#and then all of these things go horribly wrong

[cute-sucker]

"❀˚ rafe is so attentive to you. he might be busy ‘handling business’ all the time, but he’ll drop everything if something’s bothering you. he wants you to live a cozy, carefree life, physical proof to you and everyone else that he can maintain that for you. so, when you show up at tannyhill with tears in your eyes, he goes straight into problem solving mode. ˚❀༉‧₊" - (x) inspired by @maiiuelle

you were in a foul mood. one that left you nothing but in shivers, and sniffles. you were holding yourself together until you saw rafe. you had started working lately, telling rafe that you could handle it and that you hated the way that he had to pay for everything. 

you worked at a meek small cafe, serving tables, and coming home greasy and bubbly. sometimes you'd bring free leftover fries, and rafe would kiss you, telling you that there was enough money to pay for it. but you liked it. you liked the simplicity rafe liked seeing you happy.

but today everything was horrible. from the way that the day started from the way you felt in the beginning. you had hit your toe on the door and chipped a nail. then there was a man who yelled at you for getting his order wrong, and you ended up having chunks of potato puree in your hair after a toddler grappled for the food you were serving.

so there you were at tanyhill. staring up at the daunting building, as hot tears streamed down your face. you felt caged in as your arms were wrapped around your body. you felt small, almost as if you could disappear the moment something was uttered.

rafe had given you the key to the house. that's the way he was, giving you small things. giving you small things that you'd always hold close to your heart. sometimes he'd just gaze at you, kiss your forehead and call you his "sweet girl," and you felt your whole body blaze with a fire. and so you gently swung open, the hall echoing with emptiness, you felt yourself smile gently. 

tanyhill reminded you of rafe. and rafe reminded you of good things. yet your foul mood followed you, and somehow there was this inkling feeling that rafe wouldn't allow you to keep your job if he knew how horrible the service was. 

but you couldn't help yourself as you bundled in rafe's bedsheets, smelling that scent of his, and wearing one of his polo's. your hand ached towards the phone, yet you held back. he was probably handling business, but it was finally when you picked up the phone and dialled his number. he picked up in one ring.

"rafe?" you sniffed out, your voice scratchy.

"what's wrong?" rafe murmured back. you could almost hear the alarm in his voice and could feel the way he was probably pacing around. he was probably going to be in trouble. that caused you to wilt even more, as you tried to stammer out your sentence. 

"i need you." 

˚❀༉‧₊˚.

you could imagine what rafe was thinking. he was probably worried. worried out of his mind, as you sat in his bed, messy bed head and tears streaming down your face. you heard the creak of the door opening, and there he was.

you saw him, eyes soft as they traced your body. there you were, eyes rubbed red, and a pout on your face. you seemed almost in disbelief, as you stared at him. finally, you jumped into his embrace. it was warm. it was home. you could hear his heartbeat. 

your voice was slurred as you whispered words out, still seeking his warmth.

 "you came." 

it was only here you took a peek at his face, a soft smile was sprawled across his face. 

"you called." 

maybe that was when you realised you loved him. 

#rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #obx fic #rafe x you #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #fluff #angst #rafe obx #drabble #rafe x y/n #rafe fanfiction #obx rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #cute #i'm not crying you are #oh welp #rafe fluff #rafe fic #rafe cameron x fem!reader #obx3 #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x fem!reader

[pablitogavii]

Protecting her

Life with Pablo Gavi, the boy everyone adores, and I hate with all my passion not for any particular reason. I actually tried making peace with him the moment I stepped foot into his house at the beginning of my exchange program.

I tried to be nice, to even become his friend but he would always push me away and find some reason to fight me. Even Aurora and his parents tried to make us like each other but it didn't work so I just deiced to stay out his way..somehow that didn't stop him to sabotage me every step of the way all the freaking time!

leo: look at what your brother did to me! boy is a delinquent! I can't do this anymore Y/n..I'm sorry.

There was a picture attached of my soon to become boyfriend with bruised eye and busted lip. Did Pablo really did this just so Leo dumps me knowing it would spite me!?

I heard stumbling and rushed towards the front door to comfort Pablo about this. I was done staying on the sidelines and letting him do whatever he pleased just because I am guest at this house..this is MY life he was messing with for his own amusement!

"Why did you do it!? Tell me he said something to provoke you? Tell me you weren't just trying to spite me by doing this Pablo.." I said but he completely ignored me, like I was invisible, unimportant and that drove me mad.

"No! You're going to start listening to me! WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO LEO!!??" I said pushing him against the wall with all my strenght which was not possible unless he let me do it.

"Hm..or what if I don't listen chiqui? What will you do to me precious..huh??" he pushed back and I needed up glued on the wall in the matter of seconds. I gulped..he was so close..and I was no longer angry at him..I was tired of this whole "hate" thing.

"I'm tired of this Pablo..just leave me alone!" I said trying to push him but he wouldn't budge looking down at my face like he was lost in thought. I would give up everything ot know what he was thinking right now.

"P..please.." I was close to tears yet again being dumped not to mention that all my "friends" here only hang out with me thinking they will get to meet my new "brother"..I just wanted to be left alone by everyone especially Pablo Gavi who made this whole trip horrible!

"Fine.." he moved and i walked away not knowing that something in him broke seeing me so sad in front of him knowing he was the reason for it.

I was crying rather loudly knowing his parents and Aurora are not here and Pablo probably didn't even care about it. I was very wrong since he was glued to my door listening to each sound until finally opening the door and walking closer to the bed.

"Stop crying.." he said and I realized that he was indeed there watching me, probably in amusement.

"Leave me alone asshole!" I yelled feeling the bed move as he laid behind me making my whole body contract especially when his strong arms wrapped around my body..what was this nervousness and why did it feel so good to be held by him!?

"Please stop crying...if you like Leo that much I'll stay away.." he said while his hands were tracing invisible shapes on my bare skin making shivers moving down my spine and make me breathless. I truly didn't care that deeply for Leo..I almost cared more how it was angering Pablo..how I finally gotten some type of reaction out of him. I slowly moved turning around in his embrace to face him.

"It's not about Leo..it's about you..why can't you just stop hating me!?" I spoke my hand moving to his face caressing it gently and he let me do it for a few moments closing his eyes looking like he was enjoying it..maybe Pablo felt something for me..maybe I did for him too..maybe that's this tension between us..maybe it's love?

"Because you're annoying!" he pulled away and that gentle caring Pablo vanished in a matter of a second and he was back to being hateful asshole..he only wanted to feel in control and I gave him the chance..like an idiot..thinking he was genuine.

Quickly, he was out of my room returning to his crying himself to sleep..he was a coward to speak about his emotions..because I am not permanent..I will leave him soon and he couldn't afford to get attached.

Weeks went by and I couldn't sleep without imaging those strong arms wrapped around me. Leo asked me to try again but I rejected him..I couldn't stop thinking about my "gentle" Pablo wondering if that was his true nature..I wanted to get to him again..to feel that way again..to understand him.

"Are you ready hermanita?" Aurora said and I met her outside as she was my ride to the stadium for El Classico. I rarely went to his games thinking he would hate me there, but today I wore his jersey and went with the rest of his friends with pride. I wanted him to look me in the ye and tell me hates me if he does so much!

y.n.bebe

Rora and me at #ElClassico ❤️❤️

comentarios:

gvirafans: with Gavi jersey👀

aurorapaezg: hermanitaa💗

belengavira: pretty girls ❤️❤️

pablogavi: ❤️

I saw his comment..he probably did it because people would talk if he didn't..but a heart..it felt special..and made me even more determined to get close to him again.

During the game, Gavi was comeptlely focused as always wanting to win against the biggest enemy. Barca was better but it was frustrating that no ball would finally enter the goal..and time was running out till end of first half.

"I saw that new hermanita of yours..hmm..the things I'd do to her body" Vini provoked and Gavi lost it kicking the ball into the audience and walking towards him while everyone pushed him backwards and referee showed him a red card.

"Say that again hijo de puta!? Let me hear you say it again!" Pablo was not stopping until Xavi himself pulled him away from the pitch giving him a whole lecture about being more mature player.

"It was a good game hermano" Aurora said when we met with Pablo since Barça still ended up winning. Pablo was still heated and seeing me there wasn't helping.

"It's all her fault!" he said pointing at me in front of everyone and I looked away sadly..he was trying to hate me so I give up but I'm not giving up that easily because i know what I felt that night is real!

"Leave her alone! She did nothing wrong!" Aurora tried defending me but I was done being silent walking towards him bravely.

"Let's leave them alone.." Pablo's guy friends said and everyone left as the two of us stood there across from each other not saying a single word. Two can play this stupid game Gavi!

"What did I do to you huh!? Why don't you admit that you don't actually hate me Pablo?? I know you don't.." I said touching his sweaty jersey but he pulled away quickly like he was scared..

"Don't touch me!" he yelled expecting me to turn away and run but I moved closer again.

"Why? What are you sacred of when I touch you huh?"I said once again touching his chest and this time he didn't move staring at my lips longingly.

"Chiqui don't.." he whispered when I moved closer feeling my cheeks blush at the new nickname he chose..the feeling was back and I didn't want to lose it.

"Why?" I asked touching his face and again he closed his eyes as his hands wrapped around my waist pulling me even closer as our chests touched.

"B..because I won't be able to hold myself back" he whispered as we both opened around eyes looking into each other.

"P..Pablo.." I said breathlessly moving even closer but then Leo's familiar voice interrupted our little moment and Pablo pulled away angrily.

"Please let's talk Y/n..about us" Leo said and I internally cursed seeing Pablo's disappointed look as he just walked away without a word..freaking great!

"Is she coming?" Aurora asked

"She has another ride" Pablo said annoyingly reminding himself why he put up a wall..last thing he needed is to get hurt by a girl right now.

"No! I don't!" I said rushing after them after telling Leo I was done with him and sitting in the backseat next to Pablo whose jaw was clenching and he was clearly angry.

"He understood that it's over.." I whispered to Pablo but he was unfazed..once again like he didn't care. Here we go again!

"I don't care!" he whispered back before going on his phone as I sighed loudly besides him.

That night I couldn't sleep..I couldn't have him mad at me anymore..I did maybe the stupidest thing in the world walking to his room in the middle of the night. Luckily he was awake..

"P..Pablo.." I said and he turned around sitting in his bed with a surprised look on his face.

"Go away!" he said but I moved closer standing in front of him.

"I'm not going anywhere..I know why you hit Leo, he told me what he said to his friend and that you heard him" I said and Pablo looked up with raised eyebrows.

"He said you're alone and he can get with you in a week..and I showed him you're NOT alone" Pablo said and I smiled nodding my head and touching his hair as he looked up at me.

"And Vini?" I asked moving my hand down to his face while he looked at me finally putting down his guard and being vulnerable once again.

"Don't talk to me about that disgusting hijo de puta!" he said angrily and I knew he must have said something about me on the pitch..something that didn't sit right with Pablo and he needed to protect me..something you don't do for a person you "hate".

"Don't get angry.." I said and he nodded feeling more sad than angry while his hands snaked around my waist and he pulled me in kissing my stomach over my dress and I breathed heavily.

"I can't stop hating you chiqui.."he spoke into my stomach and I sighed raising his chin up and moving to sit on his lap.

"Why Pablo?" he said moving his hair back and he leaned into my touch as his face went into my neck and he started kissing my skin passionately.

"Because you're leaving me so soon..and I don't want to lose someone I love so much.."he finally said what's been on his mind for awhile and I felt my heart banging against my chest.

"So you decided to hate me? Why didn't you just ask me to stay with you??" I said with a smile and he was surprised to hear me say those words looking up into my eyes hopefully.

"And would you stay for me chiqui?" he said while I held his face and his hands tightly held onto my waist.

"Hmm it depends.." I said smirking moving in and he gulped once again looking at my lips longingly and I smiled.

"On what chiqui??"he smirked and I blushed to scared to tell him what I wanted right now..I just wanted him to finally kiss me.

"Hm..let me guess then" he held my face pulling me in and kissing my lips hungrily making me breathless but never happier. Then he pulled away..and I wanted to cry..I was so tired of these games and I just wanted to be with him!

"Please don't push me away again..please" i latched onto his shoulder and he smiled kissing the top of my forehead before pulling me in bed with him letting me lay my head on his strong chest.

"I'm never letting you go again precious.." he said as I looked up kissing him again as we continued to make out pulling onto each others clothes int he heat of the moment...

