#no I want the rice. I don't care

[keineahnung-ichhalt]

"guilt free food" shut the fuck up and let me enjoy my food in peace. I hate diet culture I hate diet culture I hate

[gh-0-stcup]

Okay, I need Devil's Minion to happen on the show.

[ano-po]

Reminding my babaylan girlies here to change your salt bowl or salt cup in your room.

It already absorbed all your bad energies from thoughts and social media and is now saturated. If you're feeling like shit this october, maybe do that.

[sloaaaa]

+

[zombiesama]

I wanna draw more magi fanart but IDK what to draw

especially don't know what to draw that other people would enjoy. Like. With Nico I can just draw him in a cool outfit and the people go wild but with Kouha? I have no goddamn clue!

[vasattope]

I'm a responsible adult until I'm faced with the opportunity to buy concert tickets

[thelioncourts]

+

[basketcat]

i'm making jokes but the situation is bad

[keets-writing-corner]

Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??

As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue

the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD

He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.

like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...

The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"

and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it

does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING

like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow

For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat

Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation

Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with

Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)

But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time

Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell

Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch

idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room

[inkskinned]

you're in the habit of denying yourself things.

if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.

but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?

what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.

and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.

you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.

so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.

it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.

sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.

oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.

[mitzirockerextendeduniverse]

...

is there room for me, in this cozy cottagecore future?

i don't have a garden. that's not because i don't have an opportunity, it's because it's not my kind of thing. i don't have grandkids, either. i live on my own, in a small house full of old books and at least one thing what plays video games. there's a community outside, for when i have the energy, but i need my own space, quiet, unbothered, to recharge. i go for walks, i write

what am i wearing? up here, where i grew up, they make clothes from wool, it's way too cold to grow clothing plants. but wool itches against my skin, it makes me break out in rashes, and it gets up my throat and makes my breath come out wheezing. that's likely to be a problem either way, though, with how terrible my respiratory system is. are there asthma inhalers in your future? are there annual flu shots?

what do i eat? pecans, eggs, milk, i have so many allergies i have to keep in mind when i choose my food, narrowing down your sprawling feast to a few tiny dishes. you look at your locally grown produce and marvel at its freshness, but i stare at the nuts and beans on offer and remember the tropical fruits of my youth. chicken in bread again tonight, it seems

while you grow milkweed in your garden, am i fiddling with a nest of internet cables, begging them out loud to just connect, just for an hour? or does the internet even exist? am i forever wistfully remembering the friends i made when i was young, the fandom community that was the first place i ever belonged, the stories that meant so much to me that no one around me ever understands? i used to study a language spoken on the other end of eurasia, it was the one 'useful' skill i've ever really had. i used to be able to brush up against a world so like and unlike my own, and dreamed of writing translation bridges to bring together people from here and there. i'll never touch that world again, now

perhaps i've made friends in my local community, but i've never been good at that. i can't talk for an hour about nothing, i can't do small talk or stay in a conversation that's stressing me out or even look people in the eye for more than a second. and what would i talk to them about? either i have nothing to say on a topic or i can and will go on for hours, i nod and fiddle with a piece of grass while they talk about village life and talk so much my jaw begins to ache when they bring up books, or history, or the stories in my mind. i type easier than i talk, it's harder to get lost in spiralling tangents when i can edit my words before i show them to the world, harder to seem rude or inattentive around someone who doesn't know me when it's acceptable to reply to people as and when you feel up to it. in real life, i stumble over my words, and i fail to explain myself, and i talk too loud and too fast in an unidentifiable accent. not that many people have the patience

and what happens when the crops fail, or a disease spreads through town, or the flood barriers fail? will my community accept that sometimes these things happen and do what they can to ameliorate the problem, or will some of them do what people around here have done for centuries long after they should have known better, and blame the old, reclusive, uncanny, isolated jew?

