#I can just imagine the realization setting in

[v6quewrlds]

Can you plzzzz write something based off the new Alo ad song with Joe. Maybe y/n and Joe have been dating for awhile, their heading to his house when he decides to take the "long way home" just to admire her/he realizes he's in love/falling in love with her!

Btw I love your writes sososo much!!! Like have you ever thought about writing a book frfr? Kinda new here so not sure if you've ever talked about it but yeah <3

imagine taking the long way home with joe.

author's note⠀⁎⠀got so carried away writing this. i honestly don't think i have the attention span/commitment required to write a book lol. but this song is the cutest ty for requesting <3

Three short knocks on the mahogany of her front door echoed through the hallway. Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest as she paused her frantic search for the last earring she'd lost amidst the chaos of packing. She rushed to the door, her pulse racing like it did every time the anticipation of seeing Joe caught her in its grasp. She took a deep breath, casting a quick glance at the mirror by the door before opening it with a soft smile and bright eyes.

"Hey," Joe greeted with a casual ease, a bouquet of white peonies in one hand and a bottle of her favorite wine in the other. His grin was as warm as ever, his blue eyes scanning the room, taking in the sight of her apartment in the throes of preparation for her short getaway.

She moved to the side, allowing him to enter. "Hey," she echoed, closing the door before turning to step into his arm for a brief hug and a chaste kiss. "You didn't have to bring these," she said, nodding at the flowers and the wine, taking them from him with a gentle show of awe.

"They're your favorites," he said simply, tucking his hands into his pockets with a shrug. She felt a warmth spread through her chest, a feeling she was getting quite used to around him. She took the bouquet to the kitchen to find a vase, her mind racing with the excitement of the days ahead.

The apartment was small but cozy, filled with the scents of her favorite candles and the faint sound of an old Drake song playing in the background. As she filled a vase with water, Joe wandered in, peering over her shoulder. "You almost ready to go?"

She nodded, setting the flowers down. "Just gotta take the trash out. I don't wanna leave with it just sitting here. I'll take it on our way out."

Joe offered to do it for her, a gesture that touched her more than he could know. She watched as he took the bag, telling her he'd be right back as he headed out the door. As he turned, she took the opportunity to sneak a peek at him. He was dressed casually, a blue crewneck and worn-in gray jeans that hugged his athletic frame. His hair was ruffled slightly, as if he'd run his hands through it, a nervous trait which she found utterly endearing.

While Joe was gone, she took one last look around her apartment, ensuring she hadn't forgotten anything. Her eyes fell on the fridge, a collection of photos held by magnets. The newest addition was a polaroid of them in the mirror. Her camera was covering half of her face as Joe appeared to be mid-sentence. She couldn't remember what he'd said, but she could see the laughter in his eyes, the joy she felt that day reflected back at her.

They had known each other for a year and had been dating for four months, but it felt like forever. She couldn't believe how fast she had fallen for Joe, having been one heartbreak away from swearing off men entirely. Yet here she was, about to spend her precious PTO in his arms, in his house, surrounded by his life.

When he returned from tossing the trash, he found her with her back to the door, her hand lingering over the fridge, the photo of them smiling back at her. He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. "Ready?" he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

She turned in his embrace, leaning into him. "Yeah," she murmured, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Let me grab my things." She stepped away from the fridge, breaking the momentary reverie, and picked up her bag, her heart thumping against her chest as he held out a hand to take it from her.

As they left her apartment, Joe led her to his car parked at the curb. The car was a sleek black, gleaming under the streetlights, the seats plush leather as she slid into the passenger side. They'd had their fair share of fancy dinners and morning afters since they started dating, but there was something about staying at Joe's place - four days uninterrupted - that made this feel different.

On the way to Joe's, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was being unusually quiet. She tried to keep the conversation flowing, filling the silence with tales of her workplace dramas and the latest episode of the show they were watching together. Yet Joe's responses were shorter than usual, his eyes on the road as if it held secrets he hadn't yet uncovered. The only solace to her nervous mind was his warm hand on her thigh, a silent reassurance that he was still there with her, even if his thoughts seemed a mile away.

She turned her attention to the road, realizing they were taking a route she didn't recognize. "You're not taking me to some sketchy motel, are you?" she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Joe chuckled, glancing at her with a twinkle in his eye. "Nah, I just wanted to admire the scenery," he said, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her thigh. "If I wanted to kidnap you, I'd be a little more creative than using my own car."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. "Good point," she conceded. They drove on in the comfortable silence, the hum of the car engine the only sound between them. As they approached a red light, Joe took the opportunity to shift in his seat, turning to her with a seriousness that made her pause mid-sentence.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice trailing off as she met his gaze. There was something in Joe's eyes she hadn't seen before, a vulnerability that made her heart swell. He reached over and took her hand, his thumb brushing against her knuckles in a rhythmic pattern.

"I just wanna look at you," he hummed simply, his gaze roaming over her features like a photograph he was memorizing. She felt a sudden shyness bloom in her chest, the weight of his stare making her self-conscious. She tried to laugh it off, but it came out as more of a nervous giggle. "You're so beautiful."

Her face warmed at his words, and she playfully swatted his hand away. "Joe, the light's been red for ages. You're gonna miss it," she said, but there was no bite to her tone.

He didn't break eye contact, his expression earnest. "I know these lights," he said, a half smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "We'll be here a while." His right moved to cradle her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

Her eyes searched his, the playfulness in her gaze slowly giving way to something deeper. "Joe…" she breathed, not quite sure what to make of the sudden shift in their usual dynamic.

The light turned green, and her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. No honks yet. She couldn't hold back her laughter, breaking the tension. "Alright, you've had your moment, now drive," she playfully ordered, her voice a mix of affection and amusement.

Joe's smile grew, and he finally turned back to the road, his hand falling away from her face to its spot on her thigh. His foot eased off the brake, and they rolled through the now-green light. She watched as the scenery passed by, her thoughts racing with the unspoken words that had filled the car. The rest of the drive was spent in a gentle quietude, their fingers intertwined, the occasional glance shared between them speaking volumes.

When they arrived at Joe's house, it was a stark contrast to the cozy warmth of her apartment. Expensive and sprawling, it was a testament to his success, with high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed a perfectly manicured lawn and a pool that reflected the moonlight. It stood alone on a hill, a good distance away from the other affluent homes in the immediate area.

He pulled into the garage and cut the engine, the silence enveloping them as the door rolled down behind them. She felt a peculiar mix of excitement and trepidation as Joe opened her door for her. She stepped out, her sneakers setting against the cold cement floor, her eyes scanning the room filled with various equipment and a few luxury cars. She couldn't help but feel a touch overwhelmed by the grandeur of his life, so different from her own.

"You taking it in?" Joe asked, his hand lingering on hers as he helped her out of the car.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. "Yeah," she said with a nod, "just a little…wowed by all of this." She gestured to the garage, taking in the grandeur of his home.

"Still?" He teased with that deep chuckle of his. "You've been in here at least twice before."

"Every time feels like the first," she replied, a hint of awe still in her voice as her eyes fell back to his. She could feel her breath catch as Joe leaned in, his gaze never leaving hers, his thumb still brushing against the back of her hand. The air in the garage grew thick with anticipation, and she stepped closer, her free hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

"You okay?" She asked again gently, her fingers brushing through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. His eyes searched hers, a faraway look swirling in his baby blues, one she hadn't seen before.

"Yeah," he murmured, "Just…thinking." He stepped closer, his other hand finding the small of her back, pulling her into him until she was nestled against his chest. She could feel the steady thump of his heart against her own, his warm breath fluttering against her face as he exhaled as if searching for the right words.

"I love you." He said finally, the words coming out so softly she wasn't sure if she'd heard him right.

She froze, her eyes widening. She had felt it, of course. The way he looked at her, the way he held her, the little things he did. But she hadn't expected to hear it, not yet. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared up at him, her eyes searching his, looking for any sign of a joke or tease. But Joe's face was earnest, his eyes holding hers without a trace of humor.

She searched for the words she hadn't yet said out loud, the words that had been growing in her chest for weeks now. They felt heavy on her tongue, but she knew they were true. "I love you too," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. The moment stretched out as if time had paused just for them.

Joe's face broke into a smile, the tension in his shoulders melting away. He leaned down to kiss her, a gentle, lingering kiss that spoke of love and relief. She felt her heart swell, her hands coming up to wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss. They broke apart, both breathing heavily, exhaling together as if staring in a mirror.

"I've been waiting to tell you," he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I didn't know if it was too soon, but I couldn't not say it."

She leaned into him, her hand still on his neck, her eyes searching his. "I've been wanting to say it," she said, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. "I just didn't expect it to come out like this."

Joe chuckled, his eyes shining with affection. "Well, I figured I'd make it a memory worth keeping," he said, his thumb still stroking her cheek. The silence that followed was peaceful, the only sound their synchronized breaths and the distant hum of the garage door motor.

She felt a warmth spread through her, a warmth that seemed to banish the cold from the concrete around them. "It's definitely one I'll hold onto," she said, her voice low and earnest. She leaned into his embrace, feeling the strength in his arms, the beat of his heart. It was perfect.

