#<- I think that's the tag for nausea and related stuff

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some (late) holiday photos of the boye~!

[eldritchships]

Jason sees Nikki sitting alone having a treat and decides to kiss him. Jason then immediately gags, genuinely looks nauseous, because he's about 600+ years old and still has yet to get used to artificial flavouring, much less 3 different sherbets mixed together in a cup

[queenofthekings]

​🇺​​🇳​​🇨​​🇴​​🇳​​🇩​​🇮​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳​​🇦​​🇱​​🇱​​🇾​

Summary: After coming off your medication, you're really suffering through the withdrawals but your boyfriend helps you through it.

Author's note: I know many people won't relate to the things going on in this fic but as someone currently going through withdrawals from my medication, I thought I could use it for a fic because goddamn I might as well turn my suffering into art. Special thanks to @hellfiremunsonn for helping me with the pet name!

CW: 18+, talks of poor mental health, medication withdrawals, Steve calls reader angel.

Word count: 485

Tagging: @rowanswriting @quinnigallagherjones @hellfiremunsonn @stevesxyellowxsweater

Any hate will not be tolerated, constructive criticism is welcomed.

You did not feel well at all; from the constant zapping inside your head to constantly feeling like you were floating, your withdrawal symptoms were absolute hell. It was your own stupid fault for coming off your medication cold turkey, but in your defence, you had no idea the withdrawals would be this bad.

All you wanted to do was curl up with Steve in his bed bed and watch Narnia or have a Doctor Who marathon together until the zapping inside your head and the nausea went away. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend was stuck at work and wouldn’t be home for a few hours, so you had to deal with your symptoms alone.

Wrapping yourself up in one of Steve’s hoodies, you turned on 90 Day Fiancé to have at least some background noise, just so you weren’t lying in bed in total silence. You struggled to concentrate on anything for long periods of time so to have something mindless was the best thing you could do.

You must’ve fallen asleep because you were woken up to feeling Steve’s fingers gently brushing through your hair, causing you to give him a shaky smile as you opened your eyes.

“Hey angel, how’re you feeling?” Steve asked, continuing to stroke the top of your head and your hair.

You groaned a little before sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes before wrapping the bed covers around yourself. “Like a peach… a battered and bruised one.”

Steve smiled softly, almost sadly. “I’m sorry, angel. I promise I’m gonna take a couple days off and look after you.”

You shook your head, leaning into him. “You don’t need to; I think I just need to sleep this stuff off for the most part.”

He pouted slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head. “Is there anything I can do to make things better?”

Pouting yourself, you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “I just need you here,” you whispered, your voice cracking a little as you sniffled. Groaning, you moved away from Steve to wipe away your tears.

Your emotions had been all over the place all week; you broke out into uncontrollable crying over the smallest things, and you were growing tired and irritated of it. All you wanted was to go back to normal but that felt like a lifetime away, and for all you knew your withdrawal symptoms could last for months.

Seeing your tears, Steve pulled you into his arms and held you close, rubbing circles on your back to soothe you. “I promise I’m gonna be here for you, angel. How about I put on Narnia and order some sushi?”

Wiping away your tears with the sleeve of Steve’s hoodie, you nodded your head and crawled back into bed while Steve pressed play on the TV and the title screen of Narnia greeted you.

[minustwofingers]

love is a laserquest p.2

series masterlist (read p1 here!)

pairing: rockstar!ellie williams x reader

request: @thatgiraffefromtlou so kindly included me on a post about writing something inspired by these beautiful edits :) thank you !

summary: after a serious of unfortunate events, columbia grad y/n y/l/n finds herself using her hard-earned journalism degree interviewing vapid stars and writing articles that she's convinced are rotting her mind. ellie williams has just dropped the album of the year and it's all anyone is talking about, but all she wants is to be off the press train. a certain interview with a certain interviewer might change this.

cws: explicit language, kind of suggestive phrasing? (i get a little feral with guitar playing descriptions), shitty bosses, mentions of nausea and throwing up (no one actually does tho dw), y/n is anxious asf, my writing is a little....yikes...in this one, loser!ellie

a/n: i lied i lied hehe. here's the next part. im still working on building this stupid app so i havent been able to write as much recently + holiday family stuff but oh am i back!

here's a playlist inspired by this fic

wc: 2.4k

tags: tags :) @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie@galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28 @diddiqueen @krisyslostsoul

enjoy mwah

It starts slow, like the drip of a broken faucet. It’s not like you’re actively seeking out anything Ellie William’s related, but somehow it seems like everything Ellie Williams related is seeing you out. 

In the grocery store, one of her hit songs from her newest album blaring over the speakers.

On the street, where you see crumpled pages of magazines with her face plastered all over them. 

And—perhaps the most offensively—on NPR and the New York Times, quite literally days after you’d met her. Suddenly Steve Inskeep and Leila Fadel begin the Up First podcast with a familiar song and devote an entire third of the morning podcast to Ellie and her band’s rise to fame. 

You decide to switch to the BBC World News for a while, but even they seem to be under her spell.

It’s not that you don’t like Ellie. She seems fine. Normal. Really cute, actually, and clearly very talented. But whenever you think about her, you think about the ill-fated, awkward, charmless interview.

“What happened?” Alyssa had asked you when she’d come back from surgery. “That wasn’t you out there.”

Which was actually very hurtful to hear, because you’d been holding onto the hope that you’d been all in your head about your interview being a failure. It all culminates in Eric, your 300 year old manager, sending you a strongly worded email that told you that your performance in the interview was so underwhelming that you were being pulled from the interviewer pool and exiled to article writing land. Which could be worse, you admit. You could be unemployed on the streets of LA. At least you’re still writing. 

And write you do. You spend all your waking hours either at your keyboard, on your yoga mat, or sat in a chair somewhere at a local cafe for a coffee chat. You’ve mostly deleted social media, since all you see nowadays are pictures of Ellie and Becca’s posts about her experience working and loving her life in New York (the algorithm apparently knows exactly what you want to see the most). 

It’s bizarre that, even as you try your best to place your focus on honing your craft and consuming only content that you think will make you a better writer, you still somehow learn everything and more about Ellie Wlliams and her band. It’s in the emails at work whose chains you’re CC’ed on. It’s in the advertisements and the billboards everywhere. It’s even in the conversations you have with your two roommates, Greta and Maureena. 

“She’s so fucking cool,” says Maureena dreamily as you sit around the TV in the living room. “I still can’t believe you got to talk to her.”

“It’s not like I actually got to, like, get to know her or whatever,” you say. “It was honestly kind of dry. Just awkward small talk.”

“That’s more than anyone else I know can say.” She reaches forward and grabs a fistful of popcorn. “How come she gets interviewed by the person who probably cares about her the least in all of LA? Like, what are the chances?”

“I care,” you say, and it sounds unusually defensive coming out of your mouth.

Maureena gives you a long, suspicious look, but before she can respond, Greta comes bursting into the apartment, purse swinging from her shoulder.

A greeting is halfway out of your mouth when she cuts you off. 

“You guys will not believe what I just did.” She’s nearly bursting with excitement, her eyes bright and wide. 

“Like, in a good way?” you ask. 

“Yes. Obviously!” Greta fishes around in her pocket until she pulls her phone out, waving it around. “Check your email.”

The last time Greta had come in with an entrance this energetic, she’d been coming to inform you both that she was getting engaged to her loser boyfriend Brian (which—thank God—didn’t actually last), so you and Maureena trade nervous looks. 

Maureena gets to it first. 

“Tickets to see Ellie Williams? Tonight?” Now she’s about to explode with giddiness, leaping from the couch and throwing her arms around Greta. “I love you, I love you, I love you. How did you get these? I thought they were, like, totally sold out. Or ten thousand dollars.” 

She grins wickedly, holding her hands out in a “who knows” sort of way. “You can all thank me later. We have to leave in about 20 if we want to get there in time. Y/N, you good?”

You’d been staring on in horror, jaw dropped and body completely frozen. You had registered that Ellie was playing in LA tonight—it’s all anyone you knew talked about at work today—but you never once considered actually going to try to see her. “Uh, yeah. Give me just a few.”

By the time you get to the venue, you’re convinced that you might actually puke from the nerves. It’s ridiculous. It’s not like three broke 20 some year olds were going to get last minute seats to an Ellie Williams concert that were genuinely good seats. It’s not like she would see you and realize that the girl who flopped while interviewing her was a big enough fan to attend. You’re going to be fine. 

“Shit, Grets, how are we so close?” asked Maureena as she leads you both closer and closer to the front. 

Horror steadily rises within you as you approach the front row. 

“I got these from my boss,” she says, turning around with a devilish glint in her dark brown eyes. “Her daughter got food poisoning, bless her. She had to stay back to take care of her, and I was the only one who stayed late to work, so…”

Greta’s boss was some filthy rich nepo baby who was a partner of a big talent agency. All of a sudden you feel stupid for not realizing this sooner.

“Shit,” you say, mostly to yourself. “Oh no. Oh my god.”

“Isn’t this so cool!” Greta jumps up and down, hands on your shoulders as she tries to rile you up. “Dude, what if she recognizes you?” 

“I think I’m going to puke,” you say miserably. Somehow the thought of her seeing you made you want to crawl inside your skin in shame and hide for the next calendar year. “Did you guys not see how ass it was? I was so fucking awkward.”

“It wasn’t even that bad.” Maureena pats your shoulder. 

“I literally was forbidden from ever interviewing again because it was so bad.”

“Because Eric hates women,” says Greta. “It’s not your fault he’s a horrible human being. Give it, like, a year or so until he croaks. Then they’ll let you back in the game.”

“Uh huh,” you say, feeling very harrowed. 

You remain in this state of abject terror for the entire opener performance. The nausea doesn’t subside. It only gets worse when you realize that if you actually puke, Ellie’s definitely going to see it. Just like she’s going to see you, with the stupid stars Greta had insisted you paint on your cheekbones with glittery eyeliner and eyeshadow. 

“She really likes space,” Greta had told you while you’d been getting ready, pretending like you didn’t already know all about this. “So all of her fans wear star stuff to see her.”

Before you can think to wipe off the glitter, everything goes black. Then the crowd goes wild. 

When the silvery blue light spills onto the stage, it illuminates Ellie, standing just a number of feet away from you. You barely have enough time to take in the black leather coat and loose white shirt she’s wearing before music explodes out of the speakers, her fingers flying up and down the fretboard. 

You’re spellbound as you watch her. Her voice rings loud and clear and slightly gravelly when it snags on her words. She’s nothing at all like the girl you’d met a month ago—there’s no discomfort, no awkwardness. She looks like she’s born to be on stage. 

When the first song ends, she steps back, grabbing the standing mic next to her. 

“Uh. Hi,” she says, and it’s so endearingly nervous compared to how she’d just sounded that something in your chest twists. She rubs the back of her neck. “I’m Ellie.”

Greta and Maureena join the crowd, screaming and cheering. 

“I LOVE YOU!” someone shrieks, louder than everyone else.

“You know,” she says, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to people reacting like this to me just, like, saying my name. It’s really fucking weird. Oh. Shit. Sorry. Are you guys okay with me swearing?” 

The roar that comes from the crowd is entirely undecipherable. 

“Right,” says Ellie. “Um. I’ll take that as a yes. Sorry to anyone who brought their kids or something. Anyway, this one’s about the ex who cheated on me and gave me mono.” 

Before you can react to that, she starts playing. 

As she proceeds through the setlist, you’re struck by just how close you are to her, how many things you can notice that hardly anyone else in the crowd can see. You see the outline of her phone in her pocket, the pieces of hair that have fallen out of her little half bun and are sticking to her face, the way that the glitter on her collarbones trails down her shirt in little rivulets. 

And, above everything else, you can see the horrible way her fingers straddle the fretboard, curling and pressing with ease so practiced it looks tender. 

Apart from this bad, bad development (you can feel your mind going a million miles an hour about things you should not be thinking about), things are going great. Ellie hasn’t noticed you. Or even looked in your direction. You’re not even sure she can see you, given how little light is shed onto the crowd. The false sense of security makes you feel comfortable singing along with Greta and Maureena, your lips forming the lyrics you’d been pretending to not listen to whenever her songs came on. 

It happens during a slower song, a sort of ballad that makes your heart thud harder in your chest to hear from her mouth. The lights on stage dim a little. Light spills just the slightest onto the front of the crowd, and Ellie’s eyes fall and snap onto yours so decisively that it almost feels audible. 

For a moment, you can’t breathe. Ellie’s voice suddenly catches mid-word, faltering and missing a beat. She thrusts her hand with the mic into the crowd, which eagerly picks up where she left off and finishes the verse. 

It’s impossible to see on the screen projecting her image behind her, but you can see the flicker of recognition in her eyes, the stiffness that comes with realizing that you actually know someone from somewhere. 

You’re the one who breaks eye contact, focused with a sudden intensity on the way the thin fabric of your sleeves are situated on your arms. 

Greta pokes you so hard in your ribs that you gasp. 

“What the fuck!” you snap, but the words are swept away by the noise around you. 

“Why didn’t you wave?!” she hisses in your ear. “She totally recognized you.”

The realization falls over you with the subtlety of an anvil. Oh my god. You totally should’ve waved. That was the normal, well-adjusted thing to do. Now she was going to think you were weird. And it was too late now. But she didn’t wave to you. Wasn’t she supposed to wave first? Because you of course remembered her, but she might not remember you. Yeah. You could go with that.

Maybe she didn’t remember you. 

You can’t relax for the rest of the concert. You try your best to just act normal and dance along with your friends and casually mouth the words, but it’s hard when it feels like she’s staring at you. Which is completely impossible. The light doesn’t fall back onto the crowd until the concert is over and Ellie and her band are long gone backstage. 

