#pinky promise (🤞)

[tang3r1n]

currently losing my mind over dudes who copy your moans and fuck you with a big ass grin slapped on their stupid fucking face.

i fucking love this baby

[bizlybebo]

hi guys i am still active just in the trenches i fear 🤞. apologies 4 not responding to anything i got #overwhelmed but i see it all and its rlly good to know that there r people thinking about meee ^__^ !! love u forever and ever

[kwnnys]

Hii your masterlist link doesn't work?

hiii yes my masterlist is still a work in progress unfortunately 😭😭 but you can just scroll through my writing tag here to see my works !

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Sugar, Baby

Chapter Three: Unraveling

Bruce Wayne x Sugar Baby! Reader

| Part 1 | | Part 2 |

I pinky promise there will be smut in the next part🤞 I just felt like making this one a bit of a slow burn

Taglist: @shadowqueen1322 @secretsideofbree @lillyrob

It started with nights at the manor.

At first, it was just a casual thing—Bruce would send a car, and you’d spend an evening talking over expensive whiskey, letting the world outside the Wayne estate fade into irrelevance. You still worked at the bar, still went to class, but somehow, Bruce had become a fixture in your life.

And it wasn’t just the money.

Yes, he still tipped you ridiculous amounts when he showed up at the bar. Yes, the black card he’d given you sat in your wallet, burning a hole you had yet to fill. But more than that, he was there.

The texts started coming more frequently.

B: You still alive?

You: Barely. My professor is trying to kill me with this assignment.

B: Send me the prompt. I’ll have my team handle it.

You: Absolutely not.

B: I don’t like seeing you stressed.

You: And I don’t like billionaire academic fraud.

B: Fair point.

He called, too—not often, but enough that you found yourself waiting for the sound of his voice on the other end of the line.

The nights at the manor got longer.

At first, it was just drinks and conversation, but then there were the quiet dinners Alfred started preparing for two instead of one. The slow walks through the grand halls of the estate, the firelit nights spent sprawled on the couch in the library, his arm slung lazily over the backrest behind you.

And then, of course, there were the kisses.

God, the kisses.

They started slow, teasing, an extension of whatever sharp-witted conversation you’d been having before he inevitably leaned in. Bruce kissed with purpose, with intent, with the kind of control that made you dizzy.

But that’s all it was.

Kissing.

He never pushed, never let things go further than you could handle, and part of you wondered if he knew.

If he had already pieced together that you had never done this before.

Not this—not just the kisses, but the way he made you feel.

Because it wasn’t just physical.

Bruce knew you.

He listened when you ranted about your classes, when you muttered about your deadlines, when you offhandedly mentioned your favorite books or movies. He remembered, too—casually dropping facts about your life into conversation, surprising you with small gestures that proved he had been paying attention.

“Tell me something real,” you murmured one night, curled up next to him on the oversized couch in his study.

Bruce glanced down at you, brow raising slightly. “Something real?”

You nodded. “Something not in the tabloids.”

He was silent for a moment, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against your knee.

“I never sleep for more than three hours at a time,” he admitted finally. “It’s been that way since I was a kid.”

You frowned, shifting to get a better look at him. “Why?”

His gaze flickered, something unreadable passing through his expression. “You know why.”

You did.

Gotham knew the story of Thomas and Martha Wayne—the billionaire philanthropists gunned down in an alley, the grieving son left behind.

“I dream about them,” Bruce continued, voice quieter now. “Not always in the way you’d think. Sometimes it’s just… glimpses. My mother’s perfume. My father’s laugh. I wake up before I can hold onto any of it.”

Your chest tightened.

You reached for his hand without thinking, threading your fingers through his. Bruce blinked, as if surprised, before his grip tightened around yours.

He didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, rubbing a slow, deliberate pattern over your knuckles. “I just—”

“I’m glad you told me,” you interrupted softly.

He exhaled, eyes flickering toward your lips.

That night, the kisses were softer.

Not urgent. Not desperate. Just there.

Something real.

—

It was a few weeks later when you finally asked.

You were sitting in Bruce’s bedroom—an indulgently large space that still somehow felt distinctly him. There was a fireplace crackling in the corner, the low golden light casting shadows across the room.

Bruce was on the bed beside you, leaning against the headboard, sleeves rolled up as he scrolled through something on his phone. You had a book open in your lap, though you weren’t really reading it.

Instead, you were watching him.

“Bruce.”

He glanced up at the sound of your voice. “Mm?”

You hesitated. “Are you… waiting for something?”

He set his phone down, eyes scanning your face. “What do you mean?”

Your fingers tightened slightly around the book. “I mean, we’ve been… this for a while now.”

Bruce’s lips twitched. “This?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he admitted.

You exhaled. “So, are you waiting? For me?”

His expression shifted, something fond passing through his features.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Your stomach flipped. “Why?”

Bruce sat up, moving closer. One of his hands found your knee, fingers brushing against the fabric of your leggings.

“Because I know you,” he said, voice low. “I know you wouldn’t be here if this wasn’t real for you.”

You swallowed hard. “And?”

His thumb traced slow circles against your leg.

“And I want to take my time with you.”

You felt yourself flush, warmth spreading through your body at the implication.

Bruce smirked slightly, tilting your chin up with the crook of his finger.

“You deserve more than rushed decisions,” he murmured. “I don’t need more. Not yet. Not until you’re ready.”

You inhaled sharply. “I—”

His lips brushed against yours, soft and coaxing.

“Don’t overthink it,” he whispered against your mouth.

And for once, you didn’t.

—

It didn’t happen that night.

Or the next.

Or the one after that.

But somehow, the waiting didn’t feel like waiting.

