#soft eyelash breakdowns

[lexiputellas]

Pillow Talk

It’s your first day back at work.

You stretched your maternity leave as far as humanly possible, used every single vacation day, and worked from home until you ran out of excuses—but today, there was no escaping it. You had to go back. At least your office has a daycare. If it didn’t, you’re pretty sure you would’ve quit on the spot.

Now, finally home, you don’t think you’ve ever been happier to see Alexia. Not only did she get back before you, but she also brought dinner. You could’ve kissed her right then and there—actually, you did. You love her, truly, but if she had waited for you to cook—or, God forbid, asked you to help—you might have had a breakdown.

Dinner was great, dishes were ignored, Alice fell asleep peacefully, and now you’re both getting ready for bed. It’s your favorite part of the night—when everything slows down, and you can just be. Alexia already talked about her day, and now it’s your turn. Normally, this would be when you two discuss important things, but Nicole unloaded so much gossip at work today that you have to let it out before your brain explodes.

You’re fluffing the pillows as you talk, and Alexia, already lying on her side under the covers, is nodding along like a very patient woman.

“Nicole told me Amanda from Compliance is literally faking a relationship online.”

Alexia blinks, lifting her head slightly. “How?”

“I don’t know yet! I’m getting more details tomorrow,” you say, putting in your bruxism mouth guard. “I don’t even get why she’d lie, she doesn’t need to.”

Alexia hums, settling back in.

That’s encouragement. You keep going.

"And you won’t believe this—the sitter at daycare said Alice was the easiest baby to deal with. She barely even cried! Which, like, I knew our baby was perfect, but now it’s confirmed by an expert."

Alexia hums again. This time, it sounds more like sleepy agreement than actual interest, but you’re on a roll now.

“And remember that guy from the party last year? The one who told you he was a Real Madrid fan?”

Alexia makes a vague noise of acknowledgment.

“Not that he was special or anything,” you continue, “but he invited Nicole out.”

That gets a reaction. Alexia forces one eye open. “That guy?”

“That guy.”

“She said yes?”

“She said yes. And if she’d asked me first, I would’ve told her absolutely not.”

Alexia exhales, long and slow, adjusting the blanket. “Baby, I love you so much, and I want to hear all of this… tomorrow. We have to wake up early.”

Which you think is fair. She was the one running around after a ball, going to the gym, lifting weights—you mostly just fought with spreadsheets, tried not to cry when Alice waved goodbye way too enthusiastically at daycare, and dodged an email from HR that felt suspiciously passive-aggressive.

“I know,” you say, climbing under the covers. “I love you too. But can I just finish really quick? I swear, I’m almost done.”

She hums again. That’s permission.

“So, turns out the guy? He was dating someone else the whole time. Poor Nicole, bless her heart, but maybe a little stalking would’ve helped her.”

Silence.

You glance over. Alexia’s eyes are closed, her face relaxed, her breathing slow and even.

“Oh,” you whisper. “You’re already asleep.”

You sigh, amused, and watch her for a moment. The way her eyelashes rest against her cheeks, the way her hair falls across the pillow, the faintest hint of a smile still lingering on her lips—it makes your chest ache in the best way.

She looks warm, soft, safe. Like home.

Carefully, you scoot closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder.

“Good night, baby,” you murmur, even though she’s already lost in dreams.

Then, finally, you close your eyes.

[bloodwrittenletters]

KISS ME ONE MORE TIME

pairing . . . percy jackson x fem!mortal!reader

the cassette playing . . . waiting room! phoebe bridgers

the letter reads . . . perseus jackson was supposed to die at 16, not get a girlfriend who he could break.

warnings . . . angst, cursing ( slightly ), slight nsfw ( making out ), ptsd ( post-traumatic stress disorder ), survivor's guilt, mention of suicidal thoughts

a/n . . . hi guys! sorry it took me a little more than what I said to get it published, I got an emergency and didn't have time to work on it (everything is alright 🫡) I REALLY liked how this turned out, I love the son trio SOSOSO much so of course I had to give them a little mention, hope you all enjoy it!! actual part 2 is on the way, I promise :pp also, this doesn't really follow the canon, so just fyi!!

a continuation of this . . .

percy jackson knew he loved you the moment he laid his eyes on yours.

because they were pretty, full of light and happiness, two orbes made out of pure beauty that were protected by soft eyelashes.

and percy jackson was a sucker for pretty things. or he was a sucker for you in general, because every milestone he had given you with his hear full of hope (because, yes, he had saved a lot of his firsts for only you), or because for the first time in his life, he had allowed himself to want something for himself. only for him.

since he was twelve everything— everyone had told him he was going to die soon, 'you're not gonna make it' 'you're too weak to be the hero of the prophecy' 'you will die alone, just how you started' blah, blah, blah. it didn't matter, he knew he was doomed to die soon, and for a long while, he wanted it, too.

percy started the end of his life at twelve, and by the time he was fourteen he was exhausted.

he worked himself to exhaustion each summer, picking up on more quest (or forcing himself in some, for a little while), not even allowing himself to break after each loss.

luke, chris, bianca, zoë, lee, charlie, silena, ethan...

it was all his fault, they were supposed to live, even if one of them made it out alive, it was his fault they didn't have a better life— the one they deserved.

he lost so many people. and everything in his birthday, like fate wanted to remind him that this was his fault. for all the time where the camp was in Manhattan, he even had forgotten it was his birthday, he was too busy focusing on trying to keep everybody alive to remember his day.

for a moment, percy felt bad for forgetting, and for the next one he just wanted to cry and find his mother. he wanted to be six again and be smothered by sally in Montauk, while they were away from the hell of house that smelly gabe had made.

that couldn't be, though.

percy jackson had found you, passed out on the streets of new york, holding bags of gifts and a boque of blue roses and lilies, all of which you had gotten for him.

"no, no, no, no," he breathed, repeating the word over and over as he laid his hand on your forehead. "please... j-just—" he cut himself off when his thumb rubbed on your pulse point. "you're good, yeah?"

he left a soft kiss on your forehead, before pressing his hear over your heart, sighing when he heard it beat loudly.

listen to me, i'm here, i didn't leave.

percy gently detached your hands from the bags, grinning at your hard grip, as if you didn't want to lose what you've gotten him.

"i'm not taking them from you, sweet girl, let me hold you, please," he whispered to you, holding you up on his chest, and grabbing your things before taking you to the Empire State Building.

if olympus were to fall, it would be after overcoming hundreds of demigods; that was the only safe place for you.

the rest was the usual for a hero, his beloved one waking up to his breakdown and being convinced to date. usual stuff. happens every tuesday in your local divinity show to your favorite sweetheart. you pick it.

he celebrated every day of dating you differently, but all started with soft, gentle kisses.

though, your second month anniversary had gotten... a little heated.

"you're so beautiful," he murmured against your neck, kissing the exact vein he had rubbed to make sure you were alright two months ago. then, he left wet kisses up yor neck and jaw before kissing your mouth. "i'm so grateful for you, baby. so, so grateful."

"pers—"

"what do you need, sweet girl?" percy gently shifted the both of you, grabbing his stuffed penguin and turning it around, before looking at you with a grin. "we don't want to traumatize him," he said as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

there were soft giggles between the two of you, before percy took a hold of your jaw and tilted your head, kissing around your adam's apple with wet lips, gently nipping the skin with his teeth, giving you a tiny smile when you digged your nails into his shoulder, creating soft crescent moons into his skin.

"so, what was it, angel?"

"hush, your lips made me forget."

percy wiped his head out from the crook of your neck, and pressed his big smile against yours.

it was one of his favorite memories with you, one hera couldn't take away from him as well as a lot of his memories.

there were only two things he was able to keep, your name, and the soft memory of your lips.

his only two amulets against all the hardships he faced in the little time he wasn't asleep.

"you should really consider calling home," frank, of course, had called after percy when he was slipping away into the endless pit of loneliness that had grown into his chest.

green eyes met brown ones, and soon percy's eyes had the water his irises imitated.

frank stepped forward and wrapped an arm around percy's body, and then the other, hugging him tightly as he held percy through cries.

"i miss her so much," percy voice was broken and low, yet the words cut through sobs.

"i know you do."

"y-you would love her, and she would love you," percy cried harder. "i.. i'm sorry, frank."

when percy tried to pull away, frank held him tighter.

"you're okay, percy, just cry until you feel a little better."

frank's body was like a living teddy bear, warm and safe, soon percy was gripping the purple shirt as he cried in his friend's shoulder, breaking apart after months— years, of holding it together.

every day for all the months he was missing had taken form of tears, falling and falling through his cheeks, burning his skin as more and more tears fell.

huffs and puffs, sobs and tears, all fell out of percy. soon he fell to his knees, only being held together by frank.

the boys sat on the sidewalk, frank's hand gently patted percy's head, supporting him through everything.

"t-thanks, frank," percy patted the shoulder his head wasn't resting on. "usually i'm good keeping it together."

"me, hazel and that girlfriend of yours are gonna have a talk about you putting too much pressure on yourself."

"what—"

frank pulled two coins from his pocket, like a magic trick, and offered them to percy.

"call home, percy."

percy looked like a fish out of water, an o instead of a mouth as he stumbled over his words, before swallowing them and grabbing the money, to then run over to the closest phone booth.

he punched in the only number he could remember, being the one from the jackson apartment, and hoped with every bit of his soul for his mother to pick up.

for someone to pick up.

"hi?"

percy wasn't expecting your voice, his stomach fell to the floor, feeling his organs creep and drool around his feet.

he opened his mouth, but then closed. once, twice, until your voice revived the line.

