#i might just be sleep deprived

[creativeimagination206]

I’m currently obsessed with both The Goes Wrong Show and Sweeney Todd.

Which is wonderful because we love ✨inspiration✨ but also disastrous because

now all I can think about is Chris trying to put on Sweeney Todd because they’re miraculously being given a longer time slot and Sweeney Todd is a Classic (honestly, he’d probably do a deep dive to get the original play script and not the musical, cause lord knows he wouldn’t want to stage an entire musical).

And now I’m just trapped in this question of who would be cast as what characters and what disasters would happen. Like, obviously Chris would be Sweeney, and I could see him casting Robert as the judge. And probably Sandra as Johanna (and consequently Max as Anthony). And I have no doubt that whatever staging is done for Sweeney’s special barber chair (I haven’t actually seen the play live) would go horribly wrong in every conceivable way.

If I had more time and ambition I’d consider writing a fic about it (but it would be my first Goes Wrong doc and it would probably… /go wrong/) I just… can’t stop thinking about it now.

[phoebepheebsphibs]

It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen the sunrise…

…It will still be beautiful.

[random-weirdo]

Guys, be honest, is it weird to cry over cartoon ducks because they found a father figure? Yes? Oh. Okay.

[cr0w-28]

I'm a cryptid but not in a 2020 tiktok cringe way

Not even in a cute fanart way

Something is deeply wrong with me to the point that I shouldn't exist

[themoonstonechronicler]

ugh. made it through the day. time for tomorrow

yippee

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

I absolutely rushed to draw this as soon as I saw this post by the lovely @rosekasa

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I CAN'T CLOSE MY EYES ALONE ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; arguing with satoru is always exhausting. bitter and spiteful, you leave him in the bedroom and go find another place to sleep; your couch would be the obvious choice, but where’s the fun in that?

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, f!reader (he calls you ’stubborn girl’ n ’pretty girl’ but other than that it’s gn!!), toru and reader have a fight, reader sleeps in the bathtub (don’t ask it came to me in a vision), hurt/comfort, he's doing his best :<, fluff!!

a/n; smth abt …. arguing w satoru gojo ……. idk why the concept has possessed me in the way that it has i just think hurt/comfort w toru is <33

okay, so maybe this wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had.

in your defense, you weren’t exactly thinking straight; fueled by spite, eager to get far away, and admittedly a little curious as to how it would feel, the decision was made almost purely on impulse. and stupidity, probably.

it’s not comfortable at all.

maybe it could be. maybe if you had just a couple more pillows, a fluffier blanket with a cozier texture. maybe if you had something soft to put beneath you, another blanket or a comforter or — whatever. maybe if you had a warm cup of tea to drink. maybe if you had something warm to hug to sleep. 

or someone.

(aw, what’s wrong? can’t sleep without me after all, huh?)

— nope. you are not going back there. 

just the thought of how smug he’d get makes you bite the inside of your cheek, increasing your already growing frustrations. in desperate search of a more comfortable position, you nuzzle further into the pillow, but nothing works.

your limbs feel stiff, and your bones can’t seem to relax, a discomforting numbness seeping into your spine. and it’s cold. the feeling of porcelain against your skin keeps you tossing and turning, akin to an icy winter breeze, caressing the apple of your cheek. 

still, there’s simply no other option. under absolutely no circumstances can you turn back now. not when you’ve come this far, when you can almost begin to sense an inkling of sleep’s familiar call, the drowsy flutter of your eyelashes.

it takes time, and perseverance — but eventually, the road to sleep does seem to brighten on the horizon. crawling closer and closer, lulling you into its embrace, while all you can do is lie there. completely at its mercy, exhaustion ghosting your subconscious, eyelids ripe with fatigue. 

slowly but surely, your consciousness begins to fade. tenderly, soothingly, like a curtain over your eyes being slowly unveiled. you can almost taste it, on the tip of your tongue; sleep is only a moment away.

soon, you’ll fall into that cozy abyss. and then you’ll open your eyes, and the morning sun will greet you. it’ll be a new day, a better day.

so you keep your eyes closed, and sink a little further into the plush of your pillow, and —

the light flickers on.

in the state you’re in, tiptoeing on the edge between dreams and reality, so tantalizingly close to falling asleep, the brightness is positively grating. even through your shut eyes, it invades your senses — a glow so irritating it’s startling. the bathroom lights mock you with their shine, illuminating your figure, curled up in the tiny bathtub. 

the whine you let out is involuntary, coaxed out from deep within your throat, as the uncomfortable sensation rouses you from your would-be slumber.

satoru raises an unimpressed eyebrow, where he stands by the door.

chest bare, wearing only a flimsy pair of sleeping shorts, he looks at you with tired eyes. exasperation painted onto his dishevelled features. then he clicks his tongue, voice raspy and rich with fatigue.

”you’re ridiculous.”

the judgemental tilt of his voice only makes the annoyance in your veins bubble up once more, just when it was finally about to dwindle. eyes squeezed shut to escape the burn of the artificial light, you let out a sharp wince, burrowing your face deeper into the pillow. 