#gavigif #gavi #fc barça #fc barca #fc barcelona #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi #gavira #gavi x reader #gavi x you #gavi x yn

[heauxvibez]

Kissing On My Tattoos

warning: eehh, naur warning. Maybe just a sprinkle of a moan in there, but nothing harmful :)

Roman texting you while you're on a date has never been out of the ordinary. Especially if you had no interest in the guy.

A smile lit up Roman's face every time his phone buzzed, knowing it was a message from you, signaling that you weren't enjoying yourself.

Baby Girl💕: Can you come pick me up when he drops me off?

Biting his bottom lip, Roman typed the following words,

Sure thing baby girl. Just let me know when you get home.

His brown eyes brightened, he couldn't wait to see you. Just the thought of you made his heart race which he hated but loved at the same time. He just wanted to have fun. But you, oh, you yearned for something deeper, something more profound, especially with him.

When he confessed his attraction for you but made it clear he wasn't ready for anything serious, it broke you, leaving a bittersweet ache in your heart. Yet, you understood. Some people couldn't fathom the idea of commitment. And Roman, he was one of them.

He did put an offer on the table though, he put forth the idea of ya'll becoming friends with benefits. No strings attached whatsoever.

You were very hesitant and you thought about the offer for at least 2 weeks. You were putting your feelings on the line and knew it wasn't worth it but you really wanted to be with him. And if that was the only way you could have him, then so be it.

It's been 3 months since you've agreed and to be honest, you have enjoyed it. Besides the fact that Roman always.. and I mean always flirted with other girls in front of you. But hey, that's what you signed up for.

Before you knew it, you were dipping your toes into the waters of other men's attention. After all, if Roman was playing the field, why shouldn't you? The plan was simple: keep him around until someone else came along who truly made you feel the way he did.

Roman had picked up on it. Your absence hadn't gone unnoticed, not with you off on dates with other guys. And weirdly enough, he was feeling... jealous? Roman had never really been the green-eyed type, but lately, something was stirring inside him. He knew he shouldn't be, given he'd been messing around with other girls while fooling around with you. But still, that twinge of envy lingered.

He wanted you all to himself, plain and simple. Yeah, he knew it was selfish and unfair, but that's just how he felt, and nothing could shake that.

Lately, he'd been keeping his distance from the other girls he'd been seeing. It was like he was slowly cutting ties with them, realizing that his heart belonged to you and you alone.

Slipping into a black tee and his favorite Nike sandals, Roman checked his phone after getting a text from you.

Your date didn't go as planned, and now all you wanted was for Roman to bring back that smile to your face.

___

"Thanks for picking me up Ro, tonight was horrible.."

You collapsed onto his bed, sprawling out on your stomach. His scent enveloped you, his cologne mingling with the familiar smell of his sheets. You melted into the mattress, feeling completely at ease. Your muscles relaxed, and so did your mind. It was pure bliss.

He settled on the edge of the bed near your feet, releasing a heavy sigh.

"No problem, baby."

Internally, you melted. When he called you baby, it sent shivers down your spine, but you quickly reminded yourself that you probably weren't the only one he called that.

Before long, he was stretched out beside you, shirtless now. He propped his hands behind his head, gazing up at the ceiling. His mind seemed to be wandering, lost in a swirl of thoughts.

He couldn't bear the thought of anyone else having you, touching you, holding you, kissing you...None of it. The idea alone made him want to scream in frustration.

You noticed the look on his face.

"What's wrong?"

You hopped onto his lap, settling with your legs on either side, facing him.

"Nothing..."

"Don't lie to me."

He grinned and his hands found their way to your thighs. Instantly, your skin prickled with goosebumps, a familiar sensation whenever he touched you. Your body responded in ways that defied explanation or words.

He licked his lips, nearly making you squeal with anticipation.

"It's...just that I don't like seeing you with other men. It drives me absolutely in-fucking-sane," he expressed sternly. You could tell by the look of his face, he was serious. In fact, it almost felt like you were in trouble just from the way he looked at you.

Holding back a smirk you said,

"Well, I don't like seeing you with other women, but you're the one who came up with this Friend With Benefits crap,"

"I know, I know.." he sighed, running a hand over his bearded face.

"So, what are we going to do?" you asked. You honestly enjoyed this. He was finally giving in to his feelings.

His hands lazily trailed up and down your silky skin, relishing in the way you responded to his touch, your breath catching in your throat.

"We're going to be together because the thought of you being with someone else is eating me up on the inside,"

You awed him, grasping his hands in your own and placing them above his head. Leaning forward, you captured his lips with yours. The kiss was laced with a passion you've never felt before. You both took your time exploring each other's mouths, tongues fighting for dominance before he finally won.

As Roman's tongue teased a sensitive spot in your mouth, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan, feeling a warmth pooling between your thighs.

Planting kisses along his shoulder, you traced the inked patterns on his skin, marveling at the details they whispered about his culture, his life.

When you found that sweet spot, he groaned, his grip on your hand tightening as you continued to hold them above his head.

"Baby.." he whispered breathlessly as you sucked on his sweet spot. You showed no mercy, nibbling and sucking until he was putty in your hands. Every stroke of your tongue against his inked skin sent shivers coursing through his body.

"Now, we aren't going to be together just because you say so. I really want you to drop those women, all of them. Prove to me that you want me and only me.." you murmured against his neck before sitting up, meeting his gaze head-on.

Roman pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes squinting slightly.

"Okay...I will."

Lightly slapping his chest, you glared.

"I'm serious, Roman. You're playing games and I'm not down with that anymore. I'm through being fuck buddies. Either you give me all of you or nothing at all."

Roman sat up, encircling his arms around your waist, pulling you close. He rested his forehead against yours, his desire burning beyond the physical; he wanted to claim you as his own. You were the only one who stirred these feelings within him, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you just to play the field.

He was a fool for your pretty eyes and that smile. How'd he expect himself not to fall?

"I'm not lying, baby. I promise, I will drop them all for you."

He brushed his fingertips along the curve of your cheek, his minty breath teasing your lips as he inched closer.

"I don't have to worry about another woman's lips on your body?" you questioned, a hint of uncertainty in your eyes.

He tenderly kissed your lips, catching you off guard for a fleeting moment.

"Nope. I don't want nobody but you kissin' on my tattoos, baby girl.." he whispered, then leaned in to place a kiss on your temple.

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

Hope y'all enjoyed this small little one shot!

And please go read my last two one-shots if you haven't already. I enjoyed writing them and want you to enjoy reading them! Love ya'll, Muah!

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @mzv11 @wrestlingprincess80 @saintmagx

#roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #wwefanfic #romanreignsimagine #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns fluff #fanfiction #romanreignsoneshot #roman reigns x reader

[akiizayoi4869]

The Southern Raiders

Been meaning to make my own post about this episode for a while now, so here it is. The main thing I hear about this episode is that Aang didn't understand Katara's pain at all but Zuko did. The notion that a genocide survivor doesn't understand another genocide survivor is certainly one hell of a take, and it's very stupid. Are we really going to forget the air nomad genocide?

Aang lost EVERYTHING because of the war. And to make it worse? He feels guilty because he wasn't there to stop it from happening (even though he wouldn't be able to do much since he hadn't mastered the four elements yet) because he ran away from his duties as the avatar. When Aang finds Monk Gyatso's body in the Southern Air Temple episode, he's overcome with so much grief and anger that he triggers the avatar state:

Katara herself even compares what she's been through to what Aang was feeling in this moment by saying "I know how hard it is to lose the people you love! I went through the same thing when I lost my mom." Certainly sounds like two people who understand each other perfectly if you ask me. Also, in the Lost Adventures comics, we're shown that the Fire Nation used a dirty tactic to smoke out any other airbenders that might have escaped from the genocide.

We see how happy Aang was to learn that some airbenders may have survived, only to find out that it was all a lie to capture any remaining survivors. At the end of the comic he looks disappointed and crushed knowing that the possibility that air nomads fell for this trick and were killed as a result.

A lot of people take Katara saying "I knew you wouldn't understand" to Aang as her saying that he doesn't understand her pain, but if you actually look at the context? That's not what she's saying at all. What she means is that she knew that Aang wouldn't understand her need for VENGEANCE. For her desire to kill her mother's killer. Because Aang was taught that revenge isn't the answer. Even though Aang absolutely understands how she felt, something that he says himself:

In both of those moments he felt extreme anger and hatred, both strong negative feelings that would have caused him to lash out and do something that he would regret later on. Who stops him in both cases? Katara. She calms him down (and can I just say that I think it's really poetic that in this specific episode, Aang's words are what calms Katara down in the end, and is why she decided to spare Yohn Rha?) in his moments of rage, something that he's grateful for.

Another argument that I've seen is that Zuko understands her pain more than Aang because he also lost his mother. While I can see why people make this comparison, those are two entirely different situations. Ursa was banished because she protected Zuko from being killed when he was a child. Which means that she's still alive (as we later find out from those horrible comics). Kya, on the other hand, was KILLED because she protected Katara by saying that she was the waterbender that they were looking for. This happened in a genocidal raid by the Fire Nation. Safe to say that Zuko can never understand what that feels like.

Also, it's pretty crazy to me how people can say that Aang was wrong in this episode, when Zuko HIMSELF says that Aang was actually right, and that what Katara needed in the end was revenge. Aang knows Katara a lot better than Zuko does, and he knows that killing the man who killed her mom would have absolutely destroyed Katara because of the kind of person she is. Just like Aang remembering how he killed all of those Fire Nation soldiers in the North Pole while he was in the avatar state and being controlled by his past lives and the ocean spirit caused him to have nightmares and be terrified of what the avatar state can do. Both of them are alike in that regard. The closest thing I can say that Zuko understands about Katara is her anger. Boy spent 3 seasons being angry so he definitely understands that. But other than that? He doesn't understand her, which is to be expected since he just joined them a few episodes ago, and spent a whole year chasing them and trying to capture Aang. So he's just started getting to really know everyone on a personal level. In conclusion, Aang did indeed understand Katara, and his words were exactly what she needed to hear.

#atla #aang #katara #zuko #atla meta #the southern raiders

[leonsbimbogf]

i still adore you, I swear

🍃! Plug! Miguel x Fem! reader !🍃

A/n: guys i was mf arching my back and typing this out on my laptop n I'm so glad ppl like the first one I rlly appreciate itt pookies! also I had to crop some of this out cause my man was full on arching his BACKK but credits to JesGreenEight for this banner!!!

cw/smut warning: pure smut, Miguel being a freaky man, weed, shitty ending bc y'all KNOW i'm absolute dog dookie at writing them, creampie, oral (m receiving), somewhere in it I said that reader has a bad reflex and I'm so sorrayy.

So now here you are, smoking a joint with your plug. The harsh yet sweet aroma of weed filled his room. He passes the joint back to you letting you take a rip. You cough a little from the smoke clouding your lungs but still manage to have a smile. You pass the joint back to him without a word. Breaking the silence Miguel spoke in an almost slurred tone. 

“I know it’s not the weed speaking but has anyone told you you're so attractive, ma?” His veiny hand finds your thigh before rubbing the flesh without knowing. You immediately snicker as you answer back in a flirty tone.

“Hmm no Miggy they haven't” he trails his hand closer and grips your inner thigh while chuckling, you two were just on the moon. He replies to your comment after taking a hit.

“Honestly I should show you how attractive you are to me.” your eyes widened at his statement but you were intrigued at most. The way his shirt hugged him, the way you can see his cock print through his sweatpants. It was all so feverish. He comes closer to you with his lips up to your neck making the hair stand up practically. 

“You smell so good.” he finally says before placing kisses on your neck making you moan. His kisses go lower to your chest. He takes off your shirt revealing your skin to him. He instantly kisses your neck now having his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. The smell of weed and anticipation is clouding the room. Your panties are already soaked from when he first called you attractive. Before you know it he speaks in an entertaining tone.

 “How about you taking it out for me?”

 You instantly pull down his pants and his underwear. His cock bounces to his stomach before standing back up. His cock was decorated with some hair. Your breath caught in your throat after realizing how hot it was. You knew it was wrong but it felt so damn good, you can say that.

He puts the palm of his hand on your cheek as he rubs your bottom lip with his thumb, he looks down at you with love in his eyes. Were you always this pretty? 

“Look at those pretty lips.” 

he says in an admiring tone. You faintly smile before giving a couple of kitten licks and then actually putting your whole mouth on the tip. 

