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sadderdaazee · 4 months

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“𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬.”

pairings; choso kamo x fem!reader! (she/her)

warnings; hair-down choso, fluff, ooc choso (kinda?? idek lmao 💀) very insomniac reader, car rides, overspeeding, reader is kinda shorter than choso + not proofread!

wc; 3k ish

insp; a playlist. song recc below.

“you still up?”

“yeah...”

the mattress shifts and whispers beneath you.

“can’t sleep?”

“mhm,” you murmur against your pillow, skimming your fingers delicately against his jaw, thumb caressing that tattoo adorning the bridge of his nose.

wondering if they’re mistakes of adolescence or marks of fashion. you don’t ask him, though. you like to unravel the reasons by your own.

“why?”

“mmm…” your moan stifles within choso’s shoulder as you press your face deeper into his bare skin, not quite answering his curiosity.

he chuckles.

“you gonna be fine, lovey,” he doesn’t ask further. he knows you’ll tell him when you want to. so, in a breath, choso’s calloused hand tugs against your neck, pulling you into his bare chest in a groggy embrace, kissing the top of your head again and again and again.

you smile into his chest, fingers drawing circles against his tattoo laden limbs and cheeks pressing against his warm skin.

“try countin’ sheeps in y’head,” he places one deep murmured kiss against your head, your leaden eyes fluttering in a sigh.

“already tried that.” you confess among listening to the thunder brawling beneath his ribs.

he doesn’t reply, lips pressing about your head and feeling your stress ebb under his skin.

then, he’s sitting up till the blanket billowing about his limbs covers less of him and more of yours.

you ache the lost feeling of his bare skin burning within yours when he’s standing up.

“where’re y’goin…” you mutter in a leaden sigh, draped in a muzzy contorted whine.

choso doesn’t reply, disappears into the closet as you sit up, blanket falling from your nude limbs.

the cool air seeps about your skin, drooping from your collar to your bare breasts.

you await, fiddling with your fingers in that renowned anticipation he’s memorized. worried that this time, maybe choso’s finally had it with your nightly plights.

and when he’s appearing back from the closet, more modest — a sweater concealing his tattoos that paint about his abs, his hair sweeping against his shoulders, he’s throwing a hoodie towards you.

“what’s this— oh, i need to wear my bra—” you scurry among the blanket’s waves, searching for your bra laying somewhere, but with a tut of choso’s tongue, you sit still.

your gaze imprisons his sight, one thats drawing closer till distance is a plaything amongst you and him, his breath becoming one with yours.

his eyes haphazardly trail to yours, to your perky nipples that harden under the scarce heat of your blanket and the hiraeth of the lingering heat from his skin.

and just when you’re expecting him to press himself to you, kiss and burn what’s left of you in embers, pin you against the bed till he’s one with you and your bare bodies speak more than words, he’s only forcing your hands up.

they face the ceiling, loose and submitting, and with the confusion draping your gaze, he’s picking the hoodie thats fallen onto your lap, a knee on the mattress as you slither closer to him.

he’s pulling the hoodie over your head and taking each of your arms, weaving them through the sleeves of his hoodie without meeting your gaze once. the hoodie sheaths against your skin, his scent drawling into your skin and nose, scent leaving the fabric

his fingers comb through your scalp, arranging the stray tufts of hair that fall against your face, and you sneak a glance his way, only to find his eyes already doting yours, trailing from your gaze to your lips and to your eyes again.

you suck a breath, parting your lips because obviously, he has something on his mind, something involving you and him to go out.

at 1 a.m, that is.

“where are we go—” but you’re already being picked up, choso’s fingers pressing by your flesh and holding you in a bridal carry.

and like a reflex, your hands circle around his neck.

“shh,” he kisses your head again, gesturing toward the key holder. “relax that pretty little head, we’re only goin’ out.”

“this late?” you take the key to his car and he carries you out of the house, uses the key to unlock his car, hands still pressing you into his body.

“mm, yes, the roads will be clear.” he smiles. “promise bubby, you’ll love it.”

then, he’s gently placing you in the passenger seat, closing the door and seating himself by the driver’s seat.

he leans by you, and finds confusion still plaguing onto your lips, pulls your seatbelt and straps you by the seat.

his dark locks flood by his face when he’s turning the music on.

and you’re admiring it. urging to fish the wayward strands behind his ear and kiss the curve of his jaw.

yet, you stare at him with an eyebrow perched, despite the endearing gaze that melts within your irises.

“is it today?” you ask, eyebrow threatening to mend with your hairline.

“what’s today?”