”turn it off!”

ignoring your angry plea, satoru makes his way over to you. with long, slow strides, vaguely uncoordinated steps. just a little clumsy. he plops down on the edge of the bathtub, and gazes down at you.

you’re lying on your side, arms wrapped around a fluffy cushion, knees against your chest. under the illumination of the bathroom lights, he can see you clearly; messy hair that he yearns to ruffle, a crease between your brows that he yearns to smooth away.

you look awfully uncomfortable, to no one’s surprise. he isn’t sure what else you were expecting. 

despite the sting of the bright lights, you force your eyes open — only to give satoru a halfhearted glare, an attempt at appearing intimidating. though you somehow doubt it’ll work.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, satoru tilts his head. soft locks of white hair follow the movement, falling over his eyes, a little more tousled than usual. like he’s been tossing and turning, sprawled out on the bedroom mattress.

and, just like you suspected, the dirty look you send his way doesn’t seem to scare him off. not even in the slightest. if anything, you think you catch a flicker of lazy amusement dancing through his eyes. and it irks you, it does — an itch beneath your skin, a taste of irritation on your tongue.

because satoru is looking at you like you’re somehow in the wrong, here, like you’re the one acting out. as if he isn’t the reason you’re here in the first place.

at this point, you barely even remember what the fight was about. too sleep-deprived to recall it properly, too stressed to make a genuine attempt. all you remember is getting ready for bed, and the familiar sensation of frustration prickling your skin. you remember his pretty little grin, his teasing remarks and refusal to take you seriously.

remember the way he laughed, when you told him what was bothering you; the crinkle of his eyes, the warmth of his hands reaching over to squish your cheeks. a little patronizing.

(there was no malicious intent behind it, that much you know. he probably just wanted to lighten the mood. but it irked you, all the same. hurt you, maybe. just a little bit.)

then you remember storming out. grabbing a blanket and pillow and telling him to sleep on his own, if that’s how he was going to be. the words felt cold as they left your mouth, little breathy icicles. and then you left.

which is why you’re here, right now. curled up in your goddamn bathtub, for some reason that still escapes you, trying desperately to get even a wink of sleep without your boyfriend there to help.

and that’s also why satoru is here, back a tad slouched as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, looking at you like you’re some misbehaving cat. blinking slowly, drowsily, dragged down by the fatigue clinging to his eyelashes. 

(he can’t sleep, either.)

”you’re really gonna sleep in there?” he sighs, after a moment’s pause. any honest concern in his voice is almost entirely overshadowed by the sense of admonition that follows it.

a scoff falls from your lips, sharp like a razorblade. ”yes,” you deadpan, shifting to lie on your stomach, hiding away from his insistent view. ”i was sleeping just fine before you barged in here.”

satoru shoots you a look, thoroughly unimpressed, entirely unconvinced of your blatant lie. ”you’re being dumb,” he huffs. ”at least sleep on the couch.”

”i don’t wanna hear that from you,” comes a hiss, low and disgruntled. a growing irritation. ”and i’m comfortable where i am.”

another dissatisfied huff. why are you being so irrational? he just doesn’t get it. scrambling for excuses, satoru tries his hand at another tactic. 

”you’ll hurt your back.”

another little scoff. oh, so now he suddenly cares? you can’t believe him. 

”so what?”

a moment passes. satoru bites his lip, teeth sinking softly into the flesh; a little pang of ache, but it’s nothing compared to the twist of discomfort in his chest. you’re making this more difficult than it has to be, he thinks. always so stubborn. 

what is he supposed to say? how is he supposed to convince you to come back to bed, when you’re already so set on denying him?

god, he’s tired. he just wants to sleep, close his jaded eyes. just wants to not have to think, for a couple hours, curled up with the only person who makes him feel safe. just wants to dream in soft shapes.

but if you aren’t there, then…

a deep sigh. weary, annoyed. ”c’mon,” he coaxes, blinking sluggishly. ”you know you won’t be able to fall asleep without me. can’t we just make up already?”

your nails dig into the fabric of your blanket. every word he says only seems to deepen the sense of irritation plaguing your sleep-deprived mind.

it makes you want to shut him out, bury your head in the soft sheets and forget about everything else. he keeps acting like you’re just overreacting, like you wanted to have an argument. like he wasn’t the one who made you upset and then laughed at you about it. 

”i don’t need you to fall asleep,” you grumble, muffled by the pillow in your grasp, arms tightening around it. nuzzling deeper into the soft velvet comfort.

satoru’s fingers twitch, as if urging him to pull you close. he almost glares at the cushion in your arms, that you’re hugging so fondly, putting all your body weight on — snuggling into it in search of comfort and warmth.

(that should be his chest.)

the gears in his head turn, slowly and mechanically, as he brings a hand up to card through his hair.

satoru hates seeing you so upset, so far away from him. having to watch you close yourself off, not allowing him to be near, soothe you and take care of you. kiss all your worries away. that’s all he wants to do, everything he needs to keep himself whole, to keep himself from being devoured by an exhaustion he’s lived with for as long as he can remember.

a strong frustration gnaws at his conscience. a certain desperation.

a big, heavy sigh leaves his lips. it bounces off the walls of the bathroom, the white tiles and shiny mirror, as he drags it out. almost childishly. then he’s angling his body to face you properly, big hands resting on his knees, a determined gaze set on your figure.