"anyone there? is this just some stupid prank?"

it wasn't. percy almost broke down again, gripping the phone tighter.

please, just say something, he begged himself in silence, feeling like he could pass out in a moment.

"i'm going to hang up if you don't talk soon—"

percy finally spoke up, feeling like he could cry.

"hi, baby... i miss you."

"holy shit."

percy laughed, finally hearing your voice, he just wanted you to beg you to keep talking. to never shut up.

percy laughed, more like a breath of relief.

"hi, pretty girl... can you talk?"

"y-you— me— percy, oh my god. where the hell are you?! oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod, i'mgoingtocry."

"uhm... well, it's a long story."

there was sobbing on the other line, and percy's knees went weak. he had to take a long drag of breath to stop himself from crying, too.

"sweetie.. please, don't cry, i'm too far away to hold you."

you composed yourself, hugging tightly the blue bunny you had, tears rolling down your neck. you had to focus on him.

"'kay. percy, my love, where are you? i'll tell annabeth and we'll go get you."

"tell her to tell you about camp, and to come get me from camp jupiter."

"alright... we'll meet you there," and before he could fight you on it, you rushed to your next sentence. "i love you, percy jackson. please don't run off to where i can't find you."

holy shit, indeed.

"i... i love you, too."

[lvlyghost]

I love your stories so much I can't 😫😍😍❤️

Could you maybe write a angst to fluff ghost x reader story where the reader gets injured badly while ghost is on her side the whole time in the hospital while she is unconscious and he's having breakdowns and anxiety and all really angsty stuff and when she wakes up she comforts him and all is fluffy and maybe a bit smutty 🤭

No More Stars Left to Count

PAIRINGS: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Few things made Simon break down. Almost losing his girl takes a toll on him.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

TW: Smut! MDNI! Angst, hurt, comfort. Injuries. Panic attacks. Grammar mistakes just the usual... Do not read if you're under 18.

A/N: I'm actually quite happy with this one🥹🩷 Enjoy Anon! This is my first time posting smut and in another language so sorry in advance if there are mistakes! Corrections are appreciated ✨🐝

Masterlist✨

Simon's head rests on his left hand, his eyes bore into your fragile body. Several machines are attached to you, helping you breathe, pumping meds into your system. He doesn't deserve you by any means. He doesn't deserve your trust, your laughter, your body.

All he can think about— as his brown orbs can't find the strength to look away— is how miserably he had failed to protect his team. To protect you. It's been twelve days and you still don't show any signs of waking up; it wasn't abnormal for you to not wake up. The damage inflicted to your body had been great. Simon thought for a painful moment he had lost you for good. The woman he cared for. The woman he utterly loved.

He swallows hard.

There aren't many things that'd scare him. He's simply seen too much. But this? Was this truly his destiny? To lose everyone he loved? His family and now you?

He inhales sharply, his free hands traces your inert hand, tracing soft patterns on your pale skin littered with cuts and bruises. That very hand he adores to hold when you were together. He blinks, memories from your last night together flooding his brain as he sinks further down the chair, adjusting the hoodie over his head.

The night before leaving for the mission in Romania.

-

"No, wait look Simon! Give it to me!" You chuckle, under the covers, both of your bodies remain warm. It wasn't unusual that Simon couldn't sleep so he'd often come into your room and spend the night with you. "There." You pointed out. Your hand and his hand stretched out in front of you, slowly you touch his, spreading out your palms comparing hands. Your eyelashes flutter at the mere sight of his big calloused hand outsize yours, completely engulfing it. You splay out your fingers until they're intertwined.

His breath catches in his throat. He loved how small you were compared to him. He wanted to protect you from everything even from himself, but you had refused to leave him when he tried to push you away.

"Come here." He grabs your arm pining you down and under his gargantuan body. You squeal, laughing at the sudden change of position; Simon sets his body between your legs. Your arms rest on his sides, layers of muscle tensing under your touch. Tilting your head back, eyes meet the dark sky outside the window.

"Look at them." You mumble, Simon lays a kiss on your neck taking advantage. He loves the feeling of your steady pulse on his lips. "The stars are so bright tonight." He hums absentmindedly, hands coming to grip his blond locks.

There's a fire burning in your belly and the ache between your thighs when you feel the tent forming through his grey sweatpants.

"Need you, love." He grumbles. His hands undress your bottom half making you gasp.

"Simon..." soft pink lips kiss your body. Your chest, your stomach... until he's lost between your legs. Mouth lapping at your wetness. You squirm under his touch, it's intoxicating. It feels like you might combust. The fire running through your veins, the goosebumps on your sensitive flesh as you clench around nothing. Unable to resist it you grab him by the arms. "You know what I need." In the blink of an eye two bodies intertwined moving desperately chasing the sweetest end together. He murmurs soft encouraging words in your ear that sent shockwaves through your veins, Simon couldn't possibly be more deep inside you, hitting that sensitive spot that made you want to scream, nails digging on his back, surely leaving red marks that he would proudly show tomorrow.

The purple and orange that tinges the sky outside filters through the window, casting an ethereal display of colors around this room that hides away the few moments you get to spend with him as you finish together; feeling impossibly more in love with him.

"It's clearing already." You point out. Simon looks up from your eyes, albeit reluctant to miss the beautiful shade of your orbs. "No more stars left..."

He kisses your forehead, then bumps his nose against you before he finds your mouth.

"There'll be plenty more to count tomorrow, sweetheart. I promise."

But you're not counting them as he promised the night before. Instead he's shouting orders like an enraged man. Heart beating out of his chest, you were so close to the evac point with your squad. Five minutes ago he had squeezed your arm and kissed your temple before urging you to get in the land rover from the SAS. Only to watch it blow seconds later. His heart stopped and then the ringing in his eardrums.

It was an ambush.

And as the rest covered him he rushed to you.

The blood. Crimson blood all over the bodies. He knew what this meant.

"Sergeant!" He forces his body to move, dragging you by the straps of your combat vest to take cover behind one of the vehicles. He knows he shouldn't be moving you like that, but right now he can't think of anything else than getting you out of there... "Bloody fucking hell!" He roars.

What was that feeling, like his soul was being ripped apart...?

-

Releasing a shaky breath, Simon squeezes your hand once again careful not to hurt you. The IV in your hand too foreign. It's too much. The sight, the memories of the vehicle flying through the sky...

The pit in his stomach grows, a wave of nausea and uneasiness hitting him all of the sudden. Simon stands on wobbly legs, taking one last glance at you he steps out the ICU. Crouching down he yanks the balaclava from his face. Why was his chest so tight, and his vision filled with blackness? The incessant ring on his ears is real. Fucking real. It was supposed to be a nightmare... this thing pulling him down.

"Come back to me baby." He pleads in a hushed tone although he knows you can't hear him. Simon lifts his hands to find support on the wall in front of him. He breathes as much air as he can through his nose, tries to blink away the black dots.

"Lieutenant Riley?" A feminine voice wafts through the empty hallway reaching him. He holds out a shaky finger without even looking at her.

"Leave..." he warns.

"Sir? I...-" the nurse hesitates.

"Now!" He barks.

She scurries away but not before calling the doctors and the Captain to the med wing.

Simon stays there until his ragged breathing evens, he then goes back to your room, deep down he hopes—prays— that your eyes will open when you hear him. But you don't. He sits again on the couch where he's tried to sleep, tossing the mask away from him. His throat bobs, what's happening to him? It burns. The door creaks open revealing a concerned John who looks at him in disapproval.

"This isn't going to help anyone Simon." He scolds him.

"What do you want Price?"

"You need to sleep. And for... just for the love of God eat something son."

"Not until I know she'll be fine."

Price sighs closing the door behind him.

"She wouldn't want this." Even then, Price doesn't want to look at you. This had taken a toll on everyone. But Simon wasn't handling it well. Rubbing his eyes he scoffs. "Come on go get some rest I can stay."

"No." Both men stare at each other not wanting to back down. "I'm on leave you don't get to tell me what to do Price."

John crosses his arm.

"I'm worried Simon. I want her to be okay too. We all do."

Simon's jaw clenched, hands balling into fists. They don't really know. They don't know, can't comprehend the extent of his love for you.

"What if this was your girl? Would you leave her fucking side hm?"

A tense pause electrifies the air as the two glare at each other, oblivious to the other person whose eyes are tearing.

The beeping sound increases as your heart rate goes up. Two pair of eyes snap to the sound. Your hand tries to snatch the oxygen from your face, but Simon darts out with dread plastered all over his features. You faintly hear John calling the doctors.

"Easy, love. Easy..." he soothes you. Stopping your hands from moving. Your body is in too much pain, tears slip down your cheeks, once again Simon grits his teeth. If he could he'd take it all away. "Don't force yourself you're..." he trails off. "You're hurt."

It feels like you're body is being torn apart. The drugs are slowly leaving your system.

"What happened?" your croak out, throat dry and inflamed. He sits bringing the glass of water to your lips not before removing for a brief moment the oxygen mask. You take a small sip and thank him with a weak smile.

"Ambush." He explains. Hating that he can see the images all over again in the back of his mind. "Thought I lost you."

More tears well in your eyes, as weak as you feel you reach out your hands tracing his jawline and cheekbone. He closes his eyes, and finally breathes again, with you touching him he feels alive again. He wants nothing more than to go home with you.

"How many nights..."

"Twelve..."

The doctors rush in but before they drag him away you say:

"That's a lot of counting we've missed."

A press of his lips on your forehead, a silent promise to never let anything happen to you ever again. Even if it mean giving his own life for yours. He would do it any day. Better him than you.

"We've got the rest of our lives, love."