“the day you kill me and bury me in a forest?”

a hearty giggle births among choso’s succulent lips, flourishing into a laughter that entrances every thread in your body.

the faintest fluster bruises the flesh beneath your skin at the sound, within the heat thats billowing across your face, not that its visible anyways.

“no, no,” he wipes the tear slipping away from his lashes, “i’d kill myself before killing you.”

“wow. at least leave me alone in the afterlife.” you find yourself swallowing the small rumble of that chuckle that breathes within your chest.

“nah, nah,” he says as he steers and turns, trees sprinting about, the veins beneath his skin flexing, urging you to do something unwise. “don’t want no man up there take any chances with my girl.”

“ew.” you roll your eyes, mischief gripping your gaze taut, “so possessive and jealous.”

“ah, maybe you’d take your chances with the hot guys up there.”

but you’re already throwing yourself onto him, playfully punching him as he dodges them, laughing and warning the road ahead. and with a huff, you settle back in your seat, hands folded by your chest.

“perish.” you pout.

“aww,” he smiles. “you resemble a cat— oh, you wanna eat something?” choso asks, pulling through a small 7/11 store open nearby.

you nod with a grin. “ice-cream.” you reply, watching him get out of the car.

he walks over to your side, opens the door for you and you’re reminded how you’re not even wearing your sandals.

but alas, choso is leaning over you, taking your sandals from the backseat, which you wonder when he’d put them there. he’s crouching again, taking your sandals and slipping them over your socked feet.

you grin up at him, mouthing a small i love you that’s weaved beneath your words when he takes your hand and leads you out of the car.

“my prince charming.” scarred, that is.

the aisles are dimly lit and choso’s fingers entwine amidst yours. he looks at you, watches your eyes spry about when you’re shuffling through the different varieties of ice-cream in the freezer.

and he’s reminded yet again, how every second with you makes him fall over and over for you. and maybe he will fall in love with you more, he doesn’t know the limits. doesn’t even want to know the limits. all he knows is he’s content till there’s still a smile hidden beneath your lips.

he hates the pang in his chest when he sees your weary eyes every second night, unable to succumb to rest. or when your lids would flutter anxiously amidst sleeping. he would kiss them to a soft still, closer, pulling you into him.

“butterscotch or mint chocochip.” you ask, finger pressing against your bottom lip with a frown plaguing your gaze.

“both.” he kisses the side of your head, “i’ll take whichever you wouldn’t.”

“we’ll just kiss and mix the flavors, no big deal.” you shrug.

“you want me to kiss you?” he smirks, its cheesy.

“what if i do?”

his hand slides lower till they hover right above your waist. God darn him for being tall, because when he’s so close, his eyes entrapping yours, you can’t help but look up. he has to lean down a bit, so his lips are meeting yours and caressing them like a quiet soliloquy.

it’s not a deep indulgent kiss, rather a peck. coupled with another, peppering against your own. you smile. he pecks it too.

pecks the corner of your lips, your nose, your forehead, then your lips again — until a stifled cough musters your attention.

the girl skimming through her magazine at the counter physically scowls at you both.

you kiss choso’s cheek, the fluster right at the corner of his tattoo, tucking the drooling strands of his hair that fall against your face before pulling back, taking two of the ice-cream cones out of the freezer, heading towards the register and billing the stuff. choso pays.

then, he’s circling his arms around your waist from behind, letting you lead him to the car as his lips keep pecking your neck. you tell him to stop, voice laden with intangible chuckles he could store into the chambers of his heart.

the tufts of his dark locks fall against his eyes as he combs his fingers through them, pushing them back as you both lean on his car.

you unwrap both of the cold desserts, and you feed him mint-chocolate first. then you raise the butterscotch one to his face, and he licks it too. you follow, licking mint one first then butterscotch.

“i like the butterscotch one,” you tell him and give him the mint one. “you?” your hand tucks into the pocket of the hoodie you were wearing when a small gust of winter breeze kisses your skin.

“i like you.” he replies, arm snaking around your waist to pull you so close to him in the empty parking lot with only a street lamp to flicker amidst.

your back presses against him, and you can feel his heartbeat rumble within his ribs and reverb against yours from the back. and you’ve come to realize, your hearts beat in sync. it makes yours skip a beat. love him more.