Masterlist

[jo-com]

pls alex albon fic next🙏🤞parang awa mo na teh

──★ ｡🫧⋆｡˚ The Backup Plan

Alex Albon x Fem!Reader

୨ৎ Summary: You’ve had a long-standing pact with Alex: If you’re both still single by 30, you’ll marry each other...You’re engaged to someone else now… until Alex drunkenly posts the pact on Twitter. It blows up—and fans vote that you should dump your fiancé.

୨ৎ Genre: Slight angst?, a little smau and a happy ending or nah? read to find out ;)

୨ৎ Note: Send request y'all, also hope you like this! has some grammatical error and stuffs

ARCHIVES ⭑.ᐟ

They were sitting on the roof of his apartment, legs dangling over the edge, two beers between them and an entire city below. It was 2:08 AM, the kind of hour that made everything feel quieter, closer, truer.

You were both twenty-one. Young enough to believe in forever, dumb enough to talk about it like it was something you could schedule.

“I’m never gonna find someone,” Alex said, head tilted back to look at the stars. “They either want the driver or the version of me they think lives on yachts.”

You snorted. “Yeah, god forbid someone loves you for your sparkling sarcasm and sleep deprivation.”

He smiled, soft and sideways. The kind he only gave you. “You’re not exactly thriving in the romance department either.”

You leaned back on your elbows, the breeze catching your hair. “I’m holding out for a golden retriever in a human man’s body. Loyal, dumb, likes snacks.”

“That’s literally me,” he said, deadpan.

You turned to him, smirking. “You’re not dumb.”

He blinked. “That’s what you took from that?”

You were quiet for a moment, the laughter settling into something gentler.

And then you said it—half a joke, half a wish:

“Okay, if we’re both still single at thirty, we get married.”

Alex didn’t laugh. He didn’t even hesitate. He looked at you with that warm, steady certainty that always threw you off.

“Deal,” he said, holding out his pinky.

You looped yours with his.

“We’ll probably forget we even said this.”

But deep down, you knew you wouldn’t.

Neither of you ever did.

...

Years slipped through your fingers like sand—quiet, unnoticed, until they weren’t. Now, at twenty-eight, you and Alex were two almost-strangers orbiting around what used to be everything. Birthdays, wins, late-night calls—once sacred little rituals—were now reduced to muted texts and empty-hearted “miss you’s.”

The milestones still came. But they came alone.

The big 3-0 was creeping up now—no longer a distant joke or a silly pact sealed on a rooftop, but a deadline that loomed like a memory you hadn’t made peace with. It sat in the corners of your thoughts, like dust you kept forgetting to clean.

Only this time, something was different.

You were engaged.

To someone steady. Kind. Good. To someone who wasn’t him.

And for the first time since that night on the roof, the deal—the pinky promise you once held like a lifeline—felt like something you had quietly buried in the past. Not because you forgot.

But because remembering it hurt.

...

The proposal had been perfect.

A quiet dinner. Your favorite restaurant. Warm lights, soft music, a ring that sparkled in just the right way. He’d gotten down on one knee and asked, and you’d said yes with a smile that felt real.

It was real. But it wasn’t whole.

Because the first person you wanted to tell—the one person who would’ve rolled his eyes and said “finally, someone’s dumb enough to marry you”—wasn’t there. Not in your inbox. Not in your messages. Not even in your life the way he used to be.

You sent him a picture of the ring anyway.

No caption. Just that. He didn’t reply.

And maybe that should’ve been enough for you to let it go. To finally move forward with both feet planted where they should be.

...

username NOT ALEX ALBON SOFT LAUNCHING HIS HEARTBREAK AT 3AM 😭😭😭

username whoever that girl is… break up with your fiancé. it’s for the grid. for the sport. for the legacy 🏁💍🚩

username no bc if alex tweeted this about ME i would be at his door in a wedding dress IMMEDIATELY 👰‍♀️💅

username the way this man just said “i’m emotionally unavailable but loyal” in one tweet 🥲

username imagine being engaged and the ENTIRE F1 fandom is telling you to go back to alex albon. i would simply fold.

username this tweet has more chemistry than most paddock couples. i fear this ship is sailing with or without her 😭🚢

username alex albon said “what if i caused emotional damage AND chaos in 140 characters” and honestly? he succeeded ✨

username “they forget” — YOU KNOW SHE DIDN’T FORGET BRO 😭 this is pain. i’m feeling it in my chest.

...

Two months later—on a regular Tuesday, when the sky was gray and your phone was face-down—he tweeted it.

Your eyes widened instantly as you red between his tweet— Your breath caught without permission.

And that feeling—the one you'd spent months, maybe years, trying to bury—rose fast and vicious in your chest. That familiar tightness. That ache between your ribs. The one that only ever belonged to him.

Confusion hit first. Then came the anger.

What was he thinking? why now? why publicly?

And then came the other realization.

Why do i care so much?

Because everything was different now. You had a ring on your finger. A man who loved you. A wedding date marked in ink.

You were getting married.

Just not to the boy who once pinky-promised you forever at 2:08 a.m.

And that’s the problem.

...

You didn’t hear him come in.

You were still sitting on the couch, phone limp in your hand, the tweet burned into your retinas like some kind of confession you hadn’t meant to write—but somehow belonged to you anyway.

“Y/N?”

Your head snapped up. He was standing in the doorway, coat still on, holding a takeout bag and a look that made your stomach twist.

You swallowed. “Hey. You’re back early.”

He didn’t answer at first. Just walked in slowly, set the food on the counter, and stared at you in that quiet way he always did when he was thinking too hard and trying too hard not to show it.

“You’re trending,” he said.

Just like that.

You opened your mouth, but there was nothing ready to come out. Not an excuse. Not an explanation. Nothing that could make this better.