”look, i’m sorry,” he starts, rigid and earnest. blinking once, twice, chasing away the drowsy weight of his eyelids. ”i shouldn’t have laughed.”

your ears perk up.

shifting to your side as if hoping to hear him better, you peek up at him through half-lidded eyes. almost in disbelief, a kind of hope sprouting in the corners of your dilated pupils.

is he genuinely going to apologize, you wonder? admit that he was in the wrong? does he actually feel bad?

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, until satoru’s voice spills into the air again.

”there. i apologized,” he exhales, a little gruff. annoyed. ”now will you please just come to bed?”

…

wow. 

okay, nevermind. you hope the ceiling fan falls on him.

beneath your skin, a mellow kind of anger bubbles up, blood slowly coming to a boiling point. he’s not sorry at all. of course he isn’t. you were stupid to think he’d actually give you a sincere apology, stupid to think he’d do the one thing that would actually make you want to fall back into his comforting embrace. stupid, stupid. 

clenching your teeth, nails digging into the velvet fabric of the pillow, your eyelids flutter shut once more. only this time, you don’t plan on opening them again — at least not until morning comes. not until you see the sunkissed tiles of the bathroom, until the ache inside your chest has passed.

”satoru,” you enunciate, frigid and final. ”just let me sleep. we can talk tomorrow.” a beat. the tiniest grumble resounds from your lips, tinged with exhaustion. ”i’m too tired for this.”

under his breath, satoru winces. that palpable fatigue in your words sends a tremor running through his chest, discomforting, a shiver of his heart. you won’t look at him anymore, and the hint of finality in your tone makes him feel slightly dejected.

god, he’s awful at this. sincerity has never been his strong suit. he’s gotten better, lately, but it’s still so very foreign.

he didn’t mean to make you angry, didn’t mean to upset you. didn’t mean for the lilt of his voice to make his apology sound insincere. but that’s still what happened.

and satoru isn’t quite sure what to do. 

he’s tired. eyes heavy with lost sleep, glimpses of would-be nightmares he knows he’d have were he to fall asleep right now. an anxious lump has long since formed in the back of his throat, and he misses you. misses your presence, your warmth. misses the feeling of having you close, the knowledge that you haven’t left yet.

(without you, he can’t —)

a sigh. soft, and resigned, flowing from his lips.

the inner turmoil in satoru’s mind begins to fade, slowly but surely, smoothed away by the sight of you. bundled up in a blanket too small to cover you properly, lying in that cold and cramped bathtub, discomfort evident in your features. sadness dripping from the bitter words you grace him with.

so out of reach, too far for him to follow, a boundary he wants to cross more than anything. but something about that meek expression makes him falter, makes his heart twist and turn inside his ribcage.

(he knows that you’re tired, too.)

so satoru swallows his pride.

the words are spoken in a whisper, hushed, through a voice so low you wouldn’t hear it if the silence of the bathroom wasn’t so suffocating. a soft lilt of his voice, bare and raw. meek, in a way that makes him want to crawl under a rock and die. but it’s there, and he lets you hear it; that soft little truth.

”… i can’t sleep without you.”

satoru doesn’t look at you. his confession rings in your ears, laced together with a softness you’ve come to associate with warm spring mornings and rooms so dark you can’t see his face. moments in which satoru feels safe. safe enough to be sincere.

— inevitably, your heart begins to soften.

(he’s trying. it’s difficult for him, but he’s really trying. sincerity and honesty are things that have been used against him all his life, so it’s no wonder he’d be scared.)

it’s very hard to stay mad at him, when he sounds like that. when his words come out sounding a little too much like a plea, a silent call for help. 

with hesitance, you allow your eyes to flutter open, shifting a little to get a better look at him. he’s there, staring into space — the man you’ve grown to love so dearly. his tousled white hair, those slightly forlorn eyes. the vague darkness beneath them, slightly puffy skin. that tired, tired expression. 

satoru taps the edge of the tub with the pads of his fingers, absentmindedly. index finger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over.

then, at last, he meets your gaze. and you think he swallows down a gulp, before smiling — it’s a pretty smile, somewhat tiny. a little sheepish, but awfully sincere. awfully satoru.

he tilts his head, gazing into your eyes with a tenderness that melts your heart to the marrow.

”… please?”

a second passes. then two. 

soft and melodic, your heartbeat resounds in your ears, akin to a lullaby. like the call of a siren, coaxing you into giving in. and you’re weak, you realize, so very weak. just a smile and a tilt of his head, and you’re rendered utterly helpless. 

(he’s just too pretty.)

without fully realizing it yourself, you’ve begun to move, dragging yourself up with sluggish motions. blanket still draped over your shoulders, and pillow snug against your chest, you blink. drowsily, slowly. a little meekly. 

and satoru brightens.

it’s visible, in the way he physically perks up, back straightening, smile finally reaching his aquamarine eyes. a blend between hope and affection sprouts in them, slathered over with something honeyed.

a soft grin blooms on his lips, and he opens his arms wide — silently beckoning you to fall into his embrace. a raspy coo tiptoes on his tongue. 