“i like butterscotch more.” you tease, a giggle slipping from your lips as your eyes meet the sky, grey clouds staring down at you, blanketing the sky with its sweater.

he chuckles softly before turning you around. you look up at him, and he watches your eyes bloom, with a kind of bubbly and unconcealed excitement and happiness, so absurdly precious — he can’t help but fall for you once more.

you kiss him again, lost within the strawberry blooming by his tattoo you dote so much. the taste of his mint-chocochip mingles with your butterscotch, and you chuckle. he chuckles too.

you both can taste it. the cool peppery butterscotch on your tongues.

he likes it better mixed. like you and him. mended together. one together.

he licks his ice-cream, and you just stare at each others eyes, the crisp of winter lingering beneath your tongues, the flickering street lamps shadowing what it can.

then, you bite your ice-cream with mischief hugging your grin.

impish horror flashes choso’s eyes.

he grimaces.

“that has to be borderline psychotic.” he licks and uses his lips to bite the ice cream.

you laugh, and he loves the way your chest quakes and reverberates within his.

“you’re just weak.” you kiss him again, taste the winter flurrying against his lips. you shiver onto his lips, and he nuzzles you deeper within his chest.

you both enjoy the moment, dimly lit under the moon as the clouds move by, and when you’re finished with the dessert, you’re sitting back inside the car. choso’s revving the engine, and you’re watching him with a dreamy gaze.

wondering how you’d gotten so lucky?

you don’t remember the first time you saw him. you thought he was like a cat, you called him a cat, and he was combing his hair back in the parking of your college. you didn’t fall for him at first sight though.

you barely remember when you fell for him.

he was a curiosity you wanted to pet at first, knowing at the back of your head that unraveling that curiosity would sink his presence beneath your ribs and settle its home right beside your heart.

but he only settled his home within your heart.

“you’re so beautiful,” you don’t acknowledge you’re speaking your thoughts.

he doesn’t mind it. you don’t either.

instead, he smiles and turns the music on, hand giving your thighs a squeeze.

“yeah?” he asks with that small voice that rouses your melting heart to collapse into a puddle.

“very.” you reply. “i love you.”

i love you too. he wants to say. so utterly, madly, so desperately that you’ve become the lighthouse of my thoughts, i barely want to enjoy anything without your smiles and teasing marks. he could add.

he doesn’t.

he smiles wider.

you lean back within your seat adopting his smile, but the biting worry still claws at the back of your throat like a prickly knife stuck between your ribs. worry of what had been keeping you up tonight. how long will you be stealing your boyfriend’s sleep like this?

so you sigh.

if choso notices it, he doesn’t speak on it.

he decides to accelerate his car, just a notch that would bubble up fuzzy excitement within your guts and would pull a smile on your lips.

“told ya’ the roads would be empty.” he grins, and grins wider when he sees your toothy one.

then he accelerates more, and you’re sinking into your seat from the pressure. it doesn’t deny the laughter fizzing at the back of your throat, and choso laughs among yours, feeling the engine of his car roar.

like an interlude of choirs singing amongst your breaths, and your hand latched against his bicep despite the big, giddy smile on your face.

you trust choso with your life, but the delirium that came with speeding so fast on this lone road had you pressing your fingers deeper into his skin, that if you were to let go, you’d be washed away.

“heyy, open y’eyes, you’re missing out!” he shouts over the roaring engine with a breathy laugh that creases his eyes. you slowly pry your eyes open, and had that sight not stolen your breaths, you would tell him how beautiful it is.

the stars are kissing, all blurry as choso slows down. they draw clearer, and finally, at the edge of road, they picture against your gaze, twinkling over the gleam thats spry within your eyes.

choso huffs an exhale, his hair falling against his shoulders.

“come,” he says, exiting the car and opening the door for you. he doesn’t give you the chance to help yourself as he picks you up in his arms. you use your feet to remove your socks, barefeet within his arms. he doesn’t forget to take the big cozy shawl you forgot in his car.

the fleeting blue luminates against the underside of choso’s face. the fleeting blue from the ocean that’s lighting in sparks and glittery blue from the bioluminescence.

the vast sky sways to the breeze along with the palm trees, the cool wind nipping at your skin. you digress, mind completely delved unto the admiration of what was in front of you. and if you were lying, even a little, you’d say this wasn’t the most enthralling sight you’ve ever seen.

everything smelled of saltwater and winter, eyes lighting with hues of blue at the mercy of the sea.

choso places you down to your feet, the wet sand instantly kissing your feet that makes you cringe. but you digress that too, when you see how your footprints leave marks when you’re walking against it, glittery, your mouth pried slightly apart awaiting words you can’t speak yet.

“choso…” you coax, in a tone meant to say his name, breath flurrying within the air in vapor. you can taste the salt hanging within the air. wonder if his lips would adopt the taste too.

for a while, choso smiles, hugging you from behind and kissing the top of your head.

“like it?” he asks, his hands within the pocket of your hoodie as you walk towards the lucent water.