~

Two months later, all you can think about is the way that Ellie stuttered over her words when she saw you in the crowd. Of course, this is definitely something you’ve made up in your mind, because there’s a number of reasons why she might’ve slipped up. Maybe she just thought she knew you from somewhere and couldn’t place it. That’s why she (allegedly) kept looking in your direction afterwards. Or maybe you’re completely batshit insane, and she didn’t look at you at all. Because if she had, wouldn’t she have waved? Right?

It’s almost bad enough to distract you from work. You find yourself prowling on Twitter, watching the #elliewilliams tag blow up following every concert date. It doesn’t give you any clarity, because in every picture, she looks just as perfect and cool and confident as she was at the LA show. You don’t know why you assumed she’d look different if it was true that she’d recognized you. More human, maybe. But she’s just as bathed in starlight as she was that night many weeks before, just as far away and untouchable. 

You spend so much time thinking about her that you’re convinced you might’ve slipped into a dream when Eric appears at your cubicle with the news.

Instead of saying hello, he plops a stack of papers on the desk in front of you, all labeled “PopNow! Interview Etiquette”. 

“Excuse me?” you say. 

“Start reading up, kid,” says Eric. “You’re back in the game.”

“What?” 

“You have an interview scheduled later this week.” He scowls down at you, gum smacking in his mouth. He smells faintly of tobacco. 

“But I thought I was removed from—”

“You still are,” he says. “But someone requested you. Their manager told us they wouldn’t talk to us if they didn’t get you.”

“What?” 

He huffs out a short laugh. “Believe me, I was surprised too. Don’t know what they’re on about after the last time you talked to their client. Fuck this one up and you’re out, okay? Got it? The info’s in your inbox already.” 

Somehow the words don’t quite sink in until you open the email and see the words on paper. 

SENDER: Maria Miller

RECIPIENT: Eric Bal

CC: ewilliamsmusic@gmail.com, y/ny/l/n@popnow!.com

Eric,

Great to hear back from you. Glad that 3 next Wednesday works. 

Best,

MM

final a/n: lmk how u guys feel about this...feeling a little unsure about where this is going but enjoying writing it anyway there are two wolves inside of me etc. etc. also ive missed u all! i hope everyone is doing well! dont b shy!

[krakenartificer]

I got migraine glasses on Bibliosphere’s recommendation. This turns out to be a good idea, since I shortly thereafter develop migraines without headaches, and the glasses are a really effective way of quickly diagnosing if my nausea is migraine related.

But I still had nausea that wasn’t. Decided to try a lot of salt, in case it was POTS. End up seeing doctor because 4000mg sodium per day leaves me with hypotension.

Doctor: Oh yeah, let’s test POTS for sure. I also think we need to get to a rheumatologist; I think you may have a connective tissue disorder.

Me: starts browsing Bibliosphere’s health tag, looking for POTS ideas.

Me: comes across this post, while lying down because eating made me too sick to sit up.

You know what? Maybe the new plan is I’m just gonna browse this chronic health tag and open every single link and just see how much of this is all the same stuff I have

Dysautonomia is so annoying. I'm trying so hard to be good about getting more calories and eating consistent meals (take that executive dysfunction), but as soon as I eat, my body needs to lie down.

Like, what's that girl? Little Timmy fell down a well? We need to use the digestive system? Better shut down the rest of the body. Energy for productivity? Hahaha, bless your soul. No. No, we won't be doing that. Nighty night.

[monsterbroth]

undertale is a pretty casual background interest for me like I like it but I don’t really think about it you know? but despite that occasionally I’ll get the like Overwhelming craving to draw one of the characters, craving probably isn’t the right word like I gotta draw them and it’s all I can think about. it’s really weird

[bearlee-sensitive]

last updated . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .8/25/23

This my introduction post :)

Thank you to the amazing @slimeylee for letting me take inspiration from their intro post (I basically copied it, if you want me to take the @ off for you i will /gen)

Tw:ED mentions/ phobia mentions/SH mention

|info about me!|

My name is Bear

I'm 420 friendly

I'm Afro-indigenous

I'm 90% Lee 10% ler

I use he/him pronouns, I'm fine with neopronouns, and I'm two spirit, gay (nwlnw) and Polyamorous and I'm taken

I'm currently on testosterone

My birthday is October 26th! I'm a minor, so don't be weird

I'm also an age regressor, I usually regress to ages 1-3, sometimes older

|blog and writing info|

I'm a sfw Tickle blog, mainly for marvel, dream smp and supernatural

I don't really post fanfics as I'm still working on my writing skills, but once I think my writing is good enough I'll probably start writing fics

My dms are open to any ranging from 13 to 18+ (as long as you're not a creep)

( interact, thin ice, dni)

Interact;

Juggalo's

Dsmp fans

Twisted metal fans

Supernatural fans

Marvel fans

Stranger things fans

Reservation dogs fans

Kenan and Kel fans

Wonder egg priority fans

Sfw tickle blogs

Tickle fic writers

Artists

Fluff and angst writers

Roleplayers

People over 18 (as long as youre not weird)

Agere community

thin ice;

Genshin stans

Only writes/draws feet tickles

dni;

Proshippees

Racists

Homiphobes

Sexists

Ableists

Anyone under 11

Ddlg (and variants)

|tags|

I don't really use tags, but I will occasionally

The tags will be

#dsmp

#supernatural

#marvel

#tickle

#ticklefic

#twisted metal

#headcanons

#bears in a lee mood

#vent

|other blogs|

I only have two other blogs, one for age regression and one for non-Tickle stuff

Age regression blog: lovelylittlebabybearsblog

Non-tickle blog: skvll-body

|social media|

I have Instagram, my account is cool._.funky._.monkey

I also have snapchat and tiktok but I'll give those to you if you ask me

|things i will n wont write/talk about|

I WILL write/talk about

-Tickle related stuff

-fluff

-angst

-cc and c stuff

-feet tickles

-light bondage

-tools (but only stuff like feathers/feather duster, the light stuff)

|fears + diagnosis|

Tw:phobias and triggers

Phobias:

Arachnophobia-fear of spiders, I have had many bad experiences with spiders, especially night terrors, I can't handle anything related to spiders

Pediophobia-any doll except reborn dolls or barbie dolls freak me out, I can't really explain it, they just do

Lepidopterophobia-fear of butterflies or moths, I have a bad fear of butterflies, when I was younger I saw that one spongebob episode

emetophobia-fear of vomiting, I hate the feeling of being nauseas and vomiting, that grew into a really bad fear of mine

Diagnosis

Type one diabetes-for those who don't know, type one diabetes is a chronic condition where the pancreas produces little to know insulin, I was diagnosed when I was 2 years old.

Ptsd- ptsd or post traumatic stress disorder is a disorder where the person has trouble with recovering from witnessing or experiencing a terrifying event. There are Triggers that can bring back the memory along with intense physical or emotional reactions

Anxiety- anxiety is a disorder that causes intense, excessive and persistent worry or fear about everyday situations.

ADHD- ADHD or attention deficit/hyperactive disorder is a chronic condition including attention difficulty, hyperactivity, and impulsiveness

ARFID- ARFID or avoidant restrictive food intake disorder is an eating disorder where people have picky eating habits and little interest in eating food, they eat a limited variety of preferred foods.

|mutuals|

If we're mutuals feel free to dm me! I'm always happy to talk to new people. If I don't reply right away I'm probably doing school or asleep

(if you want me to take you're name off my list or the @ then you can tell me!)

closer friends;

@fluffallamaful

@shroomies-world

@tiki-kiwiies

talk to a decent amount, would say we're good friends;

@slimeylee

@shroomies-world

dont often talk to but we (for some people; would probably) get along;

Internet family:

@the-gingerbread-lee (big sister)

|face|

I don't plan on posting my face on Tumblr at all, but if youre close enough to me I'll probably send pics of myself to you

|other boundaries|

I'm fine with terms like kiddo, handsome, and pretty. I'm also fine with shitass in a joking way.

If we're friends you can call me kiddo and if we're really really close you can call me baby, babe or darling in a platonic way.

Some nickanmes that bring back happy memories are Little one, young warrior and bear cub.

My favorite Nickname is Sleepy bear

|Extra|

I struggle with SH and sometimes to avoid relapsing I'll sleep, so if I don't respond for a while it's probably cause of that and not something you did. I also take mental health breaks from time to time, and some of them include just not talking to anyone at all

[fallen-mist]

I posted 294 times in 2022

That's 216 more posts than 2021!

89 posts created (30%)

205 posts reblogged (70%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@araccoonthatlikesmurder

@froggy-with-a-hat

@nina-phaedra

@amaristm

@ar1-thecat

I tagged 260 of my posts in 2022

Only 12% of my posts had no tags

#not writing - 238 posts

#writing - 11 posts

#sdra2 - 11 posts

#x reader - 7 posts

#request - 6 posts

#headcannons - 6 posts

#x reader insert - 5 posts

#setsuka chiebukuro - 4 posts

#sdra2 setsuka - 4 posts

#not a request - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 128 characters

#also fic idea where reader is uta’s gf and basically fights shanks for some reason then reader says “aye i f—ked your daughter”

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

hiya! if it’s not too troublesome could you do syobai x male!reader? if your uncomfortable with a male reader you can do g/n !! ^o^ tysm !

Yay third request! :D (I couldn’t find my mist gif used in the other 2 requests :( *sadness noises*). I will also use Shobai and Syobai here since people put it differently

edit 2/11/22: I should not have taken this long to make it-

edit 3/12/22: I have forgotten this then all of a sudden gotten ideas. Im sorry :(

Context: Syobai with a male reader

+ You can interpret the relation however you want

+ Slight TW

+ Second person

Syobai/Shobai Hashimoto

Meeting

-You did not meet this man in the best way

-You probably met him in the killing game, while you were exploring

-No but the only way I can imagine you meeting him is smelling smoke from a cigarette

- 3/10 meeting imo

———

You had woken up a few hours ago, everything was spinning in your head. You were stuck on a island, and You don’t even know where!

You snapped out of your thoughts as you smelt smoke. Was something on fire?! But you followed it just incase. But instead you found a man (that looks like he sells some ”bad powder“).

You stood there, not knowing what to say (heheheh introvert) but he soon noticed you. “You want one? It’ll cost ya,” He said.

You accepted/declined

——

Cuddling

-Like most say, He smells like cigarettes

-Wait is that slight scent of blood I smell?

-If your sensitive to smells, you probably got nausea

- 2/10 smells

——

You were gathering some money knowing how Syobai/Shobai is. You have wanted to cuddle him for a bit now but you knew you had to pay up. It was perfect timing and Shobai/Syobai wasn’t busy. How rare.

”Hey sho/syo, how would it be if you were to let me hug you?,” You asked. He ended up chucking a bit, “Listen here, if you want too, pay up.”

.

See the full post

12 notes - Posted March 12, 2022

#4

Hello pal can I get Hajime with an S/O that has difficulty walking/a mobility aid? take all the time you need pal

Thanks pal! :D

also first time writing for hajime :)

Hajime M. With a s/o who has a hard time walking

+Second POV

+No pronouns used

•~•~•~•

Hajime Makunouchi

-He helps you around (a ton)

•Even if you do have a mobility aid

-You still have to eat healthy

-(If you don’t have a mobility aid) To encourage you, he’ll say “If you eat healthy, you’ll be able to walk better soon”

-(if that can happen)

-If you do or don’t have a mobility aid; he’ll bring you out on walks and stuff so you can be outside

-Will stand up for you-

-wait

-Will “protect” you from people who think your faking

-and those people who decide to make fun of you

-he feels like he shouldn’t let you work out because the weights might give you a hard time picking it up

•(I’m sorry if this is damaging to ppl by the way)

-sometimes will pick you up (with permission of course)-

17 notes - Posted April 17, 2022

#3

hi may I request Yandere! Kanade x reader Headcanons?

Thank you!

Your welcome!

also there will be spoilers but I’ll put that on the end, a warning but I can’t do two read mores so not that

also this was postponed bc I was sick

DNI WITH THIS POST IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY YANDERES OR KANADE/HIBIKI

Yandere!Kanade Otonokoji with a s/o

+Second POV

+TW

+Spoilers at the end

+Implied M*rd3r

•~•~•~•~•

Kanade

-You probably was drawn in by her sweet and shy personality

-She started to like you after you keep standing up for her

-She was confused over all of how she feels about you

-When she started getting some certain tendencies.. You were traumatized

-She took it in and pretended to comfort you knowing it’s because of her

-If her sister gets mad at you or something, it gets very confusing

-If you distanced from Kanade, she will still know your every action and move some way and somehow

*SPOILERS WARNING!!*

-Not much different from chapter 3 personality-wise -She probably was confused about you because she loved hibiki too

•(I do not support this btw)

-It would’ve been a very hard choice if she had to kill one of you.

-She’ll most likely kill you because She knew hibiki longer

-Your family is gone. Hibiki and Kanade is your family now.

-You we’re good friends with setsuka too

-You wish you weren’t

-You wish you never met them because you wouldn’t be in this scenario anymore

21 notes - Posted April 30, 2022

#2

I’m back and I’m living for your writing! May I please request Syobai and Setsuka jealousy Headcanons?

Thank you!

Your welcome and thank you for the compliments aswell :D

edit: I came back from my moms house so-

Syobai and Setsuka jealousy headcanons

+Second POV

+No pronouns used

•~•~•

Syobai/Shobai H.

-Very rarely gets jealous

-Who will he even get jealous of? You guys are probably mostly inside bc of him doing illegal stuff and all-

-Anyways, scenarios. He kinda gives the person he’s jealous of a death stare or whatever.

-and probably pull you awAy

-If it’s an ally of him then he’ll just pull you away slightly or grab your hand.

-If you’re lucky; then he just lets you be (unless they get a bit too touchy)

-if they do, don’t ask why when they go missing

~_~

Setsuka C.