all of which is assuming i even survive to the time when you're showing your grandchildren pictures of lawns without tomatoes. when i was young, every month i would go to the chemist and they would give me little cardboard packets of antidepressants and antipsychotics and antihistamines, a chemical cocktail my psychiatrist and i had put together through trial and error over the course of years. those medicines stopped my brain from grinding itself to death in the gears of tangled unshakeable terrifying thoughts and gave me the strength to get outside of my own head and make a mark on the world. i never asked what was in the packets, or how it was made. i never thought i'd need to know. but now - at best, i think, i'm scouring markets for expensive drugs i used to get free and easily from the government and the global supply chain. at worst... i barely got through a decade without my meds, once puberty and secondary school kicked my mental health issues into overdrive. i don't think i'd survive five more

don't get me wrong, i'm not writing this to reddit-atheist debunk your dream. i'm writing this because i read your post about the crack in the darkness through which you see a tree, and i...

seven billion people, in every corner of the planet. unless we totally break the biosphere (and i don't think that's likely, we're not half as powerful as we think), even if things get apocalyptically bad... even if not all of us survive this, mathematically, someone, somewhere, will. i think we owe that person something. people my age talk a lot about how we have no future and we're all going to die, but i've never been able to believe that. maybe it's privilege, maybe it's the kind of deliberately unthinking optimism i developed back when my fears would pile up so heavy the back of my neck would burn, but... our parents grew up thinking they'd die in a hail of nuclear fire, some of our ancestors grew up thinking the last judgment would come any minute and there was no need to think about the world around us. which is partially what got us into this mess in the first place. no one's ever made bank on the end of the world, and i'm not arrogant enough to think our generation is magically right when all our predecessors have been wrong. there will be a tomorrow. we need to prepare for it

i'd been thinking like that for a few years, already, when i read your post. but it was the first time i'd seen thoughts like that reflected back at me from someone i could see as a peer. a tumblr user, just like me, who can see a bright future ahead. i'm not into bugs or plants or north american environmental management, but i did read your blog, for hope

but then i read this, and... i'm probably projecting. i often do that, when i haven't taken my meds, get lost in rhetorical wildernesses with barely any relation to what anyone's actually said. still i can't shake the fear that the future you described, that sounded so boundless, is actually tight and constrained, horizons that barely stretch to the nearest town, where you are trapped in a community is friendly and supportive as long as you are exactly what they want you to be

it's almost certainly not what you meant. but modernity saved my life, literally and metaphorically, several times over, and the outlines of the idyllic future you sketch have taken on a shake alarmingly similar to the past i, a mentally ill autistic weirdo who grew up an outcast, child of poor english farmers who scraped the bottom of the butter tin to get every last drop and eastern european city jews who only just escaped to america before the sword of damocles finally fell, fought so hard to escape

In the future, children will think our ways are strange. "Why do old people always grow so much milkweed in their gardens?" they'll say. "Why do old people always write down when the first bees and butterflies show up? Why do old people hate lawn grass so much? Why do old people like to sit outside and watch bees?"

We will try to explain to them that when we were young, most people's yards were almost entirely short grass with barely any flowers at all, and it was so commonplace to spray poisons to kill insects and weeds that it was feared monarch butterflies and American bumblebees would soon go extinct. We will show them pictures of sidewalks, shops, and houses surrounded by empty grass without any flowers or vegetables and they will stare at them like we stared at pictures of grimy children working in coal mines

[katsukikitten]

Retired pro hero Bakugou buying a really old abandoned home in Japan and restoring it while living in it.

It's all he's got, a lot of his friends have wives, families, kids, some of them even expecting a first grandkid and Bakugou in his 40s has nothing of his life to show for aside from the undisputed number one spot on the hero charts for 20 years straight and more scars than he can count.

He feels he relates to the house, old, once adored but now empty.

He wants to change that, wants to be more than an idea or idol, wants to disassociate from Dynamight and just be Bakugou Katsuki but he isn't sure he knows who that is. Dynamight is still parts of him yes but exaggerated, in all his years Katsuki knows he can soften he just doesn't know where.

Although he's ready to find out. Sadly or maybe fortunately, he's the type of man who has to find out through action and hard work. He bought the house site unseen, didn't even Google what the front of the home looked like he didn't care.

Standing in front of his mostly dilapidated home he feels good, crossing his arms over his chest as he lets his mind wander on where to start. Eyes sharp, cutting into the features of the home as he assesses just like he would any villain situation.

