how it impacts their life.

While if e.g. a self identified crossdresser is identified as a trans woman and discriminated against then, well, in a sense I don't consider that a misidentification at all! They have correctly been assessed as "amab person who is presenting too femininely and must be punished for doing so". And like, obviously the exact manifestation is different and in many cases significantly less severe, but I'm not sure what you would call the force that punishes that kind of behavior if not transmisogyny!)

[satowooo]

A DAY IN THE LIFE... WITH A CAT

Wherein Sukuna takes care of your cat for a day, despite his indifferences with it.

warning: animal cruelty

Your boyfriend, Ryomen Sukuna, is obviously not very fond of cats. Or to any living and breathing creature at all. But most especially your cat.

Sukuna hates it. Despise it even. He wishes it to be gone with just one flick of his finger just so the silly furball wouldn't take his time away from you. He hopes it'll get tired of you and run away someday because why are you always up on its face?

But then, that would make you sad. So he won't actually do anything to harm it, as much as he can.

To Sukuna, your cat is the most unearthly being that has ever walked on earth. Always tailing you around like a constant shadow, a menacing shadow. He dislikes it so much that it gets more of your attention than his.

“So cute!”

Sukuna watches the way your eyes glint in delight, squealing and feet kicking in the air while you're turned to your stomach right by the floor, playing with the little kitten you adopted. You had the most beautiful and widest grin spread on your face, and all because of an animal.

You can't seriously be so happy over that?

It has been a month since that kitten entered your life, and you hadn't been the same since. Well, you are the same, it's just Sukuna being exaggerated.

Why wouldn't he? You barely even look at him anymore because you're too focused on doting and feeding that animal, to the point that he's already making it a silent competition between him and the kitten about who wins your affections. And the cat wins every time. Every fucking time.

You're so head over heels about the white-furred kitten and he will never understand why. It's just another responsibility for you, another creature that will just distract you from your daily living, the daily living in question being the time that you're supposed to be doing with him instead.

“Look, Kuna!” You cheered, holding the cat by its arms to show the kitten to him, the said animal wearing small little glasses that would fit its little face.

Sukuna could only sneer, a frown obviously etched in his lip. “He looks pathetic. Get him out.”

“That's mean. Don't listen to him.” You turned the cat to face you and covered its ears, as if it'll understand what Sukuna says. The cat in return hisses at Sukuna, which made him scoff in disbelief.

Why are you even treating the kitten like a real baby? It looks so ugly!

But despite his inner thoughts, he actually finds himself caring for the cat, begrudgingly.

It's a furry dirty cat. He would only bring chaos all around your shared apartment. It probably doesn't even know how to clean itself. Sukuna would always think.

But he never really had a choice whenever you're gone at home, and he's left tending to the cat’s crazy needs.

“Will you fucking stay still?” Sukuna holds the cat by its scruff, not too tight though, just enough to hold him up to meet his gaze. The white kitten was all wet after Sukuna just gave him a bath. It meowed at him helplessly, making him smirk to finally see it in distress. “You're a handful, kitten. Why does she like you so much?”

This must've been the longest day for him yet, with you leaving Sukuna with the task to shower the kitten in your place because you'll be out the whole day. Who's he to disobey you anyway?

He wrapped the kitten in a towel, then took him by the counter. He let it sit there for a moment while it was licking its paws, while he rummaged through the cabinets to look for the hair dryer that you always used for the cat. Once he had it in hand, he faced the kitten again, his eyes glaring at the small creature who's just looking at him curiously.

This? This is the cat that you fawn over? He looks even ugly when he's drenched.

He could only shake his head at the thought, before plugging in the hair dryer so he could do his work. The cat tried to run away when he pulled him close, the hair dryer making a loud blowing sound as he fanned it all over the cat's body. A smile would tug on Sukuna's lips, finding the cat's helpless state funny whenever it meows in discomfort at his presence.

Well, let's just say it wasn't a very pleasant experience for the poor animal. As much as it is for Sukuna.

“Yeah, you look horrible. I know.” He chuckled darkly, gazing at the now dried-and-furry-again cat, all thanks to him.

He carried the cat and put it down the floor, letting it run away. He sighs, brushing a tired hand on his nape before he goes over to slump on the couch, resting his eyes for a moment. He could hear the thumps of the kitten running around, stumbling over who knows what, but he couldn't care less. Right now, Sukuna needs to have a moment. It was surely a new experience for him, and something that he will never do again.

It didn't take long for the kitten to go back to him though. It easily jumped on the couch, climbing straight to his lap. He groaned, feeling the cat tapping its little paws on his skin, opening his eyes to see it looking at him, expecting, or perhaps, asking for something?

“What do you want now?”

The kitten meowed, before jumping off his lap and heading straight to a little cabinet by the wall, where his cat food was hidden.

Oh, it's smart. He'll give him that.

“You're hungry?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at it. “Go starve yourself.”

Which wouldn't happen really, because the kitten started meowing furiously at him, which jolted all his senses awake. He cursed underneath his breath, letting out a grunt, standing up so he could give whatever the thing that the creature needed.

It was a very long and tiring day for him indeed. But at the end of the day, he's got the cat settled right above his chest, and he's petting its head softly as it lets out a purr. The cat’s tail would brush across his wrist, a sign that the cat must've been pleased with the gesture.

“I'll let you live longer.” He frowned, a low huff escaping from his lips as the cat only looked at him. “Just remember your place in this house.” Flicking the cat’s forehead softly as a finality, before he pushes it off and lets it fall on the floor, the cat swiftly landing on its feet.

After all, his pleasure is not his top priority, but yours. So, if keeping you happy would mean having this little cat between the two of you, then he might just let it for a while. For a while. Maybe. Depends if the cat crosses a line.

[petew21-blog]

Revenge possession, part 2

"So what is this game called again?" I asked out loud with Devon's voice.

Devon in the back of our mind:"Dead by daylight. You play either as a survivor or the killer. Depending on the role you have to escape or kill all the survivors."

I chuckled a bit:"You don't see how that's ironic?"

Devon was silent. "I'm so sorry, man. Jesus, I didn't think this through. Haha. Well... you should be good in this game right?"

Me:"Not really. I kinda didn't even know I was being hunted. Your parents just picked me up and then tortured me in the woods. I didn't have much of a chance to even run."

Devon:"Oh... I'm so sorry for that, man. My parents are horrible people."

Me:"Yeah. And I know they killed much more people than just me. That's why it needs to stop"

Devon:"So are you sure that killing them would be the best revenge for all these years of their murder spree?"

Me:"What else can I do? It's not like I had much of a choice. Few days ago I didn't even have a body. Now I co-share yours. Yeah, stealing their sons body is good revenge too, but you're a good person. And I don't want to take over your life."

Devon:"Not what I was aiming for. I honestly love having you here with me. You're like a second voice/brother/best friend inside of me. Oh shit. I just figured. I keep calling you bro. What's your real name?"

Me:"Paul. Took you long to ask, man. Not cool"

Devon:"Sorry, haha. So... Paul. You're like 40 now, right?"

Me:"I would be if your parents didn't kill me. But I died when I was 21 like you are now. So my mind basically stayed 21 I suppose. Except for roaming the country I didn't have much fun through all these years. These past few days as you, just chilling here, playing video games, jerking off and talking to you is the most fun I had over these 20 years."

Devon took control over his body to let go of the controler and to flex his biceps. The sweat hitting his nose.

Me:"What are you doing? I thought we were gonna play?"

Devon:"Nah, just reminding you what body you're in"

Devon:"Look at me man. I have beautiful abs, massive arms. These thighs could crush a melon between them. I appreciate that you picked me and that you like my body, but you gotta do something about this. We gotta go have fun. With another living being."

Me:"Devon... I really am happy how you treat me in your body, but... I don't think we have the same type of dating pool"

Devon:"I don't care whoever you fuck. I'm straight, or atleast I think I am, but very accepting. And if my man inside of me wants to fuck some handsome man, I will be more than happy to help you out. Bros gotta help each other"

Me:"But it's gonna be your body, man."

Devon:"So? You could do much worse with my body and you didn't. Getting fucked or fucking someone in the ass is not so bad."

Me:"Ok? So what place do you suggest?"

Devon:"Gym. We can show everyone what this body can do. Lot of people observe me there, so you can pick whoever you desire"

We arrived to the gym. So many hot and sexy people in sight. Devon took control to do his normal routine. It sucks that I could also have a body like this, but back in the day I wanted to see the world. I wanted to be myself in a world that hates my kind. Twenty years later, the world is so much more accepting. It's not ideal, but wow. How things gave changed

I still can't believe that Devon let's me stay in his body. I mean, look at him. He could be anything, have anyone. And yet this hot piece of meat is depressed with his easy life, being alone most of the time. I guess that's what happens when your serial killer parents move your family every now and then. You don't have any friends and those that you did might already be dead by their hand. How horrible... I honestly can't wait to see them. To look them in their face. With their son's face and to kill them. I hope Devon will forgive me. I know he says he wants to stop them, but it's his parents. I just have to make sure that he will not stop me when the time comes

Devon was just finishing up, when a cute twink approached us.

The guy:"Hey, I hope you don't mind that I was watching you"

Devon:"Nah, it's ok man. You need a hand with lifting?"

The guy smiled. "Oh I do need a hand, I just don't know If I asked the right person"

Devon sat down, looking all confused:"That depends if..."

I stopped Devon mid sentence. "I think that's a cue for me to take over, ok?"

Devon now in the back of my mind:"Sorry man, I usually don't respond to guys hitting on me. Go on. Have fun"

I smiled at the guy and casually finished the sentence

We headed to the showers. The owners must be probably sick with all these guys hooking up here. But we didn't care. We made out passionately. The twins was all over my muscles, as I would be in his place too. He was a bit smaller. That gave me a sense of dominating him.

I stopped and smiled at the guy. "I... just gotta let you know that I am a virgin"

Devon:"What!!! Dude, you never had sex with anyone?"

The guy looked at me from top to bottom. "You? If good looking people like you are virgins, then I have no idea how world works."

I chuckled nervously. It was true. I was 21 when I died, but back then it was much harder to date a find gay guy. Now you can just download Grindr and in a few minutes you got yourself a guy in your bedroom

Twink:"Well in that case we can go to your place and have some fun there. This isn't a very nice place to have your first time, don't you think"

I just smiled and nodded in approval

We were now in Devon's messy room. The guy was really shocked to see such a straight man cave, but didn't say a word. We made out. He took off my shirt soaked in sweat from gym. His lips now kissed my neck and went to over my pecs, down the middle to my waist band. He took my hard dick into his hand, squeezed hard and looked me deep into my eyes. His look was so full of lust, yet I could tell it was superficial. This guy isn't looking for romance. He just wants to be fucked hard. So let's give it to him

I took a bit of control of the moment. I grabbed him by the neck. Turned him around and pressed him against the wall. He was now moaning in pleasure as I was rubbing my hard dick hidden beneath the layers of my clothes against his ass. I was still holding him, choking him.

I pulled of my shorts and his just low enough to get my dick in there. I wanted to push it right in there. As hard as I could

Devon suddenly screamed out from the back of his mind:"Condom dude!!!"

I left the guy, moanjng against the wall, reaching out to the condom on the shelf. I was struggling to find which side to pick to put it on my dick

Twink:"Wait. Let me" it was obvious he jas done it a few times. The condor was on in a matters of seconds. "Do you have any lube?"

Devon intervened again:"Top drawer. Give him more attention, man. You're making it all about yourself"

"Shut up" I said out loud as a response to Devon, but the guy looked confused. "Oh sorry, not you. I'm just nervous. I have lube right here."

The guy went on Devon's bed on his back. His clothes were now gone and his ass was welcoming my dick. His legs wide open.

I pressed lightly my dick with a ridiculous ammount of lube on top.

It went smoothly so I tried to went all the way. This seemed to hurt the twins. "Hold your horses. I'm good, but not that good. A bit slower, cowboy."

I went in slowly. The pleasure got to Devon too. The way this guys ass was tight around the head of our dick was sending our minds to heaven.

I picked up the pace. The twink was moaning in pleasure and in pain at the same time. I grabbed him by the next to choke him. My other arm pressing his thigh.

Twink:"Harder!" I thought I was going as hard as possible, but I didn't think he could take it much more

Twink:"Harder!!!"