[bigdumbbambieyes]

Happy Birthday to @intothedysphoria 🥳🎂🤍 you are such a treasure, here’s a little something I wrote for you - I hope you have a great day!! 🤍

Billy wakes up before their alarm and immediately reaches over to shut it off. He doesn’t give it even a chance to ruin the sight beside him: Steve, his boyfriend of six years, asleep.

His boyfriend is twenty-four today, something he knows Steve will whine about (“I’m getting old!”) because his mother is the same way, but Billy loves it. He loves that he gets to age with him.

As if twenty-four is old. Billy’s never felt better. Sorta. That summer at Starcourt changed him forever, in a lot of ways.

But, he pushes the thought away in favour of settling back onto his side to admire Steve as he sleeps. His pretty boy is always annoyingly just that — pretty — whenever he does anything. Even sleep.

His cheek is pressed against his pillow, his lips parted ever so slightly, his eyelashes gently moving as he dreams. His hair is a dark mess against the soft green pillowcase, his mole and freckled dotted skin on display because he was too hot to sleep with a shirt on.

California nights can get like that. Billy’s used to it, but Steve still isn’t. Not that Billy’s going to complain — he loves reaching over at night and smoothing his hand across Steve’s chest hair, or kissing his shoulder in the morning, rousing him from his slumber.

But, today is different. He lets Steve sleep in, cuddles him for a while, pulling the sleeping princess into his chest and smiling as he hears the gently lip-smacking his boyfriend makes as he gets comfortable again, the soft hums he makes in the back of his throat as he sleeps.

And as the sun really begins to rise, its rays peeking through their curtains, Billy smoothes his hand down Steve’s warm back and kisses the top of his head and feels that familiar rush of affection and safety he can only feel with him.

This, right here, has kept him sane. Has kept him from being pulled down with his darkest thoughts. Steve’s love and trust and support has helped him in ways he can’t express and can never pay back, even if given an eternity to.

And Steve doesn’t even expect anything back, which Billy can’t understand. He can remember one of his breakdowns, when they had first moved here and everything was so raw and new, and Steve had held him and looked him in the eyes as he said, “We love each other and that’s all I need. I promise. I don’t want anything but you to be happy and safe with me, Billy.”

And it had broke his heart in the best way. He can feel the tears gathering in his eyes now, the memory is still so fresh. He wipes at his eyes with his free hand and feels Steve stir against him.

Glancing down, he watches Steve’s head lift and his eye cracks open, still so tired and half asleep, but his pretty boy cracks a tiny smile before his head drops again, nuzzling his rough cheek into Billy’s bicep where it’s resting.

“Go back to sleep,” Billy whispers, nearly coos.

“Mm,” Steve hums, sliding his arm around Billy’s middle again, taking a deep breath and letting it out as a long, content sigh.

Billy smiles to himself as he hears Steve’s breathing slow again, clearly doing as he was told.

It’s far too early for birthday boys to be awake, anyway.

[stormflowers54]

Sweet Girl

Checo Pérez x Reader

Word Count: 2,220

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!

Summary: Reader is having a tough time mentally, and Checo is trying to figure out how to help her *eyebrow wiggle*

Tags(?): Daddy kink, oral sex - fingering - plain ol’ fuckin (all f! receiving), discussions of pregnancy, breeding kink, very very very big overuse of petnames, dom/sub-ish, dom!checo

A/N: sooooo…. this went way off the rails for how it was originally planned.. oops! I went about a month between writing this, so just deal with me please, lol. Very very self indulgent so 🤷‍♀️ If you like it, please tell me!!

A warm summer breeze wafts through the windows, the mid-day sun shining onto her hair, sitting on her knees in front of Sergio’s lap. Her head lies on his inner thigh as he sits on the couch before her, resting comfortably together. The soft waves of her hair draped over his leg.

The older man strokes her hair gently, twirling it around his fingers, feeling the silkiness. She looked so beautiful in front of him, almost… angelic. She looked angelic.The way her light, flowy nightgown billowed around her body, the way her legs were folded gently under her, how beautiful her eyelashes were as her eyelids fluttered open. It was all just too perfect.

As she woke from a light nap, Sergio’s hand moved from her hair to her cheek, delicately caressing the soft skin.

“Have a good nap, sweet girl?” His voice is rough, still only a few minutes awake from his own slumber.

“Mhmmm” She groans, looking up, observing his features with bleary, sleepy eyes. “Maybe I can sleep just a little longer-”

“No, amor, you won’t be able to sleep tonight if you go back to bed,”

She just sighs, rubbing her cheek against his thigh, soothing herself. The strap of her nightgown slips down her shoulder, revealing the soft skin underneath. The sight endears Sergio, and he nudges the strap back up.

“Though, I know you’ve been struggling lately, you do deserve the rest,” He pauses. “You deserve the world, and I’d give it to you if you’d just ask,” The sigh that escapes his lips sounds worried, yet loving. “I wish you would just ask for something, anything.”

She has been struggling lately with her mental health, slipping into emotional breakdowns every now and then. It hurts Sergio to see the one he loves most struggle like this, and he wishes she would just ask for any sort of help or comfort, other than just letting herself wallow.

“I’m okay,”

Sergio looks at her skeptically as her meek voice echoes through the room, not believing a word she says. “I love you so much, and you just need to accept my help. Please.”

She looks up at him, observing the freckles adorning the older man’s face, his warm, gentle eyes, the slight tint of color on his lips, and a tear trickles down her cheek. Even as her eyes close, the tears fight their way through, her nose scrunching up as she attempts to hold it all back.

“Oh, cariño…” His voice trails off, thinking of what to say. “What has you so upset?”

“I-” She pauses, letting out a small whimper, “I dunno, jus’ love you so much,”

He tilts his head, brows furrowed, utterly confused. “Why would that upset you, sweet girl?” The question comes out soft, demonstrating his concern.

A few sniffles and hiccups escape her before she finally speaks, “I love you so much that it hurts sometimes. It- it’s like there’s so much love in my heart for you that it could just explode at any second, and it hurts so bad.”

Sergio holds his breath, unsure of what to say. Maybe it was a symptom of her current mental state? Maybe she had just become codependent the more time they spent together? He wishes he had the answers, he really did, but all he can muster up is a deep, primal need to take care of his girl. The thumb of the older man brushes against her cheek, wiping away the tears from her flushed face. “Why don’t you come up here on the couch and cuddle with me, okay?” He moves his hands under her arms to try and pick her up, but she resists.

“No!” Her yelp is loud and sudden, shocking Sergio, eyes widening.

“No?”

“No, I want to be on the floor.”

“But my love, the couch is comfortable-”

“No.”

Sergio sighs, accepting defeat this one time, going back to stroking her cheek with his thumb, her head lying in his lap. As her eyes close, he can feel the warm breath against his groin, and it takes everything he has to act as usual. The strokes on her cheek and pets on her hair continue, like nothing is out of the ordinary. She scoots a little closer, not intentionally, just for comfort, but the twitch of his cock through his pants does not go unnoticed. Those sweet, sparkling, yet sad eyes look up at him, and it’s all he can do to not pounce on her in that moment.

She moves even closer, nose pressed between the bulge in his jeans and his thigh. Sergio feels small, wet movements against the junction, her tongue lapping at the fabric.

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to do that right now,” He coos, trying to nudge her away, not wanting her to feel pressured just because he can’t control his own body.

She just fights back against his nudge, her licks on his pants becoming lewder by the second, and Sergio is groaning in a weak attempt to control himself.

“Amor, no.” He insists again, his voice firmer this time. He nudges her face away yet again, hoping she’ll get the message this time, but that doesn’t happen. She just moves back between his legs, not moving her lips this time, her nose pressed to the fabric.

Sergio can’t help but roll his eyes, finally picking her up from under her armpits, no matter how hard she attempts to stay on the floor. He gently places her facing up on the couch, pulling her legs over his lap and resting a gentle palm against the smooth surface of her stomach. “Stay here, cosita”

The soft fabric of her nightgown rides up, revealing the frilly panties underneath. The sunlight shines down on her once more, making her look like the most gorgeous thing in the world. Sergio leans down and presses a soft kiss against her navel, hand travelling up her belly.

“Checo…” She murmurs, meeting his gaze, knowing he won’t give up on forcing her to allow herself to be pampered.

“You’re so beautiful, princesa.”

She feels his lips move down her skin to the edge of those frilly panties, making her breath hitch. “Che-”

He cuts her off, “Maybe you want to call me Daddy right now, no?”

God, the way she looks at him with her lips slightly parted and eyes now wide in surprise, he just wants to-

“D-daddy?” She asks cautiously, testing the waters.

“Yes, is that alright, cosita?” His hand inches up further, finding it’s resting place between the swell of her breasts, feeling the goosebumps along the warm skin.

He smiles as she nods quickly, noticing the way her pupils dilate. He prepares to say something, but decides to leave it, opting instead to move his hand back down her stomach, tugging at the waistband of those tempting panties. He waits for a sign of her approval and continues when he gets it, sliding the lacey fabric down her legs.

His eyes glance over her skin, running the back of his knuckles over her thigh. “So beautiful, my love. And all mine, always mine.” He continues to gently tease the skin of her thigh, slowly inching closer and closer to where she needs him most. Her eyes watch him with anticipation, her arousal palpable, and so she squeezes her thighs tight in embarrassment.

“No, no, silly girl,” he teases, nudging her legs apart, “No need to hide from me.”

She whines again, trying to close her legs.

He keeps them open, holding her down with a strong, yet gentle grip. “C’mon, be a good girl, keep them open.”

His mouth ghosts along her thigh and finds it’s way to her core, licking a teasing stripe through her slick folds. The reaction he elicits from her makes the older man smirk, wrapping his lips around her clit, sucking gently.