”c’mere.”

before you can make a move to do so, satoru leans over. scooping you up with ease, as if you weigh absolutely nothing, tucking you into his warm embrace. smothering you in his cushiony chest.

almost instinctively, your arms go to wrap around his neck, cheek smushed against the warm skin of his shoulder. if you strain your ears, you think you can hear the soft patter of his heartbeat. he smells of the tiramisu you ate before going to bed, and just a hint of expensive cologne. he smells of comfort.

satoru is soft, and warm, and everything you need right now. lulling you back into that cozy, sleepy state. your very own personal dose of melanin.

with a big palm on the small of your back, satoru keeps you pressed up against his chest, as if you could change your mind and try to escape at any moment. he stands up, still holding you, and hikes your legs around his waist. breathing out a satisfied hum, before turning on his heel.

satoru smiles, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. ”let’s get you back to bed, baby.”

after turning the bathroom lights off, he begins to walk to your shared bedroom, still carrying you with one arm. always so strong and reliable. you know for a fact that he’s not going to drop you, so you opt to close your tired eyes; stretching out your limbs, lazily, releasing a quiet yawn that makes his lips curl up.

despite your lingering frustration, you find yourself nuzzling into the crook of his neck — and satoru coos, so painfully soft that you barely even hear it. the restlessness inside his own chest washed away, by the familairity of your body against his.

and before you know it, he’s dropped you down on the mattress. gently, but still enough to make you feel a little jostled, so close to falling asleep in his arms. he drags the blanket up to cover you, tucking you in; this one is bigger, with a fluffier texture, enough to cover you both with ease.

smiling softly at the sight of you all cozy, content in the knowledge that you’re finally comfortable, satoru crawls beneath the blanket and takes his rightful place beside you. eyes crinkled at the corners, rich with affection.

two strong arms reach around your waist, to pull you flush against him, until your head meets his chest and you can hear the soft thrumming of his heartstrings. then he sighs, in pure bliss, thoroughly content. melting into your embrace, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head, nuzzling into the warmth that seeps from your body to his.

he runs his big hands down your back, affectionately, rubbing circles into your skin. coaxing you into melting a little, too.

”see, isn’t this much better?” he smiles, a little cheeky. such a tease.

”… the bathtub was fine.”

a chuckle rumbles through his chest, rich with fondness. his hand goes to card through your hair, nimble fingers smoothing down your scalp and running through the soft strands. every touch gentle, full of care. every word soaked in a syrupy sweetness.

”stubborn girl.”

despite your best wishes, you’re too tired to bite back the blissful sigh that leaves your lips. a part of you still wants to protest, to push him away —

but then you start leaning into his touch. helpless to his warm hands, his soothing voice. satoru is just a little too good at making you melt. so good that you finally begin to let your guard down, nuzzling into his bare skin, sinking a little further into the mattress. 

and satoru stifles a coo. 

”honestly,” he sighs, equal parts exasperated and amused. ”sleeping in the bathtub… you’re so silly.”

before you have a chance to respond, he’s pulling back — ever so slightly, just to get a better look at your face. arms looped around his neck, you blink up at him with droopy eyes, and he can’t resist the dopey grin that sneaks its way onto his lips. doesn’t even begin to try, when you look so unbearably sweet.

unable to stop himself, he broaches the distance between you, leaning close to kiss the top of your nose. and you squeeze your eyes shut at the gesture, face scrunching up, but it only makes him chuckle. smiling, honey-sweet, he admires your sleepy pout. soaks up every soft little grumble that slips from your lips.

his hand comes to cradle your cheek, thumb smoothing down your cheekbone. just gazing at you, taking you in, every single contour of your face. there is only adoration in his eyes. something silently delighted, that seeps into his words, his raspy voice.

”my pretty, pretty girl.”

a heat rushes to your cheeks. looking up at him, into those lovesick eyes, you can’t help but grow flustered.

he looks so content.

all you manage is a weak furrow of your brows, pressing a palm against his bare skin. softly, as if pushing him away, forehead meeting his chest with a soft bonk. hiding away, so he won’t see how much his words affect you.

”lemme sleep, toru…” you mumble, stifling a yawn.

unfortunately, your boyfriend is not one to give in so easily. before long, his fingertips are trailing across the skin of your jaw, coaxing you into lifting your chin. and you’re too sleepy to resist — practically melting, as he begins to smear openmouthed kisses all over your face. all you can do is close your eyes, attempting to ignore the sound of his exaggerated mwahs, frowning in a silent disapproval that you know you don’t actually mean.

satoru notices it, though. he always does.

”you still mad at me, baby?” he asks, in a way that sounds a little like he’s cooing at you. there’s a teasing tilt to his voice, but it’s also a genuine question. your frown deepens.

averting your gaze with a soft huff, even as he cradles your jaw with his slender fingers, a pout plays at your lips. under his kind eyes, you feel just a bit meek — recalling your argument from before. absentmindedly, you fidget with the waistband of his shorts, hoping to ease your nerves.

despite your valiant efforts to direct your vocal cords in a different direction, the voice that spills from your lips comes out sounding just a tad hurt.