[hypnobeauty]

A Chance Encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 3)

summary: a story about how you and Hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. part 1 / part 2 cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, angst, fluff, hyun is unsure of herself, pre-squid game, slice of life. a/n: hello! i'm back with another part. it is probably the biggest one so far. i wish they were my barbies and i could make them kiss. anyway! i have quite a bit of the story drafted, we'll probably get into the relationship next part. it is out of my control, i never imagined i'd write so many parts lol enjoy xx comments are always appreciated ♥ taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @jeongteen @sunnysurvives @3leni @etta-huracan @honeyhyunju @basoressia - comment if you’d like to be tagged.

part 3. a door left open

the uber ride was awkward at first, the kind of silence where neither of you seemed to know where to start. hyun-ju sat stiffly beside you, her hands folded neatly on her lap, her gaze fixed firmly on the window. you could see her shoulders tense, and you thought about how tired she must be.

you decided to break the silence. “so, are you in pain? be honest.”

she turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “a little,” she admitted. “mostly just… tired.”

“that’s fair,” you said, giving her a sympathetic smile. “surgery’s no joke. i remember when my cousin had his wisdom teeth out—he tried to eat a cheeseburger the same day. ended up crying into his fries. don’t be like him.”

that earned a small giggle from her, and you took it as a good sign.

“you’re lucky i didn’t let ha-neul come with us,” you added, leaning in conspiratorially. “she would’ve pestered you with questions about your nose—she’s obsessed with noses right now. it’s been her only personality trait for weeks.”

this time, hyun-ju chuckled, soft but genuine. “what’s wrong with her nose?”

“nothing,” you said, grinning. “she just decided it’s not ‘cute’ enough. she almost picked one that would’ve made her look like michael jackson. i had to intervene.”

that got a laugh out of her—small, but real. “michael jackson?”

you nodded, feigning solemnity. “i told her, ‘ha-neul, your nose is fine. it’s perfect. no glitter gloves necessary.’ she almost went through with it anyway.”

hyun-ju laughed a bit more, finally relaxing a bit. the sound eased something in your chest.

“you’re good at this,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter now.

“at what?”

“making people feel comfortable.”

you shrugged, feeling a little shy. “oh. i just think it’s nice to be kind. and honestly? helping you was no big deal. it’s what anyone would do.”

“not anyone,” she said, looking at you for the first time since you got in the car.

*

when the uber pulled up to her building, you hopped out with her, offering to help her up to her apartment “do you need help getting upstairs?”

she shook her head firmly, already reaching for the door handle. “no, it’s fine. i can manage.”

“okay,” you said, “at least let me give you my number. if you need anything, just text me, okay?”

hyun-ju hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. you exchanged numbers, and she disappeared into her building while you climbed back into the car.

later that night, as she sat on her couch, her phone buzzed.

hey, it’s me. i hope you’re feeling better. please keep me updated, and don’t hesitate to ask for help. you deserve it too.

she read it almost immediately. you watched the little “read” notification appear at the bottom of the screen. but no reply came.

hyun stared at the message for a long time, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. she typed out a reply, then deleted it. typed another, then deleted that too. nothing felt right. nothing felt good enough. finally, she locked her phone and set it down,

*

as the uber pulled away from hyun-ju’s building, you leaned back in the seat, finally exhaling the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding. before you could fully settle, your phone buzzed in your pocket. ha-neul’s name lit up the screen.

“heeyy,” you answered, bracing yourself.

“what happened? you just disappeared! did i miss an emergency rhinoplasty?” her tone was playful but edged with curiosity.

you sighed. “no emergency. i just… ended up helping someone.”

“helping someone? who?”

you hesitated. “the woman from the waiting room. remember her, hyun-ju? she had just had surgery, and the clinic wouldn’t let her leave without someone to sign her out.”

there was a pause, then an incredulous laugh. “wait, so you ditched me for someone you barely know?”

“it wasn’t like that,” you said quickly. “she needed help, and no one else was there. i couldn’t just leave her.”

another pause, but this time, ha-neul’s tone softened. “you’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

“maybe,” you admitted.

“and she’s pretty, isn’t she?” ha-neul’s teasing edge was back.

you laughed, flustered. “i mean… i guess? that’s not the point.”

there was a beat of silence on the line. then, she snorted. “well, i didn’t know you were into girls.”

“what?” you sputtered.

“oh, don’t act surprised. i knew it since that day,” she teased mercilessly.

“to be honest,” you admitted, “me neither.”

“oh my god, you are so into her! i knew it! since the first time we saw her, i knew something was up.”

“i’m not into her,” you said, though your voice didn’t sound as convincing as you’d hoped.

“sure, sure,” she said, dragging out the words. “you’re just playing knight in shining armor for no reason at all.”

you rolled your eyes but smiled despite yourself. “goodbye, ha-neul.”

“oh, this isn’t over. i’m going to interrogate you later.”

you hung up with a laugh, shaking your head. from that day on, ha-neul teased you mercilessly—she found a way to always bring up hyun-ju, teasing you about how you’d never been so straightforward with anyone before, and even your friends got in on it after she spilled the story at dinner the following night.

the only problem? hyun-ju never replied.

*

you sent her a series of messages over the next week:

hey, how are you feeling today? let me know if you need anything.

i live close by—it’s no trouble at all.

two days later:

hey, stranger! ha-neul had her surgery today and looked worse than you, haha.

sorry, i didn’t mean to say you looked bad, just… well, bruised. are you okay?

hyun brought you up in therapy the following week, sitting across from her therapist—a kind, middle-aged woman who specialized in lgbtq+ mental health.

“i met someone,” hyun said hesitantly, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

her therapist’s face lit up. “that’s wonderful, hyun-ju. tell me about her.”

“she’s… nice,” hyun said, struggling to find the words. “she helped me after my surgery. we talked a little. she’s funny.”

“and how do you feel about her?”

hyun hesitated, then shrugged. “i don’t know. it feels… weird. like, she sees me. as me. and that’s good, but it’s scary too.”

her therapist nodded thoughtfully. “it sounds like you’re afraid of being vulnerable.”

hyun wasn’t sure what to say, so her therapist continued. “are you planning to stay in touch with her?”

“i think so,” hyun said cautiously. “but it’s scary. what if i say the wrong thing? what if i ruin it?”

her therapist smiled gently. “relationships—friendships, too—are about taking risks. you don’t have to have all the answers or the perfect words. just being honest and showing up is enough.  let her in a little and see what happens.”

hyun left the session feeling lighter, more hopeful.

*

but when the messages from you kept coming, her anxiety crept back in.

each time her phone buzzed, she felt a pang of guilt. she typed out replies over and over, but nothing felt good enough. her fear of saying the wrong thing left her paralyzed, so she said nothing at all.

three days after the last message:

i’m starting to get worried, hyun-ju. just let me know if you’re fine.

another day:

i pass by your building every day on my way to work. should i stop by?

and finally:

hey, hyun-ju. did something happen? sorry if i came on too strong—i was genuinely worried about you.

i can see you’re reading these, but you never reply… i get it. i’ll leave you alone now. sorry if i made you uncomfortable.

after that, the chat stayed silent. when she received your last message, guilt and regret gnawed at her. she wanted to scream. to hit something. to do anything but face the truth: she had let fear win again.

in her next therapy session, when the doctor asked about you, hyun-ju lied.

“it… didn’t work out,” she said quickly, not meeting her therapist’s eyes. “she probably realized we’re too different.”

the therapist gave her a kind smile but didn’t press further. “that’s okay, hyun-ju. not every connection works out. what matters is that you tried, and you allowed yourself to open up, even if only for a moment.”

hyun-ju nodded, but her stomach churned. she couldn’t bring herself to admit the truth—that she hadn’t replied to a single message.

*

you stared at the chat for a long time after sending that last message. the little grey avatar beside her name felt cold, distant—you wished she had a profile pic. your own days moved forward, though you found yourself thinking of her often. you reread your messages to her, trying to pinpoint where you’d gone wrong. even ha-neul, who had teased you endlessly at first, stopped mentioning her after seeing how the silence weighed on you.

life went on. but hyun-ju had awakened in you feelings you had never taken seriously before and now you couldn’t help feeling like something had been left unresolved.

*

a month later, you were standing in line at your favorite café, eyes scanning the pastry display as you tried to choose something to pair with your cappuccino.

unbeknownst to you, at a table near the window, hyun-ju sat with her notebook, calculating the cost of her next procedure. she sipped her coffee absentmindedly, the barista’s voice barely registering as they called out a name—your name.

her pen froze mid-stroke. it wasn’t a common name. could it really be you? as she told herself it wasn’t, she heard your laugh, warm and unmistakable. her head snapped up, and there you were, joking with the barista as they handed you a cup and a paper bag.

hyun-ju stared, her heart pounding. you thanked them and turned toward the door, completely unaware of her. her legs moved before her mind could catch up. one moment she was sitting; the next, she was standing in front of you, her hand gripping your arm.

you had just reached the door when you felt a hand on your arm and a soft voice behind you saying your name. you turned, startled, and found yourself in front of her.

“can w—can we talk?” she asked, her voice low but firm. “please.”

you looked up from her hand—her nails were painted a soft blush pink and you made a mental note to ask her what nail polish it was—, and that familiar floral scent reached your nose. her expression was a mix of hope, fear, and determination.

face-to-face with hyun-ju, you smiled softly. “of course.”

[icyfox62]

The sad thing is, while I get this is a comparison, at this point, I also understand a lot of words really just don’t feel safe in the hands of a lot of people. Especially after watching so many people, mainly on TikTok, imagine themselves in/put themselves through the wringer for clout.

TBF, it’s not that anyone officially “owns” the word. It’s that so many people using the word genuinely believe themselves to have lost everything. And no, I’m not saying this to down people that just lost their livelihoods.