"Excuse me Dyna-" You clear your throat before he looks at you, as you remember his retiring announcement of him saying Dynamight can go fuck himself. I'm Bakugou Katsuki now.

"Excuse me Bakugou. I brought you a little welcome gift. I'm your neighbor." You don't flinch when his heavy gaze flicks to you, don't shy away from his snarl and if anything your smile grows as you offer up the bento and plate of cookies.

He doesn't take them and you don't take offense, just gently pull them back to yourself as you look at the home

"I'm so happy you bought the Sato house. They were good neighbors. They lived here when I was younger by both passed suddenly. Old age does that ya know? They didn't have any children but Mrs. Sato taught me her special rice for bentos."

You're rambling but you don't care, you'd just bought your childhood home from your parents a month prior. Fearful your home would suffer the same fate as the Satos. That the love and memories would be washed away by the rain and neglect. That the air around the home would worsen each year it went unaccompanied until it became so stagnant with neglect it became a miasma that not even the toughest soul could stomach.

Yet here stood Bakugou strong and tall outside a broken home.

"I don't think it's anything special by the way. Just a bit more soy sauce or sesame seed oil, I think she was what made it special."

Katsuki looks down at you for a long time, sees your fingers twitch against the fabric of the neatly wrapped bento, watches you swallow thickly and lashes flutter to combat the burn in your eyes as you stare at the home. You turn to face him, give a polite smile and nod of your head in a brief good bye before his voice stops you.

"I'll be the judge of that." You furrow your brows in confusion, looking up at him before his big warm palm comes under the bento to lift from your hands, "If the rice is special or not."

He watches your face light up, a true genuine smile that could compete with the sun and he feels something deep in his chest ache. Feels it yearn to reach out to you but he stands firm in his spot as he watches you disappear down the short overgrown walk way back to your home.

He doesn't even need to try the fucking rice to know the answer.

The rice was going to be special because you made it, Katsuki's sure of it.

[luveline]

I NEEEEEED MORE STRIPPER!READER X SPENCER

fem, 1.2k

You and Spencer aren't dating, but he thinks you might be in the before. 

"You're home!" you say, clambering at the door to slip out of your shoes. You throw yourself at him as soon as you're close enough, the salted caramel and sandalwood of your new perfume washing over him. "You're here! I missed you." 

Spencer tries not to blush. He wishes you weren't so close —his hair is lank from two days unwashed, his five o'clock shadow obvious and embarrassing. If you notice anything unappealing about him you don't give the slightest inclination, your arms crossing over his back as you drive your face into his neck. 

"I can't believe how much I missed you, Dr. Reid," you say warmly. 

"I missed you too." Morgan would laugh at him for being this earnest, maybe comment on his lack of charisma, but Spencer doesn't know how else to show that he's interested beyond sincerity. 

You step back but work your hands up his neck and into his hair, raking it away from his cheeks. "That's better. I can see you better now." 

Spencer thought he remembered only horrible things from being a teenager, but he remembers this feeling, sweaty-palmed, heart-racing want. You tilt his head gently one way and then the other like you're following the motion of a wave, fingertips scratching in his hair, the sensation stirring the very pit of his stomach. No trace of tiredness remains on your face, only spritely joy to see him. 

"That feels nice," he confesses. He's not weird about it, more friendly. 

Your aswering grin tells him he nailed the casualness he was aiming for. 

"You've been working hard," you say, tucking his hair behind his ears and dusting down his shoulders, "I can tell. You look tired." 

"You don't. Short shift?" 

"Is it weird that bad weather genuinely keeps people home? I guess they prefer their wives when it's cold." 

"No, really? Who could ever pick the woman they married over you and those silver shorts?" he teases, peeling out of his sweater.

The shirt underneath is rumpled, but he doesn't care about that. Anything to be seen between you has been seen. Spencer has, unquestionably, seen you half naked. You've seen him in his boxers, so you're just about square. "Idiots, all of them." 

You're staying with him again while a security company fits your apartment with the appropriate trappings. Or, that was the initial reason. Spencer went with you to assess after it was done, discovering black mould in the corner of your bedroom and spreading its evil way across the bathroom ceiling. 