He sat across from you. No anger. No raised voice. Just… restraint.

“That tweet,” he said softly. “The one about the marriage pact.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

He let out a breath. It wasn’t a laugh. It wasn’t a scoff. It was disappointment, paper-thin and sharp.

“Do you love him?”

Your heart stuttered.

“No,” you said too quickly. “I mean—not like that. Not now. I don’t—”

“But you did.”

Silence.

He nodded, slow and defeated, like the answer had already been written in every pause, every time you’d flinched at Alex’s name, every time you smiled too softly at an old memory.

“I know I’m not him,” he added, barely above a whisper.

And the worst part was—you didn’t even know if that was meant to comfort you or remind you.

“I’m trying, Y/N,” he said. “I’ve been trying. But I feel like I’m holding a place someone else still owns.”

The room felt small. The air too still.

“I chose you,” you whispered. “I said yes.”

“But have you let him go?”

And that was the question, wasn’t it?

[miley1442111]

Heyyy!! Would you be interested in writing an angst aaron and bau!reader fic where they're in an established relationship for quite a while now and even have a kid together other than jack. they having relationship problems tho and maybe decided to take some time off their relationship temporarily. so reader takes her and aarons kid in their time off and jack is with aaron. angst where poor jack feels abandoned by reader and thinks she's leaving them cause both the adults are too prideful to talk everything out and make it work. (you can write it however like btw but hopefully with a happy ending 🤞🤍🤍🤍)

i love this idea, sorry i let it sit for so long! only realised i hadn't posted this now :0

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pinky promises-a.hotchner

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a/n: fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: how you and aaron worry jack, and how aaron finds something out 20 years later.

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: angst, fighting, mentions of divorce, jack being upset, etc.

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It had been weeks and weeks of pointless fighting. You were exhausted. Aaron was exhausted. 

“What do you want me to say about it Aaron?” You sighed, exasperation running through your bones. 

“I want you to say anything!” He shouted. You felt a wire snap inside you. Aaron never shouted at you. He knew how horrible he was being. He knew how bad you felt. He knew that this was a stupid thing to be fighting about.

“I’m going to my brother’s house, how about that?” You sighed. “Is that what you wanted me to say?” 

Aaron rolled his eyes, irritated at your dramatics. When he came home from one of the worst cases he’d been on for a while, all he’d wanted was to wrap you up in his arms and not let you go. But of course, he had to ruin it by starting an argument. You were 7 months postpartum, he shouldn’t have been picking fights and he knew it. But he was just so irritated. He realised something, he was taking the worst parts of his job home with him again.

“I need a break from it Aaron, alright. I’ll take Marcy and you’ll get some real sleep for a weekend and we’ll calm down and talk on Monday, alright?” 

Some sleep sounded great. Calming down sounded great. Reconciling sounded great. “Alright,” he nodded curtly. 

“Alright,” you sighed. You had never wanted it to come to this. He promised you it wouldn’t come to this. 

Yet it had. 

“I’ll pack a bag for you,” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek as he started to walk off but you grabbed his hand and kissed it softly.

“I love you. Always,” you reminded him. His heart melted a little bit. 

“I love you too.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ While you and Aaron were busy fighting, Jack was in his playroom down the hall. He was terrified, you were leaving? You were taking Marcy? 

What would happen to him? He’d already lost his mom, he couldn’t lose you too.

“Honey?” He whispered as you passed the playroom. He’d picked up the habit of calling you ‘honey’ the same way Aaron did. 

“Hey Jackers,” you smiled through the inner monologue running through your head. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” 

Jack thought this would be his last time with you tucking him in, so he got up immediately and hugged your legs. You chuckled at his antics, unaware of his anxieties, and picked him up in your arms. 

“Can I say goodnight to Marcy?” He asked and you nodded.

“Of course you can, I’ll get your dad as well, we can all say goodnight,” You smiled.

Jack, being the little profiler he was, noticed the way you’d said ‘his dad’ not just ‘dad’. His stomach dropped. He felt sick, the kind of sick he felt before he vomited.  Jack ran into Marcy’s nursery as you went to find Aaron.

“Ok Marcy, I love you, I don’t say it enough,” he whispered into her cot as she slept soundly. “I hope I was a good big brother, you were a great little sister-”

“What are you doing jack?” You asked, worried  and confused by his actions. Aaron stood behind you, his signature frown painted on his face. 

Jack started crying and both you and Aaron ran to him, wrapping him up in your arms. After a few minutes of calming him down, and calming Marcy down after she woke up with Jack crying, you sat on the floor of the nursery beside Aaron as Jack explained. 

“WellIheardyouguysfightingandIknowY/nisgoingawaynowandI’llmissher-” He rushed out but Aaron held up a hand to stop him. 

“Slowly Jack, slowly,” he reminded him and Jack crawled into Aaron’s lap and whispered it to him. 

“I heard you two fighting, and it was like when mom and you used to fight, so I know it means that Y/n and Marcy are going away now, like when you went away and I’m sad because I’ll miss them like I miss mommy,” he sniffled as Aaron’s heart broke. His eyes filled with tears that he forced himself to swallow, the task almost proving too difficult. He looked at you, your head in your hands, you’d heard him too. 

“Jack, your dad and I aren’t breaking up, we’re both just really stressed right now and we thought it would be a good idea to give each other some space. The only reason I’d take Marcy is because I have to breastfeed her,” you explained, your voice breaking. “I love your dad so much, and I love you so much, I could never leave you,” you smiled sadly and took his hand. “Remember the pinky promise I made to you on my wedding day? I meant that.”

Aaron’s ears peaked up as Jack nodded. There was something unspoken about the way that Jack seemed to relax at your words, his entire body lacking any and all tension in mere seconds. 