I’m talking about the people so dependent on being constantly feed content that they feel they can’t function without it. This addiction to fast trends and letting your life run on autopilot paths designed by an algorithm, especially TikTok, is not normal. I understand TikTok and rednote don’t operate completely the same. However, considering that this highly emotionally charged behavior and comparisons are coming from people on an app notorious for word censorship (grape and k1ll) while also having your status (if that’s what you care about) potentially rely heavily on increasingly extreme and/or unique scenarios, it’s not shocking to see so many use emotionally heavy words. The extremes on TikTok are part of what fueled the app.

And all of this is without addressing the multiple elephants in the room.

That fact that so many easily found RedNote (despite not knowing the most commonly used language on the app) through the same algorithms that tell them what’s the next topic to fawn over or hate.

The number of people that have already developed a cult-like worship of RedNote (despite the fact that the original, non-american users are trying to warn them. These same original users also ironically being silenced by the new american users of all people). Seriously, if you like the app, fine. I can’t stop anyone from doing what they want. But so many people are so dedicated to it already despite only being on it for a few days max. Exercise some healthy suspicion at least a little. Don’t throw all of your cards on the table when the game just began.

The idolization of Asian people and culture as a trend is deeply disturbing. There’s been this narrative that sinophobia is the only reason people are not using rednote. Which is ironic and sad when you remember the same people praising rednote and Asian culture now were quite often bullying asians in the us for their lunches in school, their accents, their appearance. A lot of these people are the same ones that told Asians to go back to China (despite all Asians not being Chinese). Some many people don’t seem to realize or care that just like in the us, there is a glamorized image that is usually being presented first. The people and images encountered on this app, especially in the first few months, are heavily biased even form people with the best intentions. No, everything in china is not better just like everything in the us isn’t great either.

The fact that so many people are comfortable with an app that’s censoring whole topics that they don’t care to exercise caution on or even know about as they are receiving the attention they’ve being craving. Let’s be honest, they’re extremely lucky that no one has blatantly tried to take advantage of their gullibility yet.

The fact that this is another incident of “I hate my country and instead of doing something to improve it, I’ll not only bash it, I’ll jump to the opposite end of the spectrum.” Listen, Chinese people aren’t your enemy. But running headfirst into another app from a country that puts up firewalls and heavily censors its own citizens is not the solution to your problems you think it is. TikTok and douyin are separated despite being from the same parent company. Ever stop to think why? Or realize that if TikTok can be set aside for non Chinese citizens, couldn’t a similar split happen to rednote.

The way americans use such heavy word as "refugee" when talking about switching from TikTok to RedNote drives me mad. You just switched from one brainrot Chinese app to another, stop fucking put yourself on a par with people who lost their homes.

[scoupsakakitty]

hii!! i love your works and was wondering if you could write a nana tour Vernon fic, where when they go to vernon's room seungkwan has to go in and check first because vernon and reader were together and then he tells reader to hide in the washroom or something?? you can write it as you wish, and please ignore if you're not comfortable

Hidden Moments | idol!Vernon x Reader | fluff

The soft hum of conversation from the hallway grew louder as Vernon closed his hotel room door behind him. You leaned against the small desk, watching him with a lazy smile as he set his phone down on the nightstand.

“Think they’re going to catch on soon?” you asked, teasingly, referring to the other members of Seventeen.

He shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. “If we keep sneaking around like this, maybe. But I think we’re doing okay so far.���

Your relationship wasn’t a complete secret, but it wasn’t exactly public knowledge either. The two of you had been seeing each other for a while now, quietly stealing moments whenever Vernon’s chaotic schedule allowed.

He crossed the room, standing in front of you and placing his hands gently on your waist. “I like this though,” he murmured, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “It’s just us for a while.”

The moment felt warm, intimate and then there was a knock at the door.

Both of you froze.

“Vernon? Open up, I need something,” Seungkwan’s voice called from the hallway.

Vernon’s eyes widened slightly as he glanced toward the door. “Uh, give me a second!” he replied, his voice steady despite the panic in his expression.

You bit your lip to hold back a laugh. “He can’t see me here,” you whispered, already moving toward the bathroom.

Vernon nodded quickly, ushering you toward the door with a sheepish smile. “Stay here,” he whispered before you slipped inside.

Moments later, you heard the room door open, followed by the unmistakable voice of Seungkwan.

“Why did you take so long?” Seungkwan asked suspiciously.

“I was… uh, cleaning up a bit,” Vernon lied.

“Cleaning? Really?”

The sound of footsteps made you tense.

“Wait, did you have someone in here?” Seungkwan’s tone was accusatory, and you imagined him narrowing his eyes at Vernon.

“No! What are you talking about?” Vernon said, a little too quickly.

“I don’t believe you,” Seungkwan replied, his voice dramatic. “I’m going to check.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening.

“Hyung, seriously, there’s nothing—”

But Seungkwan didn’t wait for Vernon to finish. The sound of approaching footsteps made your heart race. You barely had time to think before the bathroom door creaked open.

Seungkwan peeked inside, his gaze falling on you crouched awkwardly by the sink. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“Oh,” he said flatly, blinking a few times. Then, he turned back to Vernon, who stood behind him looking sheepish. “You’re unbelievable.”

Vernon scratched the back of his neck. “I can explain…”

Seungkwan raised a hand to stop him. “No need. I’m just going to pretend I didn’t see anything. But next time,” he looked back at you, “hide better.”

With that, Seungkwan left, muttering something about how he deserved an award for putting up with everyone.

When the door closed, Vernon let out a breath of relief, turning to face you as you stepped out of the bathroom.

“Well,” you said, trying not to laugh, “that could’ve gone worse.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Next time, we’re locking the door.”

You grinned, pulling him into a hug. “Next time, we’ll be more careful.”

“Deal,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Despite the close call, you couldn’t help but feel that moments like these messy, imperfect, and shared only with Vernon were your favorites.

————————————————————————————-

[practicalgauntlet]

Alexithymia

(n.) Inability to describe emotions verbally

PART TWO

Synopsis- You can't get what happened out of your head and now Spencer is acting weird.

Category- Fluff

Notes- Tension, mutual pining, short one-shot, confessions without words, last part, still don't believe in Dom!Spencer, soft-core flirting, no smut, at least not for this one-shot, no use of Y/N or the appearance/gender identity for the reader, I'm OBSESSED with Spencer in the early seasons (1-6).

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It had been three weeks since Spencer caressed your cheek, the echo of his touch still plaguing your dreams. At one point, the week and a half mark, you would wake up at the crack of dawn with images of gentle touches and bright smiles.

There is one thing though, that has set your teeth on edge more than the lingering thoughts and desperate yearning that has taken hold of you. Spencer was different. No longer was he the bashful genius you fell for. Now, instead of shying away from you, it seemed as if he was determined to be as close as socially acceptable.

A hand on the small of your back, the back of his knuckles brushing against yours as he walked alongside you, his shoulder pressed against yours as he sat next to you at the bar. Every time the two of you were in the same room, he was glued to your side. And to make matters worse (better?) you found yourself doing the same exact thing.

If he didn't automatically greet you when you entered the bullpen, you were walking up to him with a face-stretching smile, if he wasn't immediately at your side on the jet, you were taking the seat right next to him. Despite the newfound closeness you and Spencer had fallen into, it wasn't quite as intimate as that night on the jet.

"What are you thinking about?" Spencer asked, his chin on his hand as his elbow rested on his desk.

You hadn't realized you had zoned out, too burnt out on paperwork to properly think anymore. "I think I just need a break." You say with a sigh, leaning back in your chair to pop your back and stretch your shoulders.

Spencer hummed, never once taking his eyes off you. For a split second, you could have sworn his eyes darted to the exposed sliver of skin that was revealed when your shirt rode up. But that flicker of something was gone so fast you figured you imagined it.

"I can help with that."

Spencer stands and holds his hand out to you. You take it, relishing in the way his soft hands slotted with yours, your callouses from the government-issued gun matched his. In that moment you could think about anything else other than how perfectly he fit with you.

Spencer led you through headquarters, pulling you down the hallway and into the breakroom. You said nothing as you curiously watched him gather some snacks and two bottles of water, content to wait until he revealed his plans.

You were pulled into an elevator and then up a flight of stairs until you were staining alone with Spencer on the roof of the building. The cool spring air was cold enough to keep you from overheating when Spencer looked over his shoulder and sent you the most brilliant smile you'd ever seen.

Finally done with the suspense, though you suppose you were weak enough to let him lead you across the world without a word, you speak up. "What are we doing, Spence?" You couldn't help the laughter that laced your words, too excited, happy, and infatuated to do anything else.

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course, I do. What kind of question is that?"

"Then just let me take care of you."

That shut you up real quick. Spencer let go of your hand in favor of walking further onto the roof. He squatted down, placing the snacks and water on the ground before waving you over. You obliged, bending down to sit next to him.

"Wait!" He says suddenly, stopping you mid-bend. Before you can question him, he shucks off his blazer and lays it beside him. With a pat, he motions you to sit. "There."

"I can't sit on your jacket, you need it."

"Just sit, please?"

You roll your eyes, the action only done to stop yourself from shouting from the rooftop that you were completely and undeniably in love with this man. "Okay."

Once you were sat down, Spencer pulled something out of his pocket. It was a small, blue MP3 player wrapped up in earbuds. He untangles the wires and turns on the devices, clicking down a list before he settles on a song. With one earbud in his ear, he holds the other out to you.

"Spencer..." You were speechless. Not only did he remember your preferred method of decompression, but he also curated an environment for you to do so. To say you were head over heels was an understatement.

"Don't talk, just listen."

You lay down, Spencer following suit with his arms crossed behind his head, and tune into the melody that started playing.