“You like that?” You mumble out on his cock. Miguel could’ve just came right then and there. He saw how sexy you looked with your soft lips wrapped around his cock like a glove.

 “There you go” he muttered under his breath. You push your head deeper onto his cock but you choke on it due to your horrible gag reflex. You pull back with a saliva string pulling with you.

“Hmm, Miguel..” 

 you say, slurring your words a bit. You were cockdrunk from him. 

“You did such a good job, didn’t you? m’ so proud baby.” He spoke out while looking down at you. He breaks the moment of silence by saying. 

        “Think you can bend over for me mami?” He says before stroking his cock. You bend over to feel his huge hands grabbing and kneading the fat of your hips and pulling your pants down. He gasps and chuckles when he sees your panties with a wet spot making it noticeable. “I see you getting wet for me.” He says.

 He pulls your panties to the side to see your plump lips soaked It just looks like you wanted to get fucked by him. He knows what you need, Just let him guide you. Suddenly you feel his fat mushroom tip lay on your clit. 

“Are you ready bunny?” He just makes you feel mushy inside even if he’s saying simple things. You nod your head before preparing for his cock. He shoves his tip in, You whimper as you can feel being stretched out by his thick tip. 

“Awhh shit. Your pussy’s huggin’ around me.” He moans out. He can even admit that your pussy did make him moan and groan. He has fucked many girls but they all just felt like he had to do it. With you, it feels special. 

“Hmm, M-miggy..please move..” you moan. Your moans sounded pornographic. He bucks his hips into you while grunting. 

“Ah this pussy got superpowers or somethin’ hm?” He jokes before smacking your plump ass. He loves the way it jiggles when he smacks it even lightly. 

“God d-damn.” You manage to yelp out. He thrusts deeper into your pussy. “Fuck you're gonna make me cum. Can’t believe I have your cute ass under me.” 

After minutes of moaning and groaning, you feel a full feeling. His cum sprays inside your cunt and you feel it Immediately fill your cunt up. When he pulls out his soft cock you can feel you can feel his cum leak out of your cunt.

“Your mine got it? my stock is coming soon but you're mine from now on,” he says hugging you to the bed and holding you fairly close to him. You feel butterflies roam around your stomach when you see his hand on your lower waist. Before you even spoke you heard his snores filling the room. You giggle quietly at the fact that he fell asleep in a second.

and here's to my taglist ( ◜‿◝ )♡: @moon-rivr @monstera02 @lazyjellyfish300 @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @yournextbimbogf @chiwhorei

#x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #plug!miguel #plug au #spiderman 2099 #tw: weed #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #miguel smut #miguel o'hara smut #female reader #fem reader #some fluff?? #cheesy plot go crazy #tumblr fyp #fyp #foryou #fypage #foryopage

[byerseason]

why byler is the only logical way to end stranger things: a personal opinion

long post incoming. i've been thinking about what else can they do other than canon byler or is there any logical way which would please everyone. but i genuinely can't find any logical ending.

first of all, let's see the options i heard from people who doesn't think byler is gonna happen.

not adressing will's love for mike, mike never finding out about it and will's arc simply focusing on supernatural part : well, we all know that's impossible. not after spending a whole season to show us his deep love for mike. also it's confirmed that an emotional arc for him is what is gonna tie up the story.

"his love for mike was for him to explore his sexuality, he's gonna have another boyfriend." : they could easily show it to us without bringing mike into it. the byers moving to california was a perfect chance for it since it's a place better than hawkins when it comes to LGBT, they could easily give him a love interest, include him to their journey to find el just like they included argyle and give him a good character arc in s5, just like robin in s4. well, they didn't.

"mike is gonna reject will" : okay, then what was the reason of making him fall in love with mike? did the writers want to write a horrible story for the only gay child in the group? especially after showing us how miserable he feels about mike and how much he loves him? no.

now let's look deeper at the character arcs. my biggest reason to think byler is the only logical way is: will byers

i don't think i have to mention how much will suffered throughout the show and how he needs the happiest ending. they left season 4 at a point where everything about that love triangle is unresolved and they're obviously going to do something with it.

we all know mike is the one who understands will the most. he always been, since the very beginning. we've been shown that their bond is different and special. in a scenario where mike rejects will, we all know this is gonna be ruined. will is not gonna magically bury his love and go back to being besties with mike. and for mike, it's not possible for him to ignore will's love for him and stay friends as nothing happened. it would ruin their friendship for absolutely nothing.they can't simply take the only one who understands away from him.

will said he wants to spend the rest of his life with mike for two times. even if he doesn't have any hope, he desires it. so why giving him a love that he will never have? in this scenario will's character arc is literally "the gay kid always thought he will never have love just because he is gay, he thinks it's wrong and he is a mistake, well yes, he was right! he will never find the love and just watch the other straight people have it. thanks for watching stranger things." will's arc should be an arc where he is proven wrong, where he understands it's okay to love, where he is loved the way he loves, purely. otherwise his character arc is gonna be useless. where did we leave will in s4? he was thinking there's no chance for mike to love him and he has zero hope-- he ripped off the band aid. if mike rejects him the character arc and all the build up in season 4 becomes useless. he was at zero, and he is still at zero.

like i said giving him an arc where he is loved the way he loves was easy to be done without mike but now it's too late. they made it super clear that will doesn't want to be loved, he wants to be loved by mike. mike hurts him yet he still thinks mike makes him feel like he's not a mistake at all. that's not a simple crush. that's pure love. as a writer of a show you don't spend too much time to sympathize the characters love to the audience -something you never did with your other characters, at least not as much as will- you don't show them pouring their heart to a gift, just to waste it, just to make the character feel the worst they can feel just to make the person they love happy. will loves mike such a way that he prioritizes his happiness over his. this is what is gonna pay off.

the second character whose character arc needs byler: mike wheeler

mike has always been the most complicated character of the show, but most of his actions have no explanation other than him dealing with his own feelings. the show introduced mike as the leader of the party and i think it's okay to say he was one of the main characters in season 1 & 2. what happened after s2? a crazy character downfall. the audience started to dislike him and think he is useless. he didn't have any character development in the past 2 seasons. why? why? why?

because we all just watched him struggling. dealing with something inside of his mind that we don't know.

let's talk about a scenario where byler doesn't happen. this makes all mike's arc about being a love interest since s3. no development, no explanation for his behavior in the past 2 seasons. of course mike is traumatized and never talks to anyone which effects his behavior a lot. but there's still an unanswered question. why is he distancing himself from will specificially? the writers showed us that they understand each other the best, they know each other the best and notice if somethings wrong, so why is he distancing himself from the person who he needs the most as a best friend?

this is where we start to think if the problem is will himself, for mike.

why did we make will fall in love with mike just for mike to distance himself from will for no reason and make will upset? did we want will to suffer for no reason or create an empty storyline?

if mike is not how we think he is, he is going to end the show with an empty character arc who is nothing but a love interest, a side character. if mike ends up how we think he is, he is going to be the best onscreen representation of internalized homophobia. people think he is useless or just an asshole but he will turn out to be a perfectly written character who has his own arc.

people love to say "gay people didn't exist in 80s, byler would be unrealistic." which is completely wrong. gay people DID exist in 80s and they DID find love. did they have peace? they didn't. this is why mike and will are gonna be a real representation. we watched all the real struggles they went through. even if we don't get to see them as a couple, they will know they love each other by the end and that's what matters. and there's nothing unrealistic about it.

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #byler endgame #byler analysis #byler proof

[1800-fight-me]

Hiiiiiiii. :)

First I love love love your fics.

You’re awesome.

Secondly you have a fic called duty and honor or something like that, where Aemond goes to war and his little wife is pregnant.

In it Aegon makes comments to her that she doesn’t like. I was wondering if you would write a continuation fic where now Aemond is back he over hears his brother and becomes all protective knowing this has been happening all the time he was away as well.

Just love protective pissed off In love Aemond and the way you write him, makes a girl swoon :) 🌹

Of Retribution & Desire

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: M (Mature) (as always - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Violence, reader is a couple weeks postpartum, Aemond being protective

Word count: About 1.3k

Synopsis: Your husband defends your honor and protects you from the hateful words of his brother.

Author’s note: This ask is from the summer of last year lmao my bad,,, I've been going through it lately but hopefully this fic was worth the wait and still makes you swoon! Thanks for the love and support! Hopefully this is also the start of me being more involved in writing and the fandom again! This is part three of my first ever Aemond fic!!

Part one - Of Duty and Honor

Part two - Of War and Longing

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

“It certainly appears to be true that childbirth takes away a woman’s beauty,” Aegon practically sneered at you as he looked up and down your body. 

It was merely two weeks after you gave birth to Aemond’s daughter and your emotions were all over the place. 

His words filled you with such anger and self consciousness that your body could not hold in the emotions. 

Most embarrassingly, your eyes filled with tears. You were aghast at your reaction. Though Aegon often frustrated you, you certainly did not care enough about his opinion on your appearance for his words to cut so deep. 

Though if you were honest with yourself, you were already uncomfortable with your appearance today and wished you could have avoided today’s gathering. Though Aemond had assured you that you looked lovely, it was obvious to you, despite your lady’s maid’s best efforts, that you were exhausted. You felt uncomfortable in your own skin, your body went through massive changes and had not had the time and chance to adjust back. 

So there, in front of Aegon and the rest of your in-laws, you began to cry. 

Damn these uncontrollable emotions that came on so strongly after giving birth. 

You wanted to run and hide, and turned to do just that when Aemond walked in the room. 

His brow knitted in concern and his footsteps quickened as soon as he saw you. 

He was at your side and pulled you into his larger frame as he looked down at you. 

“What is wrong?” He asked, his voice tight. His gaze was on you before his eye darted around the room scanning it for danger or anything that could have caused your distraught state. 

You pursed your lips, afraid to speak for fear of more embarrassing tears flowing. 

“Who did this to you?” he asked, his voice dark with the promise of violence.

You really didn’t want to be the cause of another fight between him and his brother. 

“Aegon was being vile,” Heleana spoke up. 

You looked back at her in surprise that she would speak up, stand up for you. 

Aemond looked over your head at his brother and his eye narrowed. 

“What did you say to my wife,” he practically growled. 

Aegon visibly blanched and as quick as that your mood changed. You held back a smile. You were eager to see Aegon finally receive consequences for all the horrible things he’d said to you throughout your pregnancy when Aemond was off winning his war. 

“N-nothing,” he said and you scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

Aemond glanced down at you. He could’ve asked you but it was clear he wanted to make his brother sweat, make him admit to hurting you. 

He glared at Aegon who chose to glare back. 

Alicent let out a long suffering sigh and explained to Aemond what had been said. 

“That’s not the only thing he’s said too, right?” Heleana asked, her voice sweet and innocent. It amused you that she continued to push the issue, trying to get her husband in trouble. 

A horrible thought clanged through you that every vile comment he’d made to you, at least you had Aemond’s protection. Maybe it was worse for her. And maybe getting Aemond to punish Aegon for how he treated you was a safe way for her to get retribution as well. 

So you met her eyes, took a deep breath, set your jaw, and turned back to your husband. You told him every awful thing you could remember that Aegon said to you those eight months that Aemond was gone. 

You ignored Aegon, looking only at your husband as you spoke. 

As you finished, the tension in the room was thick, and it became so quiet, quiet enough that you could hear Aegon take a step back. 

Aemond took a deep calming breath, gently brushed you aside, then lunged towards his brother. 

“Aemond!” Alicent yelled in protest. 

“Aemond,” you murmured, a weak attempt to dissuade him, your heart not truly in it as you protested along with her. 

You took another step back, your body still weak from giving birth, not having any interest in getting involved in a physical fight, and watched as your husband punched his brother in the face to defend your honor. 

He looked like an avenging angel, you thought, as his white hair flew around, his upper lip curled into a snarl, and the look in his eye promised pain. 

You wondered at it, the smooth grace with which he attacked, it caused your heart to pound, and you knew it was not from fear. 

He really only got two good hits in before the King’s Guards intervened and pulled him away. But it was glorious to behold. 

His assault was so quick and vicious, Aegon didn’t even have a chance to fight back. 

Alicent was distraught, but Heleana sidled up beside you and gave you a small smile which you returned. 

The fact of the matter was, you were incredibly turned on. Uncomfortably turned on as you watched Aemond be violent to defend your honor. 

You were ready to drag him to your rooms and make another baby, but then your aching body reminded you that you were in no shape to do any such thing. 