“i’ve never seen anything like this…” you’re whispering, too amused by the water under the black silk draped over the sky. “it’s beautiful.”

“more than me?”

“yes.” you elbow him lightly with an impish tease draping your tone.

you feel him shiver above your head, and you think if he’s cozy enough.

you pull him closer anyways, stopping by where the starry sea bruises the shore. he shivers foot to foot. you tuck his hands deeper within yourself, feel his teeth cease to clatter, when you’re turning around and embracing your arms around his awfully muscled limbs.

“you’re an idiot,” you scold when you feel his shivers dissolve beneath your embrace.

“why?” he asks, sitting by the wet sand, still within your arms as you’re placed on his lap.

he has a smile on his lips. a grin under his teeth, a hand rubbing against your back and other fiddling with the countless white specks of seashells within the sand.

the tip of his nose is scarlet, a compliment to his tattoo drawing about his nose. you like to kiss it. so you kiss it. once. maybe twice. or thrice. you never count.

you play with the countless blues shimmering beneath your fingers when you touch the sand, pressing your cheek against the middle of his chest, eyes meeting the blue of the ocean across your shoulder, then looking up at his gaze, one thats trained about the expanding ocean where the sparkles of blue dissolve to dark water. “because—”

but his lips are ceasing your words. he kisses you. kisses more. kisser even deeper. and he has to think if he’s even been so lost in a kiss before. he pulls you closer, closer than he’s ever let anyone, till theres just no distance left amongst you. your hands draw up, cupping his face and he physically feels the ocean wash him away, heart an erratic thing missing the beats somewhere within the salty taste of your lips and the crisp of the air.

and when he pulls back, a little breathless than before, he chuckles.

“idiot in love with you.” his fingers dance about your hair as he drapes his shawl over you two.

he wants to tell you how he’s visited this beach before. how he’s seen all of this already. what he also wants to tell you is that visiting then was never the same as now. he couldn’t find the beauty of it as mesmerizing as he does now, couldn’t put a finger on that spark that illuminated the sea like he can now.

you lay your head over his collar, kissing the bone endlessly till your eyes are quietly lulled by the washing waves of the ocean, sleepy. you quietly admire the beauty of the sea a little more, for a while more, till your head is lulling within him and you’re submitting to slumber completely.

he gazes at the endless sea till he cannot think anymore, hands rubbing over your limbs in an endearing caress.

and when his eyes are finally looking down, he’s met with a sleeping you.

softly breathing against his chest, the quiet rise and fall beneath your ribs in sync with his.

he has to bite back that overly impish grin, steal himself to not kiss your sleeping face. he finds himself carrying you back to his car, laying you in the seat with the shawl draped about you.

and just when he’s about to close the door, sit by the drivers seat and take you back home, he leans and pecks your lips.

you smile.

“i love you.”

(reblog + like)

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son-of-starlight · 5 months

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"Hello?" Rusty calls out, slamming his breaks to a stop, causing his train to jostle a bit behind him. Rusty turns around and apologizes quietly before standing up as tall as he can and calling out to the fellow piece of rolling stock who seemed to be by themself on the rail. Rusty was uncertain of how to proceed. This wasn't just some debris he could pick up and move...this machine could be hurt. He didn't want to travel any further until he was certain they were okay. "Are you alright?" Rusty calls out again, and for good measure, he whistles loudly. The kind of whistle used as an attention getter by little switching engines...he hadn't quite grown out of that habit.

#starlight express #starlight express rp #stex #stex rp #roleplay blog #📝Starter Prompts!#gonna post a punch of starters because I have been thinking abt my Rusty SOOO much I wanna do things with him #but I can't write fics for some reason. brain won't let me.#so rp is the easier and more fun option

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mlchaelwheeler · 1 year

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people watched this scene with their own eyes in s4 and still don't believe byler is endgame ??

this is nothing but gay pining. no other reason to include this scene fr. also,, the triple take. like. c'mon now

#not me stealing my own screenshots from other posts SJFJGJ but anyways. how could you not see the tension #WHY ELSE WOULD THEY FOCUS ON BOTH REACTIONS 🔍👀📝#byler #sarah.txt #s4

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saleeba · 4 days

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you look good in red and white ; william saliba

summary ♡ new year celebrations back home prove to be a handful but william tries his best to help you out.

pairing ♡ william saliba x bengali!fem!reader

content ♡ fluff, husband!william, reader is stresseddd and just needs a sit-down tbh, bengali words/terminology, reader is mentioned as having siblings, y/c/n = your cousin’s name, y/s/n = your sibling’s name, kissing, willo being the bestest husband ever !!!!