It was a song you knew from the first beat. An old song, something your grandmother listened to all the time. It started slow, with Elvis's deep voice starting the beginning verse.

Did he know that this was one of the most famous love songs ever written? Of course he did, he's a very smart man, and the lyrics were tooth rottingly sweet. But did he know the connotation of sharing a song like this with someone? Knowing Spencer, probably not.

Spencer meant for you to relax, to take a break from the pile of paperwork on your desk, not spiral into a void of overthinking. You couldn't help it though. Your gut told you that Spencer was trying to tell you something, with the touches and the glances and the eye contact. This should have been the nail in the coffin for your theory. But why would someone as unique and extraordinary as him, reciprocate the feelings of someone so mundane and ordinary in comparison?

A weight on your hand draws you out of your reverie, pulling your attention to the soft touch of Spencer. You turn to him, only to find him already looking at you. The heavy emotion in his gaze floored you, swirling pools of admiration and affection that made his sparkling brown eyes so much deeper- so much more intense.

You were shoulder to shoulder, the soft midday breeze cooling your rapidly heating cheeks. The two of you say nothing, only staring at each other with unending affection. Elvis's voice fades into a lovely classical number and Spencer turns on his side and props himself up on his elbow. He was leaning over you now, his eyes flickering back and forth from your lips to your eyes and back again.

You were frozen to the spot, unable to move for fear of disrupting the very real feeling daydream. But the warmth of Spencer as he leaned in ever so slowly- as if he were giving you time to pull away- reminded you that this was reality and not a figment of your imagination.

"Is this okay?" He whispers, lips a hair's breadth from your awaiting lips.

Instead of responding with words, you grab the collar of his shirt with shaky hands and pull him to you. His lips were as soft and inviting as you imagined them to be. Spencer was still for a second, the two of you not moving an inch, but after the brief surprise bled into excitement, he wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled you closer.

He angled his head to the side, allowing his lips to slot against yours like they were made for each other. Your hands found solace on his shoulders, gripping them for dear life as the two of you part for air.

Spencer leaned his forehead against yours, breath erratic as he let out a disbelieving chuckle. You drew your hand up, tracing his shoulder and neck until you were cradling his cheek. You couldn't find the words to express how you felt in that moment, too caught up in everything that was Spencer.

You pull him back to you, wrapping your arms around him and tangling your fingers in his hair. Spencer let out a soft groan, meeting your lips with equal fervor. You were pressed tighter against him, like Spencer couldn't get close enough to you.

It felt like you were floating, your body weightless and heavy all at the same time. Your skin was burning from where he touched you, blazing trails drawing patterns across your waist and back. Every time one of you pulled back, the other only allowed a breath or two before you were joined again.

"I can't believe this..." Spencer murmured against your lips like he was too afraid to part for even a second.

"Believe what?" Just so you could pull air into your lungs, you parted and pressed your forehead against his.

"That you like me back."

"How could I not like you back?"

Spencer's eyes went from firey and passionate to vulnerable in a split second. You hated that he had such low self-esteem when it came to love and attraction. Instead of allowing him to stew on whatever ridiculous reasons his harsh brain could come up with, you lean in and kiss his worries away.

[yourstardarling]

Aura of the air signs

In astrology, Air signs have a unique ability to influence the atmosphere around them. They are the unseen force that set the tone for interactions, shaping the environment through communication, ideas and their social energy. Like the air itself, they move seamlessly through spaces allowing themselves to be felt. They create impactful conversations and make light connections that are remembered long after they’re gone.

What this means is that the placement of air signs in your chart (and the planetary influences tied to them) defines the social energy you bring into an environment. It tells the story of how people perceive you and the vibe you exude in social settings. This unintentionally makes them natural centers of attention since their presence stirs the air around them. Whether that be through conversation, laughter, or even their energy. It’s as though the air signs pass through the atmosphere, leaving it forever changed.

Gemini’s air is one filled with chatter and laughter. It is a whirlwind of excitement and curiosity, like a warm summer breeze. They are the ones that will tell you fun facts about a random topic which intrigues them. Conversations are their stronghold, displaying that they can keep up with anyone from different backgrounds. This often can be very surface level, but Geminis have an ability to pull out deep conversations out of people. One reason is that they are very open to communication which leaves others to feel at ease to open up to them. However, the main factor is that Geminis know how to ask the right questions and stir a conversation. They don’t shy away from their curiosity which makes others intrigued to communicate. There is a quickness to their enigmatic air, often leaving as quickly as they came. Behind them they leave inspiration, knowledge, and unforgettable conversations. I always say Geminis remind me of the phrase “Gone with the wind”. They breeze through life, often leaving others to question if their breeze was a figment of their imagination.

Libras air is graceful and alluring, carrying a sense of balance that smooths out even the most chaotic environments. It is like a crisp cool autumn breeze, refreshing and filled with moisture. There’s something about their aura that draws people in, making you feel safe and at ease in their presence. Like you can’t help, but like them and get reeled into their charming character. Their air is a mix of sweet perfumes and delicate body oils that linger, creating an irresistible atmosphere. “Love is in the air” is their life motto and they carry that with them wherever they go. Whether intentionally or not, Libras air feels like a soft seduction. They keep eye contact in conversations, know how to balance intellectual stimulation and make cheeky comments. At first glance it may feel like they are flirting, but later realize it is just a natural part of their charm. Libras know how to make others like them and the right things to say to gain admiration. This why sometimes their kindness may come across as being fake. However, don’t let that fool you, they are very passionate individuals that love to debate. Even when disagreements arise they seem to have an air of elegance, leaving those involved feeling both challenged and intrigued.

Aquarius air is one brimming with disruption and chaos. It’s like a storm of winds that shake up everything in its path. This air stirs the minds and hearts of those around them, pushing boundaries and forcing change. Lightening is a significant symbol for Aquas because of the shock factor they leave behind. People are polarized by their unconventional conversations and ideas. They can seem like the less inviting among the air signs, but once you break the ice you can’t help being pulled into the storm. The storm energy of Aquarius comes from their over-analyzation of what is going on around them. So many neurons are being fired at once which can lead to overstimulation for themselves and people they talk to. They are very bright though and don’t like their intelligence to be downplayed. When in their vicinity, you feel this rush of electricity to talk about and do anything. They bring to you a foreign perspective. If you want to feel renewed and need new ideas, Aquarius is the one you go to.

Planetary Influence

The heavenly bodies have a direct impact on how air moves in a chart. For air specifically, there is a need for clarity. If there are too many planets, it can be hard for the air to push through. Their is a since of lightness and weightlessness that air signs need in order to properly function. Too many placements leads to overstimulation and a tendency to be reclusive in their minds. They don’t loose their social factor, but it makes them big over thinkers. Air moves the best when the energy is free.

Sun: The suns influence in air signs actually brings about its own set of challenges. Out of the 3, only Gemini has a good relationship to the Sun. It is in Fall in libra and in detriment in Aquarius. What this tells me is that the Sun finds it hard to shine and express itself in an environment that is so focused on other people. How can you shine for yourself when you’re always worried about the social needs of others. The light of the air signs can feel like clouds blocking the sun. They are not shining for just themselves, but for the social group around them as well.

Moon: The moon in air signs brings a nurturing factor towards conversations and communication. They know how to make people feel safe to open up to them about their throughts and opinions. A keen ability to analyze their close one’s emotions. The downside though is a detachment from their feelings. They often try to process their inner world from an intellectual landscape rather than feeling them through. This can make them be unreadable to other people.

Mercury: This is the best friend of the air signs. Mercury does really well in all 3 signs. It allows them to be able to do what they do best, communication. Mercury in the air signs make their mental capacity very sharp and ready to navigate any topics of discussion. These are very smart individuals that have a reservoir of information.

Venus: In the realm of love, the air signs can be extremely flirtatious and misleading. They will reel you in with their words and stimulation, but you will feel caught off guard by their detachment. It feels like love is a game to them. They may find it hard to build lasting connections because of their need to be free. It’s like they are up in the air which makes it hard to feel like you can grasp them.

Mars: The planet of war in the air signs causes unnecessary challenges surrounding interactions and communication. Here the air becomes hot like the desert, making it hard to breathe. The slightest misunderstanding can lead to conflict for these individuals. It is important for you to watch what you say and know when to defend yourself when necessary. The strength of mars makes them good debaters, but people can often say things to rage bait you.

Jupiter: This planet brings a strong presence within the air signs. Their ideas deeply shape their beliefs and faith. Wisdom can be found through their interactions with other people. However, information overload can become a problem for air Jupiters. Faith can also be a struggle for air Jupiter’s as they operate based on factual data instead of just pure belief: they need things to make sense.

Saturn: Now yall already know, Saturn is gonna bring a sense of heaviness in the air. It can feel like they have a responsibility towards the social and intellectual aspect of there environments. The weight of this can be heavy on them making them uncomfortable and anxious about forming relationships. However, they learn how to place boundaries and be very selective about who is in their presence. Saturn does pretty well in the air signs since it is in Domicile in Aquarius and Exalted in Libra. I think it’s because Saturn is focused on maintaining order and in the air it knows how to maintain social order. It becomes unbiased because it isn’t so easily attached. This allows it to be able to make good judgement.

___

Whether through the ideas they inspire, the emotions they evoke, or the stories they leave behind, the air signs remain a lingering presence in their environment. They are seamlessly both attached and free from societal influences at the same time. Catch them if you can and learn from the short, but worthwhile interactions.

-yourStardarling

[calaisreno]

Re-Read Recs: Victorian Edition

Thanks to @totallysilvergirl for pointing me to this post by @acethatlovesdinos asking for more Victorian Johnlock. Your timing is great; I was just compiling a list of Victorian setting fics for my next RRR post!