-She puts a lot of trust in you for you to not cheat (not like you would tho-)

-She still gets jealous but more subtle

-She’ll join In on the conversation to make sure there isn’t anything wrong

-She holds you hand :)

-If there is something wrong, she’ll kind of attempt to move the conversation between the both of y’all

22 notes - Posted April 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

You have a hot singer gf and show it off to her dad

+Fem reader

•sorry my dudes, uta needs a hot gf too ok

+Uta (one piece)

+One piece film red spoilers

+Warnings: Cursing, slightly suggestive? I’m a minor so no people actually doing the deed

+Short but I don’t write one piece So NO ONE PIECE REQUESTS (this is the only exception)

•-•••••••••••••••-•

First off, you are one lucky girl. Will you be spared from the concert? Maybe if you convince her too with sweet flirts and enough kisses. Yeah, she loves you a lot but she wants you to have a special paradise too! Well, just don’t explicitly say that you don’t think this is a good idea. Because you might end up like the strawhats (besides luffy) but not with the humiliation. You’re her girlfriend! Not a pirate!

You trying to convince her is probably one of the hardest things to do..

• “Babe, can I not go into your paradise?”

• “Huh? Why?”

• “Aha.. well.”

• “Is it because my concert is not going to be fun enough?!”

• “No! I just want to.. protect you from marines!”

• “Oh y/n, you know at my concert, everyone is equal!”

• “Yes but that won’t stop me from loving you”

Something like that but when Uta is about to stab the Strawhat and luffy in the real world, you’re there. You will support your girlfriend! No matter how insane she is and subtly trying to inch her back to sanity. But thats how you met shanks.

Not a good start because of how much trauma Uta holds and tells you. So when she’s stopped, you’re kinda just staring. Yes you might be tall but 6”6 tall? No. But when your girlfriend starts making the sleeping people attack, you join in. Mainly aiming for shanks.

I mean, wasn’t he the reason for her trauma? Like he exploded Elegia and left uta while partying. She needed so many kisses and cuddles after she told you! But you didn’t expect him to be quite strong to hold like multiple people..

But yes he noticed you were awake so you decided to spill the beans.

• “I fucked your daughter”

Wwhiiiich caught him off guard. It was sudden and now he knows his daughter has a girlfriend whom she loves a lot…

So what do you do? Brag about it!

• “Yeah she’s so pretty!”

• “She’s like supperrr good at you know what”

• “I kissed her before you came here

• “She sang a song ab-“

you were interrupted by someone saying “WE GET IT!-“

26 notes - Posted November 23, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[thatkgrl]

I posted 176 times in 2022

5 posts created (3%)

171 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@theelfmaiden

@gossip-gurl-of-middle-earth

@stealthydentist

@middle-earth-mythopoeia

@ramblingsofachristiannerd

I tagged 101 of my posts in 2022

Only 43% of my posts had no tags

#mass effect - 22 posts

#lol - 9 posts

#lotr - 8 posts

#asari - 7 posts

#writing - 6 posts

#middle earth - 6 posts

#the sims 2 - 4 posts

#n7 day - 2 posts

#how to - 2 posts

#the more you know - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 53 characters

#literally stumbled across this podcast just this week

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

This is what my 2022 sounded like on @Spotify. Get your #SpotifyWrapped now!

https://open.spotify.com/wrapped/share/share-e8458155bff24fd8ada1885b515a0fb3-1080x1920?si=b_oxevCGTJ2hggtZEtMOtg&utm_source=native-share-menu&lang=en&destination=datastories

0 notes - Posted December 9, 2022

#4

You said ask and I’ll receive. I want a dolphin. Like that one from a dolphin tale. But not like handicapped. Don’t handicap a dolphin. That would be plain cruel. Just get me a dolphin. I wouldn’t be mad if the dolphin was handicapped. I just don’t want you to make it handicapped. You know? So. A dolphin. I’ll be waiting. Have a goodnight and drink water. Just not the dolphins water. That would be weird.

Lol, bit outside my capabilities, anon, but if you ask Santa REALLY nicely, he might be able to fulfil your request on my behalf.

0 notes - Posted November 19, 2022

#3

Hey guys, my sister had an accident a couple of days ago. She got pinned to a wall by a car. It was totally an accident. My sister and her boyfriend were doing some car-related stuff. She’s in a whole world of pain at the moment. Everyone’s still REALLY shaken, especially with how close we came to losing her (Seriously, if my dad hadn’t been quick-thinking and quick on his feet...). She blacked out and and everything. Thankfully she doesn’t have any broken bones, just a whole lot of bruising, excruciating pain, and nausea.

0 notes - Posted August 16, 2022

#2

Does anyone know both the Quenya and the Sindarin for ‘Blessed Mother’? I’m kind of needing them for a future fic, but my knowledge of those languages is extremely limited.

0 notes - Posted May 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Man do I HATE being on Centrelink payments! 99.9% of JSPs are beyond useless. 

0 notes - Posted May 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[terry-perry]

Here We Go Again pt. 3

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinsdottir!Reader

Warnings: Parental angst (if that’s a thing)

OC: A.J. Rogers, Daisy Rogers, Natalie Rogers

A/N: Previous parts HERE and HERE.

Tags: @prettysatan​

Enjoy!

He didn’t know what was going on with her. At first, he thought it was about work. He knew how stressed she could get when the council couldn’t reach agreements on certain issues. But then, he began to do some more thinking. Was this about the girls leaving for that mission?

She was still having a bit of a struggle with accepting the fact that they were now part of the next generation of Avengers. They were still her babies, in her eyes. Only 17 and 19, and they were off fighting crime and putting their lives on the line to save the world. How could she not worry?

Whatever it was that was bothering her, she shouldn’t keep it all bottled up. He wanted to be there for her as best as he could.

“Thor?” Steve approached his brother-in-law at the cliffs overlooking the waters. It was always a favorite spot of the God’s who now looked over his shoulder to offer a welcoming smile.

“Something I can do for you, brother?”

Even after all these years, it felt rather strange for Steve to be referred to as such. When imagining the possibility of future in-laws, he didn’t exactly prepare himself to have any that were of royalty. And in this case, space royalty. Still, it didn’t deter him from seeing Thor as family. It was why he was coming to him, after all. 

“I don’t know,” Steve said, not knowing how else to start. “I just-- I’ve been worried about Y/N. I’m sure it’s nothing; maybe she’s just stressing out over work. But it still feels like she’s closing herself off from everyone. It’s not my business, but did she mention anything to you by any chance?”

After hearing this, Thor was now the one unsure of what to say. Guess Y/N hadn’t told him the news just yet, leading him to this suspicion. This alone made Thor want to spill everything to him, but it wasn’t his secret to tell. No matter how much it concerned Steve. 

“Well, what do you think she might be concerning herself with?” He decided to take a different route by trying to see if Steve could figure it out himself.

It seemed to have done the trick as he pushed his brows together to think about it. “The most recent thing I can think of is the last time we talked to the girls. They have to stay where they are, longer than anticipated. It’s been getting Y/N more anxious than she already was.”

“That must be it then!” Thor attempted to make it look like he came to this conclusion as well. Laying on the enthusiasm a little too thick. 

Steve didn‘t notice, thankfully. Now busy feeling guilty for what Y/N has been going through by herself. And it wasn’t that he hasn’t been missing Daisy and Nat either. He missed them like crazy. But they had jobs to do, just like the ones he and Y/N had.

He figured it was hitting her the hardest since when the kids were growing up, she had been the parent that mostly worked and stayed active even after retiring from the Avengers. He himself took on a more Fury-like role by helping to recruit new members and resolve any disputes there may be between the government and superheroes, but he still spent most of the time at home. 

Now he wanted to do what he could to help her through this emotional time.

But what?

She continued to pace around the living room, seeming to get more antsy by the minute. This was getting to be too much. Pushing on the verge of ridiculous. She just needed to be upfront about it now. 

“Mom?”

And as if she needed to add more to her inner stress...

“Darling,” she greeted A.J. as he walked in looking concerned. Deja vu. 

“What’s going on? What happened at dinner?”

“I was wondering that myself. What happened with you? You looked quite sick.”

“You’re one to talk,” he retorted, his worried stare having yet faded. “You were covering your nose and face. Was there something actually wrong with the food?”

“No,” she stated, sighing. If she was wanting to be more upfront about this, might as well start now. “The thing is...I’m pregnant.”

She could hear the way his breath caught in his throat. And if that didn’t give away his shock at the news, his suddenly big eyes certainly did. Though it only seemed to last for a second or two, his expression than changing to one of curiosity and intrigue as he glanced down at her stomach.

“Huh, that explains some things then,” he mumbled more to himself.  

She tilted her head, wondering now herself what he could mean by that. “Like what?”

His eyes went back to hers to explain. “Well, at dinner, I think I felt something like a presence? Like someone else was there besides you, me, and dad. And maybe that explains why I felt sick. Because you were feeling sick. Is that possible?”

Her confusion and worry then changed into feelings relating to elation and pride. 

“A.J.!” She squealed, approaching him with these emotions in hand. “You’ve inherited your grandmother’s gift.”

“Her gift?”

It could go without saying that Frigga was a powerful witch with many talents. Which is why it can also be said that her powerful empath abilities could easily be overlooked. It was what helped her in being a wonderful wife and mother as well as a selfless and understanding queen, beloved by all. Being able to channel others’ emotions and auras. Could A.J. have gained this skill too?

“Your grandmother was a powerful Empath that could read the feelings of others,” Y/N went on to explain. “And if powerful enough, they can take on the energy of others. Even feel things before they happen due to having a strong intuition.”

“So, like a mind reader?” A.J. asked.

“In a way. Except instead of thoughts, you’re able to read emotions. The energy level of others. Perhaps what you were sensing at dinner was the presence of your future sibling as well as my troubling emotions. Not to mention, my nausea.”

A scoffing chuckle was what she was met with along with “Well, I’m happy for about the baby and the cool stuff I gained, but I don’t know if I’m looking forward to feeling everything you’re gonna feel these next nine months.”

She was happy to learn about this new development about his son, but he certainly had a point. How would this effect him on a personal level? How did Frigga do it exactly? This wasn’t something either her or any of her siblings inherited fully. Perhaps Mantis would be able to lend hand on this, given she was an Empath herself.

“We’ll find a way to help you control your powers,” she assured him. In the meantime, she was glad that he didn’t seem put off by the other news. “So, you’re okay with the baby? Truly?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling before giving her a small, reassuring hug. “It’s a surprise, but it’s awesome. But, I take it Dad doesn’t know.”

She looked embarrassed as she shook her head. “Haven’t had the spine to tell him. Scared of how he’d react. But now I’m feeling guilty for putting it off. Doesn’t help that your Uncle Thor and Aunt Brunnhilde already know.”

She released a heavy sigh after spewing all this out. On some level, she wanted him to judge her for acting like a frightened child. But all he could give her was a sweet, comforting look that had him look so much like Steve.

“He’s gonna think this is great news,” A.J. assured her. “He’ll be shocked, sure, but he’ll be happy.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely,”

The third voice that came into the room immediately caught her off guard, realizing who it was in an instant. She spun around to find Steve had entered their home. That same reassuring and loving face.

“A.J., you mind giving us a minute alone?” Steve requested, directing his head towards the front door.

A.J. understood right away and gave one more smile before making his exit. Leaving his parents alone. One that was biting her bottom lip an fiddling with her fingers while the other wanted it to be known that everything was okay. It would be, anyway.

“How much of that did you hear?” She began with, still afraid to look him in the eye fully. 

“Only all of it,” he teased lightly with a shrug. He walked over so he pull her into his arms and let her see how genuine his happiness was, now that it was up close. “This is great, really.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she still felt the need to apologize and open to him the way a wife was meant to do with her partner. “I was scared. For many reasons, if we’re being honest. I mean, it’s been so long since we’ve been in this situation. Will we still be good at this?”

“Of course! Y/N...” he pressed her closer as he ran his hands along her sides. The way his fingers traced his back and lightly massaged her got her shivering a bit. “If we’re being honest, I’m scared too. But, it’s a good scared. Like when I realized I was in love with you. Or, even when you were pregnant the first time.” He paused to give a kiss to the top of her head. “This is gonna be great for us. We’re great parents. You, especially. It’s why I thought you were so upset in the first place.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he took a deep breath, now feeling like the embarrassed one. “I thought you were feeling depressed about the girls being gone.”

“Oh, darling. I mean, of course I wish they were here, but I know they have a job to do. I’m proud of them.”

Steve could only smile brighter as he pressed a kiss to her hand. “That right there. That’s how I know we’re going to be okay. Y/N, you care so much about the people you love and do your best to understand them. It’s why you’re such a great mom. Why I love you so much.”

Her eyes couldn’t help but fill up. He knew. It was true that most of her worry derived from her own anxiety. It’d been a mix of things like her past worry from her family’s history and how she wasn’t the most present parental figure that she wanted to be. But he was right. They got this.

“I’m so lucky,” she summed up these thoughts by simply stating that before burying her face in his chest. 

He chuckled softly and continued to hold her tight. They stayed that way a little while longer until he brought up a surprise of his own:

“We should probably head outside. I called the girls, and they managed to conjure themselves up for a visit. Let’s tell them the good news.”

[ka-za-ri]

Prize Pt. 3 (Finale)

Ahoy! The last part of this commission is here! It was so hard to try and fit everything my client wanted into the fic overall, so I’m sorry if it might feel a little off. I did my best to give y’all a good end product! ｡ﾟ(｡ﾉωヽ｡)ﾟ｡

Chapter Index and Obey Me! Masterlist: here Ao3 Mirror: Here Pairing: Satan x Reader Genre: Smut Wordcount: 3,700 ish   Tags: Soft smut, fluffy stuff, confessions, Summary: The cards are all on the table and the game is revealed. An uncertain future is discussed and feelings are confessed.