What was the pinky promise?

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Aaron walked out of Jack’s bedroom and leant against the door of your bedroom, watching you read your book. When you looked up, you were reminded of a younger Aaron, the one you'd met in college when he was with Haley. You felt awful having a massive crush on one of your friend’s boyfriend so you steered clear of him. Who knew you’d be here now? His wife. The mother to his children. 

“Hey handsome,” you smiled at him. 

“I don’t want space. Please don’t leave,” he asked, not meeting your eyes. 

“Let’s be honest, we both know I wasn’t getting over the threshold of my brother’s place before I ran back,” you smiled. Aaron plunked himself down beside you, lying down and pressing kisses against your neck. 

“I’m sorry I picked a fight,” he sighed.

“Sorry I kept it going,” you whispered, kissing his head. 

“So we're alright?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes, we’re ok,” you chuckled. His hands wrapped around you, pulling himself closer into your comforting embrace. For a few minutes, he tried to read your book alongside you, but his question still nagged, what was the promise?

“You want to know what the promise was, don’t you,” you chuckled.

“Yes,” he admitted, a shy smile on his face.

“Too bad,” you smirked, making him roll his eyes. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------It was 20 years later that he found out what the promise was, on Jack’s wedding day.

“Now, probably 20 odd years or so, I made a promise to Jack on my wedding day,” you admitted in your speech. Aaron’s interest peaked once more. “I promised him that I would love him and his dad as long as they allowed me to. That as long as Jack wanted me there, I would be. I told him he could call it off at any time, if anything was ever too much for him or if he hated me when he became a teenager. I promised him I’d go without a word of his involvement. I swore that I’d love him until the minute he didn't want me there, and even then that I'd just love him from far away. But I’m so happy you let me stay around Jack, you’ve become quite the amazing person,” you smiled through tears as he held your hand in his, just like he had all those years ago. Aaron’s heart swelled. You’d thought about Jack since day one. When your speech was finished, Aaron pulled you away from the rest of the party to kiss you in the beautiful sunset, the same venue you two had gotten married in. 

He loved you.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[junabuggy]

Hazbin Hotel crew x Reader: general fluff hcs

A/n: 100+ follower special !!

I’ve been doing a lot of headcanons lately so I pinky promise there’ll be some kind of oneshot coming soon 🙏

Warnings: None !! Just some good old fashioned fluff :3

Fluff✔️ Comfort❌ Angst❌ Smut❌

‧₊˚✧ Alastor ✧˚₊‧

📻𖤐 When Alastor forms a close bond with you (and I’ve mentioned this before), he’d want to spend more time with you. Even if that’s just sitting in silence together and reading your own separate books

📻𖤐 Who knows? Maybe he’d let you lean against him, head on his shoulder, as he reads to you?

📻𖤐 This guys primary love language is quality time for sure. A close second perhaps acts of service.

📻𖤐 Biggest mamas boy ever…. But I’m sure we all knew that already

📻𖤐 LOVES to go on walks with you, especially during the afternoon or at night.

📻𖤐 Would link your arm with his and chat with you as you went on your daily stroll together… you’re not quite sure when it became a routine but it did.

📻𖤐 Huuuggeee story teller

📻𖤐 100% laughs at dad jokes and will also make them from time to time

📻𖤐 Always winning every single IDGAF war because he genuinely, wholeheartedly, just doesn’t give two shits 💀💀

📻𖤐 Can’t swim. I don’t know how to explain why I think this but I just KNOW its true

📻𖤐 Freezes like a deer in headlights (quite literally) when you shine a bright enough light at him

‧₊˚✧ Angel Dust ✧˚₊‧

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Angel would be the absolute BEST at giving out hugs oh my goddd, he’s got six arms for a reason, baby !

🕸️ᥫ᭡ I feel like he’d have fun dancing !! (I mean “Loser, Baby” was enough evidence for me)

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Competitive as fuck, UNO would actually be so fun with him 😭 (gets so genuinely excited when he wins too, gloating about it and everything like he just won the lottery)

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Biggest shoplifter ever and most of the time it’s not even because he can’t afford it, he just does it for fun.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Smells realllyyy good all the time, he’s got the best perfumes ever

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Spa-days/Self-care days quickly become a Saturday night thing for you two once you become one of his besties. And I’m talking the whole shabang like face masks, candles lit and snack tray out as he paints your nails for you 💕

🕸️ᥫ᭡ It’s something Angel genuinely looks forward to as well (ᵒ̴̶̷᷄⩊ᵒ̴̶̷᷅)

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Primary love language is most likely physical touch, we’ve all seen how touchy he can get 🤞

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Getting to know his real name and getting to call him by it means he trusts you a lot, he doesn’t give that privilege out to just anybody.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ On a less serious note, he’s definitely a huge show off 💀💀

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Amazing at doing makeup, will do your makeup if you asked him to (might accidentally poke you in the eye or something though lmfaoo)

‧₊˚✧ Husker ✧˚₊‧

🍺🃁 Needs glasses and HAS them but just doesn’t wear them for whatever reason. He looks good in them though !!

🍺🃁 Cheats in any card game ever. Wins 9/10 against you because of that reason (he’s also a gambler so that’s a big factor as well obviously)

🍺🃁 Bros the type of guy to call you “doll” and “baby”

🍺🃁 Primary love language?? quality time 🙏 🙏acts of service and physical touch are both tied for second place (but you only ever really get the physical touch one if you’re his s/o)

🍺🃁 Again, we all saw “Loser, Baby” this mf can DANCE and he enjoys it too

🍺🃁 Jazz is one of Huskers favourite music genres for sure

🍺🃁 You two don’t really have a routine hangout type thing but he does enjoy it when you come around to the bar to just hang out with him while he cleans and whatnot :3

🍺🃁 Trust, you will be given a specialized nickname just for you once he considers you a close friend of his.

