#I know it’s rushed but GOING STRONG

[tommys-wings]

GOING STRONG

[puppyeared]

id fumble him so bad

[bacidipesca]

a weight you choose

Okay guys this one might be a little different. I’m a person who suffers from chronic illness, so I know what it’s like to really feel sick, and I wanted to write a hurt/comfort fic. Peach is sick with a stomach bug and this fic might be a little gross at points. There will be discussion of vomiting and snot, but no, uh, toilet things.

I hope everyone enjoys! It’s a bit of a long one. (Almost 4K!)

Waking up was usually not a difficult process for Princess Peach.

Though she was often up late with her duties and paperwork, Peach was an early riser by nature and usually itched to get out of bed and start her day with the rising of the sun (much to the chagrin of the folks in the castle). It was a rare occasion that Toadette had to come and fetch her, and rarer still that she didn’t immediately jump out of bed once she realized she’d overslept. It took several seconds of Toadette shaking her shoulder and trying to rouse her for the princess to even stir.

“Princess, are you alright?” Toadette said once again, and this time Peach heard it, though it sounded as though it came through a layer of cotton wool.

She scrunched her nose and groaned, turning for a moment to try it bury her face in her pillow. Even that slight movement, however, was enough to send a wave of terrible chills down her body from head to toe. She popped open her eyes to look up at Toadette, squinting a bit even in the low light, and she swallowed painfully. She opened her mouth to speak, but her eyes grew alarmed before she could utter a word and with more energy than she thought she had, she flung the sheets back and stumbled out of bed.

Her chambers, of course, had an adjoining bathroom and she raced over to the trash bin there to heave, catching herself on her hands on the rim of the bin before she could fall to her knees. It took quite a few rounds of heaving before she felt like she could lift her head again, and when she did she realized that Toadette had come in behind her and tied her hair back from her face.

Peach would have thanked her, but another wave of chills rocked over her and she couldn’t speak as she heaved again.

It felt like that went on for hours, though Peach was sure it couldn’t have been that long. She would get a moment to catch her breath, would start to stand upright, and her stomach would cramp or she’d feel a bolt of inexplicable pain shoot up from her gut to her throat. Sweat beaded on her forehead and in her hairline from the constant effort of coughing and her legs began to ache from the nonstop tension as her stomach continued to try to empty itself, long after she’d lost everything she’d eaten. When the rolling and cramping of her abdomen didn’t stop even still, she couldn’t help but start to cry and fat teardrops slid down her flushed cheeks. After a while she lost the strength to stay on her feet and went down to her knees, leaning on her elbows as she clutched at the trash bin.

I don’t even have anything to come up anymore, she thought miserably, and she bit her lip hard to prevent a whine from escaping from her throat. Her efforts were in vain, though, because when she swallowed it felt as though she’d been eating broken glass. Her throat was shredded from all of her coughing, and she let out a pathetic sound as more tears rolled down her face, leaning on one of her arms. Pressed against her cheek, she could feel how hot and flushed her face still was.

She heard Toadette speaking behind her.

“…like this all morning. She hasn’t stopped, and it’s been about three hours now,” she said, and Peach reeled a little at the confirmation that she had, indeed, been vomiting for hours. Then she realized Toadette was talking to another person.

Oh, she must have gotten Nurse Toadessa, Peach thought, relief sweeping through her. Before she could even really finish the thought, though, it was already proven wrong.

“Dio mio, I understand,” came the other voice, and Peach couldn’t hear anything else after because the shock of it sent the most horrible wave of nausea through her yet.

Toadette had not fetched the castle nurse. She had gone and fetched Mario.

(What she did not know at this time was that Toadette had gone out with the full intention of getting the castle nurse, but Mario had found her first. And once Mario had heard the princess was ill, nothing could be done to prevent him from rushing to her side.)