Devon:"Oh, jesus. Let me do it" Devon took over. I was in the back of our mind again. Still feeling everything.

Devon was like a beast, but the twink was really enjoying it.

I could feel all the cum building up. Ooh there's gonna be tons of cum.

Devon was biting his lower líp and furiously pounding this guy's ass. Sure, "Straight" my ass.

Devon:"I'm cumming!!!"

Twink:"Fill me! I want it all"

Devon shot out the stream of cum into the condom. The wave of pleasure was so overwhelming. So much, that I lost control for a moment. I didn't know what was happening.

I opened my eyes. Still as Devon. Good. But I was back in control. But I was alone here. I couldn't feel Devon

"DEVON?!?"

Twink:"Right here. You pushed my soul out of my body, dude. If the guy here wasn't as welcoming you would have me erased or something"

Me:"I'm so sorry. I didn't think that would happen."

Devon:"It's fine. This guy's soul is asleep or maybe gone? I don't know. But I can't hear him now. Dude! I could feel my body's orgasm and his orgasm at the same time. I can assure you, that this is definitely the best I'll ever feel. So overwhelming."

Me:"Shit, dude. We gotta figure out how to get you put of there. Or you might be stuck"

Devon:"What if we wait for a bit? I kinda wanna try having sex with my body."

Me:"Kinky. You wanna get pounded too?"

Devon:"Guess I'm not so straight anymore, right?"

After our first fucking session, Devon passed out from all the sex. We still didn't know where this guy's soul was, but we would figure that out soon. I was just happy that I was finally alive. And I even have a boyfriend now? If that's what I can call Devon. Not to put labels on our relationship or anything

I grabbed the first pair of shorts from the floor I could find. Still sweaty from the sex, I headed to the kitchen to get myself a drink of water.

I was interrupted by a dark figure in the corner of the room

"Hello, son"

I was full of rage. But I can't fuck it up now. If I kill him, I won't know where his mom is and that would take me another decade to find her.

"Hey, dad. How was your holiday"

"Oh wonderful. Rome is your mother's favourite place to visit"

I tried to act as much as possible. Devon was in his room in a wrong body, so that wouldn't help me.

"Did you go to Colosseum this time?"

"Oh, we sure did." The father responded. But in the matter of seconds his expression changed. He was now holding a gun pointed at me

"What are you doing, dad?!"

"Devon knows we went to Bahamas"

Fuck. So he knew all along that I'm not Devon. But how?

"Me and my wife found out that the folk like you, who want to have your revenge for what we did, come back as ghosts to make our lives a living hell."

"So I'm not the first one?"

"Hahaha. Of course you're not. The first one came when Devon was 2 years old. Of course he doesn't remember, but that was a nasty one. All the paranormal stuff. We didn't know what we were dealing with back then. But now, oh we are used to deal with you. But possessing Devon is a first. Some possessed us and tried to kill us, but obviously failed."

"How can you tell that I'm not him? Besides the question."

"Oh it's an aura thing. Once you have the experience and a good guidance, you can just tell when a soul isn't in their rightful place."

"Now, tell me. Did Devon put up a lot of fight? Your answer will change the course of your torture."

"Devon is ok. He's in the body of the guy downstairs. It was an accident"

"Sure it was. That would make sure that we couldn't kill you or him, right? We're not so stupid, mister. Although I will not enjoy killing my son, there is no other choice."

"If you kill me, I will go after you even more. I have for the past 20 years and I will even after you die. My soul will not rest until you burn in hell"

"Sure you can do that, but it will take you some time to get out of this thing."

He was holding a wooden object with symbols

"What is that thing?"

"That mister, is your prison. It will bind you inside, until it breaks, or someone opens it on purpose. Which happens rarely if you ask me."

"You're doing a big mistake. Devon is in his room in a different body. Let him atleast get his body back."

"I can't take that chance. Me and my wife have a life to live up to and we won't stop just because our son got himself in some trouble and can't handle it."

"It's your son! You would kill him just so you can continue your killing spree?"

"Oh, definitely. Having a child is a great thing, but taking a life. That's something you won't ever forget about. The control it gives you."

"You're sick. No parent would ever do this to their child"

From the hallway a second voice spoke:"Oh these two are a chatty couple, right honey? So chatty chatty. But we need to hurry up, so get on with this" the mother said towards her husband

I could feel a horrible pain in my chest. Feelings very similar to the ones I felt 20 years ago. This couple was killing me again

"Sorry Devon. We couldn't have done anything" father said

"Devon hates you too!" I screamed out

"You're talking too much" and then nothing.

I don't know for how long this continued. I don't even know what they did with Devon's beautiful body. How they got rid of it.

Soon I started to feel walls around me. Walls? As a ghost I wouldn't be able to. Except if this is their prison that they were talking about.

I opened my eyes. There was only darkness. Nothing else. I looked around and on the other side of my prison was someone sitting, crying.

I got up to approach this person. He looked up

It was Devon. He was crying

"Paul! They killed me. My own mother slit my throat. I told her it's me. But she just killed me and trapped me into thus thing."

"I'm so so sorry, Devon. I never wanted any of this. I wanted revenge for them. But they were ready. They knew. Your father didn't listen to me too. He didn't care. I told him about your soul. But they are more sadistic then I thought"

"Paul, I'm dead. My parents killed me. My OWN PARENTS!"

"Devon, they are horrible people. And we will get our lives back. Maybe not our old lives, but we will. But first we have to get out of here. We're gonna get through this together. Ok?"

Devon collapsed into my arms. I was just glad that I could hold someone even if I was a ghost now. We were gonna get out of here, but I had no idea how

Outside of the ghost trap, the world went by.

Devon's father held the trap tightly as he watched his old house burn. His wife held her head on his shoulder.

"Ahhh, I think I might miss Devon. He gave our life some order"

"He limited us. We couldn't ve ourselves all the time. Now we can. What do you say we go pick up some hitchhiker?"

"Ohhhh, that's a lovely idea. Get rid of that box, it gives me the creeps"

And as the two of them were laughing while leaving, the box was sinking deeply into the river below the bridge until some human would find it.

If Paul and Devon would know what was happening to then right now, they would be devastated.

[pretty-toru]

lovesick┆gojo satoru

୧ genre: fluff

୧ wc: 1.4k

୧ synopsis: megumi is sick with a common cold, and gojo is simply lovesick for you.

Gojo Satoru convinces himself that he's not jealous.

How could he feel such a prickling and burning sensation in his lower tummy, slowly rising towards his heart making his blood boil and face grow hot just because you're nursing eleven-year-old Megumi back to health? The same little rascal that he had previously gotten into a spat with over something stupid and it doesn't help that the brat's sticking his tongue out and pulling down his lower eyelid taunting him.

But of course, you're too busy doting over sweet and innocent Megumi to notice. Too preoccupied with fluffing the pillows for the young boy to rest his poor head on, gently tucking him in with a cozy throw blanket, putting something on the platinum screen with the promise of brewing him a ginger-honey tea to make him feel better.

No matter how much Gojo tries to ignore Megumi, his facial muscles twitch and contort on their own in utter dismay and his Six Eyes zeroes in on the couch-ridden boy with his lips curling into a deep frown before sticking his tongue back at him.

"Come on, Satoru. Be nice to him, he's really sick." You say as you start the kettle and reach for a mug from the cabinet. Gojo's forced to acknowledge that Megumi wasn't faking the snotty nose and loud sneezes, but he still doesn't like the idea of losing to one smug child and giving him the satisfaction that he's secured his revenge which is your devoted attention. Maybe Megumi knew that his guardian would go a wee-bit insane being treated as a second thought but Gojo will never admit that it's working.

"Hey honey, you know what? I don't feel so good either. Here, feel my forehead." Gojo takes your hand and places it over his forehead to check if it's warm to the touch and he makes sure to do his best impression of looking pathetically sick—droopy eyelids, jutting his lower lip into a pout, and slumped shoulders to get your sympathy.

"Satoru, you feel perfectly fine. There's nothing wrong with you."

"I swear I'm not feeling well. My throat feels weird and scratchy, my body feels flashes of hot and cold, my head is pounding and it's killing me, and.." Gojo tries to convince you that he's experiencing every symptom he could think of and you knew he was determined to be sick. Between your "uh-huh" and "right" you decide to humor him as you follow his explanation and tried your hardest to hold back a smile when he throws in an exaggerated detail or two.

"Alright, you big baby. We can't have you feeling sick now, can we? Can't have the strongest sorcerer out of commission for long, hm?"

"Nope, that'd be very bad. As long as you drop everything and pour all your attention on me, I should get better in no time. No pressure or anything, but the world does kinda depend on it~" Gojo flashes you a toothy grin then quickly remembers that he's supposed to be sick and feigns a cough or two averting your knowing glance.

"Hmm, okay I'll see what I can do. Now come here, let's get you all nice and comfortable so you can get your much-needed rest and get well again." You lead him to your shared bedroom and reflect the covers back for him to climb onto the mattress and ensure he's warm and cozy as you pull the comforter over him. For someone who's supposed to feel horribly ill Gojo sure can't seem to wipe the smile off his face. "You seem a little too happy to be sick, don't you think?"

"Just glad that you'll be the one to help me get back my strength is all." Through his fluttering lashes, he sports the most innocent and angelic expression he can muster and you can't help the soft giggle given his stellar performance up until this point.

"Alright, if you say so. I'll get you something to eat, okay? I'll be right back."

As you're turning on your heel to head for the door, Gojo pouts and protests. "Wha- No sweet kiss to hold me over? You might be a while and I'll get lonely since you're not here to keep me company."

"Aw, sorry baby. But you know there's no kissing until you're all better. Can't get myself sick now that I have to look after you and Megumi, right? I promise you I won't be long."

"...Not even a forehead kiss? :(" He murmurs under his breath as he watches your back to him and eventually disappears into another room. Once Gojo's left to his own devices, he wonders how long it would take you to complete your task on hand. He fiddles with his thumbs and counts the passing minutes. One minute becomes five, five becomes ten, then ten becomes twenty and he suddenly cannot bear to be apart from you much longer and checks on you.

"Sweetheart, what's taking you so long? I thoug-" And there he stumbles across the answer to his own question. Megumi is being spoon-fed rice porridge by you because he claims that his arms are too weak to do it himself and you couldn't leave him starved in his condition. Gojo appears crestfallen and disgruntled in the throw blanket draped over his lanky body and with a small huff he grumbles, "So that's what you've been up to. Fine, fine I guess it's up to me to take care of myself, huh?"

"What's wrong with him? Is he sick too or something?" Megumi asks nonchalantly as he watches his mentor's dejected form return to his bedroom to sulk. You gently shake your head and offer the young boy a soft smile, but you do feel a little bad that your husband has been acting unusual lately hence his needy and clingy tendencies.

"He's just going through a phase, but don't you worry about him and focus on getting better, okay? I'll find a way to make it up to him."

When you enter your shared bedroom with a platter of breakfast in your grasp, you found Gojo hiding under the covers in an attempt of giving you his silent treatment. You place the serving tray of food on the nightstand and situate yourself on the bed beside him, smoothing your hand over his covered shoulder as he's laid on his side with his face away from you. "Satoru, my love, I've brought you breakfast."

With a soft shrug of his shoulder, he responds with a strained hum but you know it's just him being melodramatic because he could never truly be mad at you. "Do you wanna tell me what's on your mind? I'm all yours if you come on out from under the covers."

Gojo shifts his body weight around and tufts of white hair start to peek as he gradually pulls the blanket down until you meet his azure gaze and he receives your sweet smile. "Hey there, is everything alright? Did I do something to upset you?" The tender warmth of your hand finds its home on his cheek with a gentle caress and he sighs contently at the familiar touch. You're patient as you wait for him to gather his thoughts, your fingers moving to his soft tendrils in soothing motions and he inches closer to you.

"You've never done a single thing wrong ever. You are perfect," he begins slowly. "I just missed you and ever since I got back from my mission you were too busy with the kids (Megumi and Tsumiki) that we haven't had any time together and I just wanna be with you." Gojo confesses as he's playing with the hem of your shirt, feeling a bit vulnerable to look you straight in the eyes. "Oh, and another thing... I'm not actually sick I only said that so you'd notice me more."

"Thanks for being honest with me. And I knew that you weren't sick. For someone who's supposed to be good at anything he tries, I'm glad that you turned out to be a pretty bad liar."