🍺🃁 He’s a great listener but gives very blunt advice, doesn’t sugarcoat shit if you ask him for his opinion on something.

🍺🃁 Weirdly caught up with mental health stuff, like he knows a lot about it

🍺🃁 Poor Husker does NOT like the cat noises he makes but he literally cannot control them 😭😭 (believe me, he’s tried)

‧₊˚✧ Vaggie ✧˚₊‧

🗡️☪︎ Vaggie is NOT a morning person, usually sleeps in until around noon

🗡️☪︎ Would have good fashion taste

🗡️☪︎ Vaggie is also a very competitive UNO player, probably ends up yelling at Alastor for making her pick up all those “pick up four” cards when everyone plays together (yes, he looks smug as fuck while doing it and yes he was saving them just for her 💀💀)

🗡️☪︎ Has beef with almost all of the guys at the hotel but Husker is chill for the most part

🗡️☪︎ Adding onto that last one, it doesn’t really take much for a man to piss her off tbh (she’s so real for this)

🗡️☪︎ Would spar with you if you asked and gets really into it too !! She’s careful not to actually hurt you though and it’s a great way of bonding with her (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

🗡️☪︎ Verrryyyyy jealous girl, remember when Emily took Charlie’s hands in the heaven episode?? (The look on her face made me giggle)

🗡️☪︎ Hates pickles. She just looks like she’d be a pickle hater

🗡️☪︎ Primary love language is words of affirmation

‧₊˚✧ Charlie ✧˚₊‧

⭐️☀︎ Charlie is infact a morning person and wakes up at the crack of dawn everyday for zero reason whatsoever 💀

⭐️☀︎ She does her absolute best to include everyone in every activity going on, she doesn’t ever want anybody in the hotel to feel excluded

⭐️☀︎ Biggest shipper EVER. You ever told her you have a crush on someone here?? Oh god..

⭐️☀︎ She’ll silently fan girl from a distance whenever you and your crush are together to the point Vaggie has to drag her away

⭐️☀︎ Charlie can be a little bit overwhelming at times but her happiness is suppeerrr contagious

⭐️☀︎ The best way to spend time and bond with her?? Literally just offer to do anything with her and she’ll do it, I don’t think she’s too picky

⭐️☀︎ Learnt some Spanish from Vaggie and tries to use it with her to be all romantic but her pronunciations are fucked up (She’s trying her hardest guys okay 😞🙏)

⭐️☀︎ Totally asked Vaggie one time as a pick up line if she fell from heaven and she broke out into a sweat (poor girl)

⭐️☀︎ Primary love language is words of affirmation. quality time is somewhere up there too though

⭐️☀︎ Will break out into song a lot and it’s kinda funny to watch

‧₊˚✧ Niffty ✧˚₊‧

🧼𐙚 Acts a lot like a hyperactive toddler on crack. Has zero chill and it’s pretty rare to see her actually calm

🧼𐙚 I think Niffty lowkey has stage freight, like we all see how she just automatically freezes up when a camera is on (I mean it’s happened twice in the show already)

🧼𐙚 Takes a lot after Alastor, sees him as some sort of older brother figure as well 😞🩵

🧼𐙚 When playing UNO, she’d fucking EAT the cards so she’d win. Deadass just nom nom nom that shit

🧼𐙚 She’s a big giggler, she’ll laugh and giggle at almost everything so it’s not hard to get her to do so

🧼𐙚 She’d probably really enjoy it if you let her just sit with you for a while and braid your hair (But she’d steal some for her “collection” in the process)

🧼𐙚 I’m actually not too sure what Nifftys love language would even be? Perhaps acts of service (she is a maid, after all)

🧼𐙚 Okay 99% sure this is actually canon but she’s a hardcore germophobe, can’t handle when things are cluttered or a mess.

🧼𐙚 Has a collection of cleaning supplies in her room

+ Bonus !!

‧₊˚✧ Vox ✧˚₊‧

📺☆ Whenever Vox is sleeping or thinking really hard about something, the voxtek symbol will bounce around on his screen like the DVD logo thing

📺☆ Not very big on pda, he has an image to uphold, after all. (But he would enjoy affection in private though)

📺☆ Not above watching you through whatever technology you have, he spies on you a lot 💀💀

📺☆ Also guys…… stop pretending Vox isn’t a whiny little bitch, because he is (trust me y’all, read some of @bigfatbimbo’s stuff)

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐲

[axedr]

I swear I’m not dead I pinky promise 🤞I haven’t drawn these guys in so long GAHHH I MISSED MY BBGS😭💕💕

[kitkat13001]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜

>> tomura shigaraki x reader

>> comfort, this is entirely self indulgent, i have nothing to say. tomu calls reader “dollface” and “honey”, probably very out of character tomura but idgaf im going thru it and i needed him to comfort me (hope it comforts you too <3) // (dividers by @/anitalenia)

you’re mid-breakdown when tomura comes knocking at your window. 

you jump at the rap of his knuckles against the glass, your skin prickling and hair standing on end as you wipe your face. you pray your cheeks aren’t too blotchy, your eyes aren’t too red, thankful for the dimness of your apartment illuminated only by fairy lights and decorative lamp. 

“hey,” you say, opening the window and stepping back to let him clamber through. you try to keep your voice steady, but it’s futile. tomura’s nothing if not observant. 

