whatever rock you want

After receiving an (now not so anon anymore *waves at Jane*) ask about “Matsuhana FF8″ :3 Them COSPLAYS!

(i seriously considered leaving the dick across their faces as watermark…)
(also considering prints of this because i love…)

Up to Fate

Request: reader meets Bill at a premier for It, He flirts with her, they hit off, she invites him back her place and fluffy sex ensues. Hope you enjoy! 💙

When the chaos inevitably becomes too much, you begin your search for a quieter place to rest before the film starts. You find refuge in a bar tucked into the corner of the building and order a double gin and tonic, two limes on the side. You weren’t exactly sure how you got yourself into this predicament but it definitely had something to do with your brother needing a plus-one to the Hollywood film premier of a movie he had little to no actual involvement in. He had already found your seats but the idea of sitting in a crowded theatre for more than fifteen minutes without anything actually occurring, made your skin crawl.

You’re about to order another cocktail when someone takes the seat next to you, gesturing to the bartender. “A stoli on the rocks and… whatever the lady wants.” You glance to the stranger sitting next to you, wide-eyed. He’s extremely tall and devastatingly handsome.   

Handle this properly, you remind yourself. “While the gesture is a appreciated, I don’t really need you to buy my next drink,”

“A thank you usually suffices in this instance.” He chuckles, sliding your drink over to you. Your cheeks burn hot, and you know that he’s right so you thank him for the gesture.

He’s about to open his mouth to say something else when someone in the distance calls out to him. You watch as he swills back the last of his vodka, slaps a hand on the counter and turns to you. “What would you say if I told you that you were the most beautiful woman here?” 

You take a decent swig of your gin and tonic, and set the almost empty glass down on the wooden counter in front of you. “I’d call you a bloody liar; and I’d tell you that you’re stepping on my dress.”

His gaze travels south, and he let’s an expletive fall from his mouth when he realizes he has indeed been standing on your dress. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

You shake your head, grinning. “Guess it’s a good thing it’s a rental, huh?”

The taller man scratches at the back of his head, smiling brightly at you. “It has been the greatest pleasure to be able to share a quick drink with you this evening.”

“What’s your name?” You shout out after him when you realize you never actually got it in the first place.
He turns back on his heel, beaming. “It’s Bill!” 

It’s Bill. 

And that’s all it takes; it’s funny how someone can waltz that easily into your life. You had woken up that morning completely oblivious to what was about to happen and here you are now, halfway through a film about a terrifying demon clown and all you can think of is Bill.   

It’s only at the close of the film that your brother turns to you and says, “I’d like to introduce you to someone.” You’re about to protest; you’ve got plenty of other things to be doing… but alas, your evening is wide open. You watch him stand up and wave to someone in the distance. “Come on!” He whispers excitedly.

You notice the shoes first; taught, shiny leather and as your eyes travel further and finally rest on his face, you can’t help but smile like an idiot. “We meet again.” 

Bill outstretches his hand for you to shake. “Fate has an interesting way of doing that, huh?”

“You guys know each other?” The comfortable silence is punctuated by your brother’s understandable confusion.

“Not really, no. We shared a drink at the bar before the premier.” Your brother nods slowly, the pieces falling together. “The film was incredible by the way,” you offer up to Bill. “Truly. Your acting was impeccable.”

A soft smile breaks across his face and he bows towards you. “Thank you very much. This uh… this film meant a lot for me to do and I almost can’t believe it’s out already. I kind of have to keep pinching myself.”

“Should we head to bar then? Celebrate a little? A few of the crew members are heading to a new spot downtown.” Your brothers tone is hopeful but you don’t think you can bare another few hours in these heels.

“I’m actually going to head to my car but you should definitely go out and have some fun.” You smile, poking him teasingly in the ribs. He’s about to protest, but decides against it and simply nods instead.

“I will walk you out to your car,” Bill offers and you fight to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. You watch as he throws a friendly arm around your brother’s shoulder. “Was great seeing you tonight, man. Thanks for showing up to support.”

Goosebumps rise in small patterns on your arms when you enter out into the balmy September evening and it takes only seconds before Bill’s offering up his navy suit jacket to you, which you accept graciously. “You came alone tonight?” You ask, trying to sound as in interested as possible.

Bill shakes his head. “No, I came with my two brothers and their dates. But they left pretty soon after the movie ended.”