“Oh! Oh, Daddy, ah-” She gasps, her back arching, scrambling to grab onto something. Her nails find his shoulders and he winces, his stubble scratching against her inner thigh as he groans.

“Careful on my shoulders, bebé.”

She whimpers, “Ah- mmph- ‘m sorry Daddy” as her hips buck up toward his lips. An obscene moan escapes her lips as Sergio’s mouth focuses on her clit, and sneakily slips a finger in her dripping cunt, curling as he slowly pumps in and out.

It quickly becomes too much for her, head spinning with submission, reduced to a whining, squirmy mess, rapidly approaching her release.

Sergio senses her oncoming orgasm and suddenly pulls himself away from her, smirking as she whimpers.

“Daddy, please…” Her voice is soft and mushy, any defiance slowly slipping away.

“Don’t worry, cosita,” He hums, grabbing her waist as he sits back on the couch, pulling her closer, “Doesn’t my sweet girl want something better? Hm?”

His teases just make her squirm, looking up at him with a needy expression, hair splayed across the couch. Her eyes travel down as Sergio begins to tug at his sweatpants, revealing his hardness in all it’s glory.

“No underwear?” She asks softly, heart speeding up by the second, studying every vein and detail on his erection.

“No, amor.”

“Condom?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Ran out.” He studies her face, looking for a reaction.

“I’m not on birth control, you know that.”

“You’d look cute with a baby bump.” He shrugs nonchalantly, as if they were just talking about the weather. Suddenly her skin is flushed red, hands covering her face, and she whines.

“Checo I- I don’t know-”

“Oh come on, cosita, I’m sure you won’t actually get pregnant,” He reaches down, leaving a kiss right below her navel. “But, I wouldn’t mind if you did. You’d look so beautiful pregnant.” His hand runs up and down her belly. She squirms. The air feels hot between them.

“Chec-“

He lightly pinches her side, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

A whimper escapes her lips.

“Sorry, Daddy,”

“It’s alright, amor. Do you want me to keep going?”

She bites her lip, debating for a second, but then nods in approval, looking him up and down with flitting eyes.

Sergio reaches his hand up to her cheek, stroking her gently, like she could break at any second. His voice is suddenly a low, teasing whisper as he speaks to her, “Although I’ve gone through your journal, mi amor, I know you’ve dreamt of getting pregnant by me. You’d like that, hm? Barefoot and pregnant and all for me.”

Her breath hitches, pupils dilated beyond what is probably normal, and all the older man just smirks. He speaks again, his tone just as teasing,

“Maybe keeping you all pretty and swollen would lift your spirits, hm? You know I’d take such good care of you.”

“You already take good care of me” She smiles meekly, face flushing again as her eyes flit back down to his bare body.

“Mmm, don’t you forget it, sweet girl.” He debates for a second, humming before he ever so gently swipes his thumb up her slit, eliciting a gasp from those plush lips. His hand roams down the expanse of his stomach before taking the base of his cock in his hand, guiding it between her folds, the tip nudging her already swollen clit.

“Daddy, please,”

“Please what? Be a good girl for me, use your manners.”

“Please, ah-” Her voice stutters, his length sliding up and down her sensitive skin in an attempt to fluster the beautiful girl in front of him.

“Words, princesa, I need words.”

“Please, mmh, fuck me, please, Daddy”

Those words are like music to his ears, and a soft groan rumbles through his throat. “Anything for you. Anything.”

Before she can even react, he’s already slipped the tip in, inching slowly further, allowing her time to adjust. The stretch stings, just a little, but as he bottoms out, she’s already panting for more.

The pace starts slow, just getting her all worked up and needy. His hands slide up to her waist, tilting her hips to give just that perfect angle, before his hips quickly snap against her own. She gasps, fingers clawing to try and dig into anything they can, finding his forearm and the side of the couch, back arching just beautifully for him.

He swiftly redirects her hand to her stomach, pressing her hand down on the bulge appearing each time he thrusts, “You feel that, hm? Feel how full I make you- how I’m the only one who can fill you like this?”

She only whines, brain turned to fuzz, getting closer and closer by the second.

“Daddy, gonna cum, wanna be a good girl,” Slips from her lips, soft gasps coming from her mouth with every meeting of their bodies.

“Go ahead, cosita, you’ve been such a good girl for Daddy,” And with that, his movements grow faster, his release starting to build in his own gut, and the tightening of her walls around him as she reaches that peak tips him over the edge. He’s soon spilling into her womb, panting, holding himself above her. She whines as he pulls out and his hands find her waist, gently massaging the skin beneath his thumbs.

“Good girl, you were such a good girl.”

[obsessivelysweet]

Our Lovely Scorched Sun

Part 1

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

Hello! Long time no see lol. I have just been busy with work and life, honestly, but I got some inspo and motivation, so here I am with this post. I wanted to do a different take on the SAGAU, but instead of normal creator, what if we had a presence of an Eldritch horror? Just being near us hurts them or touching our skin burns them, ya know? Like that kind of route. Reader is FemReader! Also, this is gonna be multiple parts! Also, sorry for any errors! I tried my best, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Blood, gore, self h4rm, mental breakdowns, angst.

Story under the cut!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You were their god, their salvation during dark times, their reason for living. When you finally descended into Teyvat, you were stunning, breathtaking even. A white flowly dress hugged your form as Teyvat softened your fall with flowers beneath you.

Your (h/c) falling around you like soft leaves, outlining your face. You were sleeping peacefully.

It was so serene.

You were beautiful even as they watched you softly fall.

Your followers were kneeling before you when you awoke from your slumber. Everything was hazy as your eyelashes fluttered open, the sun blazing onto your face, the gentle breeze softly pecking your cheek, and the soft whispers of people felt so surreal yet warm.

You looked around to see the characters you loved so dearly look at you with admiration, waiting for you to speak. It was truly a blessing to witness their creator finally here, with them, about to be worshiped by them.

However, this serene scene soon turned into cries of pain. Everything happened so fast. One moment, the characters you loved reaching to help you up, and the next moment, they recoil back screaming in agony as their skin blisters from something boiling hot.

It wasn't just their skin, either. It was their eyes as they looked upon you. It felt like they were staring into the sun, like daggers stabbing their eyes countless of time. Eyes tearing up from the intense pain, bloodshot even.

However, amongst the chaos, your followers still tried to comfort you as you began to panic as the scene got worse. They just wanted to help and make sure you were safe. However, even those followers got burned. Without thinking you got up and ran away, scared from what was happening, you didn't know if it was you causeing it or something else, but your mind said to run. Your followers screamed your name to come back, and even as they were screaming cries of pain, they still wanted their creator with them.

Months passed, and everyone learned how to live with their creator. You in the lavish palace they made for you, adorned with the most finest furnishings, colors, and flowers. You don't see any of the characters or be close to them at all. You have to stay in the palace, almost like a bird in a cage, alone. The only company you have is the sky and the breeze of the winds outside from your windows.

You gotten used to the quiet halls and the echoing audeince chamber. This was the only way for everyone to be safe.

You kept saying to yourself, "No more pain or screams from anyone."

When its time to eat, get new supplies, or get letters they wrote, a trusted follower will come inside your abode. The follower will put everything where its meant to be, while you are on the other side far from them, so your presnce doesnt effect them. This took a while to figure out, but if you're a good distance from them, they're safe.

Once you hear a bell ring, that's your cue that you can go back. This is how yall coexist, their creator safe and sound, and your followers are safe and sound. However, no one was truly happy in this situation. You were lonely, touch starved for human interaction, while your follwoers wanted to be closer to you, help you, be by your side..to fully worship you. It was years when you finally snapped, sick of being truly alone, you wanted to end it all. You were tired of just existing.

God, you were tired.

You started thrashing around your room, throwing plants, pillows, perfums, candles, anything really you can get your hands on. Suddenly, you hear a crash, and like a sign, you look towards the noise only to find your vanity mirror. It was broken, some pieces fell onto the marble floor, while the rest stayed in the mirror. Walking towards it, you saw your reflection, your e/c orbs looking back at you. The night gown you were wearing was a mess, hair in disarray, puffy eyes shown hours of crying. This is you, as pretty as you were, you were disgusted at yourself. And it didn't help that this reflection of you was broken. Jagged pieces showed yourself as broken. Which is how you felt truly at this moment. You were exhausted, angry, and humiliated at the face, looking back at you.

This body of yours was like posion to others, turning and twisting their faces into agnoy. That's when something inside of you erupted, sending your hands to your face. Tearing at your skin, you didn't feel any pain, too high on the aderaline to notice. Your nails dig deeper into your flesh, wishing this body, this flesh of yours didn't exist. Your once clean, beautiful nails were now coated in golden blood.

This was your fault.

If only you didn't have this body, you would be normal, be able to be with everyone. After what seemed like forever, the pain finally hit you, your raw flesh burned, golden hot liquid staining your gown, pooling at the ground. You gotten so deep that you saw bits of bone. You screamed in agony, trying not to touch your face, grabbing onto anything to squeeze your hands onto, to lessen the pain. While in this panic state, you saw your reflection one more time. This time, though, it was grotesque and feral. You looked non-human, almost like some kind of monster. Even though you saw the raw flesh, the bone, the veins, your mind told you this was your true form. The beauty you had earlier was an illusion, which made you sob from the realization. Soon, everything was turning hazy as your body began to shut down. It was all too much for you. With a loud thud, your body fell onto the same marble floor that was covered with your golden blood.