Victory

The months following that fateful day you spent with Satan passed without much commotion. In fact, it felt as though the attempts at usurping your time had diminished since then. It was easy to fool yourself into thinking that they had simply gotten tired of the game they played. It was easier to believe they were all busy with the sudden influx of papers and projects that needed to be completed for classes or that they had other pressing matters to attend.

You didn’t think much of the fatigue or the nausea, chalking it up to having to pull multiple all-nighters in order to get things done on time. The changes in your sleep schedule were easily explained by your terrible habits; and the cravings you had for food you rarely even thought about could just be another symptom of your delusional state as you crammed as much information about Demonic History, Sociology and Sigil Writing as you could within the time allotted to you.

It wasn’t until you missed your monthly cycle more than once that you realized something was distinctly different. From the way the brothers treated you to your mood swings and the tenderness your body felt, it all started to click together. You waited another week, just in case the stress was causing you to be late, but when nothing came of it, you realized that there were certain things you needed to discuss.

“Can we study in your room?” you asked, veering from the usual path to the library and closer to the dorms. “There’s uh…some things I kinda want to discuss, but preferably not in public.”

Satan raised a brow at your request but said nothing, leading you to his room and quietly shutting the door behind him once you were safely within. You sat on his bed, staring mostly at the floor though your gaze flicked up to meet his eyes from time to time. The words you had to say were just at the tip of your tongue, but actually getting them out was going to be the hardest part.

“So, uhm…we need to talk,” you started.

“Yes, that much has been established already,” your demeanor concerned him to say the least. He pulled a chair over to sit across from you, “So, let’s talk.”

“There really isn’t a good way to say this...” you grimaced, already imagining the various tragic outcomes of what you were going to tell him, “but uh…I haven’t had my period this month.”

He blinked, processing what you were telling him. There was an unending awkward silence between the two of you that practically drove you mad. After several excruciating moments of stillness, Satan let out a deep sigh. You couldn’t interpret the meaning of his reaction and waited with bated breath for his reply.

“Is…Is that so. Is this the first time you’ve ah…missed it?” he struggled to understand your human anatomy. “Is this normal?”

“No, It’s not normal…it’s close to the second month I haven’t had it. I’m. I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant.”

He blinked slowly and exhaled deeply through his nose when he heard the news. It was impossible to read his expressions. His face remained impassive for a time before he broke out into a small smile, but that was quickly dashed away and replaced once again with concern. “I…See…Well, I suppose we do need to talk...”

It was your turn to be surprised. “What do you mean?”

Satan leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap and contemplated what he was about to tell you. Things were bound to reach this point anyway, but he was still nervous. He needed to deliver the information to you in the most matter of fact fashion, yet his voice still wavered a bit. “So, you know how you were told that you’re here in an exchange program to strengthen bonds between the realms?”

“Yes...”

“Well, Diavolo was pretty serious about the strengthening bonds and relationships part.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow very well.”

Satan sighed, hating to have to go into a long lecture, but it was the only way for you to properly understand the game they had played ever since you arrived. “To be blunt, Diavolo believes that the demon population is dwindling at an unacceptable rate. In an effort to bolster the population numbers, he started this exchange program as a trial run and requested that denizens of the House of Lamentation assist in his ah…competition to, you know….” he trailed off, not sure how to further explain things.

Ah, there it was. There wasn’t a need for Satan to continue. You had suspected something from the very start, just having your suspicions confirmed laid your doubts to rest. Your gut instincts had been correct, and all the effort you put into spending time with the man in front of you had paid off. It was a winning scenario for all parties. Diavolo’s trial was a success; and you were with someone that you chose to be with, so long as the child was his.

“I see...” you nodded. “Now everything makes sense...”

“I’m, well, I guess I should apologize for all of us, we’re sorry that we didn’t tell you. Rules and everything kept us from saying anything.”

You giggled, “It wasn’t that hard to figure out. I had an idea of what was going on pretty early.”

“You…you did?” Satan looked at you incredulously. He had thought he kept his end of the deal pretty well. He couldn’t speak for his brothers, but he knew for a fact that he hadn’t said anything incriminating nor did he do anything that felt obviously related to the competition.

“None of you are very good at hiding your intentions,” you shrugged, brushing his shock to the side and moving onto more pressing matters that you wanted to discuss. “How…how would you feel if you were the father of this child?”

“Me​?” He could hardly believe his ears. He had played the game on the loosest terms, only interacting with you when he had to. The one time he did bed you, it had been in the heat of the moment and when he wasn’t completely himself. “As flattered as I am to hear this, I don’t know if I would be the best candidate for the father.” Even if he was completely elated at the idea, there was no confirmation that the child was his yet he couldn’t bring himself to celebrate his victory just yet. The child could belong to any one of his brothers. 

“What if I want you to be the father?” you beckoned him to sit next to you on the bed, guiding his hand to your abdomen and letting him feel the life that was growing there. From there, it only took a little bit of magic to figure out if your suspicions were true. Unfurling a small tendril of magic to assess who the child might belong to. As soon as his magic made contact with the energy within you, there was no doubt in his mind it belonged to him.

“How’d you know?” 

You smiled sweetly at him. “Well, let’s just say that out of all the times I’ve been with a demon, you were the only one who I let close when I was the most fertile.”

“Really? You chose me? Out of everyone else?” Realization dawned on his face when he realized you had actually played the rest of them at their own game. His face flushed with a mixture of excitement and bashfulness. He always knew he had the same chance as his brothers to win, however hearing that he had been chosen to win made his victory all the sweeter. He embraced you, tightly holding you against him and laid you down to cuddle in celebration. Satan won. Asmodeus had been first, the others had been more vocal and forward; but he was the victor in the end. It was a fact he struggled to grasp but having felt the life growing within you only confirmed it and it felt incredible.

“Yes, you,” you giggled at how incredulous he sounded. Kissing him softly on the forehead, you brushed his hair away from his eyes. “I’m glad it’s you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Satan heaved a heavy sigh of relief, the weight of guilt from hiding the competition away from you had stressed him to the point where he couldn’t sleep for many nights. Though the others had followed Diavolos orders and pursued you, he chose to let you come to him. It was a risk, but one that paid off in the end. Hearing that it was what you wanted warmed his heart, and he held onto you tightly in that relief.

The two of you laid mostly in silence together, every now and then murmuring a soft affirmation of your adoration for each other. Other than that, it was a simple, comfortable quiet you had grown accustomed to and cherished with him. You didn’t need to exchange words. Just enjoying his company was enough to have you feel satisfied and loved.

He still couldn’t get over the fact that even if none of the brothers had overtly said anything about the competition, you had been able to piece everything together on your own. There was an undeniable sexiness about how you had all of them eating out of the palm of your hand. To know that out of all his brothers, he was chosen gave him a rather smug sense of pride he couldn’t quite describe. It was easier to just show you his affection and his relief.

What was supposed to be an innocent study date turned into a serious conversation. In turn, that turned into a cuddling session once things were discussed and revealed. Everything being out in the open and on the table released so much of the tension you had been holding onto for so long that you found yourself quickly falling into a doze in Satan’s arms. His words earlier had given you so much reassurance that things would be alright. With the worst of your worries alleviated, you felt like you could properly rest for the first time in weeks.

Though, it seemed as if Satan had other ideas.

With the others out doing errands or going to meetings, it meant the whole dorm was empty; and he could be as vocal as he wanted to be when he was around you. Satan’s legs were tangled with your own, making it easy for him to roll his hips to you and let you feel just what you did to him by being close. His cock already half hard poked at your backside, and you let out a soft giggle as you were roused from your half-asleep state. “Really? This is all you can think about? Can’t we just have a cute cuddling moment here?”

“Well, how often do we get the whole place to ourselves? We can be as loud as we want and no one is here to judge.”

“Okay, well, when you put it that way, how can I resist.”

He wrapped his arms protectively over your abdomen pulling you flush against him as he peppered your neck with soft kisses. The dark mark he left weeks ago had long faded, but he wasn’t adverse to making a few more. You were now his after all. There was so much uncertainty about your future, but it would be fine as long as he was with you. Just the knowledge that he was willing to walk down that unpredictable path with you put you at ease. You sighed in content, melting into his embrace. Satan’s hands wandered away from your belly, trailing up to squeeze your tender breasts. You gasped, arching your back and inadvertently pressing your backside against the growing hardness in his pants.

He let out a soft laugh, loving how receptive your body was to all his touches. It was as if the two of you were meant to be. He wasn’t a superstitious man, but Satan couldn’t help but think meeting you was some stroke of destiny. To have you to himself like this only seemed to cement that notion in his mind.

His hips rocking into your backside became more incessant the more his need for you grew. Though it wasn’t as intense as it had been the last time, there was still an innate desire to mate with you. The kisses on your neck trailed lower to your collar bones. Satan’s hand moved from your breasts to snake under your top, easily peeling it off of you in one swift motion to reveal more skin for him to lavish with attention.

He wanted to do it properly this time, kiss you for hours on end and show you just how much he adored you. Spending so much time with you on the regular had only deepened his affections for you, and he wanted to show you that what he felt was beyond his base instincts. He had feelings past the need to claim and mate with you. He had thousands of years to temper himself into something more than a raging ball of impulse.

His hands returned to your breasts. He teased you through the fabric of your bra; and with every moan that came from your lips, you swore you could feel him grow harder. Satan’s breath felt so hot against your skin. Every kiss seemed to brand you with a heat that spread across your body before pooling between your legs. You groaned, struggling to free yourself from his grasp, but his legs around yours and his hands on your breasts kept you in place.

He made up for all the roughness last time with the sweetest kisses at your jawline and on the shell of your ear. Your nipples strained against the fabric of your bra as he continued to grope and play with your breasts until you were gasping his name, “Please… let me touch you too.”

Satan complied, if only so he could now see your face. As soon as you turned over, you pulled him into a deep kiss full of passion and lots of tongue. He hummed in approval of your enthusiasm, holding you flush against his chest. His hands wandered lower and played at the waistband of your bottoms for a brief moment while you kissed before they slid lower to rest at the swell of your ass. You were forced to break away when he abruptly gave your ass a firm squeeze. Chuckling at your surprised squeak as a result, he redoubled his efforts to work your bottoms off of you.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he poorly explained with a slight shrug.

In retaliation, your hand snaked between the two of you and fondled at the growing bulge in his pants. He let out a soft moan of appreciation once his crotch got more friction, and his hips instinctively moved to meet your touch. Satan wasn’t holding back on being vocal in his appreciation for you. With no one around to judge him, he was more than happy to let you know exactly how he felt about you. “Beautiful. Just beautiful,” he breathed in between the kisses you shared.

He maneuvered you to straddle him. In doing so, he found that he had the best view of you in this new position. With one hand firmly on your hip to keep you from going anywhere, his other hand was free to wander and explore your body as he wished. It only served to heighten his arousal as your clothed heat was constantly grinding against his hardening cock.

It was unfair how many clothes he managed to keep on when you were half naked on top of him. While his hand squeezed your breast and teased your nipple, you focused your concentration on evening the playing field. It was no easy task as every piece of clothing you managed to get off of him was reciprocated with a playful pinch of your nipple which only broke your focus. “Stop that,” you grumbled, swatting his hand away from you as you finally got the last layer of his uniform off of him.

“Stop what? Admiring you? Cherishing you? Treasuring you?” His fingers trailed lower to caress your belly. “That’s going to be hard to do.” There was nothing but love in his eyes as he came to terms with what the future with you would bring.

Hearing those words come from him made your heart flutter. The pressure of his bulge against your clothed heat also added to the emotions roiling through you. You wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to go. His hands reached once again for the waistband of your bottoms, carefully unwrapping you like a present. You were only allowed to move off of him just so he could shuck both your bottoms and your panties in one go.

Once again, you found yourself with significantly less clothing than he did. “Not fair,” you grumbled.

“Oh? Shall we even the playing field once again?” he suggested. Satan allowed you to shift off him just enough for him to navigate your hands to his pants. Your hands brushed across his abs in that motion, causing him to shiver before they started to undo the buttons and zipper to his pants. He watched your every movement, entranced at how you looked when you were concentrating. Heat simmered in his eyes, the hunger in them ever growing the more clothing you took off of him.

You decided to leave his boxers on for the time being. The power had swung in your favor this time, and you gently palmed him through the flimsy fabric. The simple action had him shivering and gasping underneath you. It was a sound you could easily get addicted to. You gave yourself the freedom to tease him a bit more, stroking his length through his boxers until he called out your name and begged for you to do more than just touch him with your hand.

“You’re beautiful,” you echoed his earlier sentiments, finally divesting him of his last garment and tossing it carelessly into the corner of his room. “Absolutely beautiful,” you breathed, crawling back on top of him and kissing him deeply. His hands flew to your hips, positioning himself to enter you. As soon as the kiss broke, he slid into you with one fluid motion.

“Fuck,” Satan hissed, his eyelids fluttering. It had been good the first time, but the energy was so different now. He had every desire to draw the moment with you out, show you just how much he cared; but as soon as he was inside, the innate need to mate and breed with you caused a haze to settle over his mind. He wanted to savor the softness while it lasted, and he strained to take even slow strokes in you.

However, seeing you on top of him, so pretty and moaning as his cock took its first few passes, broke what little control he had over his desires. He thrust into you with his hands holding you firmly in place. Everything about you was absolutely divine in his eyes. Even if heaven was locked away from him for eternity, he could at least imagine what it would be like when he was with you like this. Time didn’t matter. The competition and expectations of what was to come of your child were no longer a factor in those blissful moments.

Satan loved seeing you like this, face flushed and eyes lidded in pleasure as both of you chased your releases. He liked knowing when it was all over, you would be falling into his arms and no one else’s. It made him feel as if he could catch you from anything that happened. You were his, and that fact alone drove him into a possessive frenzy. He let his trusts run deeper, harder into you. With every breathy sigh and every moan he came closer to his climax. He could tell you were close with how your head lolled back and how vocal you had become.