If you go searching specifically for Johnlock in a Victorian setting, part of the problem, as always, will be finding things. As admirable as the AO3 tagging system is, when you're searching for something specific, you still have to dig a bit.

Many people, myself included, assign all their Victorian stories to the fandom tag "Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle."

But some writers add "Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle" to all their stories, including those set in BBC or other adaptations, because they wish to attribute the characters' creator.

And some do not use the ACD tag at all because their stories, even those in a Victorian setting, are inspired by the BBC adaptation and imagined with those characters.

There are other tags: Victorian, Victorian Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Victorian Holmes/Watson, Victorian Johnlock.

(My own approach: readers may imagine whatever actors they prefer; I tag by the setting. Even so, I've tagged stories set in the 1920s and 1820s as ACD, even though these are outside of the Victorian Era.)

There is no one-click method to separate out all the stories, and only the stories, where Watson and Holmes are together in a Victorian setting. AO3 lets us use tags however we wish; it's a folksonomy, a collaborative system. For the number and variety of stories contained there, it is the most practical method.

You can search an individual author's works, filtering and sorting by kudos, hits, relationships, tags, and other things. You can search anyone's bookmarks in the same way. (I'm always surprised when people don't know this!)

If you search my works, for example, you will find 60 stories in the Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle fandom. A couple of those are tagged 'timetravel,' so if you don't want that, you can exclude that tag. If you don't want any stories with Mary Morstan married to John Watson, you can exclude John Watson/Mary Morstan under Relationships.

However you search, if you filter your search results by hits or kudos, you will find that stories in the ACD/Victorian Johnlock category have many fewer of these. AO3 went live only a year or so before BBC Sherlock began to air, and it was one of the top fandoms for many years. There are a huge number of stories in the BBC fandom.

But there are dedicated and talented authors who have been writing Holmes/Watson for a long time, and today I'd like to point you towards a few of them. Here are some of my favorite re-reads:

Memento Vivere - @mydogwatson - The life stories of Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes and John Watson. An alternate history.

My Gentle Sin Is This - janeofarc - It takes a near miss for Holmes to realize that he cannot imagine his life without Watson.

Missing Pages - @PlaidAdder - a group of interlinked short stories (most between 2000 and 7000 words) which tell the story of how Holmes and Watson really came to be separated at the Reichenbach Falls, and how they found each other again

Missing - @Random_Nexus - Holmes is missing. Watson is trying to figure out where he is and what happened.

Oubliette - gardnerhill - A series: a treatise on love and grief. Watson is kidnapped by a gang; Holmes must find him before it's too late.

Laphroaig in the Lumber Room - wordybirdy - Holmes & Watson discover a bottle of Laphroaig inside the lumber room at Baker Street. A drinking game of truth results in intimate confessions.

All of these authors have written many excellent Victorian Holmes/Watson fics. But there are many more you should look at if you want to read more of our boys in their original canon setting. I think I will have to write a Part 2 for this post!

Thanks for reblogging!

@totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes

@redmondcollege @raina-at @7-percent @lhrinchelsea

@a-victorian-girl @ghostofnuggetspast @friday411

@meetinginsamarra @inevitably-johnlocked @copperplatebeech

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: hellooo! could you please write one where dean and sam are having their usual arguments but the sister is so sick of their shit, tried to tell them to get a grip and they come to their senses. but then flash forward the boys are ACTUALLY fighting, like throwing punches, and she gets caught by one of them? thanks, love your work!! <3

A/N: Hiiiiii!!! Thank you so much. I love this request and I hope I wrote it in a way you were imagining. If not, send me another request! As always requests are open. You can request anything you want, even if it’s something I’ve already written. Thanks everyone!!

Sam and Dean Winchester X Sister!Reader

I stood at the edge of the living room, eyes fixed on the familiar scene unfolding in front of me. Dean’s voice was as sharp as ever, cutting through the thick air of tension. The words were bitter, like venom spilling out of his mouth, each sentence more loaded than the last.

“Sam, you don’t get it. We don’t have the luxury of time. People are dying out there!”

I watched Sam, his jaw clenched, his posture rigid with barely contained fury. He leaned forward, hands planted firmly on the table between them. “You’re acting like we’re invincible, Dean! Like we don’t need a plan—like we can’t think through this!”

The frustration in Sam’s voice echoed in my chest like a drumbeat. But the thing that had finally snapped my restraint wasn’t their words—it was the way their anger was bleeding into everything. Every argument. Every conversation. It was relentless, a storm that never seemed to stop. I had been trying to hold onto whatever semblance of peace I could, but today… today I couldn’t take it anymore.

I could feel my heartbeat in my ears, that familiar surge of adrenaline clawing up my spine as I paced around the room, eyes darting from one brother to the other. My hands trembled by my sides, but it wasn’t just from the anger. It was the heartbreak—the exhaustion.

It had been happening for weeks. Every day, every single fight felt like it was tearing us apart. The same stupid arguments. The same stubbornness. And it wasn’t even about the monsters anymore. It was about us. The Winchesters. Our family.

And I was sick of it.

“Enough.” My voice cut through their bickering like a knife. The room froze in an instant.

Dean’s eyes snapped to me, that familiar scowl on his face as he straightened up from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter. “Y/N, don’t—”

“No,” I interrupted, my voice shaking, but this time with raw emotion. “No more. I can’t do this anymore. You two are tearing me apart.” I stepped forward, my chest tight with the weight of what I was about to say. “Every time you fight, it’s hurting everyone around you. Do you even see that? Do you realize what it’s doing to me?”

Dean’s expression faltered for a split second, but it was gone just as quickly, his jaw setting again, like a wall coming down. Sam, too, was silent, his eyes fixed on me, but I could see the flicker of guilt in his gaze.

I felt the tears pricking behind my eyes, threatening to spill over. “I’m your sister, goddamn it. And every time you fight, it feels like I’m invisible. Like I’m just the collateral damage. It’s not just your war anymore, okay? It’s all of ours. But I’m the one stuck in the middle, cleaning up the mess. And I can’t… I can’t do it anymore.”

My voice cracked with the last words, the weight of the admission crashing over me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been holding in until it all came pouring out. The years of trying to keep things together. The endless struggles. But this—this constant fighting, the endless cycle of hate and misunderstanding—was the last straw.

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, I turned and stormed out of the room, unable to look at either of them. I couldn’t. I needed to get away. The walls were closing in. I ran to my room and I slammed the door behind me, the sound echoing through the hallway. The cool, dim light of my room offered no comfort. I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in my hands. The tears I had been fighting for so long finally broke free, each one a painful reminder of how far we’d fallen.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been lying there, the muffled voices of my brothers drifting from the living room, distant and eventually fading into silence. For a moment, I allowed myself to hope they’d finally come to their senses. The tension in the air lifted, and I let out a shaky sigh of relief. I rolled over, searching for something to occupy my mind, anything to fill the quiet space between the cracks of everything left unsaid.

It felt peaceful—finally.

And then it didn’t.

A thud. A grunt. A crash. The unmistakable sounds of a fight.

My heart dropped. I knew what it was. It wasn’t the first time.

I shot out of bed, adrenaline surging through me. My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms as I sprinted down the hallway. Every step felt like it was dragging me deeper into the chaos that had consumed our family. I didn’t care if I was still raw from the argument. I didn’t care if my own heart was shattered.

I pushed through the door, eyes wide, breath ragged. Dean and Sam were on the floor, fists flying, faces twisted in rage.

"Stop!" I screamed, my voice hoarse and desperate.

But they didn’t stop. They didn’t even look up. Sam’s fist connect with Dean’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. And then Dean retaliated, throwing his own punch, and for a split second, I watched in horror as they both swung at each other, neither one holding back.

“No! Stop! Please, stop!” My voice cracked as I rushed forward, desperate to break it up, but I wasn’t fast enough.

They continued to swing, and this time one of their fists caught me by accident. The world around me seemed to slow down in that moment. The knuckles collided with the side of my face, and everything went black for an instant. I felt my body hit the floor with a sickening thud, the sharp pain in my head drowning out everything else.

Blood filled my mouth, and I could taste the metallic tang of it. I gasped for air, but it felt like the room was spinning. I tried to get up, but my legs wouldn’t hold me. My body was too heavy, too overwhelmed with pain.

Tears stung my eyes as I lay on the floor, blood dripping from my lips. I couldn’t believe it—couldn’t understand how we’d gotten to this point. How we—we—had let things get so bad.

“Y/N!” Dean’s voice shattered through the haze. He dropped down next to me, panic overtaking his features. “Shit… kid, don’t move. Don’t move, okay? You’re gonna need stitches.”

But I couldn’t hear him. My mind was clouded, my vision fading. I choked back another sob, my hands instinctively reaching up to touch the fresh wound on my face. The pain was blinding. I felt myself shaking violently, my body not able to handle the weight of it all—the physical pain, the emotional pain, the betrayal of it all.

“Why?” I whispered, my voice barely a breath. I turned my head to look at them, but my vision was swimming with tears. “Why do you keep doing this? You’re brothers. You’re supposed to protect each other. Look at me! Look at what you’ve done to me!”

Dean looked as if he had been slapped, his face pale and guilt-ridden, his lips trembling with words he couldn’t form. Sam, who had been hovering in the background, now moved forward slowly, his hands trembling as he knelt beside me.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sam said quietly, his voice cracked with emotion. He reached for my hand, but I yanked it away.