”… you never take me seriously.”

satoru’s eyes soften.

his smile falters, by a hair, a brief stilling of movement. subtle, but hard not to pick up on. there’s a certain sense of shame in his irises, a genuine guilt stirring his heartstrings; several discomforting sensations, gnawing at the bones of his ribcage.

(you look so small.)

two hands reach out to cup your cheeks, big and warm. swallowing up your whole face. and before you can react, satoru leans in to press a sweet, chaste kiss against your lips. he tastes like tiramisu. 

”’m sorry. we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?” he hums, and you can tell that he means it. ”i promise that i’ll take you seriously. for real, this time.”

as you look into those eyes of his, blue and soft around the edges, the last of your frustration is finally washed away. with a meek downward glance, and a faint nod, satoru relaxes — releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. relieved at your silent forgiveness.

tomorrow, he’ll definitely make it up to you. he’ll hear you out, without opening his big mouth, or trying to skirt around any emotions that make him feel even slightly uncomfortable. smoothing a big palm down your back, he hopes you feel it as a silent apology. 

for now, he’ll just hold you. he’ll hold you, and kiss all your worries away, and keep you comfy and warm. that’s his duty. the only one he’d willingly choose, the only weight on his shoulders that never feels even a little bit suffocating. the only one he wouldn’t cast away, if given the chance.

nuzzling back into the safety of his collarbone, your heartbeat settles into a drowsy rhythm, slow and serene. satoru squeezes you in a tight hug, reassuring. comforting.

he can be a handful, and a little insensitive, but you love him a lot. you can’t imagine not loving him. 

”… goodnight, toru,” you whisper. ready to give into sleep’s call, at last.

satoru smiles. you can hear it in his voice, sweet and silky, a soft curl of his lips. ”goodnight, honey,” he presses a kiss against your shoulder. warm, his breath on your skin. ”i love you.”

a yawn escapes your throat. ”love you too…” you mumble, sleepily. that one soft truth, before your consciousness fades.

and satoru’s smile only grows. hopelessly, inevitably, in the same way his hands can’t help but to bring you closer. until your heart is flush against his own, and he swears he can feel your heartbeats synchronize.

finally, with those three little words, satoru should be able to go to sleep. drifting off, he can only hope you’ll still be in his arms by the time he awakens.

(then again; you always are, aren’t you?)

[ultravioletbrit]

“hold” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 488 words

this, but make it jegulus (i tried to get it as close to the original as possible)

Remus is sitting in an armchair doubled over with laughter. Sirius has fallen out of his chair and is cackling on the floor with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. Regulus is sitting on the couch trying his best to stay composed. And James in standing in the middle of the room with more passion and fire in his eyes than Regulus has ever seen.

“Hold on! Hold on! Hold on!” James is shouting.

“James—” Regulus tries to calmly interrupt.

“HOLD ON!” James looks pointedly at Regulus and his eyes look like they’re going to literally pop out of his head. “Her sister was a witch, right?” Regulus is trying so hard to hold back his laughter. “And what was her sister? A princess! The Wicked Witch of the East, Reg.” James is yelling, not unkindly just very passionately, looking directly at Regulus and nodding his head aggressively to emphasize every point.

James starts pacing in genuine distress. Sirius is rolling on the floor holding his stomach and laughing so hard his entire body is shaking. Remus has his hands over his mouth, which is doing absolutely nothing to contain his laughter.

Regulus stands up to meet James in the middle of the room. “I’m gonna stab him.” He mumbles under his breath, which makes Sirius laugh even harder—if that’s even possible.

James whips around to face Regulus. “You’re gonna looks at me and you’re gonna tell me that I’m wrong? Am I wrong?” James asks emphatically.

And the thing is—James is, in fact, very wrong. “It’s my favorite—” Regulus tries to interject but can’t even get a word in.

“She wore a crown, and she came down in a bubble, Reg!” And that proves absolutely nothing.

Regulus knows he’ll never get James to listen to him. “I’m not fighting with you.” He shakes his head, chuckling fondly.

James makes his way out of the living room. “Grow up!” He says over his shoulder.

“I’m not fighting with you.” Regulus says again.

“Grow up.” James seems to be losing steam as he leaves the room.

“Get educated!” Regulus yells then flops down on the couch and finally lets his laughter out.

Eventually Regulus, Sirius and Remus’ laugher fades into soft chuckles as they calm down and take several deep breaths to compose themselves.  

It’s a few minutes later when James appears in the doorway with a sheepish look on his face—that Regulus thinks is adorable. He slowly makes his way over to the couch and sits down beside Regulus. He’s quiet for a few moments then turns slightly to look at Regulus.   

“I’m not really mad.” James says in a small voice. “And you know I love you, right?”

Regulus chuckles fondly and takes James’ face in his hands. “Yes, I know you love me, Jamie.” He leans in to kiss James softly then pulls back the tiniest bit. “But you’re still wrong.” Regulus whispers against James lips.    