“Would you like to come back to mine? I owe you a drink.” You’re at your car; It’s a long shot and probably somewhat inappropriate but you have this particular feeling about Bill that you couldn’t knock even if you tried.
“I’d love that.” He grins.

The car ride is uneventful, only broken by periods of small conversation. He’s from Sweden, is the third youngest in a family of eight children, and loves his mother dearly. At one point you can actually feel his gaze boring a hole into the side of your face and you smile shyly. “You’re just incredibly attractive.” He offers up when you confront him about it. You’re suddenly grateful that it’s dark in the car, the heat in your neck and cheeks is almost too intense.

“This is it,” You murmur once you’ve got the key in the lock and the door open. “Make yourself at home.” You kick off your heels and place them inside the coat closet of your apartment. Bill follows suit behind you, leaving his shoes by the mat at the front door. “What can I make you to drink?” You ask.

Bill shrugs his shoulders. “Anything, really. I’m not too particular with alcohol.”
You hang his suit jacket against the back of your kitchen chair and set to work making him a pisco sour. You’re trying in vain to remember the exact recipe when Bill simply says, “Come here.”

You do as you’re told and join him at the window in your living room. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you without hesitation, your arms circle his waist and this is actually happening. He pulls away, kisses just beneath your ear and simply says, “I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you sitting at the bar tonight.”

“Do it again,” you whisper breathlessly. Bill grins at this and kisses you hard again, it’s so intense you’re worried for a second that you’ll pass out. Bill pulls away again though this time it’s to turn you around so that you’re facing the window.

“Lets get this beautiful thing off of you.” His long fingers brush the soft skin of your back as he slowly unzips the dress, pausing every now and then to press his lips to the skin there. You let the pleasant shivers wrack your body. He reaches around to your front to squeeze your breast and you involuntarily moan into the touch. You’re pretty sure you feel him smile into your shoulder, which turns you on even more. He unclasps your bra with near expert skill and slowly pulls your panties down your legs. “So fucking beautiful,” He groans into your neck and you feel weak. He turns you back around again so that you’re facing him, completely stark naked. He kneels down to the ground, slowly kissing down your body as he goes. Your heart is hammering so hard in your chest you’re almost wondering if he can hear it. He stops just above your vagina, placing gentle kisses to your inner thighs. “Place your leg over my shoulder, baby.” He says softly and again, you do as you’re told. He parts you with ease and begins to lap slowly at your tight, wet core.

“Oh my god,” you moan, throwing your head back a little too hard against the glass window pane. Your fingers find purchase in his hair and you fight the urge to grind yourself against his face. His ministrations are slow and deliberate at first and you’re in danger of coming too soon. You remember that he’s also doing all of this in a three-piece suit and you have to tell yourself to breathe. He sucks your clit into his mouth and you bring a hand to yours to keep from screaming out. It’s a constant pattern; deliberate laps against your folds and then your clit in his mouth. It’s only when his teeth scrape over the sensitive bundle of nerves that you actually do scream out into the air before you.

“You going to come for me baby?” he asks, and all you can do is nod soundlessly. He pulls away to insert two fingers into you and a few more slow, hard licks and you’re coming in overpowering waves against his face. His rides it out with you and places a kiss to your vagina when he’s finished. It’s only when he straightens up that you notice the tent form hard and tight against his trousers. Wordlessly, you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom down the hall.   

You’re both quiet as you set to work undressing him, taking time to marvel at the soft, alabaster skin beneath his shirt. He’s watching you intently, a small smile evident on his face. He pulls down his boxers and moves to the side of your bed, glancing at the drawer next to it. “They’re in there.” You nod and watch, amused as he reaches in, grabs a condom, rips open the foil packaging with his teeth and rolls it on. “I’d like you to ride me.” The confession is so quiet you almost don’t hear it. You swallow hard and watch as he positions himself on your bed, half sitting up, his back rests against your wooden headboard. “Come here, baby.”

You stumble over to him, legs still weak from your previous orgasm. You place both hands on top of his shoulders, one leg on either side of his and sink yourself onto his fully erect penis. “Holy fuck,” Bill gasps, dropping his head to your collarbone. You begin to bounce rhythmically on top of him, letting your head fall back as he begins to hit that one particular spot inside of you. He plants his hands firmly on top of your hips. “So fucking wet,” He groans loudly in pleasure.