“what’s wrong, dollface?” 

the way he’s frowning at you tugs at your heart and you feel the tears well up in your eyes again. he takes your face in gentle hands (sans pinky, of course) and it’s too much—you fully burst into tears. 

he shushes you softly, pulling you in close. his arms are tight, secure around your body. he may be a villain, but you’ve never felt more safe than when you’re wrapped up in his embrace. 

it takes a while for you to calm down. you’re gulping for air through the sobs, approaching hysteria, but the shame bubbling up in your stomach over the emotions is calmed by tomura’s quiet whispers in your ear. 

you don’t know how long you stay wrapped up in his arms, until you’ve cried yourself out. 

“sorry,” you sniffle as you pull away, wiping furiously at your face once you regain your bearings. “you don’t want to hear about my stupid problems.”

“actually, i kinda do,” he admits, taking your hands to pull you closer. “they’re a lot more digestible than my problems, probably. who knows, maybe i can even help you.”

“thanks, tomu. but i don’t think these are problems you can just dust and move on from.”

“hm. even if that is true, i’m sure talking about will help at least a little, huh?”

he tilts your chin up with his finger, unusually soft look in his eyes.

“so what’s the matter, honey?”

it all comes out. every little thing that’s been poking you between the ribs for as long as you can remember the last couple days, weeks, months. that one time you said that thing in middle school, last week when you tripped and dropped your favorite drink, how it’s been a minute since you called your mother, the way you’re hungry and nothing sounds good, how it seems like the world is going to shit.  

it’s kind of ridiculous to hear it all out loud, but tomura was right. it’s like a weight off your chest just to say it, to be able to breathe again. 

you’re flushed and breathless once it’s all out. you’re sitting on the couch now, your hands in tomura’s. you’re not quite sure when you got there. 

your shoulders sag with the relief of it all, body caving against his. 

“you feel better?” he asks, giving you a gentle nudge. 

“a little,” you admit, allowing yourself to lean back until you’re laying in his lap. your eyes flutter shut with the feeling of his fingers softly twirling a strand of your hair. 

“just…get some rest now, okay? ‘m not going anywhere.”

as promised, completely self indulgent coping fic :) it’s been a day. hiding under the covers from the horrors of the world. get up again tmr and do it all again bc life moves onnnn 🫶🤞 stay safe and don’t lose hope. you are loved!

- 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 !

[disguised-duolingobird]

ALRIGHT GUYS I PROMISE THIS IS THE LAST ONE (PINKY PROMISE 🤞)

THE WAY BLITZ CURLS UP ON STOLAS' LAP AND FEELS GUILTY THAT HE CANT SEE HIS DAUGHTER MADE MY HEART TEAR INTO TWO

THE AWKWARD SILENCE IS SO LOUDDDDDD

LIKE GUYS I KNEW SOMETHING WAS UP WITH MILLIE TRUSTTTTTT

BUT THAT PLOT TWIST HAD HE ON THE FUCKING FLOOR GUYS DIDNT SEE THAT ONE COMING ONG 🙌

SEASON THREE IS GOING TO EAT IF THIS WAS THE FINALEEEEEE

THIS BALCONY/FIRE EXIT SCENE IN MY PERSONAL OPINION WAS THE MOST CHARACTER BUILDING OME AS WE CLEARLY SEE THAT THIS STOLAS AND BLITZ AND DIFFERENT PEOPLE COMPARED TO SEASON 1 THEM.

BC SEASON 1 BLITZ WOULDN'T HAVE LET STOLAS STAY IN HIS APARTMENT LET ALONE TAKE CARE OF HIM.

US STOLITZZ FANSSSSSS ATE GOOD TODAY, LIKE THEY THEY BOTH DONT PROPOSE DURING SEASON THREE IM GOING TO RIOT 🔥🔥🔥

[k0juki]

it's 24 hours, since i was at the Joost's concert yesterday and It was absolutely amazing...now i feel empty inside

btw this is my photo🤭

I will get my motivation back and start writing again 🤞🤞 pinky promise

[seijorhi]

Thinking about Kuroo getting arrested for kidnapping. But before they could take him away you heard him say "I'll find you" like a threat, more like a promise 🚨🚨🚨

Hello Rhiii! How are you my love??? Sorry for being silent, life was overwhelming 🥹 I hope life is treating you well tho!! Pinky promise I'll catch up on everything! Sending you all my love 💕💕💕

Pspspsps. Also, may I know where you had your oikawa tattoo done? I might visit Japan next yr (hopefully 🤞) Thank youuu 💓

- 🍮

no see i love this.

you aren't safe just because they carted him off in cuffs, it doesn't end with him in prison. kuroo makes promises and he keeps them. he told you this thing between you was forever.

it might take weeks, months, maybe even a year or two, but one night you'll wake up to a familiar figure looming over you, the cold bite of metal around your wrists keeping you in place.

he wanted to wait til he got you back home, but seeing you like that, spread out for him so pretty and soft, well, how's a man supposed to resist?

—

also, i got the tattoo done at good times ink in osaka. the guys there were super cool and i definitely recommend the studio

[thena0315]

Pinky promise? 🤞 Watch these legends in an all-new #LawAndOrder Thursday TONIGHT 8/7c on @nbc and streaming on @peacock.

[superherokisser]

cause he’s in heaven

omg look at some of our kids hanging out how cool is that (also enjoy wonka<33)

Look at them<333 (why is Johnny floating😭)

[merp-blerp]

A Gaylor Interpretation of "Champagne Problems" post TTPD

Overblown Analysis Under the Cut ↓

In my "I Look Through People's Windows" analysis, I mentioned that I wondered if the "As you boarded your train..." line had to do with "Champagne Problems" and its similar opening line, but figuring that out would mean doing a separate evaluation on it. Well, here you go! I promise I'll one day stop thinking about TTPD, okay? Scouts honor. 🤞😜

This one is mostly to quench my own intrigue, I'm aware it's a bit of a stretch.