Gojo's face heats up at that and he unceremoniously buries his face in your lap from embarrassment, as muffled words of "Oh, so you knew. I thought I was pretty convincing" managed to reach your ears.

"Tell you what, how about we have ourselves a nice picnic this weekend? Just the two of us, I'll find someone to watch the kids. And I think maybe spending an afternoon in the sunshine will do us some good. What do you think?"

Gojo suddenly lights up at your proposal. "I think you're wonderful for planning the perfect date."

"You're sweet for giving me so much credit." Your soft laughter quickly melts his heart and he returns your affections, feeling a little more in love with you as you're both sharing a moment together. "I love you."

"I love you so much more, my sweet angel."

[starry-bi-sky]

i have been unmedicated for the entirety of spring break and thus have had little interest in writing this down, but i have been thinking about this for the entire week (as well as a dpdc clone danny au that resulted in it becoming its entirely separate batman au that includes a teenage vigilante bruce wayne, an ocarina, and me entirely incapable of making a batman au without making bruce dirt poor but we're not talking about that) and so i've finally went 'fuck it' and forcibly grabbed my laptop. I will get this done in one sitting even if it kills me.

BUT. This is about neither clone^2 danny nor about who i am calling Ocarina Batman. This is about my Danyal Al Ghul Au and more SPECIFICALLY it's me thinking about his relationship with Sam and Tucker specifically.

Tucker and Sam? Adore this asshole (affectionate) with every fiber of their being. And it is very much a reciprocated feeling, but Danny's thoughts will not be delved into much other than he would kill for them.

Tucker? The only person currently capable of getting a deep, loud, belly laugh out of Danny. Sam can get him to smile and to laugh, but it's the kind that's a chuckle-under-the-breath. The quiet, looks-down-while-huffing laughter. Snorts once with laughter and then grins stupidly.

But Tucker? Tucker can crack a slew of stupid jokes and Danny will be incapacitated for the next five minutes because he's laughing so hard that he can't breath. He lands one well-timed pun or quip and Danny will be close to tears. His laughter is their favorite sound in the whole world.

Sam is lowkey jealous of this ability, and she's gotten a belly laugh out of Danny a few times. But alas, it is Tucker who wields this power and has gotten it the most times out of the two of them.

-

They're also both physically affectionate with Danny as much as possible. It started roughly around when they were 12-ish, a year since they befriended Danny, and they noticed that he sought after touch but never seemed to initiate (and was in some ways repulsed by it). They started slowly being more touchy with him. Hooking a finger around his to lead him somewhere, tapping his wrist, looping arms. Little touches, grabs, etc, to get him used to it, and once he started doing it back they started increasing it.

It's gotten to a point where he will now just. Lay on them. Like a lizard sunbathing on a rock. Leaning on their backs when they're sitting in class before the bell rings, his chin on their heads. He'll talk about anything with his arms looped around their shoulders.

If they're sitting on a couch at either of their houses, he'll lay his legs on theirs. Him and Tucker will press their feet against the other's and try and push against them (newsflash: Danny always wins, Tucker claims its the ghost strength but Danny's been winning since before his accident)

-

Naturally, both Sam and Tucker know where Danny keeps his weapons on his person, and are allowed to grab them off of him if they need it. His only requirement is that they don't lose his weapons if they take it and forget to return it immediately.

They both understand how big of a thing this is from Danny, and so they do their best to treat his weapons with a lot of respect and care because they know its his way of saying he trusts them.

-

Sam and Tucker are so fond of Danny it's insane. Like fr. That's their goddamn best friend, and they are so protective of him. Emotionally, physically, you name it. They will tear the head off a grown man if they need to, Danny's had scars since he arrived in Amity Park and Sam and Tucker both are going to find the person who put them there and make them pay for it.

One time, Tucker overheard a bunch of upperclass girls speaking nastily about Danny and about the rumors surrounding him, calling him names like 'freak', 'monster', etc. Danny was with him and heard it, and seemingly appeared unbothered by it, even telling Tucker that he was used to such rumors.

Tucker was so furious that hacked into the school system later that night and tanked those girls grades. They were kicked out of their clubs and had to go to mandatory tutoring for the rest of the year. He made sure to leave some way of letting them know it was him who did it.

And Sam doesn't like using her money for things, doesn't like abusing that wealth. So instead, whenever her parents talk bad about Danny, she causes a media incident that has her parents scrambling to deal with. She does something wild, outrageous by her parents' standards.

She heard some boys on the basketball team making fun of Danny once, similar to those girls had. She kicks up a fuss about something eco-unfriendly at school and forcibly holds a protest on the same day of the big home basketball game, forcing them to cancel the event and reschedule to a visiting school.

She anonymously donates money so that there's new uniforms for the team but oops! Looks like she "forgot" to donate enough money for them to get uniforms for all the team members, and strangely enough those boys in particular didn't get them! Looks like they'll have to wait until more money gets donated for the basketball team to get their new, nice uniforms. The old ones look so ratty in comparison, right?

And since the football team gets most of the sport money, that might just take awhile. And if (and when) they kick up a fuss? oops! Off the basketball team you go, :) such unsportsman-like behavior is unfit for the team.

(The only good thing about how corrupt the school system is is that she can use it to her advantage too.)

The both of them know that Danny suspects them for the sudden misfortune falling on these people, but he doesn't call them out on it. He's kinder than he used to be, but not kind enough to vouch for people who speak badly of him. Sometimes, he might just congratulate them on not getting caught.

Because Danny is their wonderful, hurt friend with a "slightly" Blue and Orange Moral code, and enough scars that people have been calling him a criminal (and worse) since he arrived in Amity Park when he was ten. And they'll be damned if he gets hurt anymore.

[withleeknow]

minho and https://open.spotify.com/track/4gAIUEY7VkeiKQOPwIYaYb?si=oZNdDS-aTUm9V7bEycscDQ 🩷🩷

flower.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, a teeny bit angsty?; minho's pov word count: 0.7k note: i am very sorry if this is bad i wrote most of this while half asleep so please forgive me kshdkfhsk

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / request masterlist / ko-fi

one day if a flower blooms in your heart would you be able to understand me?

Flower - DANIEL

minho has been up for a while now, just lying here with you as you snuggle close to him like you can't help but gravitate toward him even in your sleep. one of his hands slips under your shirt where he gently traces the smooth skin of your waist, careful not to rouse you from slumber.

he fails though. maybe a particular swipe of thumb over your body was too ticklish.

"you're so warm."

the words come out a little slurred, a little muffled from where your face is tucked into the crook of his neck, safe and sound on this chilly saturday morning. you stir awake for long enough just to say that, and before he knows it, you're off to dreamland once more, from where you probably won't return for at least another hour or so.

minho halts instantly. you're none the wiser, still sleeping peacefully with your soft breaths fanning his collarbones.

cold, mean, unwelcoming, standoffish, callous. you could name any synonym of these words and he's probably been called that before, by friends and by strangers alike. some of them didn't utter it with malicious intent, but rather it was only a passing comment said in a teasing manner, with a lightheartedness that they didn't think he would mind because, well, apparently he just didn't have enough heart to take it as anything other than a joke.

he's used to it, he's gotten numb to it. somewhere along the way, minho accepted that maybe his name is merely one of those synonyms. it's fine, it doesn't matter. he doesn't really mind it because at the end of the day, none of these people could ever be you.

you're the only person whose opinion he cares about. when all is said and done, he doesn't care if the rest of the world thinks cold and heartless, as long as you know who he is. you're the only thing that matters; everything else just simply... falls away.

he's always struggled with opening up, even if the person on the receiving end is you. it doesn't come naturally to him at all. minho was never raised to be openly affectionate, and it just isn't an inherent trait that he possesses. he's not the kind of guy that tells you he loves you every hour of every day, nor is he the type to smother you with gifts and kisses and grand gestures on a daily basis.

no, minho's love comes quietly, rooted in almost every mundane aspect of life that it's often easy to miss if you don't know where to look. his love comes in the form of packed lunches and home-cooked dinners, of a blanket draped over your form after you've fallen asleep at your desk while working on a project for work. of his hand holding tightly onto yours when you get overwhelmed in crowded places. of his eyes always looking at you as though you're the eighth wonder of the world and he'll never get tired of being mesmerized by you. of texts asking if you've eaten. of sporadic videos of soondoongdori simply sleeping or munching on treats, accompanied by no other message or explanation.

there's a million ways that minho cares for you; he doesn't have to shout it from the rooftops for you to know. you do know, and that's enough for the both of you.

but it's not until you uttered those simple words just now that minho realizes how much he needed to hear them out loud. he's well aware that you didn't mean it like that. you meant it quite literally, because sometimes he does run hot and you've always loved that. your personal human furnace to keep you nice and toasty whenever you wanted. he knows it and yet, he still lets the words wiggle their way inside his ribcage and make a home there. they settle somewhere beside his heart and mend something in him that he didn't notice was cracked and chipped, worn away after years and years of people telling him he was callous.

minho isn't sure how long he's been holding his breath, but the very second he inhales again, everything feels lighter, like he's finally leaving behind some of the weight that he's been carrying with him his whole life.

his fingers resume their ministrations on your soft skin as he presses a kiss to your forehead. he holds you a little tighter, and everything feels like it's going to be okay.

even in your half-asleep state with your mind completely elsewhere, you still manage to take his breath away. maybe you really are the eighth wonder of the world after all.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 19.05.2024]

[erwinsvow]

ive been rereading ur bitchy reader stuffs n pleek do more of the pope cameo.. HER SAYING DICK APPT WHEN RAFE COMPLAINED ABT HER HAVING POPES NUMBER MADE ME GIGGLE OUT LOUD pretty please give us more of them 🤲

i imagine her being pissed off at rafe so she keeps giving him the cold shoulder and when he asks something she’d just go “maybe i should’ve gone to heywards instead he wont treat me like this 🙄” BUT ITS SO FUNNY KNOWING SHE DOESNT LIKE POGUES !!!!

LMFAOOO THIS IS KILLING ME!! one thing about my readers, their secret pogue crush is always gonna be pope <3

one thing you had in common with rafe—despite the glaring differences that were so hard to ignore—was that you both didn't care much for pogues.

that was putting it lightly, rafe despised them and you just didn't like them. but some were more tolerable than others—for example, the maybank boy who seemed to you the equivalent of a toddler with sticky hands versus pope heyward, who used to tutor in math. you don't know why or how they're friends, just that you like pope enough to be friendly, or rather polite, and you definitely don't like maybank enough to even think about him.

rafe didn't like any of them, and you didn't really care. you weren't in the habit of defending pogues, and certainly not when you were constantly trying to remind sarah to stay away from them, even though she never listened.

but seeing how angry rafe seemed to get at the mere mention was enough to give you some ideas. when you had jokingly—although now you remember you hadn't really ever clarified—said that you had pope's number because of dick appointments, rafe had gotten so angry it had resulted in the best sex of your life.

you were curious to know what else you could get out of it. unfortunately, your curiosity didn't last for very long. rafe pissed you off just as much as you pissed him off, and though these thoughts were often in one ear and out the other for you.

like today. you had been waiting for twenty whole minutes at the club for rafe, who had insisted he would be on time even though you knew he would probably run late since he was coming from barry's—all the way across town.

all he had to do was admit it, and you would have come later, but instead he had told you to show up at noon and that he wasn't going to be late.

normally you would show up at half past and just tell him to fuck off, but if he really was on time you would never hear the end of it. so you showed up on time and waited... and waited.

rafe finally shows up about forty minutes later, and you stare at him with your signature look—eyes rolling back, an i-told-you-so expression with arms crossed. you could make it more withering if you wanted, but right now you just wanted to hear rafe admit he was wrong.

"shut the fuck up," he says, taking a seat the table. your half drunken diet coke has left a ring of condensation, and you move the cup towards you, wondering how you'd become the kind of girl that waits forty minutes for a guy to show up.

"first of all, i didn't even say anything. second of all, you shut the fuck up. i'm the one who was forty-fucking-minutes late."

"it took longer-"

"longer than you thought? yeah, i said that. yesteday."