Aemond yanked himself out of the grip of one of the guards and strode to you. 

He tilted your face up with a finger beneath your chin so your gaze would meet his own that was filled with fire. And smirked at the desire in your eyes. 

He pressed a brief but firm kiss to your wanting lips, you heard Aegon yelling something but ignored him completely. 

You slipped your hand into Aemond’s, his knuckles a little bloody, and tugged on him slightly, leading him out and away from the chaos. 

As you exited the room you gripped his tunic, and he backed you against the wall. 

He placed his hands against the wall on either side of your head, caging you in, and with the heat - the fire - between the two of you, there was nothing you could do but rise up on your tiptoes and press your lips to his. 

And these past weeks with your daughter, the nine months before that as you carried her, had been amazing, one of the most joyful experiences of your life. But, you were not only her mother, you were also Aemond’s wife. 

And he reminded you of that, reminded you that you are his wife and he desires you, as he kissed you back, kissed you hard, kissed you in a way that made your toes curl. 

This was not the sweet, short, gentle way he had kissed you since she was born, no. This was your dragon filling you with his fire again. 

His lips moved against yours, opening you up so his tongue could sweep against your own. 

His hand left the wall to grip your waist, and self consciousness at your changed body flared up, but was soon smothered by his desire as he pushed his body closer to yours, pushed you further against the wall, pressed against him completely. 

He groaned into your mouth and you nipped at his bottom lip in response. Finally, your body sang, like you were shaken awake by the heat. 

You whimpered against his lips, and his tongue danced with yours in response. 

Your body throbbed with desire… and then pain that reminded you that although your spirit felt ready to be joined with your husband in carnal desire again, your body certainly was not. 

You pulled back, your breathing hard, and he smiled softly as he beheld you. His hand grazed up from your waist, slowly and gently, until he cupped your cheek. 

“I can’t-“ you tried to explain, but he shook his head, understanding in his gaze.

“I know,” he murmured. 

He kissed you again, this time gentle and slow, filled with care and affection rather than heat and desire. 

He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. 

“I love you,” you said sweetly. 

He chuckled and said, “I love you too, little wife. Let’s go hold our daughter before that look in your eyes convinces me to fill you with another.” 

You giggled and took his hand and allowed your prince, your defender, your husband to lead you to your daughter. 

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n

[itsabouttimex2]

Taken Abroad is sooo good! And the accompanying memes are great too 💖

Bro imagine if demon reader went full hardcore one day and just keeps letting to circlets dig into their flesh and bone until their hands just fall off, using the second they separate to vanish. Like they are a forest demon, so what if they just regrow their hands? Or make prosthetic nature ones? Like I’m sure their freedom wouldn’t last long (thanks to Monkey King’s gold vision) but I’d love to see the group’s reaction to such gruesome determination!

Taken Aboard:

Amputation

I’m glad you like it! I really thought that the Journeyfam should have a mix of goofy and tragic, because the novel itself can get pretty damn funny.

Another ‘funny’ thing? This little stunt wouldn’t work at all. Given what we know about Wukong’s powers, he can rip his head off and regenerate it (His beheading contest with the Tiger Strength Immortal in the novel) and since he’s still got the circlet after that…

Y/N will still have theirs.

And obviously no one is happy to see that this child would do something so horribly gruesome and bloody to themself, leaving to a wide array of horrified reactions.

Ao Lie is devastated that you would hurt yourself for any reason at all. Once you’ve been dragged back to camp by the snickering Monkey King, the dragon prince rushes to your side and snatches you up, nuzzling you to his chest. “Oh, I’m glad you’re alright! You poor little thing, what were you thinking? Trying to slice those bands off! Sweetie, what if something had gone wrong during the regrowing process? Here, let Brother Lie wash the blood off of you!”

He dotes on you for a good hour or two, starting by thoroughly scrubbing you down in a shallow washbasin. (He heats the water in his draconic form.) There’s a mixture of very light scolding and extraordinary concern, scraping all across your body with a wooden bath brush. Once you’re nice and clean you get wrapped up in one of his spare robes to dry off, forced to sit and listen to one of the monk’s lectures as Lie brushes out and braids your hair.

“I think you need to start sleeping in Brother Lie’s tent from now on, sweetie. Maybe it’ll help to keep those little feet from wandering, hmm?”

His voice is gentle, even as you’re forcibly stuffed into a thick sleeping bag, the same one that Lie always uses. For a moment you think he’s simply going to watch you to prevent any further escapades, but then he squishes in beside you, wrapping you tight in his arms.

“Sleep well, sweetie. Big brother will keep you safe.”

———————————————————————-

Sun Wukong laughs at you first, having tried the same thing by: smashing his forehead inwards, shattering his skull entirely, ripping his head off, etc. “You could have just asked for some advice on the cuffs, bud. I would’ve told ya that they jump back to your real body, y’know!”

His hands work through the tangled locks of your hair, plucking out juicy bugs and crunchy twigs. “Shut up,” you huff, squirming around in his lap. “I hate them. And you wouldn’t have known whether or not it would’ve worked! You only have one of them!” “S’not fair,” he half-heartedly agrees, if only to set up his next few word. “You should’ve just had one- around your neck to shut you up!”

The Great Sage giggles as you lunge at him, dodging your attempt to bite his wrist. “Easy, easy! C’mon, I was just teasing you!” He grabs your waist and wrestles you to the ground, his fingers dragging lightly across your skin as he tries to force a few giggles or even just a smile out of you. Between angry laughs you manage to throw a punch, feeling his snout bend under your hand.

And though it doesn’t hurt worse than a mild sting, Wukong is still a little astounded that his ‘little sibling’ got outright violent with him. “…you know what, bud? Maybe you do need some ‘quiet time’. I’m gonna keep you here in my lap for a few more hours, I think. And! No saying even a word!”

And before you can argue or complain he tacks on a “How bout I tell you another story from my time back in Flower Fruit Mountain, huh?” Of course you get a story, because this isn’t really a punishment, after all. He’s just framing it as one so you ‘have’ to sit and spend time with one. He’s a pretty clever monkey.

“…a story about killing hunters?”

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

———————————————————————-

Sha Wujing has no words. He’s hurt and saddened that you would do this to yourself, nearly in tears at the sight of your wounds. He finally has people who accept not only his mistakes and misdeed, but his demonic form alongside them.

And now one has done this.

To Wujing, this isn’t just a team of random travelers. This is his family. You are his family. And he cannot bear to see you so upset and distraught that you might switch to such gruesome and self-injurious behaviors.

The river demon will switch to baby gloves afterwards, treating you like a porcelain figure that is bound to shatter when mishandled.

He’ll carry you on his shoulders and his back and in his arms, squishing your tiny form perfectly into his protective chest. For hours on end the demon will usher you about, never daring to let you free from the safety and security that his power offers.

Instead of allowing you to feed yourself, Wujing will push cut your meals into pieces and them to you piece by piece, ensuring that you won’t choke (intentionally or otherwise) on them. And he won’t let you get dressed alone

He sees the severance of your limbs more as a form of “self-harm” than an attempt to escape, unfortunately for you. It leads him to think of you as a danger to yourself that needs to be properly wrangled and tended to.

All you can do when he’s around from then on is submit to “Brother Sand’s” loving care, and pray he might stop thinking of you as unstable and prone to breakage.

———————————————————————-

Zhu Bajie is thoroughly disgusted, though that revulsion is born mostly of worry. Nobody wants to see a kid slice off their own wrists, and he certainly wasn’t hoping to see you standing in a puddle of your own blood, your torn flesh bubbling sizzling and bubbling up as it regrew.

And he especially didn’t want something so awful to happen to his little sibling. Not to someone so very precious to him.

Bajie really just… doesn’t know what to do.

You’re hurt. Usually this scenario ends with him either eating a human or smashing a demon’s head open with his nine-tooth rake. And he’d fight off the monk’s reprimands with his own volley of justifications. “Y/N is a child! Any jerk who would hurt them is unforgivable!” He’d declare, his mouth stained with fresh crimson. “A demon who would put their hands on a child is just a monster, that’s all,” the pig might yell, clutching you to his chest protectively.

Neither of those are options when you’ve the person that hurt you is yourself.

All the swine can really do is hold you and try not to scream your ear off about never hurting yourself again, rocking back and forth like he’s trying to soothe a baby to sleep.

Maybe that will help.

Maybe if he holds you long enough and keeps his grip tight, Bajie can prevent you from being hurt by anyone or anything ever again.

Or maybe it’s just his way of keeping you from leaving him and this little family again.

———————————————————————-

Tang Sanzang, reasonable man that he is, understands that you’re not in a great headspace right now. If things got so bad that you viewed the gory removal of your arms as a reasonable option to escape, then what you need isn’t further punishment… but a firm and guiding hand.

So the monk refrains from the sutra and chooses instead to tend to your fragile condition. Reassurance that he isn’t angry at what you’ve done to yourself, a promise that you’re already forgiven for running. I think he’s likely to mandate constant surveillance of you from now, always to be under the eye of either him or one of his disciples.

He tends any wounds or aches with balm, stitches the tears in your clothing, then puts you to bed with a canteen of water at your side.

His well of patience is truly endless, only leaving room for an occasional reprimand or a quick tightening of the blessed bands on your wrists. There’s no lashing out, no brutal punishments.

Hurting yourself has not changed that.

Sanzang will spend each early morning before travel checking you over for new wounds and changing out any bandages you’ve got wrapped around old injuries.

The Great Monk stills cherishes you, of course. He’ll never stop cherishing you.

He’s just a little more gentle with that love now.

#Time Talks #Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Tang Sanzang #Yandere Sun Wukong #Yandere Ao Lie #Taken Aboard #Journeyfam #Yandere Memes #Yandere Sha Wujing #Yandere Zhu Baije #TW: Self Harm

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

I've let this wolf into my home (I feed it even when it bites)

Blood nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.5k

genre: fluff ??

warnings: you don't know red robin and timmy are the same person but he sure knows you, he's also so so awkward but he can't help it

a/n: alright alright alright here we go <3

The jingle of the coffee shop door opening startles you, your head snapping up from where you're sitting, slouched over in the corner. It's a 24-hour shop, yes, but who else would really be here at 3am? The barista behind the counter looks just as surprised, blinking rapidly and looking at the person who came in.

You, on the other hand, opt not to, sighing and looking back down at your table, instead. The coffee in your to-go cup is still hot, burning your fingers as you shift them over the label. It's bright, a cartoonish sort of thing that grins up at you like an old friend you should be happier to see. You've been getting this coffee for years. You're never quite as happy as you should be.

The chair opposite you makes a horrible sort of sound as it's pulled out and you look up to see who's sitting across from you. You purse your lips in annoyance while he just looks at you.

"All the other tables have just been cleaned. They're wet," he points out. You let your eyes flit around the cafe, the tabletops shining wetly in the dull glow of the lights, the disinfectant bottle still sitting abandoned on one of them.

"Lucky me," you bite back, taking a sip of your coffee. It's sweet - too sweet, but not enough to cover the bitterness of the burnt grounds. You always think that if you pile enough sugar into it, it'll mask what's wrong. You're never right.

The man sitting opposite you takes a sip of his own - he left it black, you notice. He grimaces slightly at the taste, but keeps drinking anyway. There's no effort there to pretend it's anything other than what it is - burnt, cheap coffee sold to him in a cafe full of ghosts, in a city that should be sleeping but never really does. It's interesting, you think, as you look out the window and into the dark street. You'd almost managed to convince yourself that you were really alone - that there was no one else in this world except you, until he walked in and broke the reverie of your 3am silence.

For what it's worth, Tim regretted it as soon as he'd walked in. He hadn't meant to stay, really - ending up in a part of Gotham he didn't often find himself in, in his civvies and in desperate need of a hot cup of coffee and a long sleep, he'd stumbled across the flickering, neon sign of a 24-hour coffee shop.

What good luck, he'd thought. Now, sitting across from you, there's a desperate little part of him that thinks maybe it wasn't just that - maybe it was intuition that drew him here. You don't know who he is, of course, all your previous meetings happening in the shadows of your home with his face hidden from you. Tim shifts in his seat, suddenly aware of how naked he feels, exposed to your wandering eyes. 