“I don’t want your apology!” I screamed through the blood in my mouth, the words raw and painful. “I don’t want anything from you right now. I just… I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Sam looked like he was about to say something, but I was already staggering to my feet, my vision still blurry, my head spinning.

“No, you’re not helping!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “I’ll fix it. I’ll fix myself.” And with that, I rushed toward the bathroom, my legs unsteady beneath me, my heart pounding with each step.

I slammed the door behind me, locking it before either of them could follow. I couldn’t let them fix it. Not yet. Not when they were still at war with each other. I had to do it myself.

I grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink, my hands trembling as I fumbled with the supplies. I wasn’t sure what I was doing. I wasn’t sure I could even see straight through the tears and dizziness that clouded my vision, but I couldn’t stop. I had to fix it. I had to fix myself.

I dug the needle from the kit, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold onto it. not even registering the pain as I pressed it into my skin. I was too dizzy to see straight, too lost in my pain to think clearly. The needle jabbed into my skin, but the agony of it was nothing compared to the emotional ache. My hands were shaking uncontrollably now, the stitches coming out uneven and jagged. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t. I couldn’t see the wound, couldn’t tell where I was supposed to stitch, but I pushed through the agony anyway, my body wracked with sobs. Every breath felt like it was going to tear me apart.

“Y/N, open the door,” I heard Dean’s voice from the other side, pleading. “Please. Please, we’re so sorry.”

“I don’t care!” I screamed through the door, the words strangled by tears. “You should’ve cared before! You should’ve seen what this was doing to me! To all of us!” You whimpered before slammed your hand down on the bathroom sink. “Our fucking family!”

The sobs wracked my body, my chest tightening with every breath. The blood dripped steadily from my lip, staining my shirt and the bathroom counter. I felt myself getting weaker by the second.

“We’re so sorry. Please let us help,” Sam’s voice came through the door, soft, desperate. “Let us help you, bug.” His voice was quiet, gentle, and broken.

“I don’t want your help!” I sobbed, my voice breaking. “I wanted you to stop fighting! I wanted you to care about me. About us.”

But the pain was too much. The dizziness too overwhelming. I could barely keep my eyes open, but I still fought, pressing the needle into my skin.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Both of them rushed in, their faces stricken with horror at the sight of me, hunched over the sink, blood staining the bathroom floor. Dean moved toward me, but I pulled away, backing into the corner.

“I told you,” I whispered hoarsely, my voice ragged with exhaustion, “I don’t want your help.” The words felt like sandpaper scraping against my throat. Maybe I was scared. Scared of how much this had gotten out of control. Scared of how much I’d let it tear me apart.

Dean’s expression twisted in anguish, and for a moment, I saw it. The guilt. The understanding that this was bigger than a typical fight. That I wasn’t just angry—I was devastated.

He dropped to his knees in front of me, the movement quick, but careful. His eyes locked on mine, full of regret, the weight of it pressing down on us both. He reached for me slowly, his hand hovering near my face. "We didn’t mean for it to get this bad, Y/N. We just…" He trailed off, swallowing hard as if the words were too difficult to say. "We didn’t know how to stop."

I felt the tears coming again, but this time, it was different. They weren’t angry, not fiery and sharp like before. This was something quieter, deeper. The rage had burned itself out, leaving only aching sorrow in its wake.

“I know,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a broken breath, “But… you can’t fix it with more pain.” My chest tightened with each word, the weight of everything pressing down on me like a storm I couldn’t outrun.

Sam’s face crumpled at my words, and I saw his jaw tighten as he stepped forward, his eyes darting from my blood-streaked face to the needle still clenched tightly in my hand. His hands shook as he reached for it, and when his fingers brushed against mine, I flinched, my body wracked with a fresh wave of pain.

“Y/N, please.” His voice broke through my haze of pain, gentle but firm. "Let me do it.”

I felt the sting of the needle being pried from my hand. For a moment, I wanted to pull it back, to insist I could finish it myself, but then I saw Sam’s face. The look of terror in his eyes. He knew me. He knew I didn’t do this. I didn’t stitch myself up—they always did that for me. Always. The realization hit him hard, the understanding that I had reached a point where I couldn’t rely on them, not even when things got this bad. And it was that look of pain in his eyes, that unspoken hurt, that made everything feel even worse.

Sam grimaced when he saw the uneven, jagged stitches I’d attempted—some parts too tight, others barely holding together. The pain from them was unbearable, but it wasn’t the physical pain that tore at me. It was the fact that I had been forced to do this alone. That I couldn’t trust them to see the full extent of what I was feeling.

He exhaled sharply and immediately set to work, pulling the needle through my skin with slow, meticulous care. My body tensed in response, and I couldn’t help but whimper as the needle pierced me again. The pain was excruciating, a deep, fiery throb that seemed to echo in every bone, every muscle.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Sam murmured, his voice so soothing it felt like the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve got you.” But the words didn’t make the pain go away.

I felt every movement of the needle, every tug of the thread, and the sheer agony of it made my whole body quake. It was like he was stitching up my heart with every pull, each stitch a reminder of everything that had gone wrong. The tears kept coming, hot and bitter, spilling down my cheeks without my permission.

Dean moved in closer, his hand brushing my hair out of my face, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. His fingers were gentle as they touched me—like he was scared I might shatter under his touch. I was shattering though, all around the edges.

“I’m so sorry,” Dean murmured, his voice low and raw, barely audible above the pounding in my head. “We never should’ve let it get this far. I didn’t see what we were doing to you, Y/N. We didn’t see how bad it was.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold onto the last shred of control I had left. The pain from the stitches was bad—so bad—but what hurt more was hearing the pain in his voice. Dean wasn’t supposed to sound like this. He was supposed to be the strong one, the one who fixed things. But now? Now, he was just as broken as I was.

“It’s not just the fights,” I whispered between sobs, my voice tight with the effort of speaking through the agony. “It’s everything. It’s how we’ve been falling apart for so long, and you didn’t even see it.”

Sam’s hands were steady, but his expression was pained, and I could see the way his jaw clenched as he worked, each stitch a slow promise that he was here, that he wasn’t going anywhere. But it didn’t stop the pain. The physical pain, the emotional pain. It didn’t stop me from feeling like I was drowning in it.

Dean leaned closer, his breath soft against my ear. “We’re here now, Y/N. We’re gonna fix it. We’re gonna fix us.”

I could feel his words, but I wasn’t sure if I could believe them. I wasn’t sure if any of us could ever fix what was broken. Not completely.

But Sam’s careful hands were still stitching, and Dean was still here, his hand resting on my shoulder now, providing the smallest bit of comfort as I cried. The pain from the stitches was blinding, but somehow, through it, I could hear them. They were here. They were trying.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sam said again, his voice breaking. He was almost finished now, his hands trembling slightly as he worked the last stitch into place. “We didn’t see how much we were hurting you. But we will fix this. I swear. You’re not alone in this.”

The last stitch pulled tight, and the pain that followed was sharp, but brief. I let out a sob, my body trembling from the aftermath of it. Sam gently pressed a bandage to the wound, his hands now much more careful, but still steady.

Dean’s voice came again, quieter now, more vulnerable. “We see it now, kid. Everything is better when we’re in this together. We’re a team and we have to stay that way.”

And that—just that—felt like it was enough, for now.

Later, I sat on the couch, the bandage tight across my side. Sam was beside me, and Dean was sitting on the other side, his hand resting on the back of the couch as if to remind me he was there. We weren’t talking much. There was nothing really to say. Not yet. But somehow, the silence didn’t feel as suffocating as it used to. It was a quiet that was filled with understanding—the beginning of healing.

I leaned back into the couch, my head resting on the cushion. I wasn’t fixed. We weren’t fixed. But we were trying. And that was enough for tonight.

We were family. Even if we had to rebuild, piece by piece. We would make it through this. Together.

[concretejunglefm]

all i can think off is a one shot with best friend folio were he fingers her for the first time and she also squirts for the first time

My sweet boy Nicky, my favorite boy. Such a generous lover, the kind who raises to the challenge 😈

CW: smut including mentions of fingering (f receiving), pussy slaps, squirting and spit.

Smut under the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

"Do you know what I've always wanted to do?" You say between huffing out smoke from your last drag of the blunt being shared between you and Folio.

"What's that?" He brings it back to his own lips for another hit.

"To squirt." You say it nonchalantly, as if it's a normal topic of conversation between you, though you know truthfully it's due to the buzz you're currently feeling.

From the sound of his choking, your answer catches him off guard.

"I bet I could make you squirt." He finally retorts after catching his breath.

You push yourself up on your elbows, looking down the bed towards him sat up against the wall. "Is this where you tell me that you've made loads of girls squirt before." Your tone is teasing.

"No, but you know that I like a challenge." He presses the nub of the blunt back between his lips, raising his free hand and making a gesture with his fingers.

For a brief moment your eyes fall onto them and your thighs press together as you imagine the thought of them working inside you.

No. He's your best friend, you can't.

Except you can and you do.

Somehow your brief conversation over the idea became a reality, with Folio positioning himself down between your thighs after helping slip both your shorts and panties off.

You're receptive to his touch, your hips raising the moment you feel his fingers tease along your slit, resulting in a moan falling from your open mouth.

When he pushes between, he's met with your wetness and you gasp, realizing just how sensitive you are in this state, not only to his touch, but in general.

While he circles your clit, you roll your hips in a steady motion, attempting to follow the rhythm he has set. His mouth brushes along your inner thigh, leaving kisses and reaching down, your fingers curl into the thick of his hair, keeping him pressed close against your skin, the heat of his breath causing a tremble to ripple through you.