"well m'here now, so just order."

you huff, scanning the menu and not sure exactly what retort to use. instead you settle for shutting up entirely, not speaking to rafe the entire time. the waitress comes and goes, the food comes and goes, and you look up when rafe speaks but don't say anything back.

rafe thinks you'll give it up once lunch is over, but you grew up in a household where an hour of silent treatment is child's play. so the car ride to tannyhill, throughout the movie you put on and when you walk away to make popcorn, you haven't said a word.

while the movie credits roll, you look down at your phone, waiting for your apology and deciding when to leave if you don't get it.

"are you seriously gonna ignore me the entire day?"

you stare at rafe, not answering. this is your withering look.

"fine, princess. your choice," rafe shrugs. "finally got you to shut up for once."

you take a moment for his words to really hit you. like any other girl in the world, that comment from your boyfriend hurts a little. it even stings. you don't like the words in the air and you can even tell it left a bitter taste in rafe's mouth. he looks like he's just realizing he overstepped a little. then, for the first time since you saw rafe that day, you speak.

"you know, it's a good thing i didn't delete heyward's number from my phone. times like this i realize how handy it can be."

"what the fuck is th-"

"i mean, really, rafe. even these pogues you hate so much would treat me better than you do. i should go call him up now-"

"okay, princess i get it-"

"bet he'd probably fuck me better than-"

"okay, enough. jesus, i get it. m'sorry, okay? can you knock it off now?"

"i'm not knocking anything off. and you can go fuck yourself if you can't apologize for a little thing like being late-"

"i'm sorry, okay? now can you stop talking about pope fuckin' heyward?" you huff, finally a little pleased he apologized.

"thank you. was that so hard?"

"oh shut up-"

"you shut up. and don't be late again. or i'll show you fuckin' heyward-"

"enough!"

[zoropookie]

HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter twenty-six — br(ok)en (💋)

You stared at your phone light up for the twelfth time within five minutes with a dull expression.

Admittedly, you felt angrier knowing that Scaramouche still had the audacity to even text you after everything. After tormenting you for years and years, what kind of shame should someone feel after that, you wonder. The relentless pursuit of making your life miserable—to which he failed at, but it did make you wonder.

Did you do something to deserve it? Each notification felt like another jab that he took to the heart, reopening your wounds from each time he said something messed up to you. As you laid there motionless, with no light ruminating in the room except your phone, you began to feel tears well up in your eyes for the thirteenth time today.

Pursing your lips, you swiped up to read the messages and only felt reminded even further of every harsh word he said. Every cruel taunt, every moment of humiliation...and yet...

He was still right, despite being the biggest hypocrite known to man. And it pissed you off.

Why were you even laying here? Ignoring the world, rotting here like you're a vegetable. You knew that you were something to people, you knew that you were valued.

There wasn’t anything that was particularly motivating for you to get up, however. You ignored every need that you could have possibly wanted, subjecting yourself to sparseness. No matter how much you wanted to, the thoughts always came back and you didn’t know how to deal with them.

A small knock echoed from the front door. It was loud enough to hear, and you still shoved your head in the pillow and hoped it went away.

The longer time you went without answering it, the knocks became more frequent. It wasn’t Thoma, that’s who you could observe without getting up.

You finally managed to drag yourself out of bed, lazing about sounded so much nicer now that you were dreading who’s at the door. With a frustrated sigh, and irritation already to its peak of your heart, you opened the door to a familiar-ish face.

Little girl?

“Did you forget that you exist?” She said with a smile. “Welcome back to Earth! I didn’t know how long you’d be cooped up in here so I brought treats.”

You stared a bit longer than you meant to at the Tupperware of Asafiri in her hands, momentarily taken aback. “Heh?”

“Yanfei sent me here. Looks like you’re having a little bit of trouble getting back on your feet. I take it you know her?” She inquired.

“Yeah.” You blinked slowly, before holding the door a little wider. “Uh…come in, I guess. Thanks for the…treats.” You cringed. “Wow, I get why Heizou keeps being called a creep now, this can look so wrong.”

“The difference is that he does it to himself.”

The warm water on your body was oddly refreshing.

Getting out of the shower was harder knowing that you'd come back to the gust of wind in your living room, but knowing you had fresher pajamas on was also a plus. Things didn't look too great on your mental, especially since you were accustomed to showering a lot in your fresher mind.

You put on the Lightning McQueen slippers you quite often wear, and moved to the kitchen after hearing soft chops of a knife. You wondered what Nahida was up to, staring at her cut apples and bananas before putting them into a huge bowl she found in your cupboard.

"This is a very odd fruit salad you're making." You drew attention to yourself before her eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know whether or not to tell you to be careful with knives."

"I'm smarter than you think I am." Nahida cooed. "I'm used to people being condescending."

"Oh...I'm sorry— You're killing me here, kid. Lady? Are you a child or not?" You asked desperately.

Nahida turned to you, her saturated green eyes stared at you with obviously deliberate thoughts roaming her head before she took a sharp breath. She pointed the knife at you. "Do you feel better?"

"Not...really? I mean, it happened. All of this at once." You tried to process it quicker, but your head failed you. It's like how you actually felt in the moment was blocked. "I feel like I'm in limbo, I don't want to see the sun these days."

"Your thoughts are your biggest enemy right now. Easy to overthink. It's a lot to deal with on your own, good thing you aren't, right?" Nahida lowered the knife, her expression softening. "I cut you up some fresh fruit. It's better than the Asafiri for now, you don't need that much sugar after not eating for a while, or you'll crash hard. And get a headache."

Looking at the bowl loaded with bananas and slices of apples, you couldn't help but wonder why you were even granted this much care anyway. You were in mild disbelief, sitting down at the island counter in front of Nahida. "Why are you actually here?" You said in defeat.

Nahida stopped cutting the fruit, gaze shifting from it to you. She couldn't find what she could say to answer you, but she did press her lips together. "Do you want me to be honest?"

"A little." Your voice lowered.

"Yanfei and Heizou," Nahida paused, trying to find her words, "They wanted to see if I could convince you to start streaming again."

You frowned immediately. "Oh. Thanks for being honest."

"You made progress today, but I don't expect you to be up to it. It's a really big step." She asked you, but you couldn't even decipher the intentions behind her eyes. It was impossible to detect what anybody was thinking nowadays. "They just told me to come over so they can hope their investigation moves."

You sighed, leaning back in your chair once you felt the bitterness course your body again. Hearing that made your mood possibly worse than what it would've been if you were in bed. "Not happening. Thanks for checking on me though, you can leave if you want."

"I knew you'd say that. I guess it's fair, people are...going crazy right now figuring out whether you're okay or not." Nahida smiled once you looked back up at her. "Both Scaramouche and your fans are trying to get anything they can on your wellbeing. It's better to wait it out."

Your hopeful face turned into a sullen one, shoulders slumped at the mention of his name. "I don't know if I can even go back at all."

"I'm not sure how hard this is for you, but with what happened, you've obviously been through enough. While it's your choice to go back, Yanfei is under the impression that you can get revenge." The shorter girl explained. "In my eyes, though...I think you're able to decide that for yourself."

You felt the weight of the memories heavily, your head daunting enough for you to let out a shaky breath. "You think so?"

Nahida nodded, humming, "You don't have to stream, but don't give him the satisfaction if you're upset. You shouldn't let him know that you're suffering because of what he did. The worst thing that you can do is prove him right."

Funnily enough, as soon as she said that, you felt tears well up in your eyes again. It struck a cord, and you knew she was right. It was just knowing that anybody would say it verbatim. "That's the same thing he told me too." You blinked back your tears, more resilient than you were a few minutes ago, but also to the brim of misery.

"He?"

You shook your head, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "Thanks," You muttered, choking on your words. You couldn't manage to say anything else, otherwise you'd betray your steely posture. "I'll think about it. Just...stay here a little more with me, please. Maybe I'll...find the resolve or something."

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo

@justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @kunisnaomi

@keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi

@kyon-cherri @b4tm4nn @iiinaurate @quacking-simp @auroratumbles

@kookiibun @ulquiorraswife @amvpk01 @simplysm1le @h3xi2g0n3

@alatusorrow @scaranthropy @mellowberrie @magica-ren @vernith

@kabukipookie @bananasquash @suqarlaced @dellalyra @lightyagamifan

@yourfavoritefreakyhan @heartsforseo @yomishen @pwushizz @swivy123

@strxwberryfetish @ibyobi @ashfrommars4 @chemiru @ainnofinway

@agaygothicmushroom @levianamor @dragontammerz @wth121 @lylovw

@morgyyyyyyy @lovemari @suniika @melpomenelurks @yumejo89 @liuaneee

@franaby @tiddieshakeshownu (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

[aetherdoesthings]

I cannot tell you how loud I cackled when the card was revealed. One moment I was cooing at how cute this was and then I start straight up laughing at 2AM. The atrocious spelling of a child 🤣, i loved all of it! I'm wondering if the other kids notice Father's favoritism towards the reader, and how they would react? What if they bully Reader and Father steps up for Reader? 🤭 I love your characterization of Father in here. Much softer than canon which is what I needed.

~EL anon

would you like a new home? (pt 3.1)

forethoughts: thanks for the compliments about part two! i didn't expect my silly love letter to arlecchino to blow up haha. i originally was going to write this as just one big part but i changed plans. part two is called would you like some cake! i also planned for part two to be the last one but i had to sneak one in to give reader and father a happy ending of sorts :)

notes: gn!child!reader, NOT AN X READER READER IS A CHILD IN THIS!!!

You never cared about what the other children thought of you.

Father made sure you would never get hurt.

Father ensured that the very day she gave you your new toys.

Father said not to use the toys, only if I was being attacked then I could use them. 

Father said not to show the other children your toys.

And you always listened to Father to the best of your abilities.

Well, you tried.

You were walking down the hall, admiring the small trinket Father had found you during one of her expeditions. It was a compass, Father said. You followed the red needle, a huge smile at your face as you watched it shift and move.

You held the compass dear to your chest, using two hands to hold each side. Your eyes were glued to the needle you didn’t even notice the leg that swept your shins, causing your grip on the compass to disappear as your body went sideways, landing on your arms. 

Footsteps.

You got up before you could hear another thud, turning around. “Hey!” You exclaimed as one of the other orphans picked up Father’s gift, admiring it themselves.

“What? We were just interested in what you were holding, Y/N.” One of the other orphans snickered. 

“Give it back.” You said, balling your fists. That was Father’s gift to you. Yours. Not theirs.

“Why? You have more gifts than us given by Father. Not having one more isn’t going to kill you, loser.”

Don’t attack. Don’t be quick to anger. Always seek out a compromise before arming yourself. Father’s words rang in your head.

You took a deep breath, blood boiling at the sight of the other orphan haphazardly tossing the compass around. 

“What do you want?” You questioned, feet still spread apart.

“Don’t you get it, you stupid idiot? We want what you have.” 

“You’ve never wanted anything from me.”

“Because you didn’t have anything we wanted.”

“What do you want now?”

“We want Father.”’

Your knuckles started to turn red as your hands fell to your sides. “What?”

“Don’t act like we don’t see how Father treats you. Always first to get food. Extra dessert. No curfew. Bigger room? Who do you think you are? You’re a nobody! You don’t even have friends! Why does Father treat you better than everyone else?!” The orphan shoved you back on the ground, pressing his foot against your head. You stared at the orphan. You couldn’t deny that his words did not hold truth to them. Father did ensure all of that. You never questioned why Father would show you more generosity and kindness compared to the other children. Yes, Father treated everyone equally. That was obvious before you went inside the armory that day. Father still treated everyone equally even after that. You just had… perks.

“I didn’t ask to have a bigger room and no curfew.” You retorted, trying to resist.

“But you have it. And we want that too. So go to Father and tell her you want a smaller room, last in line, no dessert, and an earlier curfew.”

“That’s not fair. I’m not going to do that.” “If you don’t do that, we’ll break the compass. And don't think about lying and saying you did it. We'll know.” The orphan dangled the compass with two fingers, close to the rim. 

“Hey!” You gritted your teeth, hand slowly creeping towards the knife strapped onto your belt. 

“Three…” The orphan sneered, digging his boot deeper into your hair, pressing your head into the ground.

“Two…” Your hand curled around the helm. 

“One…”

Forgive me, Father.

[louisoffline]

FINALLY FINISHED THE REF SHEET PLUS OTHER DRAWINGS YAAYYY okay so i had the ref sheet done basically two days ago BUT i wanted to draw some more because my ref sheets look so......just stand there kinda scary so MORE ART !!! also skip if you are seeing this when i say our mcs twin bro......we are so mind connected with the skeleton sweaters my lord when i logged on and saw that both step 2 designs had them..........my goodness..i think we might just be the same person....