[honeyimhomeosexual]

nico (rosberg): *looking at lewis longingly* forever and always insane about the fact that haunting means "heimsuchen" in german which literally translates to "homeseeking". a haunting is a search for a home you can never return to

seb: *being passed around between kimi, mark and jenson* call me a ghost the way heimsuchen that dick

[amara555555]

Something wholesome (or sad idk) because of crippling anxiety and how im procrastinating my assignments:

Sunshine

Gun x daughter reader:

“Daddy can you tie my shoelace?”

Those words had Jonggun’s mind in a blank. Tie her shoe laces? His mind suddenly aware of how his childhood was a ways ahead different than the one he tried to give his child, nothing ever pushed him towards the anger that he had sustained or the coldness he endured, the force of individuality, coldness, expectations, pain, and neglected before being smuggling into a different country by the age of 12.

He watched his little girl pout up at him embarrassed and shy, something so small could enlist a reaction of his little girl but he still couldn’t hold onto an ounce of emotion without it puffing into smoke. Leaving himself once again, numb, alone, inhumane.

It felt foreign how she was confidently asking him for a favour he would’ve been expected to know younger than her age. However he couldn’t shed the instinct to respond to her beck and call so quickly.

He blinked and lowered himself to her level before silently tying them meanwhile she hummed and busied her fingers by playing in his dark hair.

He finished her loops before securing them with a double knot then looking up back at her big doe eyes and rosey cheeks, all centred around a tiny button nose.

Perfect. His perfection. Everything he wasn’t . The stark contrast of her pigtails, playful eyes and pinky outfits, childish nail polish and little bits of glitter and stick on diamonds on her face, Childish. Meanwhile he’d be clad in darker colours, feel the blood of others dry upon his skin, his knuckles busted and hair gelled back in maturity. Grown up. She raised a brow and blinked.

“You look sad.”

Something so Perceptive for someone so young. She grew up too fast for him to realise, yet she still remained a baby in his heart. Yet he still felt a numbness towards the past, however within the time frame of his child’s birth he’d felt….something akin to the ray of sunshine, that comforting and gentle caress of love.

He couldn’t help but wonder if his parents noticed his growth? Did they feel this caress of tender affection? The swirling of love stir a reaction of warmth for a little person they created? He didn’t know. Not that he could ask anymore. He kept his eyes on her before responding.

“I have a lot on my mind right now.”

She perked up.

“Are we gonna rant together?!”

He smirked.

“You go first.”

He didn’t know how hard it would be to raise a child but he’d destroy himself before dropping into the standards he’d been raised by.

[crows-king]

I've been thinking a bit about how Galinda and Fiyero work as foils(?), and the contrast between their goals, personality, and their relationship to social influence individually change how they navigate their specific social situations.

And why it puzzles me when people judgmentally compare them and what they'd do in "What-If" scenarios as a gotcha to make one seem better/worst. Because in my mind they are similar but not comparable, because they fundamentally have very different personal stakes.

Primarily because of the difference in how they act in an Active (Galinda) vs Passive (Fiyero) approach to social engineering. And also, because one of them in writing is more developed as an individual than the other.

I'LL MOSTLY BE TALKING ABOUT: WICKED MOVIE - PART 1

Galinda is inherently Active. She has wants and desires that she's driven to achieve, and so actively plays the part of the good socialite because it will help her become more popular and to eventually become "Galinda the GoodSorceress". "It's not about aptitude, it's about the way you're viewed", and so on. It’s the one thing she knows she’s good at.

Of course, she also likes the attention and validation, but her charms doesn't come as naturally as she wants others, and probably herself, to believe. (I love that quote Ariana said somewhere about how "Galinda sees herself as a graceful swan, when she's actually a very stiff, but still beautiful swan", or something of that sort). She's insecure that she’ll lose people's favour and thus her most important asset, so she continually appeals to them. It's an act that she simultaneously enjoys doing for the most part, but also traps her from ever being truly close to anybody for fear of being known and not meeting expectations and losing that adoration. Until Elphaba that is.

Because of her drive to fulfill her dreams and to keep her best asset, and personal desperate need for validation, she has a much more obvious internal conflicts when she has to choose between Elphaba/the moral good vs keeping with the good graces of authority and/or the public. She's more prone to being influenced by others, and many of her choices become a calculated risk. She’s often times selfish and chooses her own desires, but it’s what makes her such an interesting and very human character. The struggle she balances when she’s forced to choose for better or worse.

In contrast

Fiyero is Passive. Dancing Through Life is literally him telling others that being lazy and not thinking is the best way to cope and enjoy life by ignoring problems. He is discontent with his life, but doesn't really acknowledge it until Elphaba reads him. Much like Galinda he is also playing a part, but it's not as tightly controlled as Galinda because he doesn't have an end goal for it.

Of course, while he probably doesn't want to lose his princely privileges. His passive "brainless" approach doesn't really put him in risky situations that would put him in conflict leading to losing things he cares about, because he really doesn't have a lot to lose. (Which is a byproduct of the fact he is primarily written as a love interest side character without much of an arc or motives outside his love triangle relationship to Elphaba and Galinda).

What confounds me is when people compare them and judge what their choices would be in if they were placed in pivotal moments, because we never really see them in situations with similar stakes.