And you do let your eyes wander, narrowing them suspiciously as you take him in. Tim feels a pang of guilt that surprises him when he thinks that this is probably how you've always felt with him - like a lamb with a wolf at your door. As you lean back in your chair, swirling your coffee and letting your gaze trail away from him and towards the window, he feels his shoulders drop in relief. He's not the only wolf in your living room late at night, he realizes. You've got teeth of your own that he'd just never noticed.

You're good at this, Tim thinks with a start - you've got a foot propped up on the window sill next to you, your head resting in your hand as you watch the street outside idly. Or, at least, it's supposed to look like that. He thinks that if he were anyone normal, he would believe it. But Tim has spent enough time as prey to know when someone's pretending to let their guard down.

He looks away from you almost forcefully, staring down at his cup and running his tongue over his teeth as he thinks of the burnt taste of it. He wonders if you were smart enough to put sugar in yours - wise enough to bury the bitterness with something nicer. It's something he always thinks he should do. He can never quite make himself. 

"I'm sure those other tables are dry now." Your voice makes him flinch, a hard, forceful thing that cuts through the silence of the night that's blanketed the two of you. Tim looks around at the dull, streaky tabletops and shrugs. 

"I'm already comfortable here," he offers. You cock your head to the side and look at him, but make no move to fight him on it. He thinks it's probably stupid of him, inviting a lion into his home like this. He wonders if you feel the same way every time he slides in through your balcony door.

There's a silence that, once more, overtakes the two of you as he shifts in his seat. Tim wonders if he should drink faster, if he should pretend to be finished so that he can leave. It's funny, he thinks, how he finally felt like he'd stopped running away when he started running into you. It's funny that, now, he's itching for it, his hands gripping his cup in an attempt to still his heart - his need to escape.

You look back at him just in time to see him squeeze a little too hard, the cheap plastic lid popping off and hot coffee sloshing a bit over his hands. A mild, bemused sort of look crosses your face as you watch him curse and splutter as the coffee burns his hands and spills onto the table. Then, without a word, you stand up and begin to walk away.

Tim, in the meantime, is rubbing his hands against his jeans, his eyes squeezed shut in mortification as he wonders how he ruined it all so quickly. Not for the first time, he wishes he was in the mask - thinks maybe the only way to hold onto you is to make sure that's all you ever see. But then your cup scrapes across the table and he opens his eyes to see you sitting opposite him again, sipping idly and watching. There's a stack of napkins that he swore wasn't there before and - oh.

"Thanks," is all he can make himself say as he grabs them, cleaning up the mess he's made. As he goes to pop the lid back onto his cup, he looks at the dark liquid inside and grimaces, deciding that maybe it's not worth it.

"It's shit coffee," you say, and he slams his hand against the table, crushing the plastic lid in the process. Truly, he's not sure if he's ever acted this nervous before. You pay it no mind. He thinks maybe he could take off his mask, just this once, and reaches up to his face in time to remember that he's already exposed to you. "You're better off finding something else… or just going somewhere else." Tim smiles, then, a charming sort of thing that has you narrowing your eyes.

"I dunno,' he says. "There's something I like about right here." You glance down at your own cup, at the label that you've picked and peeled off until it's unrecognizable, the colours torn and cracked.

"There's nothing good about right here. And things like that don't change." Tim looks at you for a long moment after you speak, letting the words tumble around his head before he stands, taking his cup and squished lid and pile of wet napkins with him. 

"Well, I've never been big on change, anyway," is all he says as he walks away, dumping everything in the bin and letting the bell on the door jingle as he walks out. Looking back down to the table, you notice the card he's left behind - the Wayne Ent. logo flashing behind his name. Flipping it over, his number's been written in a hasty scrawl.

As you thumb a corner of the card, you wonder when he'd slipped it onto the table - when he'd written on it. Mostly, you wonder what kind of person he'd have to be to do it without you noticing. You trace the numbers with your finger and think that something, far in the back of your mind, is telling you that there's a familiarity about it all. 

But what's familiar about seeing someone in a place where you never should? What's normal about that man, appearing like a ghost in the night and disappearing just as fast? As you pull out your phone to add his number to your contacts, there's a part of you that thinks maybe you should run away - that maybe you're not the only thing stalking the streets of Gotham this late.

#smsn.writes #tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #tim drake fluff #tim drake imagine #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake fic #red robin #red robin x reader #red robin x you #red robin x y/n #red robin imagine #red robin fluff #red robin tim drake #tim drake wayne

[babyitsgayoutside]

I went viral on instagram for being a Pro-shipper

Before I even knew what a pro-shipper was.

Around this time last year I had just gotten back to the states from being in Japan for 3-ish months. I posted a reel jokingly showing off some of the BL Manga that I had bought during my stay.

In the video I showed Volume one of Yarachin Slut club and volume one of Hitorijime, my hero.

If you don’t know these series. Yarachin is about a group of boys who run a high school sex club it also has various degrees of dubcon and gang rape. The other deposits an age gap relationship teacher/student.

The reel where I showed these manga went viral on the wrong side of the internet and In 2 months my instagram received over 80,000,000 views across all my reels and I’m averaging at this current moment 10-20,000,000 views a month.

the comments I was receiving and have been receiving since are beyond words.

Some examples of what the more tame comments

And if you think the comments are bad (not shown are the hundreds of comments telling me I’m not trans or gay, that I’m a cis woman pretending to be queer to garner support from the queer community, misgendering and deadnaming me, threading to dox me/send my address/personal info to people via DMs. Not to mention the newest group of people who found out I have a dead sibling and are using that as a way to attack me now as well. My DMs are also terrible.

These people are mad about two volumes of manga. Manga I bought in a brick and mortar store in Japan. Manga that have official anime adaptations.

They are calling a manga you can currently buy at Barnes and Nobel child p*rn and calling me a p*dip hole becuase i own it.

I don’t know what the point of this post is really, I’ve come back to tumblr and realize the entire internet does not in fact hate me, and people on here actually can logically think about things like this not in black and white.

Am I a pro shipper?

I’ve heard if the term, I’ve seen it around and always thought It was for extreme niche interests in fanfic, fictional media and general fictional content that I don’t particularly find myself reading or interacting with ever.

But then I looked into it after being called it 1000000 times a day on my social media and I relaxed it’s not about normalizing incestfics or spreading niche fan art around tags like antis would have you believe. At the end of the day it’s a group of people online with a very punk aligned mentality that censorship is wrong. Fiction is a place for self expression and understand that fiction is fiction. It’s not about individual tags on a03 or black butler ships. It’s about the freedom to express yourself thought fucking fiction. Weather it be to cope with trauma, or to just get some fucking weird feelings you are having out on paper through fanfciton, through projecting into a character from media you like.

I’m not big with labels, so I’m not a “proshipper” but I’m on their side, because it’s the right side.

You can argue all you want it’s not, that they are “horrible people” for the fictional media they consume. But the opposite side is literally telling me to “slit vertically” on a daily basis. You are no better than the people you hate.

Anywho, yeah. Going viral sucks.

#proshipper safe #proshippers please interact #proship #anti censorship #anti anti #antis dni #shipping discourse #boy love #age gap ship

[their-little-writer]

“I’m here now, my deer”

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

hi, this was requested so I hope you all like it! Not proof read

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

This week was a rough week for you- there have been a lot of issues and chaos going on lately due to the extermination coming up lately. Auntie Charlie and vaggie have been running around and trying to figure out a plan. Uncle husk and big brother angel/ sir pentious have been making weapons and trying to build protection to help protect the hotel and you papa has been making sure things have been going ok and has been going to a lot of meetings with the overloads so you have been alone a lot this week. Heck you even got put in time out a few times because you were upset that no one was around and that your papa was missing.  

Like he was there for a few small moments at a time, and he always put you to bed but you still missed him and wanted to spend more time with him. This wasn’t fair to you; you were just a small little baby. You shouldn't be alone; you should be in papa's arms while he sings you soft songs as he feeds you a bottle. But no, you were in your tiny room all by yourself.  

It was in the late afternoon; the sun was beaming through the windows of your nursery, and you were in your crib. You had just woken up from your nap and you were not having it right now, 

you had a dream where people were saying icky things to you and your Carrers just watched and didn't say anything. You had tears in your eyes that were soon running down your face, and you were whining as you held your blanky close to you. Before you could roll over and see you heard the door open  “Sweet pea...?” you heard a familiar voice say as they walked over to you. When you looked up you saw your papa, he smiled softly but you could tell in his eyes he looked a little worried for you. “What is wrong my dear...?” He asked as he gently picked you up from your crib, with your blanket around you. You tried to use your words however you couldn't, there had been to much going on and you couldn't bear it anymore, you just felt your tiny self-get to overwhelmed and started to cry into your papas shoulder.   

“Now now my little deer what's the matter..?” he asked as he gently rubbed his hand over your back trying to calm down “Did you have a bad dream..?” he asked as he gently swayed with you. You nodded your tiny little head softly “Aw your poor thing.. Lets get you a bottle made..” he said as he gently carried you in his arms to the kitchen as he started to make you a bottle.  

He gently fed you as he carried you back to your room and sat in the nursery. It stayed quite for awhile however once you were done he sat the bottle on a side table as gently rubbed your back as you laid on his chest “Why did you have a bad dream my little fawn?” he asked softly. Words were  hard since you were small right now, so feeling bad you gently pointed at him. “Me..?” he asked softly as he tried to think about it. “Is it because ive been busy..?” he asked, and when you gave a small nod he felt horrible “I know ive been busy my little fawn... im so sorry i dont mean to be...it must be hard for you since its been so crazy..” You nodded again as a small sigh left your mouth.  

“I promise i will try to be here more my little deer..” He said softly. “What would you like to do today my little fawn.. We can do anything you want to...” alastor said as he gently looked over to you. You bable softly in respone, a soft smile on alastors face as you do “Hm, that sounded like music, am i right?” he asked. You cooed at his answer which basically meant yes so with a smile he gently got you up and carried you to your changing table “ok baby fawn but you gotta get changed first, and then we can ok?”. You nodded softly as he changed you and put you in a onesie, then he grabbed your blanky, paci, and stuffie as he made his way to his raido tower. He opend the window softly as he went and sat in his chair as he turned on his raido which turned on soft lullubys for you as he gently swayed with you and your stuffie. 

The night was peaceful as later made you dinner, read you books, and gave you a bubble bath, because no matter how busy he was, Alastor always made time for you, after all he was your papa, and you were his fawn.  

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

#agere #little!reader #age regressor #age regression #agere blog #sfw agere #agere community #sfw interaction only #sfw littlespace #sfw regression #agere little #age re safe space #age regression blog #age regression caregiver #age regression community #age regression moodboard #age regression sfw #agere activities #agere board #agere caregiver #agere fic #agere headcanons #agere outfits #agere positivity #agere post #agere prompts #agere moodboard #agere sfw #fandom agere #hazbin hotel agere

[crushedsweets]

ANSWERING ASKS PT 4?

ok this is like 30+ asks LOL its mostly stuff about me/my art with a little crp sprinkled in im sorry... ill make a post thats actually answering the crp asks with real answers that arent "ILL DO IT EVENTUALLY I SWEAR" lololol

YOURE BOTH SO SWEET i havent been this passionate about smth in so long so hopefully im here for a while... thank u guys for indulging me. it makes me happy to post LOL

with love pls dont call me that buuuut. ninakate. ticciwork. ninatoby. ticcijack. ninajack. notice how its all in the same group...

hiii i dont plan to anytime soon! IF I WERE TO, cody and rouge are probably 'next in line' to being put in my AU, but i have no plans to actually commit to that

omg ok its funny cuz rn i HAVE ONE but its just me in it cuz im too lazy to organize all the bots and verification and whatnot. im also nervous about making a server cuz of some online occurrences that happened after u sent this HAHA so i'm kinda putting it off... but i reblogged tombs server and im sometimes active in there if u wanna join that one!

ffrhrughagahhhh

no ur right theyre such a power couple. i know we joke about toby being useless bf and clocky being badass gf but they're both really cool together.

I FORGOT I MADE THE TWILIGHT COMMENT LMFAAAOOOOOO I NEED i need. i need toby to find a random twilight shirt at a thrift and snag it for kate.