“Just for you,” you whisper against the shell of his ear; this alone causes him to involuntarily buck his hips against yours and you cry out in pleasure.

“I need more,” Bill moans, and physically lifts you off of him. You know almost immediately that he wants to do it doggy style so you position yourself on all fours and wait for him to start. He positions himself behind you, placing chaste kisses down the length of your spine. “Here we go,” He murmurs, pushing himself inside of you. His thrusts are slow at first and then they begin to pick up tempo and it’s all you can do to keep from screaming out into thin air. You arch your back for him, and he taps your bottom lightly. “Not going to last much longer like this, y/n.” A few more finite thrusts into you and he’s tumbling over the edge, groaning your name into the damp skin of your back. “Oh my fucking god,” He gasps, pulling out and collapsing into the space next to you. He kisses the back of your head and pulls you into his embrace.

You take a deep breath and let it out, revelling in his touch. “Just so this is clear… I am not in the habit of sleeping with famous Swedish men the first night I meet them.”

Bill presses a soft kiss to your neck. “Just so you and I are clear… you were, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman there tonight.”

i watched Teen Titans vs The Justice League and also The Judas Contract today and see I’m conflicted bc I absolutely adore the characterizations of most of the titans, Damian especially, BUT IT SO HEAVILY FEATURES DICK AND STARFIRE AND I’M NOT REALLY ABOUT THAT LIIIIIFEEEEE  (not to mention that beast boy and terra had me cringing like a motherfucker)

i mean. it wasn’t unbearable. but judas contract especially so heavily focuses on the romance aspect and i kind of just am disinterested in romance in general. They were kinda cute? but nah not for me thabks. Damian and Raven were my saving graces in that whole series tbfh

And I Liked You - Joker x Reader Imagine

Masterlist | Requests

Prompt: Can u write an imagine where reader’s Bruce’s fiance and pregnant. Joker kidnapped her cause he was bored and wanted attention of B-man. But he slowly started feel something for her (you know, his style of feelings), so this baby is interference…

{A/N} The reader knows Bruce and Batman are one! I just wanted to make that clear. I ended it so as to actually leave some to the imagination this time!

Warnings: Some cursing and violence.

Imagine you wake up bound to a chair in a dark room. The temperature is tepid, and there is no noise. You’re unsure of how you got here, and you begin to feel panic setting in your chest as you gasp, immediately worrying about your currently unnoticeable condition: pregnancy. 

“Bruce?!” you call out, unable to get a grasp on your sense of reality, “Hello?!”

You promptly hear a door swing open, the doorknob banging into the wall. Trembling now, you swallow hard.

“Look who’s awake!” A man says, footsteps lacing with the echo of his voice. “I was hoping it’d be soon, there’s someone waitin’ on a phone call from you..”

“Turn the light on! Who are you!?” You spit out.

Immediately you hear the clanking of metal and a bright light is being pushed in your face. Your retinas burn from the sudden exposure of something so harsh, and you reel back in your seat, cringing. Blinking tears away now, you look up at the clown before you.


“That’s right sweetheart, your favorite face on the planet,” his voice oozes with cockiness as his hair hangs over his face.

“Hardly,” you say. “Let me go!”

He scoffs as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Before he can even start dialing, it begins to ring. A large, coy smile spreads across his red stained lips.

It’s for you..” he growls, pressing the green button and holding it to your ear.

“Hello?!” You ask again, unable to control the emotion in your voice as you close your eyes, hoping it’s your fiancé, billionaire Bruce Wayne, who also happens to be Gotham’s and your - at the moment - last hope.

A raspy voice comes over the phone, giving you directions for about ten seconds before Joker pulls the phone away and curtly hangs it up. 

“That’s enough of that,” he says.

A frustrated noise leaves your throat as he does so, and your mind races a million miles a minute. You don’t want to upset him, in fear of getting yourself hurt and in turn hurting the baby, but you can’t sit idly by and let him do whatever he wants to you.

“Ooh, look at the rock on your finger… You know who’d love that? Harley. But she’s not here anymore.”

“Cut the shit, Joker, I don’t need your small talk! Batman is coming for me, he always does!”

A long, drawn out laugh leaves him as he turns to face away from you. You can’t help but notice the large dragon tattoo on his back.

“You can’t really believe that I brought you here because I wanted you here…” 

The silence from you tells him all he needs to know, causing him to cackle again. 