You awoke to the birds chirping outside, the soft morning light hitting your face to wake you. You slowly opened your eyes to see the marbled floor and the dry blood before you. In the same spot when you first fell, slowly getting up, you looked around to see the mess you made. Instinctively grabbing at your hair as pain surges from your head, the fall being to blame, you slowly pulled away to look around. You were still a bit hazy from sleep, so it was somewhat hard to focus on what's in front of you.

You were about to rub your eyes to wake up some more. However, you tensed up when you remembered about last night. Unfortunately, you realized too late, fearing for the buring sensation to come back, you closed your eyes to brace for the pain.

However, to your surprise, you didn't feel any burning or raw flesh in that matter either. Just your normal skin, like if none of what happened last night even transpired. It took you a second to snap out of your shock state to look at yourself in the mirror. Like a moth to a flame, you cling to the mirror, scanning your features from the jagged pieces.

You couldn't believe it.

There was no blood, no bone, no raw flesh being exposed.

It was fine.

You were fine.

You looked beautiful.

The only notion that something happened last night was the blood, the mess of the room, and the scars on your face. Like a reminder that you are stuck as you are, in this body, with this face, and with this flesh. Forever to be alone living like this.

Forever.

[videostarblogs]

4. hime gyaru

hime gyaru, also know as princess gal, is a subculture of the broader gyaru fashion movement from Japan. it blends hyper femininity, elegance, and opulence, drawing inspiration from princesses and rococo fashion. here is a detailed breakdown of hime gyaru.

origins and development

hime gyaru emerged as a subculture of the gyaru fashion movement in the early 2000s. gyaru, which means gal is Japanese, is a youth fashion subculture that emphasizes glamour, beauty, and rebellion against traditiona; Japanese beauty standards.influences by european rococo and Marie Antoinette aesthetics, hime gyaru combines elements of japanese kawaii culture with an extravagant and princess like style. brands like Jesus diamante and Liz Lisa were instrumental in popularizing the look.

key motifs

elegant and opulent clothing: hime gyaru putifts often feature dresses and skirts with luxurious fabrics, laces, ribbons, and frills. silhouettes are typically aline or fit and flare to enhance a feminine, princess like appearance.

pastel and soft colors: the color palette includes pastel pinks, white, creams, and other soft, delicate hues that add to the fairy tale charm of the style.

statement hair and accessories: big, voluminous hair is a signature of hiem gyaru. hairsty;es often includes large curls, bouffants, and elaborate updos, sometimes adorn with tiaras, bows, and floral headpieces.

luxurious details: pearls, rhinestones, and other sparkling embellishments are common in hime gyaru fashion, both in clothing and accessories. shoes after featured high heels with bows or other decorative elements

doll like makeup: makeup is characterized by flawless, porcelain skin, dramatic false eyelashes, and gradient or glossy lips, the overall look aims to create a doll like, elegant appearances.

music

hime gyaru fashion doesn't have a very specfic music genre associated with it, but j-pop artis and idols who embrace a cute elegant style, such as kyary pamyu pamyu and AI otsuka, often resonate with the aesthetic.

here are a few other music artists I suggest personally!!!!!!

Kyary Pamyu Pamyu

Momoiro Clover Z

Faky

Babymetal

Guso Drop

Sakura Fujiwara

Necronomidol

Mary’s Blood

Lovebites

Broken By The Scream

movies

films and media that feature princesses or luxurious, elegant settings align well with hime gyaru. movies like Marie Antoinette directed by Sofia Coppola and Disney princess films provide visual inspiration for the opulent and regal aspects of the style.

here are some other movies to watch as well!!!!!!!!!!!

Kamikaze Girls (2004)

Paradise Kiss (2011)

Boys Over Flowers (2005)

Hanayome wa Yakudoshi (2013)

Sailor Fuku to Shichinin no Kobanashi (2012)

Honto ni Atta Kowai Hanashi (2007)

Himitsu no Hanazono (2012)

Koibito ni Hanataba wo (2011)

Love Exposure (2008

books and other medias

manga and anime: shojo manja and anime that feature beautiful, elegant characters and romantic storylines often appeal to hime gyaru athusiasts. titles like nana ny AI yazawa and cardcaptor Sakura by clamp showcase characters with a sense of style that resonates with hime gyaru

magazines: japanese fashion magazines like ageha and egg often feature hime gyaru style, providing readers with the latest trends, makeup tutorials and hairstyle ideas.

social media: platforms like Instagram, youtube, and TikTok are vital for hime gyaru fashionistas to share their outfits, makeup routines, and diy projects. influencers and fashion icons within the community play a significant role in popularizing and evolving the style.

moodboard

outfit inspo

overall, hime gyaru is a glamorous and elegant fashion subculture that celebrates femininity, opulence and a fairytale princess aesthetic. it combines luxurious clothing, dramatic hairstyles, and doll like makeup to create a look that is both extravagant and charming.

make sure to like, reblog if you'd want, and follow my blog for more fashion breakdowns and inspo

videostar signing off.................

[talaofthevalley]

if it hasn't been asked already. revolver for the ask game? your postings are fun to read

smacks my desk MY BOY, THANK YOU FOR GIVING HIM TO ME. also thank you that's so sweet of you to say

Why I like them/why I don’t Where do I even start-

He's one of the most honourable characters in the whole franchise. He's ridiculously composed, that the few times he's rattled you know it's significant. He's carrying the sins of his father like they're his own, even though he was eight when the incident happened. But it's like he understands he's the only one who can carry that burden and deliver closure to the ones affected because he wasn't one of the perpetrators, but was still involved and wrapped up in it all.

But he's also a dork who strikes poses during duels. His deck consists of gun and bullet dragons. He's so extra and camp in the best way and is never not taken as a very serious threat. He's one of the strongest duelists in the show. He doesn't consider himself a victim of anything. He was willing to die at the end of S1. He regularly finds the villain of the arc/his enemies first and almost murks them. He's connected to flower and ocean imagery. He gave one of the most beautiful description about loved ones who has passed away I've ever heard. He cares So Much but isn't the best at showing it, yet can help in just the way others need. He hates himself so damn much. But does not let that get in the way of what he believes needs to be done. But he's not completely close-minded either.

Ryoken's just such an amasing character. I love him so much.

What I like about their appearance Everything Since I did the same for Aoi I'll do both his real world and LV designs.

Ryoken: Gorg. Beautiful beautiful boy. I love the soft tones used for his eyes and the blue in his hair. The feathery side bangs are so pretty. And I'm so weak for white hair. I'm not above to admitting I'm not fond of his outfit, but that's just because it's very far from my taste in clothes. I don't think it's as bad as people claim it is though. Love his pink shirt, and that his colour scheme overall in the real world is very soft-toned and almost pastel in contrast to the bolder colours used in his avatar. And of course the eyes, and the eyelashes. My god he is so pretty.

Revolver S1: I like this design! I do think it's usurped by his second avatar, but they share a majority of the same elements and design points, so I'll cover those in the next part. I think his mask is pretty cool ngl, and it's Very yummy to chew on for analysis. The red hair with lighter shades running up the sides looks great as well.

Revolver S2-3: I do think this is just, an absolutely banging design. The way it's separated into parts through use of colours and lines. Love the long gloves, and the coat is so cool, it really adds to his presence. The second avatar did a good I think by adding these cut-ins at the hips to give it more definition and volume.

The new hair colour is really good too, adds another change besides the mask showing more of his face to show his growth from the last time we saw him. Like a visual sign he's mellowed out after the breakdown he had in the S1 finale. Especially love the grey-violet eye colour they gave him, it's really nice. And that visor.... I know it's a crime they hide half of his beautiful face, but it's also so exciting to catch glimpses of his fringe under it. And it does look cool, I can't lie.

And of course I have to point out the bullet earrings. Top tier design. Just immaculate. It's so distinct and memorable. It even got made into official merch. Just iconic.

Do I prefer their dub names or original names? His name only gets a letter hacked off in the dub, thankfully, but I cannot take Varis seriously. It's a bit silly, but also in my first language it's spelled and sounds very close to a word for something less than pleasant =_=

OTP Datastormshipping my beloved, datastorm my everything. I can say so much about them but it would make this post even longer.

NOTP Datastorm is such an otp to me that I don't romantically ship either Ryoken or Yusaku with any other character. I don't think anything comes close to NOTP status for me with Ryoken though.

OT3 But I can accept Ai into the mix, since I see him and Yusaku as very queerplatonic.

Favourite card they use Am I basic if I say Borreload Dragon. I love that giant gun boy so much. The colour scheme is very nice, especially with the contrasting teal wings.

But also. Mirror Force is so iconic. It is SO FUNNY they had Revolver use Mirror Force and built it up so much. And for Link monsters it technically is! They can't be put in defense position! How effective it is makes it even funnier. You know he was having a blast blindsiding people with all these old trap cards.

Favourite moment they were in I can't pick one oh god-

Okay but, seriously I can't pick just one. He has so many good moments over the course of the show. All the duels against Yusaku. The first irl conversation he has with Yusaku. First time using Storm Access. Crashing the Ignis reunion party and curbstomping Windy into putty. The due against Lightning. The AFTERMATH of the duel against Lightning. Both duels against Takeru. The final scene between Ryoken and Yusaku. Yeah no I can't pick one. And a lot of his best moments are built from past scenes and the development he's had across the show.

Least favourite moment None, my perfect boy has done nothing wrong in his whole life- /j

[cadaverdolls]

Plushie gun super mega attack!!!

The character for today is from @haefal-the-otaku

The soft colors are really nice. Reminds me of watercolor paints.

☁️ Poof! ☁️

I kept seeing different versions. So I decided to try doing both.

Doll breakdown below

I tried adding a chest again but idk. Experiment. Imaging these cotton dolls with boobs is honestly really funny to me for some reason. Wonder how’d that actually be made?