“Fuck, Satan…I love you,” you whined in a moment of reckless abandon before you felt your orgasm wash over you in waves. Your vision blurred for a moment as your senses were overwhelmed with your climax.

Your words sent him over the edge. Satan’s heart soared hearing your proclamation, barely believing that you had said it at all. He gasped at the suddenness of his release. Pulling your hips down flush to his, he released his load deep within you, groaning as his balls twitched in the aftermath of such a climax. He had wanted to prolong the experience of being one with you as long as he could, but it was over all too soon.

Gently cradling you and bringing you down from your perch on top of him, Satan let you rest on top of his chest, not wanting to depart from your warm caverns just yet. His instincts also screamed to keep you filled, making sure sure that none of his seed went to waste, even if he had already impregnated you already.

“Say it again,” he murmured, stroking your hair idly as the endorphins sedated him.

“Say what again? I love you?”

“Yes. Again.”

“Okay, okay. I love you,” you admitted, blushing a bit at how often he was making you say it.

“Good. I like knowing that my love wasn’t misplaced.” His fingers in your hair trailed down to rest at your lower back, and he could feel himself drifting out of consciousness. There were too many things he still wanted to talk to you about, but the two of you had all the time in the world to figure things out together.

He hummed an old, soothing tune as he let his thoughts wander. There was still so much for you to learn about the Devildom. A visit to Diavolo would be in order as soon as possible as discussions on matters pertaining to your child were needed. Then, you would most likely need to be put on an accelerated course to make certain you know the ins and outs of Devildom customs and cultures to ensure that your child would grow up in a proper environment. He thought of the ways he could support you, outside of the obvious help in your studies. There was also the concern of the child being born from such a unique lineage. Surely there would be growing pains associated with that as well…

“Satan?” your sweet voice broke him away from his train of thought.

“Yes?”

“You’re stressed out,” you stated plainly. “Your whole body is all tense. Whatever you’re worrying about can wait, right?”

“Yes, my love,” he agreed, pulling the covers over the both of you. Whatever worries he had about the future didn’t feel so daunting, so long as you were with him.

[an-organized-confusion]

[TSS] Masterpost Time

I think it has been due time to set this sort of thing up, because I wanted to update my pinned post with this.

Gymrat!AU

Fics on Ao3, here.

Art/Writing tag on main, here.

Masterpost here.

iZ!AU [Body Horror Warning]

Fics on Ao3, here.

Art/Writing tag on main, here.

Masterpost here.

Begotten!AU [Cosmic/Body Horror Warning]

Fics on Ao3, here.

Art/Writing tag on main, here.

Promethean!AU [Body Horror & Gore Warning]:

What started this?

Muse!Roman Art - (He looks like a mannequin.)

Creativitwin Angst

Wasteland Effects & Shitty Puns

Nepri!Logan Art - (Gore, missing leg.)

Wretched!Remus Art - (Look like Frankenstein’s Monster. Potential eye strain from lightning/fire elements.)

Who Made Them & How Did They Get All The Bodies?

Wretched!Remus HCs

Tammuz!Virgil Art - (Crystal growth, cracks on skin, parts “melting”.)

Hollow!Janus Art - (Bones visible, emaciated in appearance, lots of blood.)

Muse!Patton Art - (Looks like a Ken doll. [Candy/Pastel] gore, he’s been stabbed and guts are visible.)

Attitudes on Humans

Dukeceit Shenanigans

Wretched!Remus, The Propane Salesman

...

Analysis Posts [Usually typology stuff]:

Neurological Rambling (Right vs Left Brain Stuff)

Main Typology Post

Logan-Centric Typology Post

Feedback Loops

Four Tendencies

More Creativitwin MBTI Stuff

Loops & Grip-States

The Inner Jackass

How They [Can] Make Each Other Better

Enneagram Stuff

Anxiety & Reappraisal

Chiaroscuro & the Creativitwins

Roman & Remus’s Extroverted Judging Functions

Roman Being An Upholder (Response to a thread)

Remus Being A Rebel

Idle Minds Think Up Weird Shit

Horror & Humor

Ego-Syntonic vs Ego-Dystonic

Roman & Remus’s Thinking Functions

Roman & Logan’s Relationship with Te

Enlightenment vs Romanticism (Response to a thread)

...

Incorrect Sides Quotes:

#1 | #2 | #3 | #4 | #5 | #6 - “Metalocalypse“

#7 | #8 | #9 - “Mythbusters“

#10 - “Here Comes Dr. Tran”

#11 | #12 | #13 - “John Dies At The End“

#14 | #15 | #21 - “Well There’s Your Problem (Podcast)“

#16 | #17 | #18 - “Spaceballs“

#19 | #20 - “Dodgeball“

#22 | #23 | #24 - “Muppets’ Treasure Island“

#25 - “Attorney Tom (YouTube)”

#26 - Original

#27 - “Mother’s Basement (YouTube)“

...

Music Associations:

Another Masterpost

Infected Mushroom Songs

“Dork“ Sides in a Psychobilly Band

Remus Would Like Nekrogoblikon

Sides Singing “Fuck Everything“

Some Dark!Roman Songs

Fun Music Transformations

Dethklok Songs

Every Noise At Once - Genre Talk

My “Bad“ Music Taste

Boil The Frog

...

Inverted Genre Playlists:

Virgil

Logan

Remus

Roman

...

Fitness Silliness:

Creativitwins At The Gym

Sides & DAREBEE RPGs #1

Sides & DAREBEE RPGs #2

Various Events/Programs/Etc. I Associated With the Creativitwins

Fireheart Program - Very Roman

DARETREE stuff

Sides as DAREBEE Workouts

...

Personal / About the Mod:

BFRBs Definitely Desensitized Me of That Imagery

Ways I Describe My Creativities

Me / My Child / My Spouse

Relating with Intrulogical

My Creativities’ Fusion

Some Childhood Memories/Stories With My Bro

Nightmares & Intrusive Thoughts: From A Horror Artist

My Creativities’ Inception

Which Sides I Would Fight & Would They Kick My Ass

Me And Co-Conspirator Do Some Relating With Remus

I Really Like Undead Stuff, Okay?

How I Would Relate to Ace!Remus & Aro!Roman

Some of My Sides

Ships I Relate To The Most

Some Ways I Relate To Janus

Nausea Fuel Nostalgia

Sap Mode - My Light Creativity

Stan/Simp (+more Patton feelings.)

Character Opinion Bingo

...

Miscellaneous:

A fun reaction to “Am I Original?“

Reacting to “Turkish Star Wars“

As Final Fantasy Job Classes

Comparing Monkeybone to The Creativitwins

As Metalocalypse Characters

Sheo & Remus Totally Have The Same Energy (very popular post, for this blog)

I Like Physical Comedy, Okay?

Characters That Remind Me Of Remus (fairly popular post)

Sides’ Opinions On Final Fantasy

Undead Sides

Patton, Janus, and Wordplay

Remus & Dangerous Chemicals

Truffles & Remus

Roman influencing Remus

Movie Night in The Imagination

Cheap/Fast/Good

The V-22 Osprey Was A Disaster

“Why We Love Villains“

As Repo! Characters

FWSA: What Could’ve Been

Remus as Chemistry Teacher?

Some Fun Linguistics Stuff For Janus

Some Gross Smell Science

...

Whoo boy - was it worth an allnighter to screen through my entire blog to do this? Probably not... but it is one less thing to worry about! Even if my ANS be wigging out hella bad rn. WOOPS. orz

(Also went through and tagged all my posts #(mod post) that weren’t already. Huzzah for nearly pointless blog housekeeping.)

[licenselesswriter]

1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 41, 44. And if I could send more, I would.

Inspiration and Reading Asks:

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction? Started reading when I was 12, started writing it, when I was 14, so reading, 19 years ago, and writing 17 years ago.

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both? I’m a 33.3% reader, 33.3% WIP machine, a 33.4% writer, and 100% mess, I usually spend my time doing an absurd amount of WIP that comes out of thin air, like, I can be eating an apple, boom, Bori WIP, a cup of coffee? Boom, Roro WIP, breathing? Boom, Lucaya WIP (that last one happens the most)

3. Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do? It’s called Unfaithful (EN), it’s on fanfiction.net, and honestly, it’s so well written, that I had nausea 3 times while reading it, the pain was so palpable that I felt ill from it.

4. Link your three favorite fics right now. Right now, and in order 1 - Unfaithful (EN)  2 - Twenty Nights  3 - Perfect 

6. How do you find a new fic to read? Where do you primarily read fanfiction? Fanfiction or AO3, and have an excel doc with my favorite ships, then I go to the random number generator, putting 1 as the minimum and maximum the number of the last ship I added to the list, then hit random, and read about that ship, keep things fresh.

7. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics? Both.

8. How often do you reblog/comment on fics that you like? When they are on Tumblr, a few times.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if they have Tumblr, so, amirmitchell, snowdrifts, and Onde Tu Esteves

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for? Fandom: Game of Thrones, love all those modern universe AU I have to say. Pairing: Lucaya (Not a surprise) Character: Lucas Friar, Portgas D. Ace, Roronoa Zoro, or Prince Zuko.

Fanfiction Writing Asks:

11. How do you come up with your fic titles? Coffee, food, and usually, Spotify, all that, sometimes, make my brain work into having titles about the things I want to write.

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic? I do outlines, in 5 stages, so a pretty big one. 1 - I write in my notebook, what I want to write, like a general idea. 2 - Post it on my walls and door, to give the story some structure. 3 - Notebook outline the arch of the story. 4 - Outline every chapter on word. 5 - Reduce that chapter into mini arches to write faster.

14. Do you have a personal word minimum that you hold yourself too? Why or why not? I do (now), I usually don’t post anything that is less than 2900 words, Why? because we must not forget that writers not only write for people in the fandom, they mainly write for themselves, and I love to read something among that word count because that’s long enough to keep me on the hook.

16. Do you research for your fics? If so, how deep of a rabbit hole have you gone down by accident when researching? I do research for my fics, how deep? I can give indications for divorce paperwork in the state of New York, even if you want or not to go scorch the earth with the “fault” rule, I can give an appropriate value to an apartment or a house in New York, Texas, Nashville, and San Francisco, and I can do taxes on those states too, and I know more about how high school classes work in the US than in my country, even when I went to those classes, and I’m from Santiago, Chile, you know, in South America, like, the last country of South America

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback? I don’t, once I finish writing something, I run away, and watch anime for a few hours, or work (Yeah, sometimes I write on my lunch hour)

18. Do you have a WIP that you keep telling yourself you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably a lie? I do apologize to “The Games we Play” I have no idea how I outlined your 26 chapters, but I’m still on chapter 2, and I’m sorry.

19. Do you edit your fics after you write them, or do you prefer to just hit post and run (because it’s someone else’s problem now)? Sometimes I do because sometimes, I write things wrong.

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process? That happiness I get when I’m in the Zone, and I write something that makes me say “Fuck, that was good”

21. What’s your least favorite part about the fanfiction writing process? I call it “The Deep White”, also known as writer’s block.

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write? I don’t write it anymore, because I was banned from a forum for writing it, but I love to write a bad ending, like “Killing the main character that I make you love for 30 chapters in the end” ending. I’m evil, I know, sue me.

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write? The “Good girl trying to change the bad boy,” I hate, apologies, I DESPISE that trope, it’s not cool, first, to be with someone abusive, and second, to try to change someone because you think you’re so almighty that you will change him (or her)  because of love, bs, I SAID BS.

25. Do you listen to music as you write? If possible, link your writing playlist. I do, and of course, it’s named “Writing Shiet” because my brain can only process decent titles for fics (Says the guy who once named a fic “No Title”) Here’s the link 

26. What’s your biggest distraction when writing? Anime and Manga.

27. Do you like to give your readers some warning of what might be coming or just slap them in the face with content at random? I don’t usually do it, but when I do it, I do it cryptic, like “You might be surprised, but this, I called in the beginning.”

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)? I ignore it, If I can ignore good advice, ignore something that gives me more stress it’s an easy cake.

29. Have you ever written for an exchange or event of some kind? Which one(s)? Did you enjoy it? I did but didn’t submit, I wrote for 2019 fictoberfest on Tumblr, but never send a shit, I did enjoy it tho

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words. "Well, we're still not in Texas," he says, implying something not PG-13 at all. "My God, in what did I turn you?" Maya teases him before getting up and grab his hand, pulling him up. Lucas grins at her, "On," he replies, making Maya flirty hit his chest

31. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones? I love writing Lucas and Maya, and honestly don’t know if it helps me or not LOL.

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from? 1 - From November to June CH3 A few hours later, Maya heard a knock on her door. She takes a peek through the magic eye on her door and saw Lucas. She grabs her phone and fastly texts him. She was able to hear the 'ding' of his phone, and spying through the magic eye she saw his reaction. "Ok, first of all, I'm not that, second, my mother is not that, and third, I'm not gonna put that there, that's fucking gross, and probably deadly if you consider the size of my hands." he defends himself. 2 - Ten Duel Commandments CH2 Maya smiles at him, "Since you're all Texan cowboy goody-good boy, I imagine you would relate more with the honorable Lord Stark," she teases him. "Says the woman who read three books in a row and texts me at four in the morning," he replies before pulling out his phone, "R+L=J," he teases her, reading her text. "That's private, asshole," Maya recriminates him. 3 - The One Who Stayed CH18 "Then, I have less... GET OFF ME FUCKER!" Maya screamed, punching the person who grabbed her arm, "Holy shit, Lucas." she says, looking at the person she just hit. "Noted, never approach to you by surprise." Lucas says on the floor, "Well, this makes me feel more confident about you being here alone." he says before start laughing.

33. What do you like writing better: one-shots or multi-chapter stuff? Multi-chapter, unless, it’s wedding fics because I love weddings.

34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is? None.