“Oh, honey,” he quickly turns around, both hands grasping the arms of the chair you’re in as he speaks just centimeters from your face. “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

A moment goes by that you’re holding each others gaze, and you can almost see the insanity pulsing in his eyes. He notices that you’re quite the catch, too, licking his lips now slowly. He’s seen you on T.V. on the arm of Bruce, and from afar he did admire your beauty, regardless of his inability to admit it. 

Realizing you’re holding your breath now as his eyes scan your soft features, you inhale, gritting your teeth before spitting in his face. As he stands up again, he wipes his mouth with his grin-etched hand before reeling back and hitting you across the cheek.

A small yelp leaves you as you begin to cry. The stinging isn’t the issue anymore, you’re worried about the baby and just how this is going to play out. 

He lunges towards you now, the chair falling backwards as the rage builds higher and higher in him like a well oiled machine. The back of your head connects with the solid ground, and your eyes begin to give out on you slightly. It isn’t long before he’s on top of you and his hand is around your throat, squeezing tightly as you lose air. 

“Maybe you are a little more attractive than I thought.. And your boldness with me is rare around Gotham..” He mumbles, grinning through your suffocation. “I just might wait to kill you..” 

Every small move you made to resist him only made him like you more, unbeknownst to you. What he craved was something dark, something disastrous. Something that made him wild.

The weight of him on your stomach and chest begins to frighten you now, and his free hand reaches for your hair, running his fingers through it as he leans in, licking your lips with a low laugh.

“No..” Your voice is jagged as you struggle for the air to speak, losing more consciousness by the second. “Pregnant… I’m.. Pregnant..”

It’s like someone flipped a switch. Immediately he’s standing over you now, staring down at your purple tinted {S/C} skin with a catatonic expression. You gasp desperately, your chest engorging as the air fills your lungs. 

“And I liked you…” he says before stepping over you and kicking the light over, the crashing sound echoing through the room.

as it gets closer and closer to swimming suit seasons i just wanna remind all us “hairy” girls out there that you’re valid in whatever you wanna wear. don’t feel obligated to shave or cover up because someone tells you that the hair on your stomach is too dark, or your arm hair shows too much. rock whatever the hell you want. your body is just as much a “bikini body” as the next person, so never feel embarrassed by the way you are. girls with darker/more hair are just as beautiful in whatever suit they wear compared to the next girl.


Blindspot ~ Stucky AU/Evanstan Character CrossOver

Based on this little post full of inspiration

Summary: Survivor’s guilt eats away at Michael as he brings home his fallen comrade. Searching for atonement of some sort, he sets out to honour his friend’s last wish. Michael, thus, comes seeking Johnny’s younger brother, whom he had promised to protect. When he finds Justin at the corner of the chapel, clad in a cheap suit and wiping away the tears pooling behind his glasses, he never thought that the boy was to become the greatest challenge he’d ever have to face. Michael watched him with admiration as the boy refused to accept help of any sort. He was a fighter, far too brave for someone so young. But Michael knew, beneath the facade of strength was a helpless boy who was coming to terms with the fact that he was truly alone. Eventually, after much effort, Michael finds a way into Justin’s life. Somewhere along the line, the rhythm of their relationship begins to alter. Their silent glances weigh with meaning and the mutual dependency grows to an unhealthy level. Michael hopes against hope that Justin will not act on the budding desire, as he battles his own urges. But he knew that it was only a matter of time before Justin became his ultimate undoing.

***WIP. Oh, yes! I’m penning this down.

anonymous asked:

Mettaton with an autistic s/o?


- Spoils you with stim toys. Spinners, cubes, squishies, chewies, whatever you want. Rocks, marbles, things that click, things that bend. Slime, sand, glitter. You’re overflowing with stim toys, & the moment you so much as glance at something you’re interested in that’s stim related he’s got it special-ordered for you. All of them have his face on them.

- He commissions Alphys to make you a special pair of headphones that can either turn the surrounding area’s noise to a lower volume for you, or play a specific frequency that will combat/soften any form of anxiety or fear you’re feeling in a too loud place until he can get you somewhere private.