I want to try and flesh out relationships and dynamics more i think thats something i kind of struggle with with ocs so..that is what the rest of this post will be backstory, character traits, etc etc if you chose to read i will love you forever

Step 1: Gosh...I love making characters really reeaaallllyyy awkward and that's exactly what Lenae is. Her awkwardness is really just stemming from anxiety or nervousness. Qiu and her's dynamic is so sweet to me I love characters being to nervous to say things and then another saysit for them omg im weak yeah thats so them. Lenae and Tam on the other hand....it's not like Lenae doesn't liker her she knows she means well and is extremely sweet but Lenae just can't understand why she is so loud and energetic all the time, she finds it hard to keep up. She IS the sweetest kid you would ever come across though, she will do anything to see you smile. Her earmuffs are a constant, everyone else may think it's just a comfort thing but it is in fact a noise thing we just don't know that yet guys(undiagnosed autism is craayyy)

Step 2: Still being that same shy, sweet kid while looking emo AND TRANSGENDER?? not for the weak. Still shy and reserved maybe even more so but no one really expects anything else. I think meek is a very good descriptor, they get freaked so so easily like has never had a peaceful day in their life. However, Halloween IS their favorite time of the year, it's an aesthetics thing i guess. If you pass by Lenae in the halls you would probably think that they were on their last few threads of patience by the sour look on their face but no, they could be having the best day of their life with that face on. They found it tiring to keep that placid smile on their face all the time when it wasn't always real. In this stage Lenae has definitely started expierimenting with different art mediums like dabbling in painting, poetry, music, you name it. Qiu and Lenae are still the bestest friends ever(bestest crushes ever???) and it's actually kind of nice to have someone by your side who knows what you're going through with your gender identity struggle and everything. Lenae for sure feels bad for how they treated Tam just because they thought she was a little much, I mean it was kind of hypocritical, so they've been trying to make it up to her by being kind of everyly nice?? oh boy oh boy

Step 3: I really don't know a lot of what I could write for step 3 since like nothing of it is out in the actual game SO were just gonna go like personality kind of wise y'know? I think they've definitely mellowed out AT LEAST A LITTLE...like omg guys they can sometimes order for themselves at restaurants!! They're very opinionated and has a strong stance on what they believe but like not in a mean way they just don't understand why others would think differently. Building on their creative abilities, they probably have plans to go to a college for art or fashion. Or maybe they'll start their own business who knows! It's okay to not have everything planned out anymore, some spontaneity is welcome in their life. Now that they've finally been able to be more open, mainly around friends, they'll say something a little too...unsettling or freaky??? to be normal, it's a little weird to get used to oopsies

AND THATS ALL if you read all of this i appreciate you becasue this has been drafted up on my computer screen for multiple days I just did not know what to say siigghhh yeah i love this kid and I hope you guys do too teehee

[minjiarchive]

where you want to be | jibo x reader

jibo was most voted <3 i apologize about the long wait for a fic... so busy and focusing on mental health 🥲 i'm back but will be a bit slow at uploading at times

warning / smut, threesome, cockwarming, use of some degradation? (cumslut mentioned once only)

“This is exactly where you want to be.”

Bent over the bed with your head between Bora's legs, Minji slamming her strap in you from behind – it's exactly what you're made for.

But in this position, it makes you feel so humiliated and pathetic. It could be from how much of a desperate girl you look, could be the way you're sucking Bora off while Minji fills you up as if a strap inside your mouth wasn't enough. You don't know but you do know that you don't want to stop.

Two beautiful girls claiming you as theirs was just a fantasy until now.

“Look at you, so pretty like this...” Minji moans, cold hands traveling up your back to the ends of your hair to pull harshly at them.

Your mouth is occupied by Bora's dick, which isn't a real one, but she treats it like it's hers. She flexes her thighs each time you try to take it deeper in your mouth like she can feel your warm tongue working the length.

You want Minji to know that you acknowledge her kind words so you whine around the length, feeling a sore throat catching up to you.

“You're so full of Bora's strap,” it's quite obvious but Minji says it to tease you. It's not like you aren't wet with anything they say anyway. “It feels nice doesn't it?”

“Such a cute girl for us to use.”

Bora adds on while she runs her fingers through your hair, praising you well after a bit of her degradation.

Minji let's out a small hum in agreement with Bora as Minji's hips slowly move against you. Slowing down her pace so you don't cum too quickly, it would be a shame to have you not experience the rest of the fun tonight.

Every part of your body is sensitive and sore and as you get off to sucking Bora off with Minji pounding you, your brain is fogged up with pleasure. Your lips detach from the shorter girl's strap, letting it go with a pop. There's a mix of spit at the corners of your mouth from Bora's spit to lube it up for you and the mess you left.

You breathe hard, small whimpers coming out in intervals because of Minji's continuous attack from behind.

“Did I say you could stop,” Bora grips your chin, fucked out eyes meeting hers. Your face is incredibly flushed but your rosy cheeks are very much visible, she brushes her thumb over them while demanding an answer.

Minji notices and intervenes, “I'd think about your decisions before misbehaving to Bora.”

The taller girl stops moving her strap inside of you but leaving it in you to let you warm it up. It feels embarrassing that she's having you cockwarm it as a 'punishment' because you know she's watching to see if you'd move your body for any type of relief.

As she watches you, you slowly grind your ass against the base of the cock and it doesn't take long for Minji to spank you for it. A hard smack on one cheek that leaves you in an absolute chokehold.

You slip up with a loud but broken 'fuck' and she smacks your ass twice again.

“You love being bad today, don't you?” Minji asks but it's rhetorical. She doesn't want an answer, she doesn't need one. Between her and Bora, they know how much you get off to the thought of them. But, by glancing at Bora, she can see Bora getting off to seeing you being handled like this. It reassures Minji that she's doing something right.

“Minji, Bora... please, please.”

You beg because it's all your mind can process and think about it – Minji, Bora, and needing more.

“We don't care,” Bora mumbles as she bunches your hair up and pulls your head over her strap again, “you're gonna keep going until we tell you to stop, yeah?”

Simple, easy rules that you can take and obey but they aren't easy to follow when you're in a position like this. Your lips quickly capture the tip of Bora's strap again, you had your time to take a break and breathe and their patience was ticking down like a timed bomb.

“We can think about putting that pretty tongue to more use if you're good,” and you nod to that like an obedient puppy.

“You belong to us, princess.”

“Only our cumslut to pass around and fuck.”

[glitteryinknotes]

Astarion & his life before Cazador

After seeing a few different takes on it, my thoughts have been circling around Astarion's pre - vampiric life and what it must have been like to shape him into the person we know, behind the trauma and his attempts to hide the truth of his feelings and vulnerability inside him.

After days of musings, I've tried to gather my thoughts into a single analysis of a sort, both on his general mindset and his life as the person buried in the graveyard as Astarion Ancunin.

What can be said - disappointing as it is - is that in his life he most likely was what can be tactfully referred to as "an asshole". He held a magistrate's position, but most likely didn't give a damn about anything other than luxuries this position provided him with and the life of utter debauchery he was given on a silver plate. I don't think he's ever had to really fend for anything nor work towards anything, or deal with any kind of problems either on personal or any other level. What's worse - he probably had his part in some form of severe oppression of the common people, otherwise why would he get jumped and beaten to death (his attackers clearly aimed for his death, not just a lesson to be taught) in his own city.

(I would like to mark at that point that my further thoughts are not an excuse for him being a shitty person. If he was a dick indeed, that's on him)

Astarion is, fundamentally, as others have pointed out before me, a rather selfish person - or more specifically, self - absorbed to the point of selfishness. That's one of his core vices.

However.

He isn't an evil person either. He is capable of compassion and taking interest in other people. He is fiercely loyal to those he loves (that being Tav) and capable of consideration, pride and joy for those he considers friends. He is very slow to trust (understandably so) or accept kindness - but once he does, he remains true to the people who granted him those gifts. His confession scenes are the best proof of that - where his consience, still intact, is eating him up as he can't stomach leading on the only person he knows who treated him well.

And as much as he adores his own charms, beauty, pleasure, fine things, there is deep within him the yearning for something more than that. He isn't truly sated by all of those shallow things, nor is he pushed to any kind of growth within them. This yearning is something he is barely able to recognise and understand himself, let alone pursue it. But it's there.

Astarion's character and behavioral patterns must have been shaped before. The trauma from Cazador's enslavement broke him, scarred his psyche to unimaginable extent, exposed his worse qualities and drove him to become a shell of who he could have been, leaving him utterly out of touch with himself, burdened with indescribable guilt and self - loathing, stuck in desperate survival mindset. But his inner self was still shaped somewhere and somehow.

I've come to imagine that his pre-vampiric life wasn't really a happy one. It was undoubtedly rich, loud, unspoiled by any hardships, but fundamentally empty. Without any semblance of meaning, without any true kinship with anyone or any genuine emotional intimacy. Even if he lived like there was no tomorrow and nothing in the world mattered but his pleasure - deep down, maybe he knew he wasn't truly satisfied and that no amount of shameless, drunk debauchery would ever fullfill this emptiness. Perhaps he craved something more after all, something he hadn't been taught how to seek.

Now how could it have come to that?

He was most likely born in some wealthy local family (or one with considerable influence in the city) that held the position of the magistrate for generations, hence his lifestyle and being granted the title at such a young age for elven standards (he was 39 at the time of his presumed death; i personally would equal that to no more than 30 years by human standards, more like middle 20s even). He was obviously somebody's son - but I don't personally believe he ever experienced the healthy, genuine love a child should be provided, he strikes me as a type of person who never quite had a good, trusted role model to look up to, no one to call him out on his vices and lovingly steer him into growing into a possibly best version of himself. No one to check him on his selfish instincts and show him that there may be a more rewarding way of going through the world. That kind of thing usually happens through some sort of neglect and lack of sufficient care; my guess is that he never had an actual meaningful bond with his parents, was raised mostly by hired caretakers and overall in his childhood didn't experience the much needed selfless love & care from emotionally close people, the kind of love that subconsciously makes us believe that there is good and kindness in the world and that it's worth the effort on our part.

Whatever came in his elder years couldn't have been better, and it certainly didn't make him a better person. Some amount of power, money, countless pleasures, all of that he so adores but which doesn't ultimately fullfill him nor make him truly value and appreciate himself on a deeper level. And after his death - he was most likely mourned in some way, but not necessarily missed by anyone and was quickly forgotten. Perhaps his parents remembered - but they too eventually moved on.

What leads me to believe that?

The most interesting thing about Astarion's final love declaration to Tav is that he says he feels "seen" with them. It's one of the most beautiful things we people can offer each other - the feeling of being "seen" and safe in that sight, understood, felt, valued. That can only happen when the other person knows us well enough to be aware of all the ugly qualities we possess, but is just as aware of our capability for all the good ones, and so, in the greater picture sees the better version of ourselves (sometimes even better than we ourselves can picture) and that vision, when truly caring for the other person, we trust and want to live up to. By seeing ourselves the way our loved one sees us, we allow ourselves to grow and be better.

I don't think Astarion ever had that kind of person. I don't believe that he ever, in his pre - vampiric life, experienced a kind of love and trust needed for such a feeling - being "seen", and wanting to be seen as someone good, worthy, valued. Even more - I don't think he ever had any kind of true friend or companion. And that kind of emptiness deeply cripples a person, no matter who they are.

The tragic thing is - Tav may not be the first person to show Astarion kindness and care after years of torment from Cazador, they may be the first selflessly caring and kind person in his entire life. Even if he doesn't remember anything about his previous life, emotionally, he doesn't even seem to recognise the feeling of being cared for, considered, valued, appreciated for who he is, he doesn't instinctively recognise emotional closeness of any kind. Tav may be his first ever true companion, confidant, someone he comes to value and trust enough, that he eventually wants to be the same for them - and be better himself.

Tav may just be the first person to be a selfless and genuinely healthy influence for him, the first person to call him out on shitty behaviour and challenge him, but also to the first one to care. Ever. The first person Astarion comes to care about. The person through whom he learns to care and value more, both others and himself. And the person through whom he learns to love.