a/n ♡ arsenal football club are so bengali-coded pass it on 💯💯 ok so red & white are super traditional & prevalent in bengali culture + they’re ofc arsenal’s colours so i connected the dots 🤓☝🏽 (you didn’t connect shit ;-;) hehe anyway it was bengali new year this time last weekend & what better way to belatedly celebrate it than with a short and sweet wilo fic :D happy bengali new year / shubho noboborsho & i hope u all (bengali or otherwise!) enjoy this one !! ❤️🤍

“william! here, try this for us!”

no sooner than he had stepped a sandal-clad foot into the kitchen, you’re there shoving a chomchom into william’s mouth, the poor boy immediately being startled by your shouting and the manic running around of your siblings and cousins — not to mention the softly sweet intrusion his mouth experiences at the hands of his wife.

william had decided to escape the company of your dad and uncles once the mid-morning conversation turned to politics, knowing how chaotically passionate the men in your family get once the topic of current events gets brought up, in search of your comforting company in what’s the first time you’ve taken him back home in your relationship, never mind for such an important festivity. bengali new year in your motherland just hit differently and you wanted william to be fully immersed in every part of the extravagancies that your heritage brought to help pop his bengali culture cherry. unfortunately, being one of the “older younger” members of the extended family, you had taken it upon yourself to be at the forefront of all the festive tasks which meant that the new year wasn’t going to be quite the relaxed and enjoyable shared time either you or william had been thinking of.

although, admittedly, he shouldn’t have been so surprised at the utter carnage unfolding in the kitchen since every single one of your relatives was up at the slightest sliver of dawn today, rushing about the residence to begin the pressing yet procrastinated matter of setting up decorations, preparing the food and creating the most stunning of placards for the neighbourhood’s parade; all before one in the afternoon. the hubbub was so sweeping that william had missed a good morning kiss from you — having gotten up so early to denote roles to your younger relatives in the food preparation — and he hadn’t even seen you at the brief breakfast the family had managed to slip into the schedule, making him miss your presence way too much than was allowed in his terms. it was quite definitive of your relationship that you had essentially found him before he had seen you, rushing over in an outfit that william had never seen you in — a red and white shari wrapped around your body, gold jewellery adorning nearly every possible inch of you, the tinkle-tinkle of your anklets melodically ringing in his ears as you make your way over. it all takes his breath away regardless.

“how is it, huh?” you anxiously enquire, taking a quick bite of the sweet yourself, cheeks filling with the spongey sugary goodness as it muffles your voice. “we spent forever making the mix, first it was too soft then too hard, and then y/c/n accidentally dropped it on the floor then we had to argue about what the shape was gonna be and th–”

your stressed-out rambling causes william to laugh, taking the remainder of the chomchom from you and popping it into his mouth before telling you that it’s delicious and there is no reason to worry about it.

“i can give you a hand, y’know? i’m not that bad in front of dough.” he teases, offering to take some load off you and your appointed kitchen team for the day.

you’re quick to refuse, knowing there are quite literally hundreds of sweets and snacks needed to be made in a short amount of time to share throughout the neighbourhood and you don’t want his new year experience to be tainted with the interfamilial arguments that are sure to ensure within these here four walls over the next few hours.

“you should save yourself and rest before we set out for the parade, will, before we fully make you into our mishti guinea pig.” you usher him as best as you can towards the kitchen door and into the courtyard. “besides, i don’t want to be getting a strongly worded text from mikel for fattening you up too much for your job.”

another chuckle from your husband, who accepts, setting off to lend his hand in something else that isn’t getting in the middle of flour and sugar being haphazardly thrown around.

he finds himself in the company of some of your youngest cousins who assign him the role of batter in an impromptu game of cricket in the courtyard, taking the time to teach him all the techniques of a nationally beloved sport that he’s a complete novice in. after a couple of attempts of trying to understand the rules but giving up, his side nonetheless win the game and your baby cousin pipes up with the notion that william is now a “true bengali”, which makes your husband’s heart glow with affection for this new family of his.

the chattering and rushing of a group of yourself and some other cousins as you all pass through the courtyard pulls at his attention, intently watching as a number of you scramble around tables set up for the food and pace back and forth behind them and the kitchen, carrying what seems to be enough snacks to feed the whole country, never mind the neighbourhood. william can see the tension etched onto your face, brows nearly crossed over into a v-shape, and he so badly wants to step in and tell you to sit down for at least a minute but he knows the tasks at hand are more pressing and you really want to get this right for him, your family and the neighbours. he decides that he’ll have to remedy your stress once it’s actually appropriate to do so.

another hour or two follows before the lack of you gets to william, now missing your presence by his side so much that he’s pacing around the house like a madman, dipping into every room and asking whoever he stumbles into where your whereabouts may be. william was damn near about to start shouting your name from the rooftop before an aunt of yours points him towards the direction of the garden where you’re there by yourself, hastily brushing vivid paint over the sketched-out placards for the parade very, very last-minutely. you don’t even have to look up to know that it’s your lover who’s rushing towards you.