35. How much has writing fic changed your life? Not much, but has made me happier.

36. Are there any fics or fandoms you’re embarrassed to have written or been part of? The Glee Project Fandom.

37. Give an update on your current WIP - if you don’t have one, give a sneak peek to a title or idea that you have and would like to write. "Shawn called him, and he assures him that if you try something inappropriate, he has a shotgun," she adds, making Lucas's face go pale. "Well, guess like father, like son," he comments, making Maya show unexpected interest in his words.

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)? As I explained in the outline question, pretty tame if we count that I have my outline process numbered LOL.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on? That I try to make it real, I try to make people feel something when they read.

41. What’s your most popular fic (with the most notes on Tumblr, most hits/kudos on ao3)? Tumblr? The One Who Stayed Fanfiction.net? Ten Duel Commandments

44. Rant about something writing-related. Please, let’s stop glorifying the “Bad Boy” character, he’s an asshole, allow me to explain, Bakugo, fucking asshole, he’s just a bully with an oversized ego, no, he’s not a tsundere, no, it’s not cute, that shit is abusive, and it really makes me want to punch people in their nose when the romanticize that bullshit.

Done

(Told ya I was bored)

[silkyomega]

Felix story third installment:

Felix knew that his body was going to change. It came part and parcel with the whole pregnancy deal, but he honestly hadn't expected it to change quite so fast or quite so drastically. 

In less than two weeks since he had found out he was pregnant, his stomach was already starting to round out. Not enough for anyone to really notice except himself or someone who knew him very well but just enough for him to catch in the mirror and sigh. 

Felix had always been thin and gangly, ever since he was a kid. His stomach had been almost concave between his hip bones for most of his life but now, much to his chagrin, there was the hint of a bump there, softening him up like fresh dough and it was only going to get bigger. 

It was hard to tell if it was from the baby or a bloat from just how sick he had been. The past week had been nightmarish with morning sickness. He was exhausted and nauseous beyond anything he had ever felt before. 

When he dared stand up, he was immediately floored with a wave of dizziness and sickness that sent him lurching to the bathroom to lose whatever water and toast he had managed to eat prior.

It was well and truly miserable. 

 "Please put me out of my misery" Felix huffed. The sweat glistening on his forehead as he emerged from the bathroom for what felt like the thousandth time that morning. 

"Has it really been that bad?"

"Worse than bad. How can people do this more than once? I've been sick 4 times today and it's not even noon" Felix flopped onto the sofa, slapping a wet towel over his face and groaning into it like a dying whale. 

"I don't know why people call it morning sickness when it's morning noon and night sickness. I swear dying would be less awful"

"Yikes. Well, at least you have your first scan this evening? That's something to look forward to? And the doctor can probably give you something for the nausea."

"Hopefully a shotgun." Felix managed to make a joke...even if laughing hurt his ribs at that very moment

"Seriously though, I need to know if this is normal. I can't take much more time out of the studio.."

Lucy hushed him immediately. 

"Don't you worry about that. I've gotten it all under control! Clients have been informed of the reschedules and they were all okay with it given the circumstances"

"Oh god...you didn't tell them do you?" Felix groaned. He was dreading the inevitable flurry of questions he was bound to get from people once the word got out.

It made his insides cringe just thinking about it. Having to explain over and over again how it was just going to be him, no there wasn't an alpha in the picture, yes, he was keeping it, no he didn't need any help…

What was worse is that he could picture every interaction and automatically know what everyone was going to say. They were going to see him as some poor unfortunate omega and whisper behind his back about how he didn't have an alpha and how he was some floozy that got into trouble.

What stung most was felix knew that they would be right..

"No, I didn't tell them the reason, I just said that you would be out for a while as you were feeling sick. Mrs Fletcher on the other hand, guessed that shit immediately. I swear that woman is some kind of witch" Lucy laughed. 

Mrs Fletcher was a regular client of their since they first set up the studio. Once a month, she would bring her Corgis, Taffy and Lola in for a photoshoot. She was an eccentric old lady but she was always lovely to deal with a paid very well for their services. 

Now that Lucy mentioned it, the last time she was in a few days before Felix found out he was pregnant, she was giving him a weird look. 

Maybe she could smell it off him, she was another omega after all and some omegas are better able to smell the little changes in pheromones better than others

"She sends her well wishes and offered to bring you soup"

"That's a lovely gesture…" Felix grimaced "But please don't mention food…"

--

Mercifully, Lucy tagged along with him to the doctors appointment. He could feel knots of nervousness in his stomach about it, it was a solid confirmation that this whole thing was really happening and it sent Felix's blood pressure through the roof. 

As hard as it had been, He hadn't smoked a single cigarette since he found out he was expecting, but he desperately wanted one sitting in the waiting room now. He could have taken someone's hand clean off if they had offered him one but he had to resist. 

He bounced his knee and folding his arms tight across himself, chewing some gum and tryed to focus on anything else than the upcoming discomfort. 

It was a natural part for any omega to have internal check ups, but Felix always hated them and shuddered to think how many he was going to have to be subjected to throughout the remainder of his pregnancy. Having strangers poking and prodding his bits were not high in his list of favorite things... despite the obvious irony of exactly that landing him in this situation in the first place.  

There were a few other expectant parents in the waiting room with them. they all looked so happy with their partners, excited and hopeful about their little bundles of joy on the way...it made Felix's heart pang until Lucy touched his hand.

"You okay?" Lucy asked concerned, her eyebrows furrowed. Felix had obviously been pulling one of his overthinking faces.

Felix nodded weakly "yeah. I just feel a bit...ya know. It's a bit awkward being here"

"Try to focus on the good stuff. You'll get to see the baby for the first time, that's gotta be exciting? Right?" Lucy was really trying her best and Felix was thankful for her efforts but he doubted anything would have made him relax. 

It wasn't that Felix wasn't feeling excited, it was that he was terrified. Everything was happening so fast and so much and he had no idea if he was ready for this...The doctor had confirmed the pregnancy before but seeing it with his own two eyes, hearing it's heartbeat... was going to be a whole different ball game. 

He nearly leaped out of his skin when his name was finally called to go in.

---

The internal exam was every bit as unpleasant as Felix had expected it to be but a necessary evil considering. 

The doctor had weighed him, measured him, took his blood pressure and a urine sample before finally ushering Felix onto the examination table to start the scan. 

"Pop up on there and roll up your jumper" the doctor chirped, slapping his latex gloves. 

Felix blushed a little as he did. He really wasn't used to being so soft around the middle. Even if it was because of the baby, it didn't stop him feeling self conscious. He didn't dare think of how he was going to feel even further down the line…

"Okay, so you say you convinced around 9 weeks ago?" The doctor asked while setting up the ultrasound machine. Clicking switching and adjusting the screen. 

"Yeah, it was umm...I hadn't been…"Felix blushed even harder having to talk about it out loud "I hadn't had any relations in the six months prior or since so it's a fairly definite time frame"

The doctor nodded and thankfully didn't press for any further information. "This is going to be a bit cold" the doctor gave very little warning before he poured the conduction gel over felix's stomach. He immediately flinched and hissed as it felt more like ice than gel.

"HOLY Mother of fuck that's cold" Felix gasped loudly, making the doctor chuckle.

"That reaction never gets old and I've been doing this for nearly 15 years!" The doctor smiled broadly and pressed the wand into the base of Felix's stomach and began to move it around to find the best position. 

"Let's have a look and see if we can get a good picture of baby"

After a few moment the whooshing sounds of the ultrasounds came through. It was fast and strong but almost sounded like it had an echo to it, where it sounded ever so slightly out of sync.

After a few hums and a few more movements of the wand, digging in a little uncomfortably, the doctor let out a little "ah"

Felix furrowed his eyebrows in concern. "Ah" was very rarely a good thing to hear from a doctor. "What's wrong?" Felix could feel his heart freeze in place

"Nothing's wrong per say" The doctor turned the screen towards him. 

"But I believe we have an explanation on why you've been having such strong morning sickness. Congratulations, you're having twins"

"Im sorry... what?" Felix surely misheard him. He had to be joking. Right? 

"You can see here" the doctor pointed to the screen "Two perfectly healthy teeny tiny dots. Usually you don't see twins this early but there they are. They'll be identical too by the looks of it. Both"

Felix felt like the floor had just dropped from under him. He couldn't breath and his whole body felt numb as a panic attack hit him in full force. There they were. Two specks of white on the screen, fluttering away without a care in the world while his world felt like it has just been tossed off a cliff. 

"Oh my God. Holy shit" Felix flopped back into the table and covered his face with shaky hands. Tears rolling down his face. This cannot be happening. 

"This must be a bit of a shock..." the doctor said softly at Felix's reaction. "Do you need a minute?" He handed him some tissues. 

"I..I...tell me you're joking. This has to be a mistake right? I can't.." Felix whimpered beneath his hands. 

"I'm afraid not... Is there a father in the picture? I noticed you don't have a bond mark.." the doctor asked kindly.

Felix shook his head

"No. It's just me…"

How could he possibly raise one baby, let alone twins all by himself… it was impossible.

---

"What are you gonna do?" Lucy asked once Felix had calmed down enough to tell her the news. He had come out of the scan looking like he had seen a ghost, his eyes all puffy and sore. The poor doctor looked just as bad, patting Felix on the back and handing him an envelope of scan pictures. 

"I...I don't know. I thought maybe I could handle one baby. It was scary but manageable. Like how hard could one baby be? People do that shit all the time. But twins? I can't even begin to think about it." Felix put his head in his hands, pulling at the roots of his hair. 

"How can I keep the studio going? How the fuck can I afford this? Where am i even going to find the space!? Have you seen my place?? It's tiny! It's barely big enough for me let alone twins" Felix was getting more and more upset as he spoke. 

"You need to calm down and take some deep breaths. It will be alright. You know I got you covered in the studio and we have some new clients coming in so money should be okay. I mean, you don't have to be rich to raise a kid well, you just gotta love them and be there for them, and I know you can do that" Lucy smiled the best she could and reassured him. 

"But twins?...Jesus Christ how am I even going to manage to carry twins! I'm a fucking twig." Felix curled into a ball, folding in on himself as the anxiety drowned him

"I mean...true. but you're an omega, we're literally built for baby making. It's going to be okay. I promise!. We can come up with a game plan and work through this" 

Felix wished he had even a fraction of Lucy's optimism. 

--

As Felix lay in bed that night the reality of the situation began to settle over him like a layer of dust after a storm. 

He held his hand over his faint little bump and started to cry. 

He was terrified out of his mind but there was something in his heart that told him that as scared as he was of the vast unknown that lay before him, he knew that deep down he already loved the tiny dots inside beyond all logical explanation. 

It didn't seem real before but the memory of the little specks of life inside him on the screen just...clicked. like a piece of his heart had finally slid into place once the panic had ebbed away. 

Even if he was alone...he was going to have them and that was all that mattered.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 6

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​

He’s been sober for six months, two weeks, and four days.  

Completely cutting out all alcohol had been difficult. Far more than he’d thought it would be, the withdrawal both brutal and eye opening. He’d never considered himself an alcoholic, or even acknowledged that he had even the slightest bit of an addiction to booze. But the side effects of quitting had told him otherwise. Seventy-two hours of a near crippling headache, heart palpitations, extreme nausea and vomiting. Even excessive sweating and tremors in his hands.  It had been a huge wakeup call. The realization that his drinking had been taking over his life and he hadn’t even been aware of it.  That had he not stopped and continue down that path towards complete and utter dependency, he would have lost everything that mattered to him.

Most days and weeks he handles it well, too busy to even think about drinking, let alone indulge in it. They keep no alcohol in the house to avoid any chance of temptation, and Esme had quit right after she’d found out that they were expecting Addie and had vowed to never touch the stuff again. It was something they could do together; serving as one another’s support systems.

Yet there’s times where he does crave it. Not necessarily a need, but a want. And it’s not overwhelming; he’s not desperate enough to drop everything and run out to the store and stock up on booze. Just a lingering taste for it while spending time out in the sun or after a long and tiring day of working outside. Or when something or someone is irritating him to the point of needing an escape...even a mental one...from them.

Tonight is the latter. He’s agitated; with Ovi’s sudden interest in the job, with Chloe’s romanticizing of the life and putting it in his head that there’s something he needs to prove and that getting into it would somehow make him ‘more of a man’. As if somehow insinuating that Tyler himself is less of one because he’d walked away.  It’s bad enough that there’s times he views himself that way; that he’s broken and damaged and not even half of the person that he used to be. And he tries to ignore those thoughts; to remind himself that it’s just his fucked up brain talking and that the one person in the world whose opinion matters to him, doesn’t see him that way.  In her eyes, he’s even stronger for being able to recognize his issues and walk away. That he’s more of a man for choosing his own wellbeing and his family over the job.

For the most part he’s been able to ignore his growing resentment for Chloe. Everything suddenly seems to annoy him; from the way she dresses to the way she laughs, even the sound of her voice. Electing to avoid her company in favor of spending time with the kids; in and out of the water with them, helping them dig in the sand, taking them for walks to look for shells and beach glass.  Listening to them chattering on about their respective days at school, offering up the appropriate comments, laughing at the right times, and asking the questions that gets them talking even more.  He loves hearing those little voices; the Aussie accents that are already beginning to creep in, the sounds of their laughter, the way they tease and bicker with one another. They each have their own very distinct personalities but are so alike in other ways; appearance, mannerisms, facial expressions.   And he cherishes his time with them; teaching them to surf, taking them fishing and camping, those midafternoon naps when they’re all curled up next to him on the couch, lying on the beach once the sun sets and watching the stars with them, even reading the same damn bedtime stories over and over again. Because those moments are fleeting; they’ll grow up fast and become independent and then spending time with mom and dad won’t be exciting or fun anymore.  