For example, the Lion Cub scene. Most people interpret this scene as an act of braverism and heroics by Fiyero. And in some part it is, he's spurred on to save the cub, and he and Elphaba do. But it's telling that he only does this after everyone is asleep and there are virtually no risks. Any present social or physical conflicts that could arise? POOF! Gone. The worst that could probably be done to them is being punished, or even kicked out, if they’re discovered afterwards. Which Fiyero is not new to and doesn't really care about, and while maybe uncertain for Elphaba, is also unlikely because she's Morrible's irreplaceable pupil.

Some people use this scene as evidence that under his facade, Fiyero is secretly valiant like Elphaba thinks so. But I think in actuality tells the opposite. It reveals that Fiyero does care about the Animals, yes. But, the fact he only acts when prompted and there are no longer any present risks initially makes him seem less brave than Elphaba, and even Galinda. Because it contrasts with the Ozdust dance scene between the girls. Where Galinda had to make an active choice to do the risky and brave thing as an apology for hurting Elphaba, and offer to truly connect with her in front of everyone with the possibility of social out casting. She has an obvious internal conflict and risk assessment where she ends up picking the moral good over her personal comfort and social appeal. I'm genuinely curious on what kind of choices Elphaba, Galinda, and Fiyero might have done in that situation if they weren't given the perfect out by the magic poppies.

Would Galinda have helped in with the lion cub if she were awake? Probably, but who knows? Because in the narrative, Galinda isn't really put in a situation where she could choose good without being watched or without someone breathing down her neck. The prospect of being punished and kicked out from Shiz would also be most plausible and ruinous for Galinda. Morrible would definitely use it as an excuse to kick her out, or at the very least punish her, if she could, and it could throw away her only chance of achieving her dream of becoming a sorceress. She would have probably joined them in the end, though. If only to make sure they were safe. Compared to Fiyero, she has more conflicts of interests because she has personal aspirations and influence based on her reputation, and thus have more fears and consequences to consider in losing it.

Would Fiyero have joined Elphaba on the broom? Maybe, mostly likely. Because narratively, he’s never given a reason why he shouldn’t. He doesn’t see his worth and his skills intrinsically tied to public influence and opinion. He doesn’t have any wants or wishes he would have to abandon. He’ll have to leave his friends and family, but it’s not shown how close they really are to him outside Feldspar, his Horse friend, and he’s probably joining them anyway. He’s definitely more equipped to survive on the run compared to Glinda. Unlike Glinda, who is proven right in the end to being most useful when she can wield her powerful social influence For Good, Fiyero would probably be most useful as a sidekick to Elphaba. He was always written to be Elphaba’s follower, it’s no surprise. It’s also easier to take risks when you don’t have much to lose. But I think most people would agree that would make a less interesting story.

[littlekandiclown]

This popped into my hand and I had to make it exist

[ldpdluvr]

one night, freshly turned louis feeds from lestat and he drinks so much that lestat carefully cradles his head in both of his big palms and gently pulls him away from his neck "mon cher, i have no more to give", he doesn't want to stop him but he's feeling faint and hungry again "I will go feed and come back home to you, saint louis"

in response louis looks up at him with big round eyes that hold so much hurt in them, lestat said he would take care of him, so why is he stopping him from feeding from him? he promised that he would give him the world so why can't he give him this? and now he wants to leave louis alone to go hunt..?

lestat obviously isn't privy to louis' thoughts anymore but he can see the glassiness that covers his eyes, he can see the sad frown on his face, he notices the way louis is looking at him but not really seeing him and decides that he won't can't leave him alone in this state

so he gathers louis further into his arms, pulls him onto his lap and holds him throughout the rest of the night, occasionally rubbing a hand down his back as if he's comforting a frightened puppy, and peppers kisses on his forehead, nose and cheeks because louis' makes a cute lil sound every single time that he does

When louis eventually comes back to himself he's a bit embarrassed by his actions and tries to pull away but lestat doesn't let him ofc, he holds him tighter and tells louis how sweet he was for him "louis you never told me just how much you liked my blood" he says, his smile evident in his voice

by the time sunrise comes, they have made their way to the coffin and louis is snuggled up to lestat with his face once again in his neck (this is louis comfort place), lestat has his arms wrapped tightly around him and just like that, completely surrounded by each other they fall into a deep sleep.

[bunnyframerot]

Is it justme or is the loading screen hinting at potential pairings? Am I delusional? Aoi is looking at Arthur like in the animation, Lettie and Eleanor have their backs turned to eachother, And Amir is either trying to get Quincy's attention, or they're just both- there, in almost the same space they could've spaced them out evenly or something, showing more of their personality BUT NO

THEY POINT OUT THE PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN THE THREE PAIRS INSTEAD

[lemonpoet]

All these streams happening at the same time is giving me flashbacks to my dsmp era and idk what to do with that realization

[lovedeluxelove]

because i can never just leave an idea alone. here is camboy! jayvik au inspired by my post

-

‘Thank you sooo much for a million guys! Never thought we would hit it so fast :) As a special thank you, I’ve decided I’m gonna do any request (within reason) for my next video. Comment below what you guys wanna see me do, and most popular request gets done! If there’s a collab you guys want, a toy you wanna see, or just anything, I’ll do my best to make it happen. Thank you guys so much again!’ 