I don't believe he ever loved before, nor was he truly loved in the first place. Maybe he never tried, maybe he never dared, maybe he didn't know how to, maybe no one taught him. Tav was the best thing to happen to him in both of his lives.

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

What is Simon 'Ghost' Riley actually like in a relationship (according to me)

A/N: I know this isn't anything like the things I usually write fics about but if I don't get this out of my system, I will spontaneously combust into flames from thought overload. There is a lot of great fics about him out there, 100%, but there is a steamy pile of garbage as well which makes Simon "an abusive asshole" to quote a TikTok I recently saw - and I couldn't agree more. So, here is my soft take on this tough guy and I hope you can enjoy reading this despite it being pretty far away from everything else on this blog.

Warnings: mentions of torture, violence, weapons, PTSD, profanity, explicit sexual themes but also so much fluff and softness

A/N pt. 2: I base this on Ghost's backstory according to the comic books as well as the video games but this is just my take so if you imagined him differently, that is totally valid!

* * *

Firstly and most importantly, Simon is a very different in his private life compared to his work; meaning he is good at separating the violent side of his work life from the life he has with you.

He must be the softest, the most gentle person there is when he is with you. I think he is very shy in the beginning as well as in early relationship given how his father treated him growing up. It is not that Simon wouldn't trust you, it's more that he would not trust himself. After all, after the Manuel Roba operation, he was tortured for months and came out with severe anger issues.

However, he was able to resolve this when he re-joined the military and engaged therapy but the scars remained: both mental as well as physical.

The reason why Ghost never takes off his mask is because of the scars Vernon and the lot left on his face (and the rest of his body). They are healed now but whenever he sees them in the mirror, he is reminded of everything he has been through, especially the loss of his family.

After Simon had told you why he keeps his mask on even in private life, at least the bottom part, you would not mind it as much but you would also reassure him that the way you feel about him could never be changed by some scars.

Needless to say, Simon would be very, very protective of you. He has lost everyone he has ever loved and cared about and he would never allow the same happen with you. It must be said though that Simon is not possessive. He above all knows the importance of freedom, especially when it comes to making choices about yourself and your comfort.

Still, Simon would face some control issues when you'd go out on your own. At work, he is used to being in charge of everybody, making sure everyone is safe and manning their positions. But with you, he needs to remind himself you are not going to war but just out with your friends, out grocery shopping, out to the library or somewhere. The thought of losing you drives him insane. He could never forgive himself if it happened when he could be by your side instead.

It goes without saying though that Simon prefers the comfort of his home to just about any other place. Clubs give him anxiety and the loud music triggers his PTSD, bars and restaurants are okay here and there but there is no place like home.

He does enjoy hiking and walking with you though.

Simon is romantic by heart so picnics in the nature would be his go-to dates. A bottle of wine, cheese and olives, a blanket in a spot with a view... You'd trace his features gently with the tip of your finger; the curve of his nose, his lips where he'd take your hand in his and kissed it softly as you would lay together in a secluded spot somewhere.

Bonus: when you decide to go home, Simon would never let you help carry any of the things he'd brought. Maybe the blanket but everything else, he'd pile up in his massive arms and carry them all the way home while barely seeing over the heap.

When it comes to sex, Simon would be just as reserved as with taking off his mask in the beginning. He would need much assurance from you that you really wanted to be with him intimately before trying anything.

Contrary to popular belief, Simon would never do anything that could even remotely hurt you when you had sex (or otherwise). On the one hand, he is well aware of his size and strength, and on the other, it is his childhood trauma that keeps him from trying anything that could potentially hurt you (even choking, spanking, etc. is not something he is comfortable with) even if you'd ask him to experiment.

Simon has seen, felt and inflicted too much violence in his life to have it included in his love life as well. All he wants to do is make you feel safe and loved especially when you have sex because this is one of the ways he expresses his love to you.

His sex drive is not that high but when you do have sex, he likes to make it special and intimate. Simon is very serious about it and wants you to enjoy yourself more than anything. To be honest, just seeing you climax causes him do the same.

He enjoys going down on your very much; the intimacy, the softness of your moans, his arms locked around your thighs when his fingers are not intertwined with yours.

Simon's favourite part though is the aftercare. He loves cuddling with you. Physical touch is yet another of his love languages although he was very reserved in the beginning of the relationship.

He is the big spoon the majority of time but sometimes (his favourite) Simon lays his head on your chest, wraps his arms around your waist and lets you play with his hair. He can fall asleep almost instantly.

It cannot be stressed enough that Simon never ever EVER raises his voice at you. Even when you are having an argument (which is not often), he never yells much less gets violent in any way.

He is a great listener and despite not saying much a lot of the time, Simon communicates well although he struggles very much to word his feelings.

After an argument or just for no particular occasion at all, Simon gets you flowers (a lot) - and different kinds every time. Another way for Simon to apologize is to cook for you. He is not very good at it but it is the effort that counts.

When he is away on a mission, Simon calls you a lot just to hear your voice, especially when he is too stressed to fall asleep. Your voice calms him down and help him get some rest but also reassures him you are alright whilst he is not there to keep you safe.

Simon likes to listen about your day, your feelings and your ideas. It keeps his mind far away from dark places. But every now and again, he would trust you with a fragment of his memories when his thoughts are just too loud. You know how precious and how rare it is that Simon opens up to you.

You don't say anything when he talks about his memories and his family but you always hold his hand, brushing your thumb across his calloused knuckles or drawing gentle shapes against his broad back.

You pepper his skin with soft kisses when his voice quietens and lead his head to rest against your chest as you pet his hair.

He likes to listen to you sing too, even if your voice is not the greatest. Even just humming a random melody and feeling your chest vibrate softly beneath his cheek will ease his heart.

Random bonus: Simon drinks English breakfast, no cream and one cube of sugar and has an occasional cigarette with it (Marlboro).

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 12.

Summary: Reuniting with Venetia was always an interesting experience. Many people - everyone else who lives at Saltburn included - wonder why you put up with the way she speaks to you, the way she treats you. You wonder how they can't see that it's so much more than that.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: suggestive themes, implied pseudo-incest, nonsexual intimacy with Venetia but no smut

A/N: 3644 words. i know i said there's be ollie this chapter, but i needed to set up a few more things around the house; specifically venetia and what her whole deal is with the reader. i love her, she breaks my entire heart. i know i should have edited this one but oh well, here, eat up friends.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Never once has Venetia been gentle with the way she speaks to you; she is sharp lines and bitter tongues and laughs and moans that edge on jagged. Nothing about her seems capable of regarding you, or sometimes even treating you, with gentleness, yet she demands it from you in everything you do.

She picks you apart the moment she sees you again, like nails over every inch of your being she pries apart who you've become in her absence, but ends it all by telling you that you're still frustratingly attractive.

"Thought that would change."

"Do you think that every time?"

"Prepare for the worst and hope for the best," she sighs with a wry smile.

"My potential descent into unattractiveness is... hope?"

"Preparing, obviously; I'm very fond of you, I don't hope you get ugly," obviously, says her eye roll. Its a compliment, says her eye roll.

Still, you know Venetia well enough, know her bitter tongue belies a sweetness she could never speak out loud.

All you'd come down in is your bathers, and an old, large button down that Felix liked to swan around the house in. Which Venetia insists you leave on, lest you get yourself burnt, though you roll your eyes and shrug it off anyways, draping it over the parasol-protected banana lounge that Venetia had claimed with her towel. Venetia herself looks like something out of countless fantasies, and even more Summer magazine centre folds, the sequins of her silver bikini shining in the sunlight.

Venetia is a shiny, pretty thing, eye catching; large sunglasses and shiny lip gloss and a body that glows and shines with what you hope is sunscreen but know is just moisturiser and tanning oil. Untouched by anything but the sun and herself on this searing afternoon, wanting and waiting for her entertainment, for you.

Venetia's gentleness lives and dies in her desires, in the way she wants. Her needs, her demands are always met, but her wants she'll never be able to put to words. So you learned to figure her out for yourself; if she loves you for it, she'll never say it out loud.

Wading into the water, towards the floating chair she's so elegantly draped herself across, you keep your hands above the water's surface, keep them dry as you reach her. With every step her smile grows wider, and you place your hand on her ankle, hand gliding up her warm leg in casual greeting. Calf, knee, thigh, soft and warm and dry, and your hand comes to rest on her belly, your fingers splayed out, cooler than her sun-soaked skin, and she giggles. The anticipation makes her giddy. Her hand comes to rest on yours, though never to take your hand; she wants to be touched more than she wants to hold, that's why when she shifts carefully on her buoyant seat, she makes sure that it's not so drastic that you'd have to move your hand from her skin.

"You kept me waiting," already there's a hint of faux disapproval on her tongue when she greets you properly, or as properly as you were going to get from her. Instead of dignifying that with a real response, you roll your eyes, and lean in to kiss her on the cheek. Giving a huff at your non-answer, she does however take your face in her free hand before you can pull away, giving you a kiss on the cheek in response.

"Hello to you too, Ven," you half laugh, but she's still holding your face, holding you close, for longer than was necessary. Letting you go, she lifts her glasses with that same hand to finally get a proper look at you. A strange, accusatory glimmer there amongst the mirth and mischief.

"I thought you kept me waiting because you were freshening up," it almost sounds betrayed, settling the glasses on top of her head. How could she have known that kind of thing? Why would she care if you hadn't?

"Didn't think it would matter; I was getting in the pool anyways," you pointed out as nonchalantly as possible, but she just reiterated that you'd kept her waiting, like it was the end of the world. Something about her suddenly intrigued gaze had you growing flustered, wondering what it was about you that had her so incensed.

In the next instance, she's slid from her seat and into the water beside you without hesitation. There's now something determined in her eyes when she takes your face in both hands, kissing you. Venetia has always been direct, has always taken for granted that you'd bend to her whims in most instances. Like this one. Your arms wind around her as if on instinct. There's nothing sweet about it, nipping at your lips insistently, tongue in your mouth -

"Oh my god," she pulls back, eyes wide with what you're pretty sure is disbelief, like she's come to an urgent realisation.

"It's so good to be home; how have you been lately?" You ask breathlessly, deeply confused about her attitude and trying to give her a hint that even for her this is a strange greeting. But then her lips are on yours again, pulling you in, all teeth and tongues and gasping furiously into your mouth. Somewhere in all of this, you pull her close, hands beneath her thighs and letting her wrap her legs around you under the water.

"It hasn't even been an hour!" She cries this time when she pulls back from you, looking almost like she's on the verge of laughter or perhaps screaming, "wash your mouth out! What is wrong with you?" Despite the fact that she'd just given you the kind of kiss that would put Hollywood to shame. Twice.

"Not drinking chlorine for you, Ven," you tell her, amused, while still holding her secure against you. Displeased with your answer, she pushes away from your chest with both hands, and you let her go, let her splash you as she makes a face.

"Don't drink it, christ," she rolls her eyes, as if she believes you're being wilfully stupid about the whole thing.

"Then I'll just taste like chlorine," you pointed out, wading over to her. The answering smile you get is particularly mean.

"I'd rather you taste like chlorine than Felix," despite all the questions and implications her disdainful words raise, you match her energy, smiling back with a blithe confidence as you approach her once more.

"You sure you mean that, Vennie?"

Immediately, Venetia is scarlet, spluttering, playing exceptionally well at being horrified by your implications, if not for the ease with which she lets herself get wrapped up in you once more.

"You're gross, you're awfully gross, you both are. I can't believe -" she tells you, looks in your eyes like she's determined to make you believe it, "I'll wash your mouth out myself," she threatens, and you nod while not trying particularly hard to hide your amusement. With a childlike scowl she dips herself mostly underwater, still encircled loosely by your arms, scowling at you all the while. Like a little, blonde crocodile, nose and eyes making sure you're watching her every move, taking her and her threat seriously.

When she surfaces, cheeks puffed out and presumably filled with water, you have to let her go for how hard your laughing. Then the chase is on.

The first mouthful of water she loses to her own laughter, and shouting at you to stop trying to get away, while you thrash through the length of the pool. Every so often she almost catches you, but you splash her and wriggle free and she shrieks with faux offense. Until she's got you pinned to the side of the pool, water just up past your waist, and a devilish look of triumph in her eyes.

At first she taps her lips expectantly. Of course her mouth is once again full to bursting with pool water. Shaking your head adamantly, you try and lean away, still faintly laughing, but Venetia changes tact.