Peach retched hard into the trash bin, this time seeing stars as her vision darkened around the edges. It hurt, it felt like she was going to turn herself inside out, she couldn’t stop to breathe—and honestly if this was her end she was beginning to welcome it, if it meant she stopped vomiting. Just as she was beginning to truly feel lightheaded, a bundle of cloth was pushed under her nose and her next retch was stopped in its tracks by the shock of the smell alone. She gasped and got another inhale that almost choked her.

When she tried to jerk back from the sharp, chemical smell, she felt a gentle hand on the back of her head and the cloth was kept close, though not close or hard enough to smother her—just to keep the scent invading her nose.

“I know, I’m sorry,” came Mario’s voice from somewhere above her head. Her eyes were still tearing and she could just barely see his hand in front of her face. He wasn’t wearing his gloves. “I know it smells bad, but it’s helping, sì?”

He was right, somehow. As long as she was taking in that burning smell, her stomach wasn’t trying to flip around. She could take a breath, and she did so greedily, coughing on mucus when she let it back out but not convulsing with the need to purge. A low sob of relief pushed out of her and she lifted her head for the first time in what felt like forever.

She felt disgusting. She knew there had to be something streaming from about every hole in her head—tears were still falling from her eyes, while snot ran freely out of her nose like an open faucet, and she was sure there was a strand of spit clinging to her lip and stringing to the side of the trash bin. But Mario smiled at her regardless, eyes warm and kind and sweet enough to have her heart thumping. He kept the foul-smelling cloth close to her nose while he reached into his pocket with his free hand for a handkerchief. Peach tried to back away again when he reached out for her face.

“N-no, I’ll get it dirty,” she said in a wavering voice, trying to turn away.

He chuckled softly at her and shook his head. “That’s the whole point, Princess.”

She didn’t have enough energy to struggle with him, so she let him wipe her face even though she thought it was pointless. It felt as though she would start crying or vomiting again any moment, and her shoulders hitched with an anticipatory sob just at the thought. Once Mario had stuffed his handkerchief away again, he pulled something different from the depths of his pocket, and Peach’s brow furrowed when she heard it crinkling.

“I need you to try to eat this,” he said, holding it out to her, and when she saw what it was she let out another sad little sound. It was a hard peppermint candy.

She shook her head, leaning back and away even as he unwrapped it. “Nooo,” she said, drawing the word out like a child and feeling pathetic even as she did so. “I hate peppermint.”

That caused Mario to pause, and he looked behind her. “Does she?” he asked, and she realized he must be talking to Toadette when she heard the little woman’s voice pipe up.

“No, she’s just being contrary,” said Toadette, in a tone that suggested long suffering on this particular subject, mingled with amusement. “She’s always like that when she’s sick.”

“I’m really not,” Peach tried to defend, but over her head Mario and Toadette were exchanging knowing smirks where she couldn’t see.

Mario made a soft sound in the back of his throat, as if to soothe her, and he lifted the peppermint to her lips. “You can spit it out later if you want, but this will help for now. Please, Princess, just for a few minutes?”

His eyes were imploring her behind the candy pressed to her lips, and her heart thumped again. Why, oh why, had Toadette fetched Mario to help her instead of the nurse? Why was he the one seeing her like this, drenched in sweat and leaking from everywhere? She could feel a bead of snot starting to drip down from her nose, and she parted her lips and allowed Mario to feed her the peppermint before it could touch the candy. He beamed at her, and finally allowed the nasty cloth to drop away from her face.

“The peppermint should help soothe your stomach a little until we can get some proper medicine in you,” he said. He brushed hair back and away from her face, eyes flicking from her soaked hairline to her swollen lips, and he frowned for a moment as he seemed to consider something. He looked her over for a long moment. “Do you think you can stand up?”

Oh. She hadn’t been anticipating that. She felt as though she barely had enough energy to keep her head upright at this point, but she had to at least try, right? She bit her lip and hesitated for a long moment, but eventually she nodded and tried to stand.