ME TOOOO its so delightful. i have so much fun playing with them like barbies.. making them kiss n whatever. LMFAOOOO so silly but yk

JEFF STANS ARE SO FUNNYYYYYYYYY i like you guys. laughing jack stans scare me but thats cuz that damn clown scares me... nothing that yall have done. youre just braver than me. LOL

i will not do this...

no literally its really bad. i hold horrible grudges BAHAHA but im working on it. im getting over my purple beef

omg. i listened to it and that was really cool. i like that thank u sm for sharing

IDK WHAT POST UR REFERING TO BUT YOURE RIGHT. LMAOOOOO

IM SORRYYYY im so sorry. i feel like this fandom is so small and most of the fans dont really ship in general so it suuuucks shipping here.. but i love them..

oh my god i need to i keep forgetting. the nina art i jus tposted of her holding th eknife was kinda.. kinda referencing her behaviors..

i do too!!! ive been neglecting them so bad im so sorry..

like the IEPFB tea party scene

I NEVER DID IT ANON IM SO SORRY IM GOING TO HELL

is this a song

i have not! i havent read alot of stories actually... i kinda like doing my own thing with them HAHA

omfg i had a clocknina drawing but i ended up privating but i think i should unprivate it...

ok actually im sorry i just am bad at requests omfg LMFAOO IM SORRY im so focused on nina ... forgive me...

THANK YOUUUU youre very sweet i appreciate you!!! <3

YEAH he's...one of the more tragic people. 100%. all loss

WHAT IS LIUJONJACK LOL WHOS JON??? ALSO LIUOTPS IS FUNNY

wdym ? !

LMFAOOOOO HEY ITS NOT A BAD COMBO THERES NOTHING WRONG WITH BEING A NINAKATE SHIPPER........

THANK YOU CUPCAKE i really like nina.. or my version i gues si dunno.. i like everyone else's nina too. i like this nina we got going on together

ok i keep grouping these together but also making them seperate im so bad at organizing these asks but HAHA I LOVE THEM TOO i swear ill try to get some ticciwork stuff out soon!!! my spring semester is almost over so hopefullyyy..

this is how you know i suck ass cuz this was christmas time and im replying NOW. im so sorry. i initially planned to draw them hanging around a tree but i didnt get around to it then got embarassed and never replied.... but i agree it would have been cute. ha di notfailed. LOL

#asks

[unecoccinellenoire]

I wish you would write a fic where Gabriel, Adrien, and Nathalie get ice cream from Andre Glacier and Gabriel’s ice cream reflects Nathalie, not Emilie

It had seemed like a good idea; Nathalie had needed reassurance after being akumatised so Adrien thought to ask, and his father was being unusually attentive and indulgent so for once he could ask an expect a yes.

In fact the sound of André Glacier calling out his wares in front of the manor had seemed like fate.

Nathalie hadn't been happy with his father at breakfast, Adrien wasn't stupid enough not to see that, but his father had clearly been making an effort to win her back over- including finally acknowledging her as part of the family even if he wasn't quite ready to admit they were dating yet despite the ring he'd given her.

The two of them sharing ice cream meant for lovers should have been the ideal way to get them to reconcile, keep Nathalie from being akumatised again in her fragile state and prevent his father from falling back into the pit of grief he'd only just managed to claw his way out from.

But even as Adrien was staring at his own familar bowl of blackberry, blueberry, and strawberry choc chip and trying to convince itself that it wasn't necessarily Ladybug- that the it could be Marinette's hair and eyes and the spots in the red meant nothing his father's hand slammed down on the counter.

"That's the wrong one," He snapped at the ice cream seller. "Peach and Mint, that's what you always give me." Adrien looked up to see a bowl that looked nothing like that.

It actually looked not dissimilar to his own, the same small scoop of blueberry sat on top but-

"No, this is right," André said, "you need something a little different now, cranberry for-"

"How things have soured between us? I'm no fool I can see who this is meant to be,"

Nathalie, it had to be. As if there was any question that it those colours for his father could be anyone else the swirl of red sauce on the dark blue sorbet matching the streak on her hair made that clear.

"Isn't that a good thing?" He interupted his father, "that,"

"That it can change?" His father snarled back, "all that establishes is that this whole thing is a marketing strategy. That it's not your soulmate or the love of your life or whatever ridiculous,"

"Love is not ridiculous," André interrupted, "you can find love again Monsieur Agreste. It finds us all."

"That's-"

"Father," Adrien tried again, "if we don't hurry up then Nathalie will come looking for us."

"I'm sure Nathalie is already watching us," Gabriel spat.

Adrien blinked and stared at his father, "you said all of that knowing she might hear it? How could you? Nathalie loves you, and she's already scared because of her illness- she was just akumatised. How could you be so horrible to her?"

"Nathalie would probably say,"

"That you forget to think about other people." The woman herself startled them.

"You shouldn't be out of the house," Adrien said, feeling his cheeks go hot with embarassment.

"Your father bought me this so I could leave the house," she said, and she held out some notes to André, "here. Give me mine and we'll be gone."

"Ah, mademoiselle," he went to scope up a white ice cream, "for his icy-"

"I don't need the spiel. You've already upset one of us. Just give me something that tastes nice."

The ice cream seller handed it over. Nathalie sighed as she took it.

Once again it was easy to know who it was. Though Adrien wondered at the scoop of what looked like raspberry ripple. It looked just like one of the cravats his father used to favour, but he wasn't wearing it now.

He hadn't in fact ever since he'd finally reached out to Adrien. It didn't make sense that it was the version of his father who hadn't moved on who André had given Nathalie. Maybe Ladybug and his father were right. Making this ice cream man just put the combinations together he wanted. Maybe there was no magic.

"Thank you," Nathalie said. "Let's go."

His father stomped his way back to the house and Adrien just did not get it. No one was saying he didn't love Adrien's maman. And he'd been looked so concerned for Nathalie after his akumatisation. He didn't know how he could treat her like this, react like this now.

"Adrien," he father said suddenly, "go find us napkins. There's some in the kitchen. Nathalie and I will meet you in the garden."

He did as he was told but his father must have misjudged because Adrien was still in earshot when he heard him say, "this means nothing."

"If you say so Gabriel."

"Don't."

"I thought you asked me to call you that."

"You know," his father said, "if I was to believe in this rubbish then that cone of yours would say you still loved me."

"Does it? Or does it say that I loved the man you were."

"You're not-" his father suddenly broke off, "oh god. You are."

"Using that is cheating." Nathalie said.

Adrien frowned and peeked out the door but he couldn't see what "that" she was talking about. It just seemed to be his father and Nathalie holding nothing but their ice creams.

"But then," his father's hold on his ice cream was tight, and Adrien feared he break it, "no. No no, these things can't be real. That's just coincedence. Yours being right doesn't mean mine is."

"Thanks for making it so clear to me," Nathalie says sounding like she's making a company annoucement, "I always wanted to hear you tell me I'm not good enough for you."

His father suddenly burst out laughing. The ice cream fell from his hands to the floor.

Adrien stared in horror. This wasn't even cruelty from his father. There was no taunting in his laughter, it was all hysteria. He looked insane. Possessed.

"You think that's the problem," he said, "oh the things I could do to you Nathalie. They'd make you blush."

"Monsieur Adrien could hear you."

"I told you not to call me that." He grabbed her arm, and Adrien almost throught he was going to kiss her from how close their faces were, "don't you get it Nathalie? I could kill that man for giving me that ice cream today. I could have had this weeks ago and- and things would be different. But he gave it to me when it's too late. When I don't have the time left to-"

"Adrien," Nathalie hissed. "He might still be in the kitchen."

His father let go of her and straightens up. "It doesn't matter. This changes nothing. The only way out is the way it always has been."

Adrien didn't understand. What way out? Why didn't they have time, Nathalie's illness? Or something else?

"You should clean up that mess." Nathalie's eyes flicked to the split ice cream on the floor, the mess that had been supposed to be love for her her, "I'm going to go out after Adrien."

Her words had his feet moving, terror at getting caught moving him despite his broken heart. Something was very wrong, but all he was sure of was that them knowing he'd heard would only make things worse.

#angst #gabenath #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #if you want a happy ice cream fic go to my ao3 #my fic #prompt fic

[knavesflames]

@alfiikae I have written it 😳 it is not the best because I got tired halfway through but decided I couldn’t not finish it. This is NOT my best work I don’t love this

This is very OOC for Arlecchino I think, but who cares? Not me

Sequel to the ask I received about childhood Arle and reader as friends!

Contents: crying, mention of self harm (not graphic, but mentioned and briefly talked about without naming it), just sadness

Word count: 3181

Under the cut!!

(Poor reader lmao, projecting all of my school experiences onto her 😓😓)

That day was stupid, you tell yourself. She hurt you, and you shouldn’t have let her back in. You still remember the humiliation of telling your mother that no, she couldn’t come for dinner because you were wrong, and she wasn’t your friend, and that the kids were right, you were weird and weird people deserve to be by themselves. You can still remember the pitying face your mother gave you as you shrunk off to your room to play with more rocks. The memory of you playing with those damn rocks fills your brain as you stare down at the textbook. Why are you so interested in rocks and stones? You don’t know, and part of you wishes you weren’t. You slam the book shut just as a knock on your door sounds out, and Arlecchino’s voice rings out.

“Are you here? You haven’t been answering my messages. I am confused.”

You try to stay silent because there’s no way in hell you want to answer the door right now. You’ve been avoiding her since that night, just like the way you’ve been avoiding everyone else. A vow made to yourself one day in freshman year of high school, avoid everyone like the plague.

“I can see your feet, can you please answer the door?”

A sigh, and your chair pushes back as you stand, walking reluctantly towards the door before you open it, poking your head out.

“What?”

“Can I come in?”

“I’m kind of busy.”

“You’ve been busy since-“

You cut her words short, your voice slightly distant, no trace of the warm child she once rejected.

“Yeah, well, I’m busy. Maybe another time, yeah?”

Your attempt to shut the door fails when her foot blocks the way, her face stern and her eyes dark with.. what is that? Worry? Guilt? Annoyance? You sigh, walking towards your desk again as you clutch the sleeves of your sweater to stop yourself from either crying in frustration or snapping at her.

“Why have you been ignoring me? We had sex, you can’t just ignore me like nothing happened.”

“You’re one to talk about being ignored, hm?”

“..touché. But the point stands.”

“Okay.”

Your head is in your textbook again as you try to grasp how to tell the age of rocks by the patterns inside. Your hand on your temple, attempting to block out the fact she’s stood right there, staring into you like she’s trying to analyse you.

“Damn it, what the hell is wrong? What is your problem?”

“You tell me.”

“I said and did one thing like ten years ago and you still haven’t let go of it! You have to move on. I’m trying to reconnect with you.”

“I’m a weirdo, remember? Why would I try to reconnect with someone who thinks I’m a weirdo? I’d rather hang out with my textbooks and rocks.”

Your voice is sharper than it usually is. You know from so many years of this that you have to toughen yourself up. You can’t let people treat you like this, you know that, but..

“That’s exactly the problem. All you care about is rocks, you never even tried to talk to people.”

Your head snaps around sharply in her direction, a glare on your once smiling face. Your tongue finds its way between your teeth as you take a breath. You can already feel the familiar stabbing pain in your chest.

“I have tried. You just didn’t care to pay attention. I care only about rocks because they’re the only things that won’t be horrible to me! Like you’re any better with your stupid insects.”

You hear a sharp breath being taken as her fists clench for a second. Your face is unreadable, but she can see you’re hurt. She feels guilty, but she’s so annoyed at the same time. She can’t figure you out the way she wants to, she can’t read you the way she can with other people. It’s like you’ve locked yourself away behind a wall that can’t be demolished.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“What? Are you asking me if I was dropped on the head as a baby?”

The words make Arlecchino stop. That was so specific, too specific to not have been said to you before. And your voice is so sharp, so distant. The guilt is beginning to form in a pit in her stomach, pulling her downwards into a sea of anger. Her eyes flick over you, noticing the thing she’s noticed constantly about you.

“No. I’m asking what happened. You were such a happy child and then one day you just weren’t. You were so social and then you stopped talking to anyone, and nobody said anything about it either.”

“Mhm.”

“And now you’re not you. I don’t like it.”

Your mind recalls everything. The day she ditched you seems like such a small thing, but it wasn’t. Not when you pair it with everything else that happened. It was just the icing on the cake. You still remember the feeling, what you turned to, the nights alone. Your vision blurs, but you blink rapidly, fighting the tears away. Arlecchino waits patiently, standing there as she stares at you, analysing your appearance, analysing everything she can about you like you’re one of her insects she plans to research. You’ve never spoken to anyone about this, and you never dreamed of doing it. Especially not to her. But the words beginning spilling out of your mouth in both anger and sorrow.