It feels slow and torturous, the way he's playing with you, his fingers toying with your clit before he replaced them, unexpectedly, with his mouth. It makes you gasp and moan louder, peering from beneath your lashes to watch as your best friend happily and willingly bury his face between your thighs.

You hadn't anticipated any of this when agreeing to his challenge, you thought that he'd pull you onto his lap and get it over with, instead he's taking his time as he keeps your legs spread apart, sharing the task of working you higher between his fingers and mouth.

You watch in awe as he pulls his head back and surprises you by spitting directly on your pussy before meeting it with a sharp slap of his hand. Instantly your body jolts as you feel a wash of pleasure rip through you, your swollen and sensitive clit begging for more which slips from your lips.

"Nicky, please. More."

You tug on his hair as if to entice him and your hips arch when you feel another, pushing yourself right into the strike he makes against your aching cunt.

Soon you feel his fingers burying themselves inside you, pumping with determination as his mouth tends to your clit. You feel the way his fingers curl inside you, his knuckles dragging against your walls until he meets with the spot which makes you cry out.

He doesn't stop, even when you're trembling around him with the intensity of your orgasm, he continues, pushing you right over the edge and beyond. The heat in your stomach is unlike anything you've ever felt and with another body inducing tremble, you feel the rush of something wet between your thighs, whimpering as you ride out this newly intense feeling.

Once coming down from your high, you peer back down to Folio, who's already grinning up at you, nothing short of prideful, his chin and even areas of his shirt wet from what had just occurred.

"Holy shit that was hot."

You let out a laugh to his comment, something so typically Folio, followed by another unexpected one from him.

"Can I do it again?"

[the-most-humble-blog]

The Predator’s Size Reveal: My WTF Moment as a Kid

When My Kid Brain Realized the Yautja Is a Walking, Hulking “Holy S--t!”

Alright, let me set the stage for you. I was just a kid when I first watched Predator, sitting way too close to the TV, probably eating something I wasn’t supposed to. The movie had me hooked from the jump: explosions, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jesse Ventura chewing scenery (and probably tobacco), and this mysterious alien stalking them like it had beef with their entire gene pool.

But then the climax hit. And I saw it. The Predator. The full Predator. And let me tell you, my brain short-circuited.

My Reaction: “WAIT. HOLD UP. THIS THING IS HOW BIG?!”

1. They Didn’t Warn Me About This

For most of the movie, the Predator was just... there.

It was cloaked, hiding in trees, making creepy-ass clicking noises. You didn’t think about its size because it didn’t need size. It was scary enough as a shadow.

Every time it killed someone, it was quick and surgical. Boom—someone’s gone. No need for brute force.

And then, just when I thought I had the Predator figured out, it dropped its weapons, took off its mask, and stood up. And all I could say was, “WTF.”

2. The WTF Realization

You know that feeling when something goes from scary to “oh, we’re all doomed”? That was me.

The Cloaking Lies: This thing had been sneaking around the jungle like a ghost, and suddenly it’s towering over Arnold like a damn tree.

Arnold Looks Tiny: Let’s be real—when you make Arnold Schwarzenegger look small, you’re not just big. You’re stupid big.

The Mask Drop: I was already freaked out by the size, but then the Predator’s face entered the chat, and I was done. Those mandibles? That growl? NOPE.

WTF?: “How the hell did this thing fit in the trees? Was it doing yoga up there?”

3. Why It Was So Effective

Even now, as a grown adult with bills and existential crises, that size reveal still sticks with me. Why? Because the movie played me like a fiddle.

It Hid the Truth: For 90% of the movie, the Predator is more of an idea than a physical thing. It’s all about fear, stealth, and mystery.

The Payoff Was Huge (Literally): By holding back its size until the end, the movie made the reveal hit like a brick to the face.

4. My Inner Monologue: A Play-by-Play

Watching that final battle felt like running through the stages of grief—but with extra WTF energy.

Denial: “Nah, it’s not that big. The angle’s just weird.”

Anger: “WHY DIDN’T THEY WARN US ABOUT THIS?!”

Bargaining: “Maybe Arnold can still win, right? Right?!”

Acceptance: “Okay, we’re all screwed.”

Kid Thought: This thing could bench-press Arnold and the entire squad without breaking a sweat. And here I was, barely able to carry my school backpack.

5. The Real WTF Moment

Here’s the part that really messed me up:

The Predator wasn’t just a brute. It was smart. Like, scary smart.

It dropped its weapons and went hand-to-hand with Arnold, as if to say, “I don’t just kill—I dominate.”

Kid Logic: “Wait, so it’s huge and it knows kung fu? Who signed me up for this nightmare?!”

6. Why This Moment Stuck With Me

Years later, I’ve watched a lot of monster movies, but Predator still holds up. And it’s not just because of the size reveal—it’s because of the way it’s delivered.

The Build-Up: You spend the whole movie fearing what you can’t see.

The Payoff: When you finally see it, it’s bigger, badder, and more terrifying than you imagined.

I Wasn’t Ready

Let me be clear: when I watched Predator for the first time, I wasn’t ready. The Yautja’s size, its intelligence, and that final showdown completely blindsided me. And even now, every time I rewatch it, I feel like that same kid, sitting too close to the TV, whispering, “WTF.”

So, if you’ve ever felt the same way—like the Predator just punked you with its sheer size and power—you’re not alone. It’s not just a movie moment. It’s a WTF moment.

Still reeling from the Predator’s WTF size reveal? Follow The Most Humble Blog for more unapologetic movie takes and hilariously sharp nostalgia dives.

[proshippers-against-censorship]

can I just point out how sad it is to waste your youth on pointless arguments online?

This is related to that one blog of that one kid, imagine dedicating so much time of your life with making an account for the sake of arguing with people online. I expect that from kiwi farms trolls, not from 14 year olds

I hope they get bored. I hope they run dry of people to annoy. I don't wish them bad things, but maybe if their own friends let them fall will they realize that they're just wasting time

Yeah. Like it's whatever if they were just running the one account, but it kinda points to them being obsessive when they keep remaking accounts, especially to evade blocks. That can't be healthy.

It's all well and good to want to have a voice in the drama. But you need to set up healthy boundaries for yourself. You need to step away and make sure that drama isn't your sole focus. And I just really don't think they're doing that, which is kind of worrying.

[dragqueenstarscream]

How would either tfp autobots or tfo react to their homan $h-ing?

-germ anon

let's go with tfp because there's more to work with there.

optimus - ever seen that comic where superman talks the suicidal woman down from jumping? that's how i imagine optimus would be. as much as it pains him to see his human self harming, he tells them that he won't stop them, but if they have any hope that things will get better, then he'll be there for them. it usually ends with him holding his human while they break down in his arms. at least they're safe now. that's what matters to him.

ratchet - ratchet's been down that road before. it may be different for cybertronians, but he recognizes what they're doing. he goes full protective grandpa, visibly angry, taking away anything that his human might use to harm themself. he seems upset with them, but he's worried. once he calms down. he opens up to them, explaining that he's been down that path, that he might not know what his human is going through, but he can guess how they feel. it ends with him extending an offer to talk whenever his human feels the urge rise again; he just doesn't want to see someone else go through what he has. no one deserves that.

bumblebee - goes the distraction route. his human can't hurt themself if they're doing something else, right? he goes out of his way to invite them to do things with him. video games? cartoons? going for a drive? whatever they like best, he'll offer to do it with them. sometimes, people just need someone to be there for them, and he's more than willing to be that person.

bulkhead - the big sweetie that he is, he instantly gets nervous when he sees what his human's doing. once he realizes what's happening, he pulls them closer and asks them what's wrong. if his human doesn't wanna say, he's content to just be there for them. if they wanna talk, he hears them out and tries to reason with them. either way, he's surprisingly gentle with them, considering his size, and explains that things may hurt, but hey, they're not on their own in this. they don't have to go it alone. he can help them out, he's tough enough to help them shoulder their burdens.

arcee - she's not that great at comforting people - she has a lot of her own struggles that make it difficult - but that won't stop her from trying. she stays calm, helping them set aside whatever they're using to hurt themself and offering to talk things over with her human over a long ride. maybe her human talks about what's going on. maybe they don't, and they spend the whole ride trying to clear their head. either way, arcee makes it clear that she can be a rock for them if they need it. she knows what it's like to hurt, and she doesn't want her human to feel like they have to handle it all on their own.

cliffjumper - bless his spark, this bot's an idiot. considering how he's always cracking jokes and trying to lighten the mood, that's where he goes when he notices his human so upset. the moment it hits him that this is serious, he starts to freak out internally. once he's more level headed, he offers to talk through things with them over some food. after he comes back from grabbing you something he knows they like, it turns into him listening as his human explains everything. he's definitely not the best at anything to do with emotions. that won't stop him from trying, through, and he's determined to be there for his person.

wheeljack - he's probably one of the worst at handling emotions, let's be real. most of his therapy involves fighting vehicons and blowing things up. that being said, he offers to take his human for a ride up in the jackhammer to help them get their mind off of things. he'll ask them questions about what drove them to this point, and for once, he doesn't have anything witty or snarky to say. he's there to offer his advice and to let you know that they've got people who are willing to help them. and hey, if no one else is there, he'll be there if they need him.

smokescreen - he's pretty clueless about what's happening. he's never seen anyone back on cybertron do this, so he doesn't know what to do when he sees his human self harming. he starts asking a lot of questions at first - what's going on? what are you doing? why are you doing this? eventually, he realizes that this might not be the right thing to do once he sees his human getting more upset. he gathers that maybe they just need someone to be there for them. he's not the brightest with emotions, but point him in the right direction, and he'll learn quickly how to help his human for the future.