"You booked the night train for a reason / So you could sit there in this hurt / Bustling crowds or silent sleepers / You're not sure which is worse"

While this might not be the lens Taylor and ✨William Bowery✨ wrote this song in, I wanted to try my hand at seeing this song through the eyes of being about Taylor's fandom(s). Based on my "ILTPW" analysis, gaylors are the ones boarding the train in her mind, sitting in their hurt from the fallout of the failed coming out. Taylor knows that the gaylors don't know what would be worse: if tons of other fans crowding them with "I told you so" type comments, "Bustling crowds", or people not even noticing/hearing the coming out attempts to sneer, "silent sleepers".

"Because I dropped your hand while dancing / Left you out there standing / Crestfallen on the landing / Champagne problems / Your mom's ring in your pocket / My picture in your wallet / Your heart was glass, I dropped it / Champagne problems"

Taylor feels like she abandoned her community by not coming out. She dropped their hand and left them disappointed. Champagne can symbolize celebration and eliteness, often associated with rich individuals, but has also been used to highlight the fakeness of its drinkers. Alexander Pushkin's novel, Eugene Onegin, quotes, "I am no longer up to champagne... (it is) sparkling, flighty, vivacious, wayward - and not to be trusted." Therefore the "Champagne problems" might be the issue of Taylor being a big star getting in the way of her being able to be out and human. Or just fakeness in general.

Rings have taken their spot in sapphic history, specifically signet pinky rings and thumb rings. Taylor has a very close relationship with her fans, them often joking, or even genuinely feeling as if Taylor's like a best friend, sister, or mother to them. "Your mom's ring in your pocket" could be Taylor illustrating gaylors as keeping Taylor's pinky or thumb ring, or her queerness, close in their pocket, as she isn't out and discussion of her possible queerness mostly stays in gaylor circles.

"My picture in your wallet" in this reading could be the money that fans spend on Taylor, whether it's albums, tours, merch, etc. If gaylors believe in Taylor, they might spend money on her, so she's in their wallet.

"You told your family for a reason / You couldn't keep it in / Your sister splashed out on the bottle / Now no one's celebrating / Dom Pérignon, you brought it / No crowd of friends applauded / Your hometown skeptics called it / Champagne problems / You had a speech, you're speechless / Love slipped beyond your reaches / And I couldn't give a reason / Champagne problems"

The "sister splash(ing) out on the bottle" through this lens to me could be fans adjacent to gaylors that aren't quite gaylors, like queer fans. Queer fans who quietly watched and noted Tay's flagging and waited to see if something would happen, only for nothing to transpire, so they moved forward with being fans. This would've included me at the time. "Splash out on the bottle" can mean to pay a lot of money for the bottle or to pop it open. I'm going to go with opening it in this situation. Through the lyrics, it seems like the "you" in this song brought the bottle of Dom Pérignon, and the "sister" opened it. Gaylors spread the word that Taylor could be coming out and casual queer fans opened the bottle to prepare to celebrate.

While gaylor discussion mostly stays in the community, gaylors have definitely attempted to discuss it in other swiftie, or "family", spaces. From our perspective, it's exciting to think about the queerness sprinkled in her songs, and while I admit that I wasn't fully here for it, I imagine the Lover era was particularly exciting. It looked like she was going to come out, flagging all too obvious for the fans to brush it off. You can't keep the excitement in. But a speech never happened and Taylor continued to beard, so in the public's eyes she's strictly straight somehow. She tried and arguably came out through visual means, but never got to say anything if she planned to (which I think she did because of "a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you" from "The Archer"), and socially, if you don't come out through words you aren't really out at all, flagging be damned. Either way, no one celebrated because no one heard. The gaylors might've geared up to celebrate, but no one could celebrate if Taylor remained unseen. Anti-gaylors, or "hometown skeptics" called the gaylor theories fake, or "Champagne problems", since no overt coming out happened. Any happy speech gaylors could say to Taylor congratulating her couldn't happen. The excitement for the love from fellow queers and allies coming Taylor's way through speeches of admiration after coming out slipped away beyond gaylor's reaches. And of course, Taylor couldn't tell gaylors directly why, as that would out her in an unwanted way.

"Your Midas touch on the Chevy door / November flush and your flannel cure"

The Midas line could be taken in so many ways. To focus on the Chevy for a moment, car imagery in Taylor's music often seems to be a mode of hiding, escaping/running away to hide, and by extension misbehaving or sinning. Take "Just a boy in a Chevy truck / That had a tendency of gettin' stuck / On backroads at night" illustrating Taylor and her lover driving out and pretending to get "stuck" on backroads so they can enjoy each other alone without naysayers. So if gaylors are the "you/your" of the song, them having a "Midas touch", aka a golden touch, could mean that gaylors acknowledged, or touched, Taylor's closet, and therefore made it golden, like daylight. A Midas touch turns things gold, so her closet/Chevy door wasn't golden like daylight before the "your" made it so. Their acknowledgment of her queerness made her feel seen, or at least less in the "20-year dark night" from "Daylight".

"November flush" to me is a reference to the "Grey November" from "Evermore". A person can flush from strong emotions, as well a sickness. "You're Losing Me" has many illusions of Taylor getting sick and dying from being unseen, her face becoming grey/colorless as she dies. But when you flush, color returns to your face. If Taylor was "down since July", or beginning to die from being unheard, she could be saying that she could be saved by a cure. The cure she seems to get is a "flannel cure". I've heard really interesting interpretations about this part of the line referencing a Victorian superstition about flannel having healing properties. This possibly means that several cures for her pain were tried, but nothing could be as helpful as being seen, the "flannel cure" being fake. However I can't find a source for this Victorian flannel fact that isn't someone talking about this song, so I'd take that with a grain of salt. (But I could've just overlooked it, so if someone has a source I'd love to see it.) Alternatively, flannels, in the modern age at least, are often associated with masculinity and men, but also sapphic flagging. Maybe the "flannel cure" was gaylors acknowledging her sapphicness. Or, if you take the cure as being false, it could be the bearding/closeting/men, fake because it didn't cure her queerness, or make her straight. It just made it more overt to those who can see it, as gaylors can often see through stunts with beards. I think it could be interesting to look at this phrase differently too. Was the flannel the cure or was the flannel cured? Is it that closeting was a fake cure or that gaylors had the cure for the pain of closeting by seeing her?