“Nobody liked me, so I changed. Being me was the wrong thing to do.”

“Wrong? No. People liked you.”

You scoff, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. You know that’s not true, people have told you that.

“Do not lie. Nobody liked me, and it isn’t like they made that painfully obvious.”

“What do you even mean by that? Is that why you..”

She gestures a hand to you, and you know what she means. It isn’t hard to know what she means. Your eyes narrow, and your tone becomes defensive.

“How do you-“

“I just know. I saw one time. You weren’t the best at hiding it, you know. And you didn’t take your sweater off when we had sex. It adds up.”

“Right.”

“You shouldn’t do that, you know. Why? What drove you to start with that? Because people didn’t like you?”

Your jaw tenses. You don’t even know what to say to that. Your hands clasp in front of you, bringing the sleeves of your sweater against your palms, an old childhood habit really, but you never really paid attention to it. You stare in silence for a while before your voice sounds out, quiet, almost sad.

“I don’t need a lecture.”

“Sorry.”

“You really don’t know?”

“No.”

“You don’t remember that the janitor had to lock the changing rooms after school hours because a girl got locked in there for the weekend?”

Arlecchino’s eyes widen for a second as she tries to recall that. She does, in fact, vaguely remember that someone was locked in the changing rooms for an entire weekend in freshman year, and was only found again on the Monday when they had gym class. She feels the pit in her stomach grow significantly.

“That was you?”

“Mhm.”

“What happened?”

“Do you even care?”

A pause, and then:

“I do.”

You begin explaining for the first time in your life, your voice thick and almost wavering. You stare straight ahead at the small amethyst geode next to your bed, refusing to make eye contact. And you explain everything, everything from first grade to now.

“People didn’t like me because they thought I was weird. They thought I was too interested in rocks and that they couldn’t talk to me because of that.”

“You are too interested in rocks.”

“You can go if you’re going to begin with that.”

“No, you’re right. Keep going.”

Your throat constricts. For some reason, all of your anger is towards her. In a sense, she was the catalyst for everything. Not that it’s inherently her fault, but you can’t get her words out of your head.

“I kept trying to make friends but it wasn’t working. They would always play with other girls, which was.. I don’t know, sad, but I could play with myself. Then they wanted to play with me all of a sudden, so we would play hide and seek. They would ask me to hide and they would find me, but they didn’t even try to find me. It was just a ploy to get me away from them. I didn’t get it. I remember thinking that I was a bit sad they never found me until I hid really close to them. I found out they weren’t actually trying to find me, they just talked about me. They called me weird for liking rocks and wanting to play with them.”

You pause, taking a shaky breath before you continue. Arlecchino’s stomach is completely filled with guilt now, because she can tell where this is going. She has the urge to reach out and grab your hand. To trace her fingers over your skin. She doesn’t.

“Then I met you. You tolerated me, at least. And I had never had a friend before. So I remember running home and talking about you to my mom. She was worried, you know. She knew I didn’t have any friends and she saw it made me sad. She was so excited for me and when we stayed friends for a bit— well, ‘friends’, she asked if you wanted to come for dinner. She said I could ask if you wanted to come. I was so happy and I had this whole idea that we were going to swing on the swings in the park and maybe go to the library you liked so much. It turns out you didn’t like me at all.”

Your fingers pick at your nails, and it’s clear that’s something you do often by the way your skin is red and peeling. It was the opposite of her not liking you. She did like you. So much so, that she realised that she was different from other people.

“Stop that.”

Her hand finally reaches over and grabs yours, stopping you from causing more damage to your skin. Her hand are a contrast from yours, her hands patterned and blackened, almost charred and long nails painted perfectly, with your hands being plain, blunt nails that are bitten down. Tears gather on your lashes now as you keep staring at the geode, one you got for your 15th birthday.

“I had to go home to my mom that day and see her excited face. I remember she asked me what you wanted to eat, what she should make and I.. damn it, it was so hard telling her you— yeah. Her face fell, she was so happy I had a friend, and now I didn’t. She asked if I was sad, I said no. I said I didn’t care. I said I knew I was weird anyway and the girls at school said weirdos can’t make friends so it all made sense. I heard her talking to my dad when she thought I was sleeping that night, she was so sad for me.”

“I didn’t mean for it to be so mean.”

“It doesn’t help now. That was just the start of everything.”

A singular tear finally drops from your eyelid, hitting your skin. Everything is running through your mind and it’s so overwhelming you can’t help but choke down a quiet sob. Arlecchino’s own eyes are tearing up, despite her best efforts to hide it. She feels like the guilt is eating her, that the shame of what she said is sucking her into a hole. Ashamed that she said and did all of those things only to fuck you years later like nothing happened. She doesn’t want to hear anymore. But she tells herself that she needs to.

“The other kids caught wind of what happened. “If the loner girl doesn’t want to be friends with her, why would anyone else?” I kept trying to join in conversations, I kept trying to make friends, but it never worked. I got weird looks and insults. I threw a party for my 15th birthday. I invited everyone. Even you. I think a part of me was desperate for someone to show up. I got everything ready at my house, I bought so much food and I had a cake. People said they were coming. They—“

Your words are cut off by a sob. This is the first time you’ve shown any type of emotion in front of someone in years, and you’re cursing yourself for it. And Arlecchino, she’s silent. She’s listening, and she’s so so sad for you. She knows it’s only getting worse because you haven’t even talked about the changing room incident yet.

“Nobody came. I went to bed at 1am after clearing everything away. The food sat in the fridge and I had to throw it away. I did something stupid that night. I wish I didn’t because it became a habit. But I was so sad. I didn’t understand why nobody came, so I asked people. They lied to me, they said they were coming but they didn’t. And then, one Friday, after gym, they hid my gym bag. I spent a while looking, and when I finally found it and tried to leave, they had locked me in there. They said they would let me out when I stopped being a weirdo, because weirdos deserve nothing, they don’t deserve friends. They left, and I was there all weekend until the janitor found me early on the Monday. I never spoke to anyone again.”

The shame Arlecchino feels right now is palpable. She herself is crying now, silently as she stares at the floor. She yells at herself in her head at everything she could have done, but didn’t. Her eyes flick to your upper body, covered by your sweater. It’s not an unusual sight, she hasn’t seen you without a sweater since your 15th birthday. Listening to your shuddering breaths, your sobs, it pains her. So much so that her voice sounds like a yell.

“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything to me? To anyone?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”

Seeing how broken you are inside, seeing the loneliness that secretly overwhelms you, she wants to punch herself. She wants to apologise, she just.. doesn’t know how. She’s not one to apologise, she never has been. She’s hot headed, cold blooded, but you soften her in a way she’s never felt.

“I’m really sorry I never reached out to you. I’m sorry I called you weird. Really, I am. And I should have never treated you the way I did.”

Her words only make you sob harder. You sob into your sleeve, the fabric muffling your almost wails, your gasping breaths. She feels like her lungs are constricting, she feels like she can’t breathe as she watches you break down into the comfort of your sweater, which is only a painful reminder that you truly have nobody but yourself. She begins wondering how many times you’ve cried like this. How many times you’ve turned to that awful habit. And the thought of that, sitting alone in your room as you cry, breaks her too. She cries into her hands.

“I am sorry. I feel horrible, I’m so ashamed of the way I just didn’t do anything. I could have done something, I should have done something. I pushed you away because I— I had just discovered I didn’t like.. god damn it. I’m a lesbian, and it was then I figured it out. Your fault.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me. I tried to push it down, but every time I saw you it was a mean reminder that I wasn’t like everyone else. You’re such a sweet person, you don’t deserve what you got. You should have been a girl who everyone loved. Instead, you got.. you don’t deserve to be alone like you think. I lov-“

She stops. She takes a breath before she continues. It’s not the time, and she can’t use this situation to confess her infatuation with you. It was an explanation, but she can’t use it as an excuse. She feels so awkward, she hates apologising. She can’t recall a single time she’s apologised properly and meant it. Her hands fumble with her tears as she wipes them away, pushing through the awkwardness she feels.

“I like you. I want to be your friend, at least.”

You don’t reply for a bit as you try hard to calm down. Biting your lip the way you did the way she refused to be your friend, you sigh as your breath hitches.

“You won’t leave me alone until I agree, won’t you?”

“No.”

You sigh as you rub your temple, running your fingers through your hair.

“We can try. Don’t expect anything. We’re not best friends. We can try.”

Relief floods through Arlecchino, at least a bit. She was dreading her apology being rejected, causing more awkwardness. A single nod as she glances up around the room.

“Alright.”

You both sit in silence as you try to calm down. Your hands fumble with your sleeves as the tears dry on your face before her voice is heard again.

“You know you have a cobweb?”

“I know. I’m scared of spiders so I just let it live there.”

“Is it big?”

“No, but I still won’t touch it.”

Her eyes search the corners before she finally finds the little fellow, a small smile gracing her face. Her hands reach up, gently pushing the spider onto her hands. She gingerly approaches you, your eyes following her. You know the fear is irrational, but it’s always been a fear. The spider is almost cute, if it wasn’t for.. you don’t know.

“It’s fine. This species won’t hurt you at all. They look a bit scary but they’re actually not. People just don’t know how to hold them.”

You know she’s trying to distract you. It’s like she knows your thoughts, but she knows better than to speak about it.

“Is that why they run?”

“Mm.”

“How do you hold them, then?”

She looks up at you, as if for permission before she opens her hand and lets the spider crawl onto your sleeve. She figures that it not touching your skin is easier for the first time.

“Just don’t be harsh. Don’t hold them by their legs, let them roam.”

“It’s almost cute.”

“I know. I like the purple rock on your nightstand.”

You both watch the spider as it crawls around your arm, you’re slowly relaxing, still on edge, but.. better.

“It’s a geode. Amethyst.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Can I?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty.”

And for the first time in a long time, a real smile ghosts your face as you begin talking.

#arlechinno genshin #arlechinno x reader #arlebina #arlefuri #genshin impact #arle #genshin wlw #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #arlecchino angst #arlecchino fluff #arlecchino genshin #genshin impact arlecchino #arlecchino #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin imagines #genshin impact fic #genshin impact fanfics

[nunalastor]

Hi! next part of Snow White + Tangled AU (still taking suggestions for a name, I'll probably end up writing a whole fic)

Alastor was losing his patience.

He never really cared about the "King of Hell", but ever since the little man arrived at the doors of Charlie's hotel, it's just been one disappointment after another.

And, of course, he trusts Roo not to give him valuable information! It's always the same with her, she will only give you enough information to work with, only to punish you if she doesn't like the results, or take credit if you somehow end up doing exactly what she wanted.

At least Charlie wasn't a relevant project for her. But it really would have been useful to know her origins, he could have gotten a lot out of that information. Anyway, it's not that that's important now, he's not going to be bitter about it. After all, so far the results of his decision have been satisfactory.

Honestly, there was a time when he thought Roo could be Charlie's mother, but he ruled it out as time went by. It's a relief, motherhood isn't for everyone, and Roo definitely shouldn't be on that list...just like Queen Lilith apparently.

The first time he saw the king was interesting, he tried to attack him as soon as he saw him after a brief conversation with Charlie. It was so fun to see his daughter putting the little man in his place. But then she explained who she had just kicked out of the hotel and it was just disappointment after disappointment.

In their second meeting, the king was no longer going directly to try to kill him, but that did not make him any less calm. He just kept accusing him of Charlie's kidnapping, which is fair, the king doesn't have to believe him and he doesn't have to justify himself.

He suggested to Charlie that, when the king returned with the supposed evidence he had gone to look for, it should be just her and the king. Charlie was just worried that this situation would change something between them, but he dismissed it, nothing has to change.

From that moment on, Alastor's patience has been tested. The king turned out to be like all the rich men of his time, buying people with trinkets, trying to dazzle everyone with their wealth and power, pampering their legitimate children and only throwing a few coins to their bastards if they remembered that they had.

Alastor has kept his distance. Not only does he want to respect Charlie's limits and her possible relationship with her biological father, he also wants to show her that, unlike the king, he can behave like an adult in this situation. On the other hand, the king, every time he sees him, has to make a conscious effort not to attack him either physically or verbally, and that makes Charlie nervous, which amuses Alastor a little, but mostly makes him uncomfortable. He knows that this whole situation makes Charlie tense, and the little king is not helping with his childish attitude (according to his height, honestly).