This post took forever to make since my tumblr was glitching and not letting me add photos. It’s done it before but like only once.

Anyway, the hair is going to be doll hair since I don’t think these pigtails would look good as fabric plush (The cut out technique does work for bangs. The plush thing works for some large pieces of hair. Idk the official terms but I’ll draw a sheet or something to explain what I’m talking about another time). For this case I’d say doll hair is the way to go.

Her bat I drew a bit more cartoony than I meant to. Think it’s fine though. I want to add more colors to the eyelashes next time. Like a secondary color. I’ve seen that before and I’ve drawn it before too (it looks nice). I’ll try it I’m next drawing.

Also I need to fix my shoe problem. I keep making them point/curve out too much. It’s an issue!!!

[babymagi]

Headcanons for alibaba??

In general? HELL YES

-Physical appearance headcanons mostly show up in the way I draw him, but here's a breakdown of what I include whenever I do:

Tanner/browner skin

Thicker hair and eyesbrows

Fuller lips

Blonde eyelashes

Toned arms because of sword play and soft thighs bc why not

-Definitely a hopeless romantic and dreams about spoiling his future partner to death and giving them all of the love and affection in the world

-Very very good at financial stuff, will literally do his friends taxes for them if they need help and offers the best kind of financial advice for saving for the future

-Gold-retriever type of character, 100000%

-Bisexual king and a switch

-Doesn't get sick very often, really good immune system so when he DOES get sick shit goes dOWN

-Pierced his own ears, got infected at least three times. Pierced Morgiana's ears too and somehow they didn't get infected and he was a little bit jealous

-Only reason he goes to brothels is because his mom used to work in one and he knows how hard it is for the women in there so he just wants to give them tips and be courteous to them, sometimes he gets carried away though because women pretty

-Has a lot of weird skills, some of which include hair braiding on textured hair, henna tattoos, weaving, cocktail mixing, printmaking, etc

-Is the best older brother figure EVER to Morgiana and Aladdin. He listens to them and does their hair and comforts them when they cry and lets them sleep in his bed with him if they have nightmares. Both Aladdin and Morgiana basically saved his life and he wants to repay all of that to them

-I swear up and down this man would get bitches but he's extremely oblivious so he doesn't notice all of the people simping for him

That's not all the bajillion headcanons I have for this man but I think that's all of my main ones or ones I haven't mention before :^)

[elliotrv]

I’m new to this, so I’m unsure of whether I’m doing it right or not. Might just get my s.o to help out. :(

This is called “The Weeping Willow”

Please don’t steal it, I’ll have a mental breakdown lmao.

“THE WEEPING WILLOW”

She comes to me in whispers,

She’s carried by the soft breeze.

Her kisses cover my eyelashes,

When a blanket of snow— paints the trees.

Her name is a lyric, a note,

She’s written in my soul— a book.

Nay, she isn’t one to be seen,

Not by the naked eye.

She is to be seen with feathers of white,

Waltzing within the clouds amongst the sky.

With every sigh comes a caress,

A promise to this heart of mine.

As long as I may miss her,

She will remain in every reflection;

She will remain in my soul,

Where her and I read books once more,

Underneath the willow tree.

Elliot R. Verona

[dustedmagazine]

Califone — Villagers (Jealous Butcher)

villagers by Califone

Califone have long been Dusted regulars, with coverage of their last album, Echo Mine (2020), on our current Tumblr incarnation, and plenty of reviews dating back to Dusted’s old site. Seeing as Tim Rutili and co. have been at it for more than 20 years, it’s surprising when another album arrives that belongs alongside their other consistently strong releases. Villagers is no exception. 

If there’s a defining characteristic this time around, it’s that Califone’s raw, bluesy core is coddled in relatively soft-focus arrangements, corralled from the contributions of 20 musicians (the titular villagers, perhaps?), some of whom will be familiar to long-term fans. There’s Rutili’s distinctive weathered croak and fractured guitar playing, Brian Deck’s expansive production, and long-time member Ben Massarella’s inventive junk-shop percussion. But jazzy horn breaks? Twinkling bar-room piano? Doo-wop backing vocals? All this and more crops up in ways both unusual and satisfying. 

Rutili is also in fine lyrical form. Many of the songs begin with strange and imaginative opening lines, such as “Sunrise bakes you in a pie, creates you then forgets” (“McMansions”), “Ghosts are only time machines, just as afraid of you as you are” (“Ox-Eye”), and “When did I become the thief in the story that you wear on your face like a mask?” (“Skunkish”). The lyrics act as a vivid imaginary springboard from which the arrangements take flight. “The Habsburg Jaw”’s bouncing stomp feels like it’s being eaten away at its periphery by chittering digital insects. “Eyelash” hangs on a swinging rhythm track, from which the glorious bassline roves confidently. “Ox-Eye” builds from its slinky verses via droning organ and horn blurts into a breakdown of heavily overdriven guitars. And closer “Sweetly” lives up to its name, rounding out the album with a wonderfully tender and restrained performance. 

Given how long Califone have been going, it’s heartening to hear them continuing to evolve, while maintaining the qualities that make them unique. As a long-term fan, I’d say Villagers belongs up there alongside the band’s finest, such as Quicksand/Cradlesnakes and Stitches. 

Tim Clarke

[lghealthyhaircare]

How Black Haitian Castor Oil Differ from Regular Castor Oil?

For centuries, hair has held immense cultural significance, and achieving healthy, luscious locks has been a universal desire. Here at Lg.Healthyhair, we understand this deeply. That's why we're thrilled to talk about a haircare hero – Black Haitian Castor Oil!

Black Haitian Castor Oil, also known as "lwil Maskriti" in Haitian Creole, is a unique product with a rich history and potential benefits for your hair. But what exactly sets it apart from regular castor oil? Buckle up, because we're diving into the world of Haitian Black Castor Oil!

Traditional Techniques, Powerful Results

Unlike regular castor oil, which is often extracted through chemical processes, Black Haitian Castor Oil is meticulously crafted using time-tested traditional methods. These ancestral techniques involve roasting the castor seeds, grinding them into a fine paste, and then extracting the oil through boiling. This unique process is believed to contribute to the oil's distinct properties.

The Color Speaks Volumes

One of the most striking things about Black Haitian Castor Oil is its color – a deep, rich black compared to the pale yellow of regular castor oil. This dark hue comes from the ash residue left behind during roasting. While some remove this ash during filtration, many believe it benefits hair health.

A Treasure Trove of Potential Benefits

Black Haitian Castor Oil is rich in ricinoleic acid, a fatty acid known for its potential to improve hair growth and scalp health. This powerful fatty acid may help to nourish hair follicles, promote healthy hair growth, and even combat hair loss. Black Haitian Castor Oil is also a natural humectant, meaning it can attract and retain moisture, leaving your hair feeling soft, hydrated, and manageable.

Beyond the Scalp: Haitian Hair Care Versatility

Black Haitian Castor Oil's benefits extend beyond the scalp. This versatile oil can add shine and manageability to your hair, strengthen strands, and even help tame frizz. Some people also use Black Haitian Castor Oil for eyebrow and eyelash growth, although a patch test is recommended before applying it near the eyes.

Finding Your Perfect Match

So, which one is right for you: Black Haitian Castor Oil or regular castor oil? Here's a quick breakdown:

Black Haitian Castor Oil: Traditionally produced, darker color due to ash content, potentially higher ricinoleic acid content.

Regular Castor Oil: Lighter color, often extracted through chemical processes.

Ultimately, the best choice depends on your hair type and preferences. If you're looking for a natural product with a rich history and potential benefits for hair growth and health, Black Haitian Castor Oil might be a perfect match.

Experience the Magic of Haitian Hair Care

At Lg Healthy Hair, we believe in the power of natural ingredients and traditional techniques. Our Black Haitian Castor Oil from Evahair is a testament to that belief. We invite you to experience the magic of Haitian hair care and discover the potential benefits of Black Haitian Castor Oil for your hair journey!

Remember: While Black Haitian Castor Oil is generally safe for topical use, it's always a good idea to do a patch test before applying it liberally. If you have any concerns or pre-existing scalp conditions, consult a dermatologist before using any new haircare product.

[anneslittlelashco]

Top Trends in Eyelash Extensions Ringwood for 2024

Eyelash extensions have become a beauty staple, and 2024 is set to see new trends in this ever-evolving industry. For those in Ringwood looking to elevate their lash game, it's an exciting time. Whether you're a fan of natural, fluttery lashes or bold, voluminous looks, the trends for eyelash extensions in Ringwood this year offer something for everyone. Here’s a breakdown of the top trends to watch for and try out in 2024.

1. Hybrid Lashes: The Best of Both Worlds

One of the most popular trends for 2024 is the hybrid lash. A blend of both classic and volume techniques, hybrid lashes offer a perfect balance between natural and dramatic looks. This style mixes individual lashes with fans (multiple lashes attached to a single natural lash) to create a textured, fuller appearance without being overwhelming.

Hybrid lashes are great for those who want more volume than classic extensions but still prefer a soft, natural vibe. This trend is quickly gaining traction in the world of eyelash extensions in Ringwood because it offers versatility and a customizable look suited for everyday wear or special occasions.

2. Wispy Lashes for a Soft, Natural Look

If you're after a more subtle, fluttery look, wispy lashes are set to be one of the biggest trends of 2024. Wispy lashes are characterized by their uneven lengths, giving a soft, feathery appearance that mimics the natural lash pattern. These lashes are perfect for clients who want to add volume and length but still maintain a natural, effortless look.

Wispy lashes work well with all eye shapes and are ideal for those who want to enhance their natural lashes without going overboard. This trend is perfect for the Ringwood clientele who value understated elegance in their beauty routines.