“god, it’s all going on today, isn’t it?” you speak before he can and try to place some humour in an otherwise extremely stressful situation, not even finding the time to take your eyes off the painting to look at william while explaining what’s going on. “y/s/n cut their finger and everyone else is so busy so i have to finish these and get them dried in…” you press your phone to check the time. “... 20 minutes.” yeah, you’re somewhat fucked right now.

“and who said you have to do it by yourself?” william rhetorically quizzes you; a mild scolding for bearing so much stress on yourself. “y/n, when’s the last time you sat down or even stopped your feet from running about the house? babe, i thought this was supposed to be a time when we both celebrated together, right? so why don’t we work together, too, yeah?”

you go to refuse him again and tell him to get ready for the parade with the rest of your family but william is having none of it.

“pass me a brush, please,” he softly demands with a sigh, hand outstretched as you eventually accept what he’s been saying to you since the morning and give him the tools he needs to help you finish the painting. you find yourselves completing it in more than half the time, leaving you plenty of time to fan them over to dry.

you turn to william, wanting to thank him for gently knocking some sense into you but getting instantly distracted when you finally allow yourself to take your husband in and appreciate him. you’re in awe of how extra handsome your husband looks in your culture’s traditional attire: a red and white panjabi set to match your shari, the golden handpainted motifs and embroidery sparkling against the rich colours of the cotton material.

“there, see, we finished it together! teamwork isn’t that bad, is it?” he teases and you respond with a tiny jab of your elbow on his side and a light laugh. “ah, hang on…”

he turns you to fully face him and points out that your red teep is slightly off-centre between your eyebrows, raising his hand to fix it while the other rests on the side of your face. your heartbeat picks up a little faster over his warm touch that you’d been missing for so many hours and the peek of his tongue out in concentration practically has hearts swirling in your eyes.

“there we go.” the way he smiles down at you tugs tenderly at your heartstrings and you can’t help but nearly smash your lips against his, the established habit of getting on your tiptoes to caress your alta-adorned hands along his broad shoulders helping to propel yourself into his embrace. william kisses back with all the might of a lover being starved of his wife’s touch for far too long.

a sudden call of your names quickly breaks the two of you apart, your aunt turning the corner towards you both with a camera waving in her hand and shouting something about taking a big family photo in front of the house before setting off. you and william are far too flustered to really comprehend what she’s saying before you’re wiping at your own mouths to rid yourselves of the red-stained evidence of your lipstick. your husband is about to take off behind your aunt to avoid any more time-wasting but you’re quick to grab his hand and pay him a greatly overdue compliment.

“oi, you look good in red and white.”

glossary of bengali terms ♡

chomchom = a milk-based bengali sweet.

shari = traditional clothing worn by bengali women; other languages may call it a "saree/sari".

mishti = bengali word for "sweet(s)".

panjabi = traditional clothing worn by bengali men.

teep = a small coloured dot/jewel worn between the eyebrows/on the forehead; you may see it being called a "bindi".

alta = red dye traditionally painted onto the hands and feet of bengali women during festivals and celebrations.

#william saliba #william saliba imagine #william saliba fluff #william saliba x reader #william saliba x fem!reader #footballer imagine #football imagine #football fic #footballer fluff #when the cool tones of ur first pic don’t match with the warm tones of ur 2nd and 3rd ones KYS . anyway #also posting this knowing full well i most probably have zero bengali readers lmao u write what u wanna read tho innit . ANYWAY #big up uncle titi for the title reference 😌#i hope i kept it regionally & religiously neutral so my bengali babes from any background can enjoy !! 🫂#+ used shuddho/standard bengali just to keep a generalness and not to denote a specific dialect/language to the reader soooo yeah!!#reader isnt necessarily a shuddho bangla speaker ^_^#thats the trouble with bengali ppl we are sooooo diverse it's a struggle to try n make sure everyone is included 😅 i luv us so much tho <33 #˗ˏˋ 📝 ˎ��˗

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dreaming-puppy · 8 months

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Cg!Aziraphale headcanons

📕Has a section of kids books for his regressor.

🪽He'd be great with regressors who are neurodivergent.

🪄If his regressor is overstimulated he has a space for them to calm down.

📕Let's you know it's okay to cry.