What is that? he asked, knowing what it was, hoping you'd at least pretend to be concerned. 

That's fifty bucks off a month, Spence. Don't look so horrified. 

"I missed you," you say for the third time in as many minutes. "And I hoped you'd be home, so I brought Chinese food for two."

You and Spencer change into pyjamas, and it's cliche but whatever, you look beautiful undone —he's not stupid enough to lie to himself about how he feels when you're wearing your little outfits, but he prefers this side of you a thousand times over because you like it better. You wear your prized baseball tee, white with blue sleeves, and a pair of sweatpants pushed up high on one leg while you ice your sore knee. He sits cross legged opposite, jabbing his chopsticks into one of your crispy spring rolls just to watch you gasp. 

"Can I ask you something too personal?" 

You rub down the length of your naked calf, sighing as some of the tension releases. You're more bruise than girl lately, splodges of tender skin patterning the inside. "What don't you know about me, at this point?" you ask. 

Like it's a good thing. Like you're glad for it. 

"Are you making enough money?" he asks. 

You steal back your spring roll, answering him through rice paper and greens, "Kind of. Not tonight, but enough for dinner. I'll be okay." 

"Did you think about it?" 

You shovel through your waxy box of rice, shrugging. "I thought about it, but… it's not realistic. What office would take me? What drug store?" 

"I could loan you the money while you apprentice, and get some experience, you could go back to school–" He says it all in a rush and you still knock him down. 

"It's real sweet of you, Spence, it is, but I couldn't let you do that. That makes me your charity case, and not your friend." 

"What else do you do for the people you care about?" he asks. Let them stay at a job they don't like, even if they're good at it, one that puts them statistically at higher risk for femicide or assault? 

"I wouldn't need a loan, Spencer, I'd need more than you have," you say gently. "I'd have to start my life from scratch. How would I pay rent? You couldn't afford to keep us both." 

"You could stay with me again." 

You shake your head. "You're the best friend I've ever had, which is why I'm saying no." 

He doesn't get what you mean, but you finish your dinner and help him clean up. He more than trusts you to stay here alone while he's on a case, you've honestly left it in better condition than you found it, and he insists you sleep in his bed again while you're here. 

"Don't be silly," you say, throwing a sheet out over the couch. "This is your place. You need to sleep in your own bed." 

The disaster is that it smells like you. Spencer says goodnight to you reluctantly and leaves you on the couch with every throw blanket he owns, climbing into his own bed and pulling the comforter up to his nose. He imagines you here at night, your body wash still clinging to your skin from a late night shower, your hand tucked under his pillow. There are so many things he'd like to give you, if you'd just let him. 

He spends a quiet thirty minutes like that, missing the warmth of your skin and your casual touching, wishing he could offer you the fresh start you desire, even if it meant he wasn't involved. 

The couch springs creak as you toss and turn, the sound finding it's way down the short hall from the living room slash kitchen to his bedroom. Hesitant, Spencer shifts in bed, hitting that one coil in his mattress just right, the twang resounding.  

You appear in his doorway with your borrowed pillows crushed to your chest not long after that. You don't need to ask, Spencer doesn't need to answer. He can't give you everything that you want, but he can give you a quiet, comfortable night next to someone who loves you. 

Ever well-tempered, you slip into the sheets beside him and curl up toward him, your fingertips brushing his side. You don't look at him in the dark, but you mumble sleepily, fingers twitching, "Night, Spence." 

You're out like a light. 