3. Color Lashes for a Pop of Personality

While black remains the classic color for eyelash extensions, 2024 will see more people experimenting with colored lashes. From subtle hints of brown or burgundy to bolder shades like purple, blue, or even rainbow hues, colored lashes are a fun way to express your personality and make a statement.

In Ringwood, this trend is catching on, especially for those looking to spice up their everyday look or stand out for a special event. Colored lashes can be added as highlights or used for a full set, depending on how bold you want to go.

4. Lash Mapping for Personalized Styles

Lash mapping is a technique that tailors the design of your lash extensions to your eye shape, facial features, and personal style preferences. In 2024, more lash technicians in Ringwood are adopting this personalized approach to create custom looks for their clients.

Lash mapping allows you to choose from different styles, such as cat-eye (longer lashes at the outer corners), doll-eye (longer in the center for a wide-eyed effect), or a natural gradient. With lash mapping, no two sets of lashes are exactly alike, giving you a truly unique look that enhances your natural beauty.

5. Eco-Friendly Lash Extensions

As sustainability becomes a key focus in the beauty industry, eco-friendly eyelash extensions are gaining popularity. In 2024, many salons in Ringwood are moving towards more sustainable options, such as using cruelty-free mink lashes or synthetic lashes made from biodegradable materials. This trend is perfect for the environmentally conscious client who still wants to look fabulous while minimizing their impact on the planet.

Eco-friendly adhesives and packaging are also being introduced, making it easier for beauty lovers in Ringwood to make eco-conscious choices when it comes to their lash extensions.

6. Lash Retention Focus

In 2024, lash retention is a growing trend, with both clients and technicians focusing on ways to make eyelash extensions last longer. Salons in Ringwood are increasingly offering treatments and products designed to boost retention, including specialized adhesives, aftercare products, and techniques to ensure your extensions stay in place for weeks.

Proper aftercare, such as using lash-safe cleansers and avoiding oil-based products, will also remain critical for maintaining long-lasting, beautiful lashes.

Conclusion

With these exciting trends in eyelash extensions Ringwood clients have more options than ever to customize their lash look in 2024. Whether you're after a natural flutter, bold volume, or a pop of color, the local lash scene is embracing innovation and personalization. Keep an eye on these trends and talk to your lash technician to find the perfect style for you.

[reiding-writing]

Omg imagine Reid being incredibly touch starved and literally having this very primal craving for affection to the point it's all he can think about but he cannot for the life of him get over his fear of germs and it's just all this angst and ahh

deprivation [ s.r ]

Summary:

Spencer needs support. He needs it. But he for the life of him just cannot reach out for it himself. And after one particular case, you make an effort to try and quell is emotional rampage.

spencer reid x gn!reader | ANGST, hurt/comfort | 2.8k

WARNINGS: germophobia, self deprecation, touch deprivation, emotional breakdown

masterlist!!

a/n: great minds must think alike because i was actually already working on this when the request came in😭

i made this less angsty than originally planned, but i hope it suffices nonetheless the less, thanks for the request! <33

Spencer Reid was exhausted in every sense of the word.

His muscles ached, his head pounded, and he was so burnt out he didn’t even have any thing to say when JJ had incorrectly mentioned a ‘fact’ about a certain sub-species of butterfly that was supposedly native to Oregon.

His exhaustion only proved to get worse as the jet took off for Virginia, but the unfortunate rampaging of his own mind proved any chance of him sleeping on the flight home impossible.

“Hey… Are you okay?” Your voice seems to echo across the silence of the cabin despite you practically whispering to avoid waking your teammates, and Spencer’s eyes flicker up towards you, clearly not having expected you to be awake.

You stand up from your seat, walking down the aisle to take a seat on the sofa next to Spencer, his head resting in his hands as his eyes followed you. “You’ve been really quiet since the case ended,”

“I’m fine…” He said the words, but it wasn’t reflective of his tone of voice. There was something there. Something more, something beneath the words.

A sadness.

An uncertainty.

And if you listened to his voice, not just to his words, you’d hear a hint of pain, a deep seeded sense of misery that he was concealing beneath the usual layers of stoicism.

“Spencer you’re talking to a professional profiler, which I don’t even need to be to know that you’re not okay.” You can’t help the soft sigh that escapes your mouth, turning to sit sideways to face him properly.

"I'm fine," He said the words again, and this time they held a touch of force. But the words did not match his tone, still pained, wounded, and silently pleading with him to just be honest with you.

And as the words came out of his mouth, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if hoping that what he was feeling would be gone by the time he opened them again.

But when they fluttered open through his eyelashes he was still on the sofa of the jet and you were still sitting there and he still felt miserable.

“If you don’t want to talk about it then I won’t pressure you,” You dejectedly resign yourself at Spencer’s insistence, leaning your left side against the back of the sofa. “But just know i’m here for you if you ever want to get something off your chest okay?”

"It's just...It's just-" He paused, biting his lip as if unsure about what he was about to say. He knew it may be dangerous to let himself slip. So he considered his words carefully before he spoke again. "...it's just been hard...I’m so stressed and...I'm...feeling vulnerable. And I don't like it. I don't like it at all."

“Everyone’s gonna feel like that at some point Spence, especially in our line of work,” You tilt your head slightly at him, a soft expression painting your features that matches your tone.

"I know..." He said, " But...I don't like feeling like...like i can't cope. Like I'm scared. That's not who I am. I'm supposed to be the rational one. The smart one." Spencer dragged his palms up his face and back over his hair, leaning back against the sofa with his head leaned back against the wall.

“I don’t like being scared,”

And there, again, in that simple sentence was another hint of the hurt that his apprehension hadn’t managed to fully hide. “I’m meant to be better than that.”

“Spencer just because you are a functioning genius does not mean that you’re not allowed to be scared, that’s a part of what makes you human,” Your face furrows as you become increasingly concerned for Spencer and his mindset.

"I-...I know..." He said the words, but the underlying message was clear. He might know that he was supposed to have emotions and he might know that expressing them is healthy, but there was a part of him that was screaming at him to suppress them.

To bury his feelings and pretend to be the robot that his childhood (or lack thereof) had forced him to be.

He wasn't trying to be resistant, he was just...afraid.

“When was the last time you cried Spencer?” The question blurted it’s way out of your mouth as your concern for Spencer only continued to grow.

"Why would you ask me that?" His tone of voice was almost affronted by the question as if he were a little wounded that you had brought up something so sensitive.

He swallowed back the lump in his throat, and you swear that you could see his eyes glass over even in the dim lighting of the cabin. “Because i want to know exactly how much pent up emotion you’re dealing with right now,”

You make a conscious effort to relax your features as you look at him, sighing softly. “Please answer the question…”

Spencer took a second as he deliberated whether or not to answer your question, staring blankly across the cabin so he wouldn’t have to look at you.

"958 days ago."

He said the words coldly, but you could hear the emotion in the way he spoke them. This is the moment when he finally cracked. When he finally realised that hiding the way he felt wasn't a sustainable solution.

And its was also the point when he started to break down. The tears finally started to flow, and he couldn't stop them as much as he tried.

“Spence…” You reach out a hand towards him, but you barely get it up out of your lap before he firmly stops you.

"Don't..."

The words come out of him sharply, but there's something in his tone that saying the opposite. There’s a note of desperation in them. A plea. A cry for help. Because he wants you to touch him, he needs you to. But he's resistant to the idea, he keeps resisting it. “80% of communicable diseases are passed by physical contact. I don’t want to get sick.”

You curl up your hand into a ball as you let it fall back into your lap, pursing your lips as Spencer uses his statistical knowledge to stop you from touching him.

You knew he had an aversion to touch. That he was hyper aware of practically any illness that could possibly be transferred through human contact. You knew that he kept himself at a physical distance from everyone for a reason.

But you also knew that despite all of that he needed physical comfort. Words just weren’t going to cut it.

“It’s okay to need to be comforted…”

"I can get through this myself." He cuts you off harshly, and if you didn’t know that he was obviously mentally struggling his tone would’ve cut you deep.

He's in pain.

He's miserable.

And he's been alone for too long.

He needs emotional intimacy. He needs the affection and comfort of his friends.

He just can't bring himself to actually say that.

“Spencer, let me comfort you. please.” You bite the inside of your cheek as your eyes follow a tear that falls down his face, leaving a water streak in its wake.

“It’s not healthy for you to ball yourself up like this,” You plead desperately with him to let down his emotional barriers and just let you help him.

"There's nothing wrong with me." His words are still cold, but he's wavering now. His shoulders are lowering, his hands loosening from fists to lying flat on either side of him.

He wants you to touch him. He wants the affection that he's been deprived of for so long. But there's still that part in him that's resisting. The voice in his head telling him he can't.

“There doesn’t have to be anything wrong with you for you to need comfort Spencer,” You attempt again to hesitantly reach out a hand towards you, but your advances are again immediately shot down.

"Please.. Don't touch me." His words come out weakly. He's desperately resisting, but the tears are still flowing down his cheeks and you can tell that he’s trying not to completely break down.

“…Are you sure?” You hand retreats back to your side the second he denies you, but you both know he’s not entirely convinced of his own boundaries.

"I'm sure."

He's lying.

The tears were still streaming down his cheeks, and even one quick look at his eyes could tell you that he was desperate to be touched.

He was craving human interaction. But the words were still coming out of his mouth. He wasn't ready yet, not quite yet.

Your hand falls to the gap between the two of you on the sofa, a few inches left between his hand and yours as you suppress a sigh at the clear desperation coating his face despite his denial of your touch.