🪽Teaches you things when you're regressed the things he teaches depend on what age you regress to of course.

🪄Shows you how to do magic tricks.

Where I got the divider.

Might add more headcanons later maybe I'll also make a regressor version idk.

#sfw age dreamer #sfw agere #sfw age regression #please respect my dni #agere positivity #fandom agere #agere fandom #good omens agere #agere caregiver #caregiver f/o #agere self ship #my post #puppy's headcanons📝#dreaming puppy's post 🌌

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aprilblossomgirl · 9 months

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just me thinking about the possible shift of mind i might have from this to that from here to there between these.

#my drama journal 📝#firstkhao #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #akkayan #sanray #just went to twitter very briefly and got to see a post where mark said something about monday that sounds like OF related i'm...

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lighthouseas · 8 months

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chapter 20 of the strawberries are dying, my byler 1930s au, is now up!

Mike has always hated doing things he didn’t want to do, even if said things were necessary in order for him to develop into a normal human being. This was maybe why his parents, particularly his father, had very obviously disliked him more than their other kids when he was growing up—he was stubborn. Unmoving. Unwilling to meet in the middle with most things he didn’t like. “Compromise” was not really a word occupying his vocabulary. He saw the world in black and white for a long time, refusing to even toe into a gray area. Was this a bad thing? Probably. Of course, he’d gotten better with it all since he’d met Will, but he still kind of saw the world like that on occasion.

#fucking. christ. okay. hope u like it #every bone in my body cracked the second i lied down after posting this lmao #i have. hm. a chapter and a half left to write i think? but ch23 is gonna be more of an epilogue than anything else probably #woo. this is insane. okay.#after this fic is done it's onto my bylerween fic WOOOOO but it's gonna be sad for sure :(( this fic is my baby #stranger things #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #byler fics #tsad #📝#st.txt

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queercodedrogue · 1 year

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Have finals tomorrow and instead of studying I'm sitting here thinking about puppet history. I'm gonna fail my finals

#Damn you Shane and your masterful storytelling...#I'm gonna fail fr #Can't stop thinking about the fucking professor and his relationship with Ryan #And also IS HE FINALLY GONNA FIND HIS BAG AND HES GONNA GET BACK TO THE FUTURE AS THE METEOR COMES N KILLS HIS PARENTS??????#anyway #Yeah #I'm a little hyperfixated on this #If you couldn't tell #I've been hyperfixated on just any video with Ryan and Shane in it tbh #Guess I'm just hf on them both #They're taking up all of my mental space #autism be damned i WILL study tonight #📝 my posts #📺 puppet history #👽🛸 ryan bergara #👁️🎬 shane madej #puppet history #watcher entertainment

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ambrozians · 2 months

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how jade & the harpers look according to my brain:

jade — skin is a warm tan, smooth to the touch. beauty mark beneath the corner of her right eye. wavy, black hair that stops just below mid-back, cut in layers for volume. lips are plush, usually painted with red or nude gloss. long eyelashes. green eyes with golden flecks that convey her emotions and thoughts better than words can. a small tattoo of a pink lotus flower on her left breast, and a faded scar on her sternum from vandal savage. lean, curvy build, but one cannot accurately gage her strength by looking at her, unless they’re prone to underestimate. gold hoops, gold bracelets, gold necklaces—all gold jewelry.

roy — sporting a perpetual tan, one might call him sun-kissed. auburn hair that lightens to ginger in the summertime, straight and pushed back by sunglasses. nose is crooked from one too many injuries. silver hoops or studs in his ears, depending on the day. eyes the color of a lake, blueish-green. light dusting of freckles on his skin, particularly his back. beard that tows the line between stubble and scruff. the physique of a rugby player; thick arms and legs but softer stomach, broad shoulders. several scars all over his body, most notably the bullet wounds & surgery scar on his chest. two tattoos: navajo one on his right arm and lian’s initials over his heart.

lian — face is her mother’s but younger, softened by lingering baby fat, and dotted with a light smattering of freckles. skin is a light, warm beige. hazel-colored eyes and full lashes. dark brown, nearly black hair with a brown balayage, usually tied back in a ponytail or braid unless at an event or hanging with friends. double pierced ears and a cartilage piercing on the left ear. she smiles like roy. athletic build, only a few inches shorter than jade but gaining on her. couple of scars on legs and fading bruises from playing sports (lacrosse, skateboarding, etc.). always has one headphone in her ear. combines metals when she wears jewelry.