What ended his calm was seeing how the little king simply seemed to lose his patience just a couple of months later, dismissing Charlie's ideas and trying to take her away. Simply telling her that her whole idea of a charity hotel would be counterproductive because sinners would only take advantage of her, and anyway, it's not like sinners deserve better, they do horrible things after all, like kidnapping innocent babies and taking them away from them families.

And Alastor simply had enough. He doesn't really care what the king thinks of him, he doesn't want to meet him, and the feeling really is mutual at this point, but after all that talk, saying how much he missed his daughter, he hoped the king would take the time to meet to Charlie instead of just pretending like nothing had happened. As if Charlie had not spent almost 100 years, all of her life, living with sinners, as if she had not spent her entire life learning from him and from those who have surrounded her until now.

The king is not entirely wrong, many of those in hell deserve to be there, it is supposed to be punishment for their decisions, in fact, there are those who deserve worse, but he cannot just so easily dismiss the ideals that Charlie formed by seeing sinners up close.

And, of course, he is not a good person, he has never pretended otherwise. In fact, if he had found any other sinner the day he found Charlie, he would have put them in an oven with the same ease that he put Charlie in her crib every night. If he had found any other sinners, he would have boiled them in a saucepan with the same ease with which he put Charlie in the bathtub when she needed a bath. With any other sinner, he would have written a recipe book as easily as he wrote children's stories he remembered so he would have something suitable to read to Charlie. But the truth is that it was not just any other sinner, it was Charlie, a baby that he decided to take care of with the memories of his mother always in mind. The one he found in a basket was a baby, whom he accompanied, stayed by her side, held her when she screamed and cried because of a nightmare or a minor injury. Whom he educated and guided, who he encouraged to make her own decisions, who he taught how to be respected. Who he took to his friend Rosie to make sure she always had a safe place to go. Whom he watched from afar when she played with other children in the Cannibal Town square. Whom he saw grow up while being just as feared and respected as him by her own means. Who tried to defend him when someone who was his friend for 30 years betrayed him and tried to attack her, which immediately ended their friendship.

It is when he feels the presence of his daughter, hugging him from behind, that he realizes that he said all that out loud. It is when he realizes that the king is there, looking at him with a look that reveals confusion, surprise and horror. The king has not moved from his place next to the portal he opened when he tried to take Charlie, but he notices that he is shaking, while he seems to think of something to say.

Alastor sighs, regains his composure as he walks away from Charlie and approaches the king, and with a snap of his fingers he makes two thick books appear. They are copies of a photo album and a scrapbook. He also makes the basket in which Charlie came into his life appear, with the blanket and clothes included. He gives everything to the king and is firm when he tells him to take the time to get to know Charlie, to stop being a king (if he ever was one), to stop being a wallet and start being a father if it's what he really wants.

The king leaves without saying a word, with all the items held firmly in his arms. If among the pages of the books the king finds the note that told Alastor to take care of the baby, with a characteristic signature, well...no one can refute that Alastor could have simply forgotten that it was there.

Two weeks pass, and Alastor feels a chill down his spine, a chill that is supposed to be a caress, supposed to be a reward for a job well done. He's confused, but at least it didn't backfire on him.

A month passes for the king to appear again. He literally just appeared in Alastor's room, looking haggard, exhausted. Alastor supposes that he can let the impertinence slide just for the pleasure that such a pitiful image brings him.

"Can you tell me about my d...can you tell me about Charlie? Please?"

👀

#hazbin hotel #nunalastor asks #alastor #radioapple #lucifer #snow white #tangled #tangled au

[nohoperadio]

Here's a little breakdown of my personal relationship/non-relationship with various types of aesthetic self-modification (?, I feel like there might be a word or at least a more elegant phrase to denote this category). The point is not to offer my "take" on each thing but to express the different feelings/desires/inhibitions my psyche manifests around them. Some of these will approach awkwardly personal territory, fair warning! You may notice that basically none of them are especially positive; I'm going to leave off from analyzing that pattern for this post.

Tattoos -- I think tattoos as a concept are extremely cool, frequently they're cool in practice also and I like seeing other people's, but I don't think I've ever had even the smallest urge to get one for myself. I'm not totally sure why. The lack of an obvious thing to get is one factor, I feel like "band tattoo" would be the most likely thing for me to have but I don't like the idea of directly lifting a band logo or album art and I really don't like the idea of a lyric tattoo (I offer no justification for these prejudices), so I'd have to get clever with it if I'm doing that and I'm not very clever. More broadly, I predict that my enthusiasm for any artwork I put on my body would fade through overexposure in a matter of weeks if not days--other people describe "barely knowing it's there" after a short time--which on top of making the value of the project seem dubious, I feel like having a permanent image on my skin that I don't actively love would be something I'd feel bad about rather than neutral. Like "man, that thing's on my arm and I don't care about it at all, that sucks" rather than just not noticing it. Maybe I'm wrong about that.

(Tattoos are the one that got me thinking about this whole subject I think, it feels like they're reaching a ubiquity in the culture where it's almost like you're expected to have a reason not to have one rather than a reason to? Maybe that's just a people-I-know thing, anyway it got me thinking about why I don't want one.)

Piercings -- An interesting thing about me and piercings is that it's virtually impossible for me to notice when somebody has them unless I'm like, actively consciously scrutinizing their face (or whatever it is). When I was about ten months into my current job I asked my co-worker who I worked closely with almost every day "hey when did you get that septum ring" and she was like "well way before I met you". That is simply how it is with me and piercings and I make no apology.

If my inability to perceive piercings (perceirvings...) makes me indifferent to the idea of getting one, what makes me actively hostile is the total certainty that I would fiddle with it constantly if I did. I know these hands and their ways and there would simply be no dissuading them, it would be so bad you guys, oh my god. This is probably the hardest no on the list I think, although I haven't finished the post yet so idk maybe I'll think of a worse one.

Makeup -- There's undeniably a lot that's very beautiful in the universe of makeup and there's also the weird dark side, I have dabbled a little in this area and in my heart I feel more positively than not about it, but it's just never going to be a sustainable part of my life because (not unrelated to previous para) I am a perennial and unrepentant face-toucher. I will be itching and rubbing my face-skin and also inflicting other hard-to-characterize punishments upon it (is this "stimming"?) until the day I die and anything that wants to be on my face has just gotta deal. It would probably be better if this was not the case but I don't make the rules, sorry.

Haircuts -- When I was a child I haaaaaated getting my hair cut, like the physical sensation of it? Was so horrible and would usually make me cry and always ruin my day (is this "sensory overload"?), I didn't understand why I was being made to go through this ordeal and basically as soon as I reached an age when I realized my mom couldn't literally force me to do it if I just stubbornly refused hard enough--that age was 13 I think--I stopped. I haven't had a professional haircut since that time although I'm sure I could cope with the sensory aspect at this point, it's just not a habit I ever picked up again (I've had a couple of non-professional ones from my ex who just kind of wanted to try it, in a not particularly ambitious or dramatic fashion). Sometimes I feel like I should, but idk. My hair as it stands is not optimized for making me look hot but I don't think it looks especially horrible either, it's just kind of whatever I think.

Complicating factor here: I've had trichotillomania since I was 15/16, and it's hard to imagine it going away at this point but it's a lot more under control than it used to be, to the point where you can't really tell just from my appearance that something's up now. I say "under control", I have very little conscious control over it and usually no conscious awareness that I'm doing it, but over the years the compulsion seems to have unconsciously settled into a routine where it's just kind of... sculpting my hair into a more-or-less normal silhouette? Like I sort of have a fringe and stuff despite no haircuts. Oh I guess this doesn't make sense unless I clarify that I mostly break rather than pluck the hair nowadays, that's a big part of the gradual unconscious shift that's occurred.

A fun thing about trichotillomania is that it often makes people really uncomfortable when you talk about having it, which sucks for me because it makes me feel lonely, but I guess it sucks for the person feeling uncomfortable too in a smaller way. If you're one of the people who feel uncomfortable around this topic, sorry! Quite genuinely.

Gender transition in general -- I feel like I'm just, just on the boring side of cis-by-default. I think about transitioning shockingly often for someone who's never gonna do it, like it's not searing a hole in my heart or anything like it is for a lot of people but it occupies that "it would be cool to learn an instrument" kind of niche in my thoughts, if that makes sense? (Probably a bit stronger than that analogy makes it sound, it's on my mind frequently but not with a massive sense of urgency attached I guess is what I'm getting at.) I can see myself taking the plunge if the medical technology was like 10% better, or the social technology was like 20% better, or with some medium-sized changes in how my personality was configured, but this life being this life there's no way in heck the juice would be worth the squeeze. If I had one fifth of the executive function required to do all of that lying to doctors and learning how to clothes shop and having awkward conversations with people in my life and all the rest of it, well I can list like ten things I'd rather spend it on first. And I don't!

Glasses -- Love wearing glasses, 10/10 no notes. I knew since I was like 11 that my face should have a pair of glasses on it and I was very smug when the optician agreed (I did not cheat on the eye test in any way for what it's worth). The only times I'm not wearing glasses are sleeping and showering. I don't even carry a case because there's no point because I simply don't ever take them off. This is probably overkill, I think as a kid I was instructed to only put them on when I need to see something in the distance, ignoring that and just wearing them permanently has probably led to my vision weakening to the point where they're now pretty much mandatory in every situation, but I don't give a shit about that because just let me wear my goddamned glasses okay, fuck off. It's actually crazy how much I like wearing glasses, this is the only true thumbs up on the list.

I remembering trying to explain how I like my glasses to a then-close friend of mine many years ago when the subject of laser eye surgery came up in conversation, he said I should get the surgery and then just wear glasses with non-prescription lenses. When I tried to explain why that wouldn't be the same at all he was adamant that I was just being stubborn. That guy was a wonderful person in many ways and I loved him very deeply, but man what a dumbass thing to say.

Facial hair -- There are so many great beards and moustaches in this world, there are few more cheering sights than someone bearing some swish whiskers who's pleased about it, but personally I don't wish to be involved in that business at all.

I never learned how to ride a bike -- Obviously this one doesn't belong on the list, it doesn't fit with any of the other categories, and yet I feel compelled to include it here. And why should I resist that which compels me? This is my post. Yeah, I'm the oldest of four siblings, we were all given bikes at the appropriate kid-on-bike age, the others picked it up but not me. I liked it when I had stabilizers on my bike, then they took them off and I started falling off the bike, and after a very short amount of time I gave up. Like I didn't get mad injuries or anything, it just felt like I wasn't improving at it quickly enough and I didn't feel like keeping it up so I didn't. Early indication of my bad personality.

Fashion in general -- Clothes shopping has always been extremely aversive to me for whatever reason, it's gotten a little better in recent years, I have been able to exist inside clothes shops for long enough to purchase a small thing or two, but eh. Most of my tops are band t-shirts I bought at gigs, most of my bottoms are exactly identical pairs of jeans, there's just not much going on you know? But unlike with most of the items on this list I would really like to be doing this properly. I would like to wear cuter things with prettier colours and designs. This one's an actual goal. But so far I haven't really made progress. The aforementioned shopping sucks thing, plus a fear of being so aesthetically clueless that I just make myself look like a big idiot if I try anything risky, plus the fact that doing things that are not my established routine is tricky in general--these are barriers for me. I guess another barrier is that the things that would be most interesting to try out and therefore most potentially motivating fall into the wrong-gender-clothes category and therefore bring into play some of the barriers from that other category a few ones up. I did actually somehow get myself to dabble in that area some years ago to a modest but positive degree of satisfaction. It'll probably happen again. The patterns and causes that determine whether I can or cannot find motivation to engage in a thing--they are mysterious indeed.

Like horn implants or whatever other crazy miscellany -- I don't want anything in this category and don't have any non-trivial thoughts about it either. Including this section for completeness only.

---

Well, there you have it, that's the post. Now you know a bit more about some of my little weirdsies. If you actually made it through the whole thing, a) how interesting and b) why not tell me a little weirdsy of yours in return, whether it pertains to the above list or not? Why not get all antiphonal on my post, that way I'd get to know a thing about you as well, it might be a whole fun kind of deal. You don't have to though, I didn't make this post to try to snare people into letting themselves be known, I just kind of made it to be a post mostly. I make all sorts of kinds of posts you know? And so I thought I'd try one that's like this.

#selfposting #uninteresting #more uninteresting than average #and a bit too long #and yet putting it in a readmore didn't feel right for some reason; sorry all! #have you ever tried listicle oversharing? it's weirdly freeing