He’d stayed silent through dinner –cooked over open flame on the beach- and tried not to snap at every little stupid thing Chloe said or her annoying, high pitched laugh, or the way Ovi waited on her hand and foot and looked at her as if she was the most incredible woman on the planet. Irrational of course, seeing as that's how he’s been looking at his own wife every day for the past six years.  But since the job conversation with Ovi, everything Chloe related just bugs the ever-loving shit out of him.  Prompting him to jump at the chance to be the one to put the kids to bed. Dragging his feet through the entire nighttime routine; baths, teeth brushing, reading stories, tucking them in. Hoping that if he stalls long enough, Chloe and Ovi will be long gone and he won’t have to worry about playing nice anymore.  And he’s disappointed –and even more irritated- when he still finds them there, sitting on the back patio, Chloe on her second bottle of wine.

“Everyone asleep?” Esme asks, as Tyler drops into the chair beside her, then leans in to press a kiss to her temple.  

He knows she can sense just how on edge he actually is; years ago, words had stopped being necessary and they’d become able to read one another’s facial expressions and body language. And she gives him a soft, reassuring smile and leans sideways in her seat, resting her head against him, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.  

“Everyone except this one,” he says, and nods down at Addie as she lays along her mother’s arm; so tiny and so perfect. A mixture of everything that’s good about him and everything that’s amazing about his wife. He feels blessed. That he’s been given this opportunity five times; to help create another human being. And he brings his hand to the side of his wife’s head as it lays against him and kisses her temple once again.

“She’s probably waiting for you. She always falls asleep better for daddy. These kids are traitors. All of them. Can’t I be someone’s favorite?”

She’s smiling as she says it, and he takes the baby from her, settling Addie against his chest; a forearm along her back, palm supporting her head.   And his free hand takes a hold of his wife’s, lacing their fingers together and placing their joined hands on his thigh. It will keep him grounded. Calm. If he can feel her.

“This was really nice,” Chloe gushes, as Ovi curls an around her shoulders and she leans into him. “Being able to spend time together like this. We should do it more often.”

Tyler wants to tell her that there’s no fucking way he wants to make it a regular occurrence. But he doesn’t. Instead he just nods and places a kiss to the side of Addie’s head and tightens his hold on Esme’s hand.  

“Well things get busy,” his wife says, and then winces and directs a light kick to the side of his calf when he grips her hand a little too hard.   “With the kids and their things and stuff we need to do around here. There’s not a lot of time to spare.”

“I could help out more,” Chloe offers. “With the kids.”

“It’s okay,” Tyler speaks up. A little too quickly and harshly. Earning a glare from Ovi and a clearing of the throat from Esme. “We’ve got it under control,” he adds, and then attempts a smile.

“Well I’m not far,” Chloe gives that laugh that grates on his nerves.  “You know where to find me.”

“She’ll be fine.,” he says. “We’ll be fine. But thanks.”

Chloe gives a tight-lipped smile; she knows she’s being dismissed.

Silence descends on the table, uncomfortable and tense. The only sounds the rustling of the trees surrounding the property and the waves rolling onto the shore. Esme shifts uncomfortably in her seat, reaching for a now lukewarm cup of tea that sits in front of her, and Tyler loosens his grip on her hand and repeatedly his fingertips along the smooth, cool metal of her wedding band. There’d never been the need or desire for anything more; his proposal had been nothing more than a simple ‘marry me’. It simply isn’t their style; grand, elaborate gestures and expensive pieces of jewelry.

“So did Ovi tell you about his business proposition?”  Chloe asks, and Tyler feels his entire body tense. This is not how he wanted Esme to find out; he’d planned on bringing it up to her when all their guests had left and the kids were asleep and he’d already given her two or three orgasms in a way to relax her and ‘lighten the mood’.

“Chloe...sweetie...” Ovi is clearly uncomfortable with the subject now at hand.  “This is not the time to talk about this.”

“What do you mean? This is the perfect time! We're all here. Together. There couldn’t possibly be a better time.”

“What business proposition?” Esme asks, glancing between her husband and Ovi. “What’s going on?”

“Ovi had an amazing idea,” Chloe gushes.  “About him and Tyler going into business together.”

“Okay...” Esme sounds suspicious. “...but what kind of business?”

“The job,” the other woman says it so cheerfully, as if that kind of career is so normal. That accepting money and putting your ass on the line for strangers -and even killing people- is the most natural thing in the world.  

“The job?” Esme frowns. “As in what Tyler used to do? That’s what you’re talking about, right? Being a mercenary? Because that’s what I think of when someone says ‘the job’.”

“This is really isn’t a good time,” Ovi mumbles. “This could have waited. Until a different night.”

Tyler shakes his head and forces himself to look away from both of him, dragging his top teeth over his bottom lip; feeling the rage that begins to simmer inside of him.  Concentrating on that little body that’s pressed tightly against him; those tiny fists that tightly grip his t-shirt, the smell that clings to her sleeper, the softness of her hair against his palm.  

“What the hell is going on?” Esme asks. “Why are you two even talking about the job? Never mind that, why are you...” she stares pointedly at Tyler. “...talking about the job?”

“I wasn’t talking about it,” he replies. “I mean, I was. But I wasn’t.”

“That doesn’t even make sense. You either were or you weren’t.”

“I brought it up,” Ovi comes to his defense. “It’s not like it was his idea to talk about it. He never talks about it.”

“So why were you talking about it?” Esme inquires. “There shouldn’t be a reason to talk about the job. We came here to get away from it. We gave up that life. Why is it getting brought back up? And there better be a good goddamn reason for it, too.”

“There’s no reason to freak out,” Chloe grumbles, and Esme glares at her.

“Listen little girl, you don’t come to my house and talk to me like that. You come here...under my roof, where my children are...and you bring up the job? After everything it put us through. And you expect me not to freak out? It doesn’t work that way.  This is between Ovi and I now. You can leave or you can sit there and listen.”

“Is that an option for me too?” Tyler asks. “Or...”

“You’re involved whether you want to be or not,” she replies. “So no. That’s not an option for you.”

“It was just an idea I had,”  Ovi attempts to explains.  

“An amazing idea,” Chloe jumps in.

“I’m not talking to you,” Esme snaps. “I don’t want to hear from you. So just sit there and be quiet and let me speak to Ovi. To my son.”

“He’s not your...”

“Don’t...” Tyler warns. “...even finish that sentence.”

Chloe throws her hands up in surrender, then leans back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest, angrily tapping her foot against the ground.

“Ovi...” Esme’s voice is low, calm. Almost too calm. Tyler knows that tone all too well; he’s been on the receiving end of it and knows what follows if you don’t tread lightly.  He’s made the mistake –more than once- of not watching where he steps and having to face the consequences. “...what the hell is going on? Why are you talking about the job? You know we left that behind. We all agreed on that. That once we left Colorado, that was it. That once Tyler decided he had enough, we’d never mention it again. So what is going on?”

“I had this idea,” he nervously begins. “That Tyler and I could do something together. Start a business. Outside of the one we already have.”

Chloe opens her mouth to speak and Esme holds her hand up to both silence her and warn her to keep quiet.

“And this has to do with the job how?”

“Because...” he chews on his bottom lip.  “...it is the job.”

“So you’re brilliant idea is to get my husband back into the job? Is that honestly what you’re trying to tell me? Despite everything he went through in Dhaka, despite nearly dying there, despite everything you saw him go through and everything you went through yourself.  You thought it was a good idea to get him back into it?”

Tyler clears his throat noisily and stands up; too anxious to sit still yet needing to remain calm for his daughter’s sake. Adjusting his hold on her and laying her along his forearm, her head resting securely in the crook of his elbow, feet not even reaching his palm.  Running his free hand over her hair, fingers fidgeting with the snap closures on her sleeper, then moving down to her feet; gently rubbing the soles and each of the tiny toes. Body swaying side to side, more an attempt to soothe himself than her.

“I thought it was something that we could do together,” Ovi says. “We could run things. Take on clients. Maybe even hire more people once we got things off the ground. I thought if we were together, it would be better. Easier.”

“So even knowing that he willingly walked away from things and has sworn up and down to never...ever...go back, you still tried to bring him into this? Why? Knowing everything it’s done to him. Everything it has done to us. You were there. You’ve been with us for more than five years now. You’ve seen what it’s done. How it almost ended us. More than once.  And you still thought it was a good idea?”

“I thought if we both got involved that it would be okay. That he wouldn’t be going alone and...”

“No, Ovi. It’s not okay.  It’s not okay in the slightest. What would make you think it was okay? He almost died once. That’s not enough for you? Because it was enough for me. More than enough. And that was back before we didn’t have any of this. This life. When we didn’t have kids to take care of. Five kids that need their father. How is it okay that you bring him back into this bullshit and leave my kids without their dad? Maybe that’s okay for the two of you. You don’t have anything to lose. But we do. We have so much to lose and I can’t believe you didn’t even care about any of that.”

“I wasn’t thinking that much into it,” he admits. “I was just thinking it would be fun to get into. Running a business like that ourselves.”

“Yeah, because it’s so much fun watching the person you love getting shot in the throat and having them bleed out all over you.  Does that sound like fun to you? Or you?” she directs the last question to Chloe. “Does that sound like it was fun? Because it was fucking hell on earth for me. Twenty minutes felt like twenty hours on that bridge. And as pissed off as I am right now...no, as disgusted as I am right now...I wouldn't wish that on you. Seeing that happen.   Holding someone while they’re choking on their own blood. Shoving your fingers in their throat to try to keep them alive. Does that sound like fucking fun to you?”

Both Ovi and Chloe shake their head.

“I’m done,” Esme shoves her chair away from the table and stands up, using the backs of her hands to clear away the tears that flow freely down her face. It’s been over six years and it sometimes still feels as if it were yesterday; the memory still so fresh and haunting that it is physically painful. Yet she always keeps it tightly bottled up inside, for the sake of her husband, the sake of her children. Even for the sake of her own sanity.  Because dealing with it is just too damn difficult.   “I’m done with you two. With this whole goddamn conversation.”

“I’m sorry,” Ovi offers a feeble apology. “I never...”

“I have to get out of there,” she says to Tyler. “I’ll take her and give her last feeding and put her to bed.”

“Esme...”

“I’m fine,” she assures him, and attempts a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

He lays the baby in her arms, then uses the bottom of his t-shirt to clear away the last of her tears.

“Can you handle all of this?” she jerks her head in the direction of the cluttered table. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

“I got it,” he assures her. “It’s fine. You gonna be okay?

She nods, and he lays a hand on the side of her face and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I just need to go.”

“It’s okay,” he pushes her hair away from her face, tucks it behind her ears. “I understand. I’ll be up in a little while. Once I handle things.”

She gives another weak smile, then rests her forehead briefly against his chest before heading into the house.

*****

“What the fuck have you two done?” Tyler keeps his voice low, but malice and contempt drip from every word.

“I’m sorry,” Ovi is quick to apologize. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I didn’t mean for it to come out at all.”

“She needed to know,” Chloe says, giving a flippant shrug. As if she didn’t just play a huge role in creating an epic shit show.

Dhaka is a sore spot. An extremely sore spot. One they didn’t like to visit often but always felt like pure and utter hell when they did. His memories aren’t that vivid or fresh; not one of those moments on the bridge after Fahrad had shot him. He only knows what he’s been told, or the little snippets that his brain has managed to piece together.  For Esme it’s much worse, she can remember every second of those final twenty minutes on the bridge. Every word, every noise, every smell. Even what the blood had felt like as it streamed through her fingers.  Yet she very rarely talks about it. She prefers to keep it inside and deal with it on her own. Not wanting to burden him with her issues when he’s so busy struggling with his own.

“No she didn’t,” Tyler snarls. “There was no fucking reason for her to know because I already told him I wasn’t interested. That I wasn’t going to talk about it, and he was going to forget all about it.”

“You can’t deal him what to do,” she bites back. “You’re not his father.”

“I’m the closest thing he has to one. I guess he didn’t tell you, huh? That I told he was an idiot for even considering the job and you’re an even bigger idiot for trying to talk him into it.”

Chloe leaps to her feet and clamps her hands on her hips. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but...”

“I’m the guy that nearly died saving his ass!” Tyler gestures towards Ovi. “I’m the one that gave him a home and a family because his real father is an evil prick who put his son in danger in the first place. You think he has what it takes to be a mercenary? Did he tell you how I had to give him a pair of pants because he pissed his own? I bet he didn’t tell you that part did he.”

“I know that he killed someone. To save your ass.”

“And what? It takes killing someone to make him a man in your eyes? You’re actually proud of that? That he’s done that? You’re fucked up. You have issues. You’re putting all this bullshit in his head. That he needs to prove something to you. That somehow the job is the only way for him to do that. You have no goddamn clue what that life is like. You’re just a delusional little girl. Get the fuck out of here with your bullshit.”

“Tyler...” Ovi attempts to diffuse the situation. “...if we just sit down and talk about this calmly...”

“We’re not talking about this. I said what I needed to say. I’m not getting involved in this. I left that life behind me. I’m not that guy anymore. He’s gone. I have a wife and kids. That’s my life now.”

“Pretty pathetic life,” Chloe mutters.

“You need to go. You need to get out of my face before I really say something I’ll regret. This is me being polite. If you’d rather I be a total asshole...”

“Are you just going to sit there and let him talk to me like this?!” Chloe turns her ire on Ovi, who just sighs in exasperation and puts his face in his hands. “You’re just going to sit back and let him act like this?!”

“This is my fucking house,” Tyler reminds her. “And if it wasn’t for me and my wife, you’d be stuck back in Colorado all by yourself. I’m the one who puts a roof over your head and food on your table. Yet you think you can come here and cause all this shit? You have no idea what any of us have been through. What things were like before you came along. So you need to need to know your place and just step off.”

“He’s right you know,” Ovi says. “You don’t know everything that happened before you came along. Especially what happened in Dhaka.”

“I know he fucked up,” Chloe nods in Tyler’s direction.