Instead of caging you against the side, she carefully wraps her arms around your neck, gaze turning soft and fond and amused as she leans in. You know what she's doing, but you let her have it this time.

Winding your arms around her waist, you let her shotgun a mouthful of pool water into your mouth, and try not to laugh to keep it from going down your airways or up your nose. Venetia, in triumph, the moment she knows the water is in your mouth, she pulls back and clamps her hand over your mouth, looking altogether too proud of herself.

Drenched, beautiful, and grinning from ear to ear, the look in her eyes betrays just how into you, or at the very least into this moment, she is.

"Wash your mouth out before you come anywhere near me next time," she orders in a firm whisper that's definitely doing more for you than you'd like to admit. Possibly for Venetia too, considering how she's unable to wipe the smile off of her own face, "you filthy, little doggie."

No-one, maybe not even Felix, is ever allowed to find out how quickly those words have you all but melting at her command. The fight drains from you, and God all you want is to be good, good, good. Judging by Venetia's pleased reaction, she can feel the moment you start to submit, can probably see it in your eyes. Her hand stays over your mouth until she's satisfied you've swished the water around enough, and you spit the water back out to the side, instead of at her like you'd been intending to before she'd called you out.

"Can't believe you said that to me, really, Y/N," she sighed, shaking her head. Neither of you moved; you flush against the side of the pool, and Venetia pressed flush to you.

"So you're the only one who can say things in the hopes of getting manhandled?" Giving a sheepish grin, even if you don't fully believe what you're saying, there's a semblance of self-satisfaction when Venetia gives in. She grabs your chin and pulls you in for one more rough kiss, pressing against you, trapping you in this moment. A rare instance in which she gives you what she thinks you want.

But some of your bite is coming back.

"So does the chlorine taste better?" You smirked. Immediately she splashes you with a wave of water to the face. By the time you've spluttered through a recovery, she's halfway to the stairs.

"I hate you," is not a real answer to the question, but that's okay, you weren't really looking for one as much as you had been looking to rile her up, "and you've made me all wet - shut it -" she warns, cutting off the crude joke you both knew you were about to make, as she starts up the pool stairs with determination, "and you've ruined my beautiful afternoon plans."

Waiting at the top of the stairs, she turns back to you, simply watching her with a grin, giving you an impatient gesture. Your smile widens, but still, you obligingly follow her.

Even while mad at you, Venetia was a creature of predictable desires. Very rarely did her frustration with you outweigh the benefit of your company to her, and now was no different. Drying yourselves off with her towel, the only one either of you had brought down, it seems her mood is already lightening once more, letting you know that she'd gotten her hands on the latest Harry Potter novel. When she pulls the book out from where she'd stashed it under the long lounge, she picks up Felix's shirt and tosses it to you.

You know to put it on, just like you know not to comment on it.

Without asking, nor having to be asked, you settle yourself on the lounge chair and insistently pat the space beside you; almost enough for Venetia.

"Let me read over your shoulder," an incredibly flimsy excuse that you both see through, but she still settles herself on the lounge chair too. There's not quite enough room, so you're almost on your side, arm around Venetia's shoulders, head resting against hers, pressed up against her whole side. Legs curled up together, your other hand once more comes to rest on her lower belly, casually intimate, warm, tips of your fingers just barely tucked into her bikini bottoms. You're not reading; your face pressed so close to her's is proof enough of that.

"Your eyelashes are tickling my cheek," in these moments she sounds so much younger than she is. The peel of laughter that rings out from her as you nuzzle your face further against her cheek, pointedly fluttering your eyelashes, it reminds you of the way she'd laugh at the sleepovers the two of you shared in the first few years of meeting each other.

And you settle back down, angling your face only slightly to keep your lashes from bothering her, and rub faint circles against the soft skin of her stomach with your thumb. Venetia opens her book, and finally relaxes.

It's been a long time since you'd seen Venetia fully relax around anyone who wasn't you. You wonder if anyone else has noticed, has wondered, has thought to figure out the how and why of the girl beside you. Contrary to popular belief, it's been a long time since Venetia's actually sought you out for sex. Constant lewd flirting and suggestive texts aside.

So much of Venetia's self worth was tied to being sexually attractive. Pretty and fashionable and fuckable. Needed biblically, carnally. Pick up, use, put down. There was such a thrill in being wanted that it took her too long to understand why she was hollow; don't let me go felt selfish for her to even think. But you'd learned to read through the things she leaves unsaid.

Sex she could get anywhere, but the touch-starved Venetia knew you understood the truth of what she wants. It's why she treated you like furniture, like she was entitled to your personal space.

You often find yourself wondering if Venetia only touches you in ways she wishes she could touch Felix. More casually than even now, and many still would consider their relationship too close. You are kind and loving and playful and a wonderful friend, but you are nothing of real substance to her; you are a warm body and the closest she can be to Felix half the time.

For anyone else it would be too hot for this kind of proximity, but never for Venetia. So you drown in the heat of her skin pressed against hers, and let yourself drift asleep in the peaceful afternoon.

It's a sleep so peaceful that you don't even properly wake when her soft chatter infects your hazy mind. Farleigh's voice drifts through your head and this haze -

"- no-one tells me anything," you can hear Venetia pouting without even opening your eyes. Her book must be closed because she's got a hand on your thigh, bringing your leg further over her.

"Of course they don't, you should have seen both of them earlier when I accidentally implied -"

"Careful, Farleigh," you yawned, carefully snuggling further against Venetia. The pair are quiet for a few long seconds, but your eyes remained closed.

"See what I mean?" Farleigh eventually breaks the rather tense silence with a wry, pointed comment.

"Can't believe you didn't tell me we were having a guest," Venetia sounds like she's sulking, but you just make a noncommittal hum in the back of your throat, "feeling possessive of our impending Mister Quick, are you, pet?" And you feel her fingers gentle on your cheek, taking your face in her hand and lifting you to look her in the eyes. Cracking your eyes open, you level a flat gaze at her. Also, you realise how long you must have been sleeping; it's sunset.

"Simply giving you space to form your own opinions of him, Ven," you told her, gaze sliding pointedly to Farleigh, who had splayed himself out on the opposing lounge chair. He stuck his tongue out at you.

"I'm a big girl, pet; I just want to know what you think, what I should expect."

God, the Catton siblings are phenomenal at playing innocent in a way that's completely and utterly unconvincing.

Venetia's still holding your face close, gaze sharp and demanding an answer. Maybe you should untangle yourself from her, from this conversation, but something about being around her always made you want to play along, even if out of spite.

"I think it doesn't matter what I say," you tell her softly, speaking with an honesty you don't often allow yourself around most of the Cattons, or even Farleigh, "nor do I think it matters what Farleigh says, no matter how cruel he is about Ollie," everything about your tone, your expression, the way your grip on her retracts as much as you're able, it comes as a surprise to her, and judging by your peripheries, Farleigh too, "you're going to want him, adore him; Oliver is unconventionally wonderful, and you are Venetia Catton."

"The actual fuck do you mean by that?" She pulls away, struggling to her feet with a scowl, and you relax fully into the spot she'd just abandoned. By this time you smile up at her, warm, adoring.

"I mean it is in your nature to love," it's not entirely a lie, but Venetia only sees the truth in it, the fondness. Her irritation softens, "I mean no opinion will ever matter above yours, and I know you, Ven; you're hardwired into your own brand of love at first sight." It's an incredibly, meticulously diplomatic cover for your earlier, far harsher statement. Farleigh's watching you like you're a magician before his very eyes; Venetia, thankfully, doesn't look at him.

Sitting back down gingerly on the edge of the lounge, she gives into your sweet words when you softly tell her you love her. She doesn't say it back - she never will - but she kisses you on the forehead before standing again.

"Almost thought you were being a bitch again," she tells you loftily, wrapping her towel around her waist like a skirt, cocking her hip, "and I've about had it up to here with you and your -"

"Yapping?" You supplied, playing up the canine allegations just to see the way she fails the hide the quirk of her lips, the dead give away that she's desperate to smile.

"Yapping, exactly." And she turns swiftly on her heel, trying her best to storm away. When you call out that you'll see her at dinner, she flips you off. If you look to Farleigh, you think you might be able to see the cogs turning in his mind. Slowly, his mouth opens, then there's a distinct look in his eyes that says he thinks better about whatever he was going to say, and he closes it once more.

"Spit it out."

"I actually don't think I will," at least he admits it, "I think I'm in awe of your way with words and I'm gonna keep the rest to myself," he looks out at the pool, at the grounds beyond it, tucking his hands behind his head.

"Farleigh -"

"No," he says firmer, and looks at you, but his expression isn't harsh, "I think you're right; I think we should have our own opinions, and I don't want mine to get in the way of our friendship," surprisingly, he sounds very genuinely sincere; it hits the centre of your chest, and you take a moment to consider his words. "Oliver Quick," still the barest bit of disdain, but he's clearly trying, "is someone you and my cousin clearly care about; end. Of. Sentence." It does look like it pains him to say, but you're grateful nonetheless.

For a very long time, the two of you lay in comfortable silence, side by side, as the sun turn the world gold-red-lilac-blue around you. Just as you feel like you should go and get dressed for supper, you can't help but try again.

"Come on, what were you going to say -?" You don't even finish the teasing question before Farleigh blurts out -

"Just how good was Oliver's dick for you to actually be this possessive of him before he even gets here?"

And the question makes you absolutely burst out laughing, a sound which Farleigh thankfully echoes. The cathartic release is greatly welcomed as you both stand. Wrapping your arm around Farleigh's waist as the two of you head back, but he's still waiting for the answer he knows you're not nearly too shy to give.

"I'm not possessive," you justify immediately, though Farleigh's snort gives away that he doesn't even begin to believe you, "but you can never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever tell Venetia -"

"That good?" Farleigh sounds incredibly sceptical, but you go quiet; you wonder if he can tell how smug you're being right now. Clearly, after a moment of silence, the disbelief in his voice gives him away; "seriously; that good?" You make an affirmative noise in the back of your throat, "okay," Farleigh actually sounds a little impressed, "Felix's jealousy makes a little more sense; I assume he knows?"

"Of course he knows," you shake your head dismissively, "and he's not jealous," anymore, you leave off the end.

"Am I jealous of you?" Farleigh murmurs, mostly as a joke, but knowing him there's at least part of him considering it, "who would have guessed; Oliver Quick."

For the first time when Farleigh says his name, there's only intrigue on his tongue.

[willsimpforanyone]

Do you think you could do a leo valdez smut? Where the reader is more introverted and quiet outside in day to day stuff but gets really flirty in bed or and alone with Leo

i can absolutely do that for u <3

obv everyone is an adult! they get given wine! they have an apartment! u think anyone under the age of 25 can afford their own flat rn?

---------------------------------------

I smile softly as Leo's friends laugh loudly. His hand rests on my thigh and I lean my head on his shoulder, content to just listen to the conversation for now.

It was nice having people round now that we'd officially moved into our apartment, various friends bringing wine and sweet treats that Leo and I got to indulge in once everyone had gone.

Leo turns his head, lips just touching my ear. "You alright, baby?"

I nod, hand reaching for his on my thigh and squeezing it. "Yeah, I'm good." Satisfied, Leo presses a quick kiss to my cheek and returned to the conversation at hand.

After another hour or so, it was decided that people should leave- it was late, the sun just setting and goodbyes were said. I stay back, waving and accepting hugs as they were given to me, but otherwise letting Leo deal with corralling people out our door.

The lock clicks shut, and he breathes a sigh of relief, resting his forehead against the door. "I love mis amigos, I do but holy shit." He turns, tired eyes and tired smile meeting mine. "They sure are loud, huh?"

I laugh, wandering over to him and wrapping my arms around his waist. "You're loud too, y'know."

He slips his hands behind my back, pulling me closer and pressing a kiss to my nose. "Well, yeah, but I'm cute, so."

"Very much so." I wink at him, enjoying the light dust of red that settled on his nose at the gesture. "Kinda hot too, I guess."

Leo gasps, offended. "'Kinda hot'? Excuse you, I'm gorgeous!" He wriggles out of my grip, stalking across the room in a dramatic fashion to the bedroom door. Eyes flashing, he whips his head back to look at me. "You should think yourself lucky!" And he waltzs into the bedroom, leaving the door open.