"'This dorm was once a madhouse' / I made a joke, 'Well, it's made for me'"

In TTPD, Taylor makes many references to the music industry being like an asylum or madhouse. In this line, Taylor jokes that the dorm, or industry, was once an asylum, made for someone like her. Maybe it's made for her 'cause a lot of people in the industry will have covert or public mental breakdowns that they don't get proper support for. Or it could be because she felt like music was a profession she was always meant to do since she was a tween. Or because she's queer, and while they're are many queer people in the industry, many have also been closeted by the industry since it began and still are. Maybe the joke says "once", as in past tense, because Taylor believed that once she was out the industry would stop being a madhouse for her, but she never got her proper cure, so going into TTPD, it's still an asylum.

"How evergreen, our group of friends / Don't think we'll say that word again"

There's probably debate on which word will never be said again. For this analysis, I'm going to go with "evergreen". Taylor seemed to have viewed her fans as friends just as they did her. Look at songs like "Long Live". She asked the fans to stand by her forever, like how evergreen trees keep their leaves in all weather, or forever. But after the failed coming out and so many fans denying her visibility, she can't say she and the gaylors's friendship with those types of fans is "evergreen" any longer. "Something counterfeit's dead" (from "loml").

"And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls / That we once walked through / One for the money, two for the show / I never was ready so I watch you go"

Some of Taylor's fans will come up with rather invasive theories about what her lyrics are about. Theories about her cheating, having secret children [Edit: I feel a need to say that by "secret children", I meant secret pregnancies, just to be clearer], having secret abortions, committing vehicular manslaughter, probably etc. In the Lover house her first 10 eras become literal halls (except for Midnights, which is depicted in the sky, and I personally like to say TTPD is the white porch with the lights). The phrase "Deck the halls" means to decorate the halls. She laments that ex "evergreen" "friends" will have the nerve to decorate the eras that she and the people who saw her once walked through with creepy theories.

The phrase "One for the money, two for the show," is cut short/replaced without the numbers three and four. The full phrase has multiple renditions, but it's generally a form of counting before an action is done, often ending with something like "Three to get ready, and four to go." If Taylor doesn't get to finish the countdown, it seems to mean that she didn't get to do her action: come out. She was never fully ready to do the action because obstacles like the master heist kept her from being able to do it the way she wanted. So she fears/watches gaylors board their trains away from her.

"Sometimes you just don't know the answer / 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you"

To me, as of currently, "How Did It End?" from TTPD is also in part about the failed coming out. In that song, Taylor admits that she still doesn't know exactly how the coming out didn't happen. Sure, she knows in a clinical sense, but sometimes you don't know emotionally. I find it noticeable that the someone in this line is on their knees, not knee. Traditionally, when one proposes, they get on only one knee. When a person is on both knees, that usually indicates deep desperation. Maybe the someone's are fans, likely of all kinds, desperately questioning why all the signs led to nowhere instead of a speech declaring her place in the queer community. How did it end?

"'She would've made such a lovely bride / What a shame she's fucked in the head,' they said"

Queer people throughout history and currently in some places are often seen by homophobes as having something wrong with them, whether it's just for taunting purposes or some genuinely believing queerness is a mental disorder. Homophobes often believe queer people are "fucked in the head".

When "they" say that "she", in this interpretation, Taylor, would've made such a lovely bride, they likely don't mean just a bride who gets married to anyone, but specifically a bride who marries a man. Certain types of homophobes won't call brides marrying non-men "lovely", sometimes not seeing them as legitimate brides at all. Heteronormative TS fans will often picture Taylor as being a "lovely bride" in the future, aka a straight bride because to them Taylor fits that hetero-girl image. If she were straight her hetero wedding would be seen as picture-perfect and idyllic. Too bad she might not be able to be that bride for them because she could be queer. While, again, I wasn't fully there during Lover, it's not hard to imagine homophobes saying things like this at the mere prospect of her being queer.

"But you'll find the real thing instead / She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred / And hold your hand while dancing / Never leave you standing / Crestfallen on the landing / With champagne problems / Your mom's ring in your pocket / Her picture in your wallet / You won't remember all my / Champagne problems / You won't remember all my / Champagne problems"

Taylor reminds queer fans that they can find "the real thing", or proudly out queer people, instead of her, someone who can't seem to leave the closet. That person won't fail them. Taylor's, or "your mom's", signet/thumb ring might stay in gaylors' pockets, as in they could still keep her potential queerness in the knowledge, but a new, out person should be the ones to have their money and time in Tay's eyes. One common critique towards gaylors is that we need to enjoy "actual" queer figures, these critique-ers not seeming to realize that many of us already do love many out queer figures, but that not meaning we can't acknowledge a potentially closeted one. Even still, Taylor seems to fear that her queer fans deserve better. "You should find another guiding light" (from "Dear Reader").

But as someone in the fandom, it's safe to say that gaylors won't be going away, even if most who were there from the beginning are gone now, new ones discover what this community truly is every day.

Thank you for reading!

[fallingwillow]

girls, am going out

but the bots are basically done

just need to program them when i get home

but i PINKY PROMISE they will actually get out today🤞