#📝#jade nguyen #roy harper #lian harper #long post #now lian’s description is more for an older version of her #high school age range #again i say she looks a lot like her mom but a lot of her mannerisms are from her dad #same smile and same way of carrying themselves #what a pretty family let’s talk about it #maybe i’ll rb and throw tommy and uncle dick in there later #since i have specific images of them in my head too #when you read my fics this is what they look like #even if i might not describe it all that well loll

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 year

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you: gojo senpai's chapstick tastes nice geto: you two finally kissed?! you: what? no! i respect senpai's personal bubble gojo, dejectedly: she ate it

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brunetteaura · 1 month

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instagram is such a soulless fucking platform they all act like theyre the philosophers of the 21st century and in reality theyve not even seen prozac nation or sat in silence and cried hysterically for the entire evening idk how to explain it but it gives me such an ick like i look at your profile and i feel nothing im just being sold a product so polished and clean it bores me theres no room for nuance rawness and life being shown as it is rather simply reinforcing the idea of humans being made to be consumed just like that article on subtrack talking about the edible skin of ours thanks to the fucked up beauty industry

#no matter how much i detach from it all and have my acc just as a little archive of my life and places ive seen i can never get consistent #with posting i hate it so fucking much #📝

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burning-sol · 2 years

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Thinking about the implication that Gillion is the one who has constructed his trial makes things all the more fucked up.

When the donjon uses the word "sin", it is pulling from Gillion's own interpretation of what a sin is: and what Gillion sees as a sin is his inability to bear pain. In the sun temple he confesses that he doesn't want to be the chosen one, that he feels he can't bear the responsibilities and that makes him sinful. In the end of the trial, he confesses he hates the elders, he hated the failure, he hated waking up in the morning and that makes him sinful. Gillion feels sinful for wanting to be normal, for being abused, for feeling depressed and even suicidal. When the donjon interrogates Gillion for his sins, Gillion is judging himself harshly from a very flawed view of what sin is.

His "wrath", his "pride", his "impulsiveness". Although Gillion has these flaws, the ways in which he identifies them in his past is such a worrying sentiment. He puts blame on himself that he killed humans in the first case, even if he couldn't have known better. He puts blame on himself that he was self absorbed in the second case, even if he couldn't have known better. He puts blame on himself that he attacked a navy officer in the third case, even if he couldn't have known better. When Gillion reflects on his past and projects his own failure onto it is so deeply troubling - he's weaponising his own hindsight against himself. His sin is hating the elders and it's a sin because what happened must have been a fault on his part. Gillion didn't say that it was the elders fault he failed, just that he hated the elders for waking him up TO fail. THEY didn't fail him, they WATCHED him fail. There's a difference between these two sentiments.

And what we also need to bring up is that even if Gillion tried his best in each case, it still wasn't good enough. There's a reason why Charlie had to make wisdom saves just to see if Gillion felt what he did was right. No matter how far he comes he still doubts himself.

I think that there's good reason why the trial didn't have a resolution. Gillion's trial still did little to trump his fear of his abusers, it still did little to make him feel confident. He still has to physically prepare himself in case he failed because the pain of failure still overwhelms him. And you know even if Gillion says that he doesn't need their validation, Gillion still constructed his own trial and bore it in the hopes he wouldn't be guilty. How can Gillion resolve his own trial when he's still bearing so much emotional baggage? Even if he had recieved his verdict, would it really have resolved anything? Chances are it only would have made Gillion worse in one way or another.

The way Gillion held himself was amazing in some regards, but the fact is that Gillion constructed his own trial because he judges himself as a screwup. He WAS banished, he WAS guilty. This trial was a judgement of his current state rather than him at ALL forgiving himself for what he did. This trial is not enough to forgive him of his past, only to see if he "will no longer be destined to ruin that of which you touch". No longer be destined - which doesn't mean he WON'T, just that he's no longer "destined". And oh boy the fact that for all this time Gillion has felt that he was destined to fail? That he's been waiting EVERY day for him to ruin everything around him? Everything he touches? To ruin Jay or Chip or to fuck something up the next time he tries to help like the chosen one he's meant to be?

Dear deities above, why did the donjon have to be a reflection of Gillion's inner conflict. That's so messed up. It's not healthy for Gillion to continue to deal with all this alone; he's already dealt with everything alone for so long. How I wish for someone, ANYONE to tell him that it's not his fault...

#ep 79 #jrwi spoilers #jrwi riptide spoilers #jrwi gillion spoilers #📚 my posts #📝 essays #worst thing about writing this is i didnt cover everything #how did they fit so much emotional damage into this fish #just roll with it #jrwi riptide #gillion tidestrider #cw sui ideation #cw abuse mention #cw child abuse #cw childhood trauma #tw sui ideation #tw abuse mention #tw child abuse #tw childhood trauma

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