But you don’t want to overstep the boundary, even if he’s not 100% sure of it himself.

He stares back at you, still resisting the urge to reach out for your hand, even though he's not sure why. He knows that he would feel better if he could grab you and put his head on your shoulder, letting the weight of all of his problems wash away.

But there was still the little voice in his head shouting "Don't. Don't touch them. Don't." And he was struggling. Fighting with every inch of his being for self-control.

As the two of you fall into a slightly tense silence, you make a small movement to breaking Spencer’s self made barrier as you edge your pinky finger towards his own, just barely brushing his skin as you keep your eyes plastered on the opposite wall.

His eyes follow your fingers as they inch their way closer and closer to his. And when - at long last - you make contact, Spencer freezes. Time seems to just stand still as his eyes are transfixed on the single point of contact between your fingers and his.

He doesn't move, he doesn't speak. He just watches.

Over 200 breeds of bacteria are passed through people’s hands for every second they’re in contact.

But he can’t seem to pull himself away.

Because this is the connection he seeks. This is the release he needs. And finally, finally he gets it.

You continue to gently bridge the gap as your pinky finger links itself with Spencer’s, squeezing it with a gentle pressure as you try desperately to stop your eyes from averting back to him.

The second your finger links with his, a dam of emotions breaks. The tears flow faster and he lets out a whimper in the back of his throat.

As soon as you touch him, he leans into the feeling and turns his hand over, pressing his palm and his other fingers against your own, wanting more, needing more of this sensation that he's been starved of for so long.

You respond enthusiastically at his acceptance of the contact, interlacing your fingers together and giving his hand a soft squeeze as you finally bring your gaze back towards his face.

“You’re going to be alright Spencer…”

The moment your hand falls into his is a moment of sweet release. The flood gates have opened, the dam has broken, and there are no barriers between him and the overwhelming emotions he's been forced to bottle up.

And as the dam breaks so too does that small, insistent voice telling him to reject contact. That small voice that tells him he can't have physical affection.

Because that small voice is wrong.

And when you squeeze his hand he brings no hesitation into melting into you completely and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You immediately shift to accommodate Spencer’s weight against your body, breaking the contact of your hands to pull him into a firm but comforting embrace, rubbing soft lines up and down his back as the other held his head against your shoulder.

With tears still flowing down his cheeks and his head buried in your neck, he lets out a soft, contented whimper.

His body relaxes in your embrace, and just lies there in your arms.

He's safe. He's finally safe, and it feels good. He no longer needs to hold himself together. And for the first time in years, he feels loved.

“I’ve got you…” You whisper the affirmation softly into Spencer’s hair as you rest your nose against the crown of his head.

He lets out more soft whimpers, his body relaxing as he leans into the comfort of your embrace, finally allowing himself to just let go.

He takes in big breaths, drinking in your scent as he tries to slow his breathing. He's still crying, but the tears aren't so severe anymore. He's finally started to calm down.

You lean backwards against the seat to support both of your weights comfortably as you focus on soothing Spencer through his emotions, running your fingers gently through his hair and massaging softly at his scalp.

The soft strokes against his head bring a wave of shivers, but they aren't like the shivers that he had felt when he'd been shaking so much.

These are better, these are warm and comforting, and it was like the tension was leaving his body from his head all the way down to his toes.

It feels good, it feels right.

Your touch was healing, and his whole body is relaxing in the gentle massage of your fingers.

“when was the last time you got a full night’s rest Spence..?” The question is soft against his ear as you continue to gently scratch and massage Spencer’s scalp, pulling him slightly towards you with your other arm to secure him safely in your lap.

“I… A while ago…” His words were hushed and sleepy, the exhaustion evident in the slight rasp that was present in his voice. He's been so caught up in the case and the work that he hasn't given a moment's thought to taking care of himself.

He's running on caffeine and willpower. He’s exhausted.

“You should get some sleep…” You carefully adjust the way yo two are sat until you are lying flat on your back with Spencer splayed out on top of you, burying himself in your presence at every point possible.

“I will…”

He's lying.

And based on the fact that his eyes are still squeezed tight against you and the way he's practically buried his body into yours it's clear that even he knows that he's lying.

There's no way that he can sleep right now. Not when he's finally feeling safe. When he's finally found comfort. He plans to bask in it for as long as possible.

“I’ll still be here when you wake up Spencer,” You know that he knows that you know he’s lying. “Get some rest,”

"But-"

He wants to hold this moment, to cling to this moment, trying to delay the passing of time just a little longer.

"I-“

He falters, realising that he's fighting against losing an argument that has already ended. He forces himself to breathe in and out in a slow and deliberate way as he resigns himself to the inevitability of falling asleep.

“…promise?”

He sounds less like a genius and more like a scared child when he says those words. A child who wants to be reassured. Who wants to be told that everything will be okay. That he'll be taken care of when he wakes up from his slumber.

“I promise.”

— part two.

[badkitty3000]

This is all so good. I would have loved to watch all of this actually. Love that Lila befriends Dolores and she keeps a weird pet for a while. And I completely agree with the fact that you don’t spent 6 YEARS with someone TRAPPED without, if not outright hating them, then at least resenting them a little. Remember how during Covid lockdown the divorce rate and domestic abuse cases increased? It’s a high-stress situation that they can’t get out of and that is going to lead to big blow up fights and maybe some tearful breakdowns and reluctant apologies. But super soft, fluttery eyelash kisses? No. If anything, like OP said, it could lead to sex (if the writers just had to throw that in there) BUT with these two it would probably be hate-fueled and angry, almost violent, leaving them horrified after the fact, and they make a pact to never speak of it again.

Five and Lila (nonromantic) subway headcanons

Like everyone I really hated the Five x Lila storyline and the butchered potential of their almost-sibling relationship development.

But one thing that really ticked me, and that I haven't really read about yet, is: that timeskip montage looks like 3 weeks, maybe 2 months at best, not SIX FUCKING YEARS. In six years, people visibly age, especially under duress, if, for example, the only thing they can eat is rats?? (I'm not even talking about how they managed to keep roughly the same clothes and haircuts for six years without any explanation, or how they miraculously cleaned up before going back to Diego and Lila's precisely at the right point in time...) In six years alone with another person, you would probably struggle keeping your sanity, and the end result for each of them would probably look something like early stages of Apocalypse S1 Five. In six years alone with another person, even with prior attraction (which would already be ooc for both of them but whatever let's just grant them that for the sake of the argument), you would end up HATING each other all the way through your codependent relationship. I could see them having sex after six months (still following those creepy-ass ooc assumptions), but I could certainly NOT see them kissing softly and romantically wine-dining after SIX YEARS (the time those goddamn showrunners told us it took for passion to die down in a perfect marriage?? How about helltrap subway then??)

So after that really long preamble, here are my headcanons for what that subway section should really have looked like:

No Five x Lila, obviously

They bicker all the time; this escalates into outright fights. At some point, Lila storms off somewhere and they lose each other for five months.

When they realise they're not going home anytime soon, Five finds a timeline with a Dolores (other than the original one) and steals her away, because he's going to need her to cope through this. (Of course, he needs to apologize to her for being gone this long.)

At first, Lila thinks that Five is nuts for talking to Dolores, but in a matter of days she understands the urge and Dolores becomes her best friend. Five and Lila fight over Dolores's approval all. the. time.

Lila collects little trinkets to bring home to Grace and the twins (like the plushies in New Grumpson). After two years the gift bag has got way too big and Five helps her sort out the ones she really wants to keep; she bawls her eyes out and they arrange the throwaway gifts neatly on a bench, just in case they can come back and get them.

They find some really weird and fun timelines. Don't care what, they just do. Lila almost gets killed trying to bring home a souvenir.

Five and Lila find Max's Delicatessen together. By the way, there's a few Lilas there, ones that also met Fives. Lila can vent about her relationship trouble Diego with another Lila who has also married a Diego. But the other Diego is dead, and Lila realizes just how much she wants to get home before that happens.

This is a bit irrelevant, but that Five deli paradox psychosis plothole is explained by a random artefact created by Commission Five (like in his room in S3 I think?).

Five and Lila wait a short while in the deli to make a plan about the apocalypse. Another Five arrives, finds out about the marigold, and says out loud that the solution would be to erase all Hargreeves siblings from existence. A few seconds of silence, and then all the other Fives slaughter him because what kind of Five would to this to their family???? This is also one of the purposes of the deli, by the way. To make sure no Five comes out of the subway with delirious, dangerous ideas about harming their siblings.

Five and Lila realise that if Viktor can take away the marigold from people like Harlan, then he can take it away from his siblings. And what about Viktor himself? Well, Lila can mimic his powers and they can take away each other's marigold at the same time, and lose their powers just as they're done. Darn, why didn't they think of this sooner?

Lila tries to relook Five. After four or five years, he gives in, sees the end result and immediately finds a timeline with a suit to steal so as to fix this freakish mistake. He wears a hat for a while to try and hide his undercut hair.

Lila sings a lot. Five lets her, and just mumbles about her lousy tastes in music to Dolores.

Lila adopts a monstrous pet (three-headed cat? Giant bee?) for a few stops, and it mysteriously disappears at some point. Major fight ensues. Maybe this is why she leaves for a while.

In another timeline, they briefly meet a version of Diego that's not dead yet. He tries to kill them, Lila tells him that he's a great dad, he's weirded out and runs away.

Five picks up littered newspaper to see if there's anything interesting. He becomes a crossword addict. He moves to a new special interest puzzle game every few months.

After a fight, Five's big making-up strategy is to sit down next to Lila and start talking shit about the Handler. It kinda works.

I'm gonna stop here, this is already way too long. Please share your own headcanons if you have any!