Jayce took a deep breath and opened the comment section of his post. It had been a week since he sent it out, long enough for a popular response to emerge, but he was sure he already knew what would be at the top. 

He had half expected, when sending this out—half dreaded and half hoped, maybe—that most people were gonna ask that he collab with Mel again. It had been a long while, and though they said they’d remain friends and keep things professional, working together since their breakup was… awkward, to say the least. It didn’t help matter that whenever chat brought her up during any live events, he squirmed in his seat and changed the topic. His chat always did like to see him flustered. But he could never let down the people who had changed his life so much, so he would muster up all the courage he had to reach out to Mel if a collab was what his chat wanted.

What actually ended up happening was something Jayce couldn’t have expected at all. Someone had posted a comment earlier on in the week, probably as a joke saying ‘haha i’d like to see golden boy try to handle somebody like @ machineherald’ and suddenly, the comment caught like wildfire. It was everywhere and everything people were commenting all of a sudden, to the point where people were already making memes about how Jayce was gonna lose his mind working with him. Jayce hardly had to look far to tell that this had indeed become the most popular request by far, and in resignation, decided to pull up this ‘machine herald’s page to see just what he was in for.

Jayce considered himself relatively professional. After two years working as a camboy now, he felt pretty secure in his ability to handle most things he encountered now, compared to the squirmy, shy boy he was when he started. To be fair, Mel deserved most of the credit for that. Mel was another, incredibly popular online personality who had taken him under his wing when he first started, most of his original supporters being her fans who took an interest in him. She added a softness to his online character that drew in a lot more feminine fans for him and he added a masculine edge that drew a lot of his male fans to her as well. It was mutually beneficial, and when they started dating, a lot of people saw it as perfect, looking forward to their couple collabs and cute interactions on each other’s posts. 

A lot of people would make the argument that their content was ‘tame’, but Jayce found no fault in being a perfect standard. It worked for him, and he never felt like he needed to stray outside of that. He had a loyal fanbase of people who liked his usual content, and it made him enough money to support his living. Trying to get your master’s degree was expensive and the research he was conducting even more so.

That being said, Jayce didn’t get flustered by much anymore, and his fanbase had clearly enjoyed teasing him with whatever could still get him to blush. 

That has to be the reason why they’d recommend a page like this.  

Jayce scrolled through the page of the Machine Herald, a man who, like his title boasted, seemed to specialize in all kinds of devices. His pinned video was him using a sybian and Jayce had slammed his laptop shut in shock before he’d even fully processed it. He closed his eyes, trying to relax. He was an adult man, he made content like this himself, for crying out loud. Well, he amended, he didn’t make any content like this. He tried to relax, steeling himself as he opened his laptop back up and continued to scroll down the man’s page. Jayce briefly remembers the time Mel brought up butt plugs and Jayce blanched, firmly denying the request. As Jayce scrolled past a video of the man using a device he called a ‘fuck machine’, he couldn’t help but feel as his response to butt plugs was an overreaction. 

His fans wanted him to collab with this guy?

He continued scrolling, starting to feel a bit dizzy. Jayce gulped and looked down at his lap, realizing, oh, he was more interested in this than he thought he’d be. He looked back up at the screen at a suggestive photo of the Machine Herald’s stomach that he had posted between videos, something visible under his skin, distending his belly slightly, with a caption reading ‘guess what toy this is’. Jayce shuddered out a breath and very impressively ignored how hard his dick was getting. It didn’t help that this man was so… attractive. 

He kept his face mostly out of frame, though he didn’t hide it either, sometimes ducking into frame to comment on all his favorite qualities of whatever toy he was using. But more often than not, just the bottom half of his face would be in frame, his plush looking lips opening around a moan, or squishing around the bite of this teeth, or warping around the girth of a toy and—Jayce closed his laptop again, trying to collect his thoughts. He needed to focus. He couldn’t just scroll this man’s page forever, he was—he was doing research! Yes. Research. He should be looking at this man’s collabs, not his solo content. He opened his laptop again, redirecting around his page. He just needed to see if the way this man worked with others was able to mesh with his style. 

The Machine Herald was on the same platform Jayce was, more niche content with less followers at around 500k, but a no less dedicated fanbase. In fact, it seemed like most of the equipment the Herald worked with was fan bought or sponsored. Jayce scrolled onto a video of the Herald standing over a large man strapped down into a chair with leather binds and a gag, dragging a vibrating toy in his hand over the man’s nipples, making him arch in the chair. 

Yep, Jayce could work with that.  

Jayce opened his page back up, navigating to the messaging tab and opening up a conversation with the Machine Herald. 

‘Hi! Some of my followers have brought my attention to your work,’ Jayce typed casually like he hadn’t acquainted himself with the Herald’s work very well within the last hour. ‘I promised them i’d do any of their special requests and they seem to like the idea of us collabing together. Would you be open to that?’   

He waited for a response. While idly browsing his page, of course. Jayce had lost track of time by the time the Herald responded, startled back into reality by the ‘ding!’ of a notification received.

‘You’re cute. Sure’ the Herald had replied.

Jayce had a feeling he was in over his head. He found he didn’t really care.