[kazuhaiku]

habits they get from dating you

summary: wind breaker's characters habits when dating you.

warnings: gn!reader, fluff, sakura, suo, umemiya, kaji togame x reader (separate), nicknames

notes: IM FINALLY BACK !!! my suo fic is still ongoing so take this little headcanon drabble :)

sakura

always looking out for you in crowds, making sure that you're okay and not encountering any problematic people

during festivals, your favorite time of the year, makochi becomes incredibly crowded. all the stores are open to sell their items, making sure to catch the attention of people coming from out of town and from in the town. whenever you join the festival, sakura makes sure to come with you, holding your hand tightly to make sure you don't get lost.

he's always afraid someone is going to make a ruckus during these festivals, as this is sometimes the best time of the year for gangs to roam the city and cause trouble. if you are to get lost, sakura will panic, looking left and right to find where you are (he'd always find you in one of the game stalls, trying your best to win an item).

this goes the same to situations even without a festival. crowded malls, food courts, parks, etc. sakura will look out for you no matter what.

allowing you to take food from his plate and eats slower to match your pace

sakura is known to be a big food lover (he especially loves the omelette rice kotoha makes). however, when he started dating you, sakura always allows you to take a few bites out of his plate even if you have your own food right in front of you.

another thing is, usually sakura will always finish his meals in three minutes max. however, when you go out with him, sakura will always slow down to make sure you don't rush eating. he doesn't want you to choke on your food, knowing that if he finishes his meal before you, you will most definitely rush and inevitably choke.

suo

calling you different nicknames, such as 'darling' 'sweetheart' 'baby' 'love'

suo is a gentleman, we all know that. adding on to that, he loves calling you nicknames. it doesn't matter if you're out in public or in the privacy of your own home, suo will call you endearing nicknames.

"darling, the cups you use aren't in that drawer, it's on the other one."

or

"baby do you want to eat something? i'll go buy them for you and you can wait for me here."

it's honestly really cute the way he says it in his soft-spoken tone.

leaving you small notes when he leaves for school

since you two go to different schools, suo has made it his mission to write little notes for you when you wake up. different schools mean different schedule, so there are moments when you wake up with suo still next to you asleep or an empty bed.

his notes will always consist of little reminders such as 'don't forget to eat your breakfast ^_^' or 'have a great day at school, my love. i'll see you when i finish school'

umemiya

naming the prettiest plant he has after you

it might seem silly, but to umemiya, naming a plant after you is the number one (well, two) best thing in the world. since he cares so much about his plants and you, he decided why not name a plant after you?

it doesn't even have to be a pretty flower or anything. he'd name a chili pepper after you. he'd bring it over to you one day and go "look! this is y/n the chili pepper!" with a big smile on his face. of course, you can't help but smile seeing him all happy.

makes sure to keep you safe under any circumstances

knowing that umemiya has a lot of enemies, his number one priority is to protect you. he is the strongest in furin, that's a given, but if he has to come out in the front lines to fight alongside the other students of furin, he will send someone to protect you, someone who he trusts will do their job correctly.

it can be kotoha, tsubakino, or even sakura. as long as there is someone there to protect you, umemiya will feel more relieved when he's in the front lines.

kaji

lending his headphones to you

kaji treasures his headphones as if it's his son. he doesn't really like the idea of someone else using his headphones, however, the first time you ask to borrow his headphones, he lent it to you almost immediately.

even his vice captains stare in shock at the action unfolding in front of their eyes.

"what the fuck just happened?"

"did kaji just..?"

kaji scowls at them both as you happily busy yourself with connecting the headphones to your phone.

bringing extra lollipops with him to share with you

kaji has always bring a lot of lollipops in his pockets/bags in case he finishes his lollipop (more like biting it out of anger). he starts bringing extra just in case you want some.

"kaji do you-"

he hands you a lollipop before letting you finish your sentence.

"thank you, ren." you give him a smile.

togame

lending you his sunglasses

the infamous yellow sunglasses togame wears can suddenly be seen worn on you. the other shishitoren members can't comment on that though. he loves seeing you use his sunglasses because it makes him feel all fuzzy inside.

it's like basically screaming "i'm togame's partner!" to the whole world because who else is allowed to use his stuff like that?

"you look really good with my sunglasses, sweetheart."

"you say that all the time, jo."

"i know."

saying "i love you" almost every single time

he loves showing his affection for you. he'll quite literally say "i love you" during random moments.

that includes: finishing a meeting from shishitoren, waking up next to you, on a date, showering together, and many more.

he thinks it's cute how flustered and shocked you will be when he says it.

"i love you."

"jo we're literally queuing up to order food."

[littlescaryinternetguy]

Does a wild pope shit in the woods?