“That is not what happened,” Ovi argues. “He did not mess up. My father did. Tyler did what he had to do to keep me alive and get me out of there. Even when he knew there was no money. He could have just let me in the street, but he didn’t. I’m only here because he didn’t give up on me. Or himself.”

“And you’re going to pay for that for the rest of your life? Because he wants to be martyr? He gets to hold saving you over your head for the rest of your life? Expecting you to be constantly on your hands and knees, kissing his ass?”

“Jesus fuck,” Tyler gives a dry laugh and shakes his head, then begins gathering the dirty dishes and silverware from the table. “You’re really a piece of work, you know that? He should have left you behind in Colorado. I should have paid him to leave you there. And this is what you want to get yourself into?” he directs the question towards Ovi. “You want to spend the rest of your life with her? It couldn’t have just been a fuck and duck? Good like with that one, mate. You’re going to need it.”

Chloe opens her mouth to respond but stops when the sliding glass door opens and Tanner wanders out; clad in just a pair of Captain America pajama pants that are too short in the legs, his hair mussed from sleep, pressing the heels of his palms into his tired eyes.

“What are you doing up, mate?” Tyler asks. “It’s late and there’s school tomorrow.”

“I know.” he yawns loudly and wraps both arms around one of his dad’s thigh.  “But I’m thirsty and mommy said to tell you.”

“She did, did she?”

Tanner nods.  

“Alright, let’s go,” he sets the items in his hands down on the table, then uses one arm to effortlessly scoop his son up onto his hip. He’s long and lanky, but remarkably light. Fifteen pounds smaller than his mere minutes older brother.  And he presses a kiss to the side of Tanner’s head, who in turns curls both arms around his neck and nestles his face into his shoulder. Of the twins, he’s the sensitive and affectionate one. Not as much of a momma’s boy anymore, his relationship and bond with his father much stronger since Tyler returned from Ireland.  “What do you want?” he asks, as steps into the house, leaving Chloe and Ovi behind without even a farewell or ‘fuck off’. “Wine? Beer? Tequila?”

“No,” Tanner giggles into his neck. “Warm milk.”

“Warm milk? What if I don’t know how to use the stove?”

Another giggle. “Use the microwave.”

“What if I don’t know how to use that?”

“You know how to use the microwave, silly daddy. I seen you do it.”

“Well don’t tell your mum that, okay? Or she’ll expect me to do more around here.”

“I won’t tell. My lips are sealed.”  Tanner mimics locking up his mouth and throwing away the key.

Tyler grins. “How are you going to drink your milk if you can’t open your mouth?”

“I can open my mouth, daddy. I was just playin’. Come on now. Get it together.”

He chuckles at that. “You’re starting to sound like your mum.”

“She’s the smart one,” Tanner concludes.

“I don’t know how smart she can be when she hangs around the likes of me.”

“She probably thinks you’re cute!”

“Yeah, that’s probably it. You want down or....”

Tanner shakes his head, expertly wriggles his way around to father’s back, once again wrapping his arms around Tyler’s neck and clamping those long, skinny legs against his torso.  

“Your sister asleep?” he asks, as he fetches the milk from the fridge and a mug from the cupboard above the sink.  

“Which one?”

“The nice one.”

“Yeah, Addie’s asleep. Millie too. But she’s not nice. At all.”

“Not even sometimes?” he pours some milk into the mug and holds it up for Tanner go give his approval on whether or not it’s enough.  

“Maybe sometimes. Like when she beats up the bullies at school.”

“She does that a lot? Beats people up?”

“Once in a while. When they deserve it. Like when they call Teej stupid. I don’t like when they say mean things about him. He’s my brother. We were in mommy’s tummy at the same time, right daddy?”

“At the exact same time,” Tyler confirms, then lets his son push the buttons on the microwave to heat the milk.  

“How’d we get in there, tho’?”

“That’s something I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“How much older?”

“A lot older.”

“How much is a lot?” Tanner presses.

“I dunno. Ten or twenty years.”

“That’s a fucking lot.”

“Hey!” Tyler scolds. “Language.”

“You say it all the time!”

“I’m allowed. I’m older than you.”

“By how much?”

“Thirty-six years.”

“Holy shit! You’re old, daddy! Sorry,” he giggles when his dad scowls at him. “Potty mouth.”

“Yeah, you have a potty mouth, alright. Just make sure when people ask where you learned it from, you say mommy.”

“That’s a lie though. You said never to lie.”

“I’ll give you ten bucks for each time you say it.”

“Okay,” Tanner happily agrees, and then once more wriggles his body around to its original position on his dad’s hip so Tyler can sink down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table; settling his son on his lap, a palm running over his the five year old’s hair, then pressing a kiss to the back to the back of his head.  

“School was good today?”

Tanner shrugs and sips at his milk.

“What did you learn about?”

“Dinosaurs.”

“They were teaching you about dinosaurs?”

“I was reading about them. I dunno what everyone else was doing.”

“Look, I’m relying on you to be the smart one, mate. I need you to become a doctor or a lawyer so you that can be really rich when you’re my age and you can take care of me.”

“I don’t want to be a doctor or a lawyer, though.”

“What do you want to be?”

“I dunno. A vet. I like animals.”

“Be a big game vet. They make more money. I’m counting you. You need to be the one that steps it up at school. Because I think I’m going to be saving on college education for your brother. What was his day like? He have any problems?”

“Nope.  He was good all day. No one picked on him today.”

“Is that what causes his issues?” Tyler combs his fingers through his son’s hair; Tanner had insisted on his old haircut. The one that Esme had loved so much.  It has made the resemblance between them even more startling; all the kids look like him, but there’s something about Tanner that sets him apart from the others. Something stronger in those genes; the same mannerisms and facial expressions. Even the same way of saying certain words. “Someone picks on him?”

“Mostly ‘cause people pick on the other kids and he gets mad about it and wants to protect them.”

It doesn’t surprise Tyler; TJ is the one that will take on his sister if he feels Millie is being mean to Tanner or picking on Declan.  And he doesn’t care if he gets the beating of a lifetime. He’s more than willing to put himself on the line if it means sticking up for the underdog.

“Millie has a boyfriend,” Tanner abruptly announces.

Tyler frowns.  “Your sister what now?”

“She has a boyfriend,” he casually responds.  

“What do you mean she has a boyfriend? She’s not even six yet.”

“Not like boyfriend and girlfriend like you and mommy.”

“Your mom and I are married. We haven’t been boyfriend and girlfriend in a long time.” Where they ever really? They’d never actually put a label on things. Did they just skip that stage? Just going from fucking one another to finding out about Millie to getting married? It had just seemed normal to them. Things had started out unconventionally and the trend just continued. “Who’s the boyfriend?”

“I dunno. Some kid in her class.”

“What’s his name?”

Tanner shrugs.

“What’s he look like?”

“What is this? Twenty questions?”

Tyler chuckles and kisses his son’s cheek. “You are your mother’s son.”

“He’s just some kid. I dunno his name.”

“Is he nice? To your sister?”

“He must be. She hasn’t punched him in the face yet.”

Fair point.

“I’ll give you another ten bucks if you find out what his name is,” Tyler offers.

Tanner shakes his head.  “Twenty.”

“For twenty I want pictures of him and his address.”

Tanner throws a hand up in exasperation. “How am I supposed to do that? I’m five.”

“Fifteen and you get me his first and last name.”

Tanner considers it, a pensive frown on his face as he stares down at the now empty mug in his hands. “I can do that,” he eventually agrees. “But I want the money before school tomorrow. Or no deal.”

“You get half tomorrow and the other half when you get the job done and give me the information. That’s how it works. I get proof, you get the rest of the money. You can’t extort me, mate. Nice try though.”

“What’s extort?”

“We got a deal or not?”

“Fine,” Tanner sighs. “Half tomorrow and half later. You’re tough.”

“I’ve got more experience in this stuff than you do. Ready? All done?”

The five-year-old yawns loudly and nods.  “I gotta pee though.”

“Go,” he tousles Tanner’s hair. “Hurry up. It’s late. And stay on the deck. Don’t pee on it. Do that in the sand. But do not go any farther than the end of the deck. Got it?”

“Got it,” he agrees, and then jumps off his father’s lap and hurries through the kitchen and out the sliding door.  

Tyler stands; grimacing at the tightness in his shoulder and the pain that shoots through his knee and travels all the way down the calf.  And he grabs one of the prescription bottles from the highest shelf above the sink and shakes out three of the pain pills and swallows them dry, then adds Tanner’s dirty mug to the dishwasher and turns it on.  

“Done!” Tanner announces, and runs towards him, laughing hysterically when his father effortlessly catches him and turns him upside down, his legs wrapping around Tyler’s neck. “Don’t drop me daddy!” he pleads. “You got me?”

“I got you, mate,” he promises, an arm securely pressed against his son’s stomach, free hand turning off the lights to the kitchen go. “Always.”

[thepossibilitiesofus]

9/8/2020 & 9/10/2020

*I realized after my last personal post on my health issues I didn’t include any warning before I started talking about stuff that may be uncomfortable or harmful to someone (triggering), so I am making sure to do that this time, and I will go back and edit the other one to have a warning.

I don’t think anyone is actually reading these posts so I’m not that worried about someone having seen it yet unless through looking at the tags I included. But in the event that someone was harmed by coming across that post without the warning, I am truly sorry.*

Warning: Chronic Illness, Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome, Body Image Issues, Eating Disorders, Mental Illness, Cannabis Use, and just generally kinda gross things. If any of these things are potentially triggering to you, please do not read.

Last time I posted about my cyclic vomiting syndrome, I was still in the middle of an episode. I mean, I still am, but getting towards the end of it (I think....God, I hope). Yesterday I didn’t throw up at all and didn’t have to battle nausea for most of the day. Then this morning, I threw up the most violently and forcefully from the very depths of my stomach (all acid baybeee) that I have since last Monday. I’ve been feeling really sick today so I waited til my roommate was gone to smoke cannabis to try and relieve myself of the nausea and hopefully be able to eat something. (9/8/2020)

I got really stoned, but only “mind high” as opposed to “body high.” For those who may not understand or have little to no experience with cannabis, there are two different types of strains of cannabis: sativa and indica. These two strains produce different effects, and are often crossbred to include effects from both strains (and these are called hybrid strains). Sativa strains are more likely to get you “mind high,” whereas indica strains are more likely to get you “body high.” I will leave it at this over-simplistic explanation for now, but please be aware that this is a huge generalization.

**I plan to write a post about my experiences with cannabis, in the hopes that it may provide valuable information to those who may hold stereotypes about cannabis and the people who use it, or who may just not have come across information on it before. However, that is not the main point of this post.** 

As a result of not achieving the “body high” that I was hoping to attain in the hopes of relieving my nausea, I went on a very emotional roller-coaster. I had gone into my kitchen with the hopes of finding something that didn’t immediately revolt me to the point of gagging, and failed, which is what triggered some unhealthy thoughts, and therefore some realizations, to occur.

As I walked back to my room, I saw my reflection in the mirror. I was wearing a bralette and leggings, which left a decent portion of my stomach showing. I have always been extremely self-conscious about my stomach, and never would have worn something like this around my house even a few months ago. My life has always been about hiding myself, especially this thing that I have always considered to be a huge flaw about my body. When I walked in my room and saw my reflection in the mirror, I noticed that I had seemingly lost a lot of weight. (I say seemingly because I don’t have a scale so I can’t know for sure. Regardless, I felt like that no matter what the reality was.) And for a split second, I finally felt kind of good about myself.

Now, to give some extra cannabis-related context. I learned in my Theory of Personality and Psychotherapy class the other day that using drugs and alcohol  (which is a drug, but I digress), and sleeplessness are opportunities for the unconscious--what non-psych majors might understand to be their subconscious--to break through to the conscious. When these things/realizations/feelings “bubble up” to the surface of our consciousness, we can for a moment have great personal revelations. (Another side note, this explains the Bob Marley quote “When you smoke the herb, it reveals you to yourself.”) Now, anyone who hasn’t used cannabis or other psychedelics might intellectually understand this, but without having used cannabis themselves, they lack the experiential understanding that users have.

With that context given, I can admit that at that moment of confidence, I realized that I have already started developing an unhealthy relationship with food and body image. I started writing this post a few days ago, and I must say that even removed by time from that situation, I still feel quite similarly, unfortunately. I realized that I liked the feeling of starving to the point of weight-loss, in a very demented and twisted way. I’ve always logically and emotionally known that intentionally starving yourself of food with the intentions of losing weight and “being pretty” is horrid. But when you’re forced into this kind of situation by your chronic illness and not by choice, it can feel like even more of an inescapable prison.

So, instead of judging myself for that feeling, I embraced it as a natural part of myself that isn’t wholly representative of my feelings or beliefs regarding my impaired eating. But first, I felt tremendous turmoil and discomfort. This feeling consumed me to the point of complete despondency.

Fortunately, through other not-so-pleasant experiences happening in my life right now, I have been able to utilize more effective and healthy coping mechanisms. I was able to fight through these feelings and come out on the other side. This is something that I haven’t been able to do in a very long time, due to a very long train of traumatic experiences, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of myself.

After experiencing and working through those intense emotions, I came to realize that my nausea had gone away. Even though I still wasn’t “body high”, and only “mind high,” I came to the conclusion that being able to fight my way through an arduous mental gauntlet of conflicting emotions was able to relieve me of my nausea. 

I’ve always known that my cyclic vomiting syndrome is tied to the state of my mental health. And over the past few years, having been through some really tough things has left a lot of open wounds on me, that need to be proactively taken care of. I’ve been going to therapy, doing really well with my self-care, and slowly but surely making my way through the trauma that my brain has been hiding from me for so long.

It’s a slow and grueling process, and God knows there’s a long way to go. When I first started writing about this, I felt very defeated. Now, I recognize the hard work I’ve been putting in and the progress I’ve made as a result.

I hope that by sharing my experiences, I’ve somehow helped someone else. (9/10/2020)