I laugh, walking to where he'd disappeared. He's sat on the bed, arms folded, muttering something about 'kinda hot' and 'outrageous'. Rolling my eyes fondly, I pad over to him, pulling at his crossed arms until he gave in, failing to hide a grin.

"Fine, okay? You're gorgeous." I lean down to press a kiss to his cheek. "And handsome." Kiss to his other cheek. "And hot." Kiss to his nose. "And so, incredibly, unbelievably sexy." I catch his lips in a kiss, my hands coming up to cradle his head. His eyes slip shut and he hums against my lips.

I pull back to see him properly, a slightly glazed look coming over his face and a dopey smile contrasting my sharper smirk. "Aww, aren't you pretty? I get all you attention now, don't I, baby?"

Leo nods before he even registers the question and I squeeze his cheeks together. It barely takes a hand against his chest to get him to lay down on the bed, the air punched out of his lungs at the force. I climb on top of him, eyes narrow and predatory.

Before he can say anything, I dive down into the junction between his neck and shoulder, licking a stripe up his skin. His breath catches in his throat and I bite down very lightly. His hands fly to my hips, fingers tangling in the fabric of my tshirt.

"I swear," he whispers. "No one would ever believe me if I told them what you were really like."

I give him a curious hum, hands slowly holding his and guiding them above his head.

Leo groans as he pinned, my lips still attached to his neck. "You're so... quiet, inside yourself when we're around people." I feel him clear his throat. "W-why is that?"

I pull back, looking a little thoughtful. Leo's hands, now free as I rest mine on my thighs, return to holding my hips. "I mean, I'm introverted, I guess. Not good with large groups of people, no matter how nice they might be." I smirk down at him, settling into his lap a little further and drawing a whine from my boyfriend. "And anyway, right now I'd rather have something else inside me."

Leo actively chokes on air, eyes wide. "H-holy shit, see? This is what I mean!" He sits up, fingers pulling at the jeans I'm wearing. "You're a deceptive thing, intent on making me die."

"Lies." I lean back over him, grinding my hips down as Leo swears in Spanish. "Lies and slander, I tell you."

I don't even give him enough time to reply, undoing his jeans and slipping my hand over his cock. His eyes widened and his grip on my hips tightened. "O-okay, fuck..."

I hop off of him, beginning to strip. "Everything off, Valdez, now."

He nearly fell off the bed with how quickly he pulled his jeans off, head briefly getting stuck in his tshirt. I laugh and help him out of it, then made quick work of my underwear.

Leo's eyes were darting over me, absorbing my body. His hands reached out, smoothing over my stomach and round my back to pull me to him again. "How... how are you so gorgeous? I don't understand..." His voice is breathy and I shrug, electing not to answer but instead reach down and slide my fingers through my folds.

My hand comes back shiny and wet, and I tap two fingers against Leo's mouth. He obediently taked them into his mouth, cleaning them. He looks so fucking pretty, dark curly hair dusting over tanned skin and slender arms wrapping around me.

"Ready?"

He nods frantically, shifting back as I straddle his legs. "Nope, words, baby."

Leo swallows, blinking and trying to focus. "Y-yes, green, verde, very much yes!"

I don't bother supressing a laugh, grasping his cock and jerking it quickly, pulling him to full hardness as he gasps and his hips twitch under my touch. I waste no more time, hissing through my teeth as I push down, the slight sting of being filled making me dig my nails into Leo's chest.

He almost stops breathing as soon as I'm sat in his lap, his dick fully inside me and I can feel his stomach muscles tensing with restraint under me. I breathe out, adjusting to the feeling, rocking very slightly back and forth. Leo swallows, eyelashes fluttering as he looks up at me.

"Y-you're gonna kill me, but at this point? I really don't care."

I merely grin, settling my hands on his chest before I began to ride him in earnest. I wrench moans and whimpers from his lips, my nails carving crescent moons into his flesh and his fingers bruising my hips from how tightly he was holding them.

Leo's hips push up into me as best he can, rhythm steady at first, then becoming more sporadic as he chases his end, eyes squeezed shut.

"Forget what they'd think of me, what would your friends think of you, baby?" I tease, a wicked smirk settling on my lips as Leo throws his head back and slurs something in Spanish.

"C-close, so close, fu-uck...!" He groans out, snapping his hips into me. I nearly fall, catching myself with my arms either side of his head. My lips caress his cheek, leading to his ear.

"You don't get to come before I do, understand?"

He nods, whining out a 'yes' and one of his hands leaves my hips, instead locating my clit and applying circular pressure that knocks the wind out of me. I clutch at the bedsheets, the combination of his cock hitting deep inside me and his thumb sending me spiralling into pleasure, my orgasm slamming into me like a wave.

By this point, Leo knows my body so well he can tell the exact moment I come, taking that as permission so he can follow suit. It only takes a few more seconds before he's gasping, crying out my name and holding me flush against him.

We breathe in time, and I feel his heartrate slowly regulate. I press kisses onto any piece of skin I can reach without moving, silently loving him. He strokes my back, seemingly content for me to just lie on him until we can both be bothered to move.

"So. Did I kill you?"

Leo laughs breathlessly. "Yes, you did, you're awful, now don't ever move away, ever."

------------------------------------

this legit took me hours bc my brain did NOT want to play nicely but i hope you enjoyed it! thank you for requesting!

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I know you don't like discussing the muses but i love your takes and perspectives and i had to ask you about this. after listening to ttpd, did you have the impression that she really loved matty more than any of her exes/previous relationships?. And listening to the whole album as a whole would you call it the ''matty album'' or do you think there are more prominent themes in there than their period together?. (hope this doesn't bother you, feel free to delete if you don't feel like answering it)

hey anon! You're right, I don't really like to get into the muses as I don't really think there's anything to add to the conversation at this point, and ultimately I don't think it matters.

That being said, and with the caveat that I am not Taylor and I do not know Taylor so I cannot speak to her thoughts and can only make relatively educated guesses based on being an avid consumer of her work and a student of the human condition (lol), no I do not think Taylor loved Matty more than anyone else. I think there was maybe a brief period in the thick of things where she *thought* she did because she was not thinking clearly and was in full-on denial, but to me the message that is loud and clear in the album (and more or less explicitly stated in the epilogue) is that it was not any kind of real love affair. It was certainly infatuation and lust and the promise of something more, and there may have been some love as well, but he was in no way the love of her life by any measure.

I would call it a "Matty album" insofar as they're about events in which he was present, sure. But I feel it much more as a Taylor album, if that makes sense, even though I know that's a cop out because every album is to a degree. I can't explain it well, but I don't see TTPD as a Matty (or Joe) album in the way that I would maybe say Red is a "Jake" album or 1989 may be a "Harry" album or even Lover being a "Joe" album whatever, because even if they don't figure in all the songs, that kind of heartbreak permeates so much of the material.

The thing about TTPD and the Matty situation is that the Matty situation is really a Joe situation (which in some ways is actually partially a Jake situation). I always say I hate treating Taylor like a character so I hate speaking about her and her work in this way, but you don't get the Matty situation without the Joe situation precipitating it. It's @taylortruther's now-infamous donut vs. hole analogy. The reason Taylor makes the choices she does with Matty is directly tied to what happened with Joe that made her feel she needed to. Which is not to say Taylor isn't responsible for her own actions or doesn't have agency in her own life, but I mean it in that the situation in which she found herself with Joe, and the pain it caused, is what made the alternative so comforting and perhaps even necessary in her mind. It's why it makes it so hard to "paternity test" the album, because the stories are inherently intertwined and you don't get the former without the latter.

The major "theme" of the album to me is the loss of a very specific, very personal dream, and the way in which she lost it, and the way in which grieving that loss drove her to make the choices she did. We're all talking very delicately about it because it's a sensitive topic, but it's late on Friday and few people are going to see this, so I'm going to say it: it's the give you my wild, give you a child of it all. The yearning she expresses both overtly and sub-textually for having a family in the album is palpable in a very iykyk kind of way, and it's the realization that those plans are not going to come to fruition in the way she had once imagined that drives a lot of the pain she experiences, and makes her jump at the chance to find that again with someone else.

I started a draft post about the theme of womanhood and motherhood on TTPD three months ago that I never finished because I ran out of time and ran out of steam, but it was the most striking thing to me on the album, not because I didn't know that she wanted those things because that's been obvious for years (definitely since Lover, and again, peace put it all on the table), but because the vulnerability she expressed about it on the album is incredibly moving, and it's so generous of her to trust listeners with those feelings and experiences.

Again, it's the thirtysomething of it all.

She is in relationship A which she at one point believes is forever, one which she at one point believes is going to lead to marriage and children. She is so committed to that dream that she either ignores or tries to fix serious issues that may otherwise lead others to think the two people in the relationship are incompatible, both because she loves the person deeply and because she feels that this is meant to be the way she achieves that dream. She gives it her everything, and it still dies a slow, painful, onerous death, and she feels like it may take her along with it. The dream of getting married and presumably having a family gets taken off the table: how we don't know and will likely never know because that is private between the parties involved. All that matters in the context of the album is that those plans never come to fruition and never would.

Then you have relationship B, an old flame who knows just enough buttons to push both to trigger and to flatter. A person who she presumably trusts with very sensitive, personal information as her life slowly crumbles, and this person is telling her all the things she wants to hear because he knows about what is happening in relationship A because she's told him. Person in relationship B doesn't get an "in" with her and sell her this dream unless what happens in relationship A precedes it. It's not a grand love affair for the ages, it's not a mutual decision on building their own dream together. It's Person B learning about what is happening with Person A and saying "I can do that!" even if he can't or doesn't. The dream he sells her is a rental car; it's not his own, he's just borrowing it from someone else and selling it back to her.

And the reason she falls for it is because it is what she aches for the most in her personal life, and she is grappling with it disintegrating, so she (unfortunately for her) falls for the easy way out, and in turn sells herself a story about how this must be fated, and this must be meant to be, because this person wants all the same things she does and she didn't even have to bargain for it! Well, yes, because she fed him the dream in the first place. (Like a mark falling for a sleeper cell spy.) It's too good to be true because it isn't true. IMO Person B doesn't come running out of the gate with the marriage/baby/dream life promises unless he knows that is what she most desires. But what's left unsaid out of all of it is that: those dreams were her dreams because they were her dreams with Person A. It was a whole life they had together, and a whole life they had planned for in some fashion, and a whole life that has to be dismantled in the aftermath.

So all this to say, yes, on the surface, Matty is a "main character" on the album, but truly he's a side character to Taylor as the narrator and person experiencing it and Joe as the ghost bit-player-who-haunts-every-scene. (Again, I hate referring to real people as characters, it gives me the absolute ick, but in this case it's the only way to answer the question.) I jokingly call it the Matty album for shorthand or when I want to say something out of pocket, but really, it's a disservice to the album to say that because it's not a muse album as in it's about the romance (like, say, Red often is), it's about a soul-crushing heartbreak that goes beyond it. The romance is the symptom, not the cause.

The loss of youth is tied in with all this: she's not 22 anymore. She isn't even 32 anymore. She had a very specific idea of what her life was going to look like at this point and had planned for that life, and it goes up in smoke. But again, to bring the womanhood into it all: there is, unfortunately, a deadline for these things. You're with someone for over half a decade you think is going to be your life partner and father of your children and and then he's not. You spent half a decade building this relationship for it to crumble, but now you're in your mid-30s and you don't necessarily have another half-decade to build that trust and faith in someone else before being ready to start a family. And maybe you're scared that anyone else who may become your partner will need that much time to build that trust and faith, because that's kind of all you've ever know in relationships. But lo and behold, someone comes into your life you once had feelings for and maybe now do again and is offering you everything you want and thought you'd have by this point in your life right now. It feels like an elixir that as we find out is actually poison.

That youth is not just the chance for motherhood, but it's also the hopes and idealism and belief in the future that often gradually erodes as we age. But for Taylor as well, it's also tied into the trauma of what she went through particularly in 2016, which kicks off a lot of things on the album as well (her retreat, her relationship with Joe, the pivoting in her career, etc.). That event caused a pretty clear before/after in her life (like a few other events, I suspect), and another major theme in the album is her finally grappling with the full weight of that. They're all different branches of the same tree of the story of TTPD and her life.

I could talk about this stuff forever, but I'm going to stop here because it's long enough and I should save stuff for one of the dozens of drafts I have half-baked lol. But this is just something I needed to get off my chest perhaps.