Question time:

For the tinies out there...most of you have a particular size or a particular range of sizes that you want to be (like "three to six inches", for example). You're not really interested in exploring sizes that are bigger or smaller than your preferred range. What if you had the ability to shrink in real life, but you couldn't shrink to any of your preferred sizes? You could be bigger or smaller than your dream size range, but you knew that you would probably never be able to reach the sizes you've always wanted to be. Would you still want to shrink?

[aerithmybbgmypookiemywife]

Genshin SAGAU where they hide in the Fortress Of Meropide in order to live a normal life. (2)

now that you got caught, he promised to keep your secret but... also shout out to @/udretlnea for a scene idea not proof read pt1

You stood there, frozen in shock that your identity was easily found out by him. "I-I..." you stuttered, not knowing what to say, "You must have a reason to stay in the shadows..." he added, inching even closer. Wriothesley's piercing stare made you uncomfortable as you just looked down.

"I-I just want to live a normal life..." you replied. It took a moment for him to respond, "You don't belong here, your Grace. To stay in this facility for years to come, I don't think that's living a normal life." He replied. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, "Please, no need to call me by that title." you told him.

"...You're finally looking at me." he mumbled as he stared at you. He couldn't believe it... It's you... The Creator. "You can't be here, you deserve to be out there. Exploring the world, your Grace..." he added. "No... I just... I just want to live a normal life so please just- just forget this ever happened-" you were cut off by him. "I'll take care of everything if that's what you wish, Your Grace... With your criminal record, I don't think people would bat an eye around you." he reassured you. You were quiet for a moment, thinking of a response...

"Your Grace?" the two of you turned around to see one of the Guards, "Um..." the guard looked at Wriothesley. You cleared your throat and looked away. Wriothesley let out a small laugh while the guard just looked confused but brushed it off. Before he walked up to the guard, he leaned in close to you, "Come to my office at 9." he whispered in your ear and soon left.

Creator! Reader whose sentence was cut short because of... well... his doing. Before you left the Fortress of Meropide, he gave you a bag of mora and a small hut on the mountains where Fontainians don't really go to. He reassured you that you would be given an allowance every week to which you were thankful of.

You just wished he was the last person to know of your identity...

Creator! Reader who does live a peaceful life outside the city of Fontaine, you do go there from time to time for groceries but you do it quick in order to not attract anyones attention. Basically living as a shadow.

You decided to go to the city today because of a merchant from Liyue is selling rice and other goods that you missed in your original life. You bought the things you needed as quick as possible, while walking to the exit, you notice three familiar people...

Oh shit! Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet!

You froze for a moment, you turned around but Freminet had already noticed you. You were about to run but- oh shoot a child infront of you!

You abruptly stop, resulting in you dropping to the ground. You could hear loud footsteps running up to you. "Umm... are you alright...?" you heard a quiet voice call out for you who turned out to be Freminet who held out his hand. Lyney and Lynette were picking up your groceries. You stared at him for a moment before grabbing his hand. He helped you stand up as you hissed in pain.

You looked at your hands to see the palm of your hands were grazed, and you notice the bits of... Golden blood showing... You could feel your heart drop to the floor. "Here are your groceries! You should be careful next time." Lyney spoke out as he handed you your groceries to which you were quick to snatch from him.

He didn't even get to say a word before you bowed and came off running. Lyney watched as you run away, "Huh... must be in a hurry." he mumbled. "They kind of look suspicious..." Lynette whispered to which Lyney just brushed off. While Lyney and Lynette were talking, Freminet stood there, frozen as he stared at his hand that held yours.

Bits of... Golden liquid were on his palm... Did this mean-

"Freminet! Come on, Lynette is bugging us to go already, there's a bake sale going on." Lyney called out his name, to which he flinched. "Oh... Um... I'll be right there!" he replied.

He glanced at the palm of his hand again, 'If they are the Creator... then... why are they hiding...?' he thought.

ill write a part 3 soon, ill wrap this whole story in part 3 :))

Tags: @uchihaeirin (did I do it right like the tagging?? ajdhlkej im new sorry lmaoo)