- You’ve got a special room backstage. No one is allowed in without permission, & it’s filled with everything possible to make you comfortable. A screen to watch his performance. A couch/bed/chair for you to relax on. Any food you’d like. You can invite anyone you want there, & it’s specially made for seclusion, so you won’t have to deal with the crowds or backstage workers constantly bothering you.

sketches sketches, actual sketches while I try to get some character designs worked out and play with some pens!

All Celestin Nanteuil wanted to do was be a famous painter and get rich off gallery shows. All he actually DID was become one of the most successful an sought-after illustrators of his day,  working with pretty much every popular author of the time and in demand with nearly all the writers of the Romantic movement,  and make a solid living off art until he was respected enough to become Director of the friggin’  Beaux-Arts Academie, which is either a tragic tale of Dreams Unrealized or a shockingly successful artistic career depending on how closely a Deadling was Looming when you asked him. 

–In fairness to him and his very dramatic loathing of his successful constant employment, he just  missed out on getting to participate in the Golden Age of Illustration, which would have given him both the chance to experiment in color that he mostly lost out on by being stuck with early-mid 19C illustration work, and the potential for serious fame. Illustration in France at the time was often a kind of generic affair, with a lot of publishers treating work-for-hire a bit like a stock footage search, and re-using and re-formatting art without credit or any sort of later payment. It was a pretty frustrating situation!  But Celestin was a True Romantic and, like all True Romantics, was way more Dramatic about it than mortals of a lesser artistic movement might have chosen to be. DESPAIIIIIR! 

…also he was apparently pretty like a dang Renaissance angel in his college years. He definitely got an amazing beard as he aged.

SO it’s @bananannabeth‘s birthday today and I wanted to draw her very cute OC’s for her! I hope today is as wonderful as you are, Ashlee! Happy birthday <3<3 !!!


Originally posted by parknewna




Love Thy Neighbour II (I) ~ Stucky AU | EvanStan Character CrossOver

“That’s a mighty big gun you’re packing.”

“Oh god! This is a mistake. I’m leavi…”

“No! You’re not! Not until I’m done with you.”

Real One

Summary: Your friend gets meet and greet tickets for her favorite band and wants you to come with. Fall Out Boy is a great band that you also like but don’t know much about. Then you finally meet them.

Pairing: Patrick Stump x Reader

Reader: Female

Warnings: mentions of depression, smut

Words: 7056

I sat on the ugly yellow couch in the small square room that was my therapist’s office. Temporary but it was still uncomfortable. There was only one small window and it was facing a building. I’m not claustrophobic but it felt small.

“So, you said that your friend is taking you to a meet and greet for this band, Fall Out Boy? Are you at all excited,” she asked me? Janna Thompson was a sweet lady and I liked her instantly. She was always willing to talk with me about pop culture. She would let me get off track if she knew I needed it. Today wasn’t a rough day so it would be short.

“I mean, I guess. I like the music they put out. I just hope they aren’t entitled rock stars. Mara seems to really like Pete so I’m happy she’ll get to meet him,” I said, shrugging. “I mean, we’re 23. I am all for her liking something like this but I feel weird. I feel like a kid or something.” Janna nodded.

“If it’s something you like, then it’s not weird and you shouldn’t be ashamed of it. Same thing applies to your friend, (Y/N).” I smiled and nodded. She was right. “Oh, and be sure to tell me all about them when you get back.” I laughed. She knew just how to help me relax.


The day of the concert came and I was attempting to straighten my hair. It wasn’t very long and tended to curl when I didn’t want it to. Mara came bouncing to the bathroom wearing a shirt she had gotten at their last concert.

“Come on, (Y/N)! We don’t wanna be late. Here, I’ll help.” I chuckled as she took the flat iron from me. I loved seeing her so happy. Reminded me that things weren’t all bad. Her nails were painted purple and she had managed a purple smoky eye that I envied. I could only manage eyeliner and even that wasn’t always great.

She managed to tease my hair into a presentable state and she pulled me out the door not long after. She blasted their new album and we sang along. She knew more words than I did but at least I was having fun.

“So, this is called “The Last of the Real Ones” and honestly it’s so amazing. It’s one of those songs where you just try to imagine the guys saying it to you. Pete is a genius.” She giggled. I rolled my eyes at her.

“Well what about the singer? He’s the one delivering all this emotion into the song.” I listened to this singer pour his soul out to some girl.

“Patrick. He’s an amazing vocalist. One of the best in today’s music if you ask me. Then there’s Joe and Andy who complete the band and are super talented.” I listened to the music and the lyrics. Patrick really gave it his all.