[noahs-blue-jeans]

Unspoken Moments

Desktop means title! this is a long one btw

I've been thinking about the unspoken moments between Byler which brings to mind that, for Season 5, they've cast young versions of Mike, Will, and Jonathan. I'm not the first to speculate that we'll be getting some Lonnie scenes, nor the first to probably suggest this, but I wanna parse it out anyway.

I think Mike and Will may have done something gay without realizing it, and Lonnie and Jonathan found them. Lonnie first, even. What could they have done? Any innocent thing lonely young gay boys would do: caught holding hands, sharing a space very closely (looking at Will's drawings in bed together perhaps). Any number of things that a fuck like Lonnie clocks as fag behavior.

And I think this could be the inflection point in both boys' sources of trauma, in regards to their internalized homophobia. A trauma that Mike took further to heart which didn't break until seasons 3 and sort of 4, when he becomes the way he is in those periods.

Parents are also, despite popular belief, not often stupid when reading their children. Lonnie is horrible and Ted Wheeler is a lame ass bitch, but they are still correct in clocking their sons' queerness the same as Joyce and Karen, who of course have a loving and accepting approach. Joyce is most explicit in accepting Will, and Karen gives Mike The Speech that many queer kids get from their well meaning parents, a big signal that she knows Mike loves will as more than just a friend.

Alongside this moment at 8 years old, I think both boys have become increasingly aware of how they behave with each other, and other moments may have happened off screen that we could see in S5 flashbacks.

Even in the 80s, little gay boys knew they are gay and liked their best friends. I have no doubt Mike--as much as Will--is aware that he loves his best friend romantically. You know how you feel about people, even at a young age, and in the moments of Mike's solitude, after spending time with El and playing at kissing, you cannot tell me he doesn't instead think about Will. That he doesn't think about when they'd play together, or watch movies just them, or when they would sit close and look at Will's drawing together. That fingers or knees would touch and they're too young to really notice the implications, but they know they like it and each other.

This, to me, adds to the many explanations for Mike's behavior in seasons 3 and 4, and why he begins to come around by the end of the latest season, since he's old enough to be physically unable to deny it anymore, and beginning to accept that he and El won't work because of how he feels about Will. I like to imagine that those few times Mike's calls got through, he and Will would exchange a few pleasantries but then they'd sit there in silence, not even realizing they're listening to the other's breathing. A tension felt across the continent, sure as the sun sets in the west.

This freaks them both out, we don't see it, and instead we see Will coming to terms with his feelings as best he can by way of The Painting; Mike, in contrast, puts on a false persona to hide from these feelings.

In conclusion! I think these two shared some unspoken, unseen moments that we will soon get in flashbacks and Vecna Visions, and we will see these boys go on the journey of accepting them and finding power in the love they've always shared.

[midnight--sadness]

I know a bunch of people have already had the idea, but I love the idea of In-Ho and Gi-hun hooking up a few weeks or months before the games. But I had a slightly comedic twist on it set in the omegaverse. Imagine In-ho has been monitoring Gi-hun for a while now and lets him back into the games at the time with no intention of reentering himself. Then it's revealed that Gi-hun, who has been wearing scent blockers and baggy clothing for the past few months since they hooked up, is very much pregnant.

Gi-hun just sits up in bed back in the games while In-ho watches over the camera feed, and he literally spits out his drink seeing his track jacket unzipped, showing that he is very, very pregnant.

Then an ⚫️ guard comes in late and is like,"Oh, sir, by the way, I did Player 456's clothes change, and he may be pregnant."

In-ho, of course, is like,"No shit!" And is already radioing the head ▪️guard telling me to take over and changing into a tracksuit, ready to reenter the games for… reasons.

i love this so much! gihun and inho meeting slash hooking up before entering the games is so entertaining to me, bc i think it will add to the later betrayal.

but! this comedy, not angst!

gihun literally just chilling (or as much as he can in a capitalist death game) when he suddenly catches a whiff of a very familiar scent. across the room is inho, known to gihun as youngil, eyes locked on gihun, surprised as hell (inho is pretending to be shocked ofc). they meet and inho asks gihun why he never told him abt the pregnancy and such and such and they have a conversation and then they go to the six-legged pentathlon.

that's where inho realizes he fucked up bc this omega who is carrying his child might die in one of the games he himself engineered. he gives an order to every pink guard to make sure gihun is not harmed and then proceeds to win the game with scary accuracy. this man does NOT fuck around with pretending not to know how to play spinning top, he immediately chucks that shit. he helps gihun wtih jegi again but when gihun overbalances and falls to the side, inho is yelling at the guards to remove their cuffs so they can stand up and the guards are rushing around doing what he says, much to jungbae, daeho and junhee's confusion.

(bc he's pregnant and inho is an obsessive freak, gihun has a special chocolate milk delivered to him with his breakfast! bc inho's baby mama will everything he wants!)

[frostedsketches]

( Before you continue, please do not comment or repost with any inappropriate context. It's sad that I have to bring this up, but after having a problem with this on DA and something in a similar taste here on Tumblr just recently, I feel that it is necessary. I am a minor, and in my opinion, pregnant bellies are wholesome and not something to be sexualized, so I will not tolerate any person trying to warp any aspect of this piece into anything pertaining to fetishes or NSFW in any way. We all know how babies are made, we don't need you to yell the specifics with blatancy. Anyone who does will immediately have their comment deleted/reblog hidden, and will be blocked.

Thank you for your time <3 )

Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie had to have had the hardest time expecting their young ones out of the Mane Six: Pinkie because she's a short pudgy little muffin carrying twins with the tallest stallion in Ponyville and Fluttershy because, well. . . giant hybrid draconequus baby with chaotic powers carried by a lanky and petite mare such as herself. You can imagine the weight off-set they had to struggle with, especially in the last few months.

Pinkie has almost always wanted to be a mom. She's a people person, adores little kids, and all those years of throwing them and their families parties as well as Cuteceañera's, weddings, baby showers, and every kind of celebration in between let her see first-hoof the treasured memories made, and relationships brought closer together by the entertainment she brought forth. You can see how this might make someone like her long for the same, to feel what a wife and a mother feels and have a family of her own.

This desire was fortunately shared by Cheese who had witnessed much of what she had in his career and often wondered something similar, and though they didn't plan to have kids quite as early as five months after their wedding, they joyously welcomed the surprise. Pinkie often finds herself staring at her unborn twins and realizing over and over that her dreams are really coming true.

Pinkie normally isn't the tidiest pony ever, though she isn't the type to sit around without something to keep her busy — but like most mares with one, or in her case two, little buns in the oven, she started nesting, and when that happened, there was no stopping her.

Other than this her life went on normally, even seven months in she was still throwing parties, making ponies laugh and smile, and baking ( with close supervision from Cheese, more on that later ). In the last few months however, she did find herself slowing down and allowed herself to become more reserved, resting up for the big day and the strenious days following.

Doctors orders were to stay away from sugar after she let it slip how much she consumed on a day to day basis — though considering the twins are from Pinkie's peculiar genes, I doubt it would have mattered either way — and Cheese had a heck of a time making sure she did as told. It's not easy giving up junk food entirely when you're used to eating like that for so long. She still baked as mentioned before, under Cheese's supervision, and Cheese spent most of his time making sure his wifey didn't consume anything she was baking.

Soon though, the thought of using honey instead of sugar popped up, and she was able to eat special honey sweetened treats if she ever just couldn't ward off the cravings.

Fluttershy's foal being half draconequus and chalk full of chaotic powers no less, often gave her symptoms and side affects that one wouldn't consider normal. On top of the usual pregnancy symptoms, she also had to deal with magical stuff like sneezing bubbles, throwing up confetti, changing the colors of her coat/mane/eyes etc etc, one time she had the ability to turn everything she touched into cheese, including living organisms — THAT was a fun eight hours. All this, plus back pain and limited wing usage from her kiddo's size, overall did not give Fluttershy the best experience.

Despite everything above, Discord did his best to help her ease these strange symptoms, wether it was simple comfort methods or magical help to lessen her magical effects. One example of that, when Fluttershy's hurting back got too much for her, since she couldn't lay on her stomach to ease the pain, he would make himself into a makeshift maternity pillow. This way she has a perfect sized donut hole for her belly to rest in while the rest of her is laying comfortably on top of her hubby's velvety soft noodle side whenever she needs it, and Discord gets a warm, beautiful, feathery pegasus blanket to keep him warm, so he didn't mind in the slightest.

~~~

Hope you enjoyed ^^ and I mean what I warned up there!

Toodles~

[allastoredeer]

Ya'll want to know the funniest shit?

I'm researching the era when Alastor was alive right now to get a better idea of both his character, the life he lived before Hell, and to hash out a backstory for him.

And so, apparently, Alastor lived through the Prohibition (which was basically the United States government illegalizing the manufacture, transportation, and sale of alcohol because they thought it was the cause of a lot of domestic violence and child abandonment).

Alastor canonically died in 1933.

Do you know how long the Prohibition lasted?

From 1920-1933.

ALASTOR LITERALLY DIED THE SAME YEAR ALCOHOL BECAME LEGAL AGAIN. CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW BITTER HE MUST'VE BEEN?

The Prohibition officially ended on December 5, 1933, and now my headcanon is that Alastor died December 6, 1933. Literally the day after he could legally drink all the booze he wanted.

I am learning a LOT about New Orleans and the era Alastor lived through (including the gay community in the city at the time) which has been a lot of fun, and I just wanted to share that tidbit because it is so fucking funny to me.