“I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me?”

Patrick, huh?

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#204 - For crazed-abstractionists & anonymous x2

Filling the prompt “van said to the girl he loves her a few times and always expect her to say it back but she doesnt since she never said it to anyone. so he has a panic attack bc he thinks she doesnt love him back (in the end theyre good and she loves him ofc)” and “something about van and the lads going into a fancy restaurant and meeting reader who is a server and just like cute stuff and flirting and leaving a big fat tip with his number written on the check”

Note: Shoutout to @crazed-abstractionists for the constant likes and reblogs, and especially the little comments on posts. You’re an A+ supporter!

The restaurant was frequented by the rich and famous. It only took a couple of weeks of working there for the novelty of that to wear off. You theorised that the rich stayed rich because they were so cheap; they didn’t tip any more than regular people. And, the famous stayed that way by not associating with the (gasp!) lower class. Okay, so, it was a generalisation, but for all the recognisable people that had come through the doors, you’d not served many that stood out as remotely human. The only exceptions were Ewan McGregor and Olly Alexander from Years and Years. They had both been kindness and grace and good tippers. The rest though, fuck ‘em.

It was for this reason that you loved when record executives would bring messy bands in for fancy dinners. They always looked uncomfortable, and sometimes they would do everything they could to undermine the bourgeois atmosphere of the room. Always the highlight of a shift. So, when Catfish and the Bottlemen walked through the door and followed you to a table, your hopes were high. 

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mind of mine plot inspos
  • mind of mindd: new friends who bring you out of your comfort zone (in a risky, kind of toxic way) and make you question everything you know. helps you grow as a person, but not always in a positive way.
  • pillowtalk: the one night stand you brought home from the club...more than once. falling in love between the sheets. exploring every inch of skin on someone’s body. finding out what makes their toes curl. becoming possessive of one another. wondering if this still counts as casual hook ups. fighting over a label.
  • it’s you: being unfaithful. a break up you’re expecting, but still knocks the wind out of your lungs. fighting to stay together, saying goodbye over and over again. having your ‘last kiss’ over and over again. drunk calls and texts and getting sent to voicemail/r-bombed.
  • befour: hitting rock bottom. mister nice guy finally snapping. doing whatever the hell you want to do because no one can stop you anymore. making enemies with everyone you meet. drunken bar fights.
  • she: like samantha and lou from stuck in love. avoiding love out of fear of being hurt. soft conversations. sleeping in with someone during rainy days. coming out of your shell and opening up to someone. a femme fatale and an introvert.
  • drunk: falling in love with your best friend. realizing you’re in love with your best friend. wild and unpredictable summer nights. coming home at two in the morning and crashing on your bed.
  • intermission-flower: unrequited love.
  • rear view: reuniting after a falling out (or trying to -- could be one sided for extra angst). trying to understand what the other person is going through. putting the blame on the other person. ending up leaving them behind/getting left behind.
  • wrong: a fwb where someone starts catching feelings, but it’s not mutual. the other person playing along for the sex. knowing you’re being strung along. doing anything for love.
  • fool for you: the perfectionist and the careless. beating a dead horse. someone who wants to fix the relationship while the other person has already let go.
  • bordersz: the prequel to pillowtalk. shameless flirting. the thrill of the chase. playing hard to get. sending each other drinks at the bar. drunk dancing.
  • truth: getting caught up in drama. being salty and petty. ‘classy n sassy but never trashy’. instagram fame culture. maybe getting catfished?
  • lucozade: being unable to leave a relationship. knowing you’re being cheated on. turning the other cheek. drinking/doing drugs to deal with the pain.
  • tio: a cant keep my hands off you, strictly physical kind of attraction. lots of sexting and nude snaps. teasing. lap dances. rough and raw.
  • blue: a pure, sunday morning kind of love. craving domesticity. holding hands and butterfly kisses. fluff fluff fluff.
  • bright: two reckless people. lots of physical attraction but no emotional compatibility, slightly toxic while they try to figure out how to make it work.
  • like i would: seeing your ex with their new s/o and getting jealous. pettyness. trying to make them jealous back.
  • she don't love me: wanting someone you know is no good for you. treating yourself after a hard day/week/month/year/life. a true one night stand. waking up to an empty bed. anonymity. fake identities.