It swiftly became clear that she was going to need assistance. Her legs trembled still when she tried to get them to cooperate, and she nearly pulled the trash bin over on herself when she tried to use it for leverage to stand up. Mario and Toadette were quick to her side to help, both trying to soothe her as she mumbled out apologies.

“M’so, so s-sorry, I-I just can’t…” she said, almost losing the peppermint. Toadette shushed her, moving the trash bin out of the way so Peach couldn’t hurt herself.

Mario took hold of her hands, hoisting her to her feet with little apparent effort, and when she proved unsteady he positioned himself under one of her arms, placing a large hand at the small of her back. She was slow to move and Mario was kind enough to let her, matching her pace as she shuffled across the tile. His being shorter worked to their advantage as well, as Peach wasn’t sure she would have been able to stand fully upright if she tried.

“Here, Toadette is going to help you get into a shower,” Mario told her as they approached the steaming stall. The water was already going and a bench had been dragged inside so she didn’t have to stand, clearly the work of Toadette while she’d been distracted with her illness. “The hot water and the pressure will help, alright? But before you do, you need to take this.”

He gestured and Peach saw that Toadette had both a tall glass of water and a couple of medicine tablets in her hands. Peach bit her lip, skeptical.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep it down,” she said softly, voice small and scared.

This wasn’t her being contrary, but genuine fear that she wouldn’t be able to stomach the cure for her illness somehow and she would just stay sick. She’d been going for three hours and hadn’t stopped, had hardly been able to catch her breath, could now barely walk across her bathroom. It didn’t feel like there was an end in sight.

“I think you can,” Mario said. He gave her a soft smile, and when he continued she swore it was like he’d read her mind. “I know it seems like it’s not going to stop, but this is going to pass. We got you walking, away from the bin. That’s an improvement already.” There was something a bit beseeching in his eyes. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Of course she did. That was like asking if water was wet, or if Peach’s favorite color was pink. She could see the look in Toadette’s eyes as she glanced between the two of them, the knowing, the smile that threatened to break out on her little round face, and Peach pouted briefly at her before she reached out for the pills.

Mario encouraged her to drink as much of the water as she could, though he urged her to drink slowly to not upset her stomach. Once the glass was empty, he took it and said that he would be waiting for them outside and then delicately handed her off to Toadette’s care.

Despite Peach’s apprehensions, Toadette did not take the opportunity to start teasing her—perhaps knowing the princess didn’t really have the energy for it at the moment. Instead she chose to explain how she’d run into Mario on her way to find Nurse Toadessa. Today had been a day Mario and the princess had been scheduled together, so he’d been waiting and worried when she hadn’t appeared for any of her morning duties. Upon hearing she was sick, nothing would appease him but to see her for himself and offer what help he could, even after it had been made plain what the illness was.

“He says he and his brother were sick pretty often as kids, so they know a few tricks,” Toadette told her, with a tone that suggested she’d been impressed. “And with a bit of rubbing alcohol and a peppermint, he had you on your feet.”

Oh, rubbing alcohol. That was what he’d been holding to her nose. Peach couldn’t help but be impressed herself, now that she had some of her wits back. He’d known exactly what to do to help stop the cycle, he’d even just happened to have a peppermint handy in his pocket. Now that she was out of the shower and into a new pajama set (Peach insisted if Toadette wouldn’t let her get properly dressed she should at least wear something other than a nightgown), Toadette had helped her hobble over to the vanity mirror and was helping her manage her hair. The candy that Mario had given her was nearly gone, and she crunched it away.

Her eyes widened suddenly and a pink blush stole over her face. She lifted a hand to her mouth in embarrassment.

“Did I really say I hated peppermint?” she asked in a little squeak.

Toadette laughed brightly. “Yes! You did!”

The princess buried her face in her hands.

Between the two of them they decided it would be best to just braid Peach’s hair back to keep it out of her face and comfortable to sleep in, and it became clear as Toadette brushed out her hair that Peach wasn’t going to be able to stay awake much longer. All of her energy had been drained by the morning’s stress, and now that the nausea had been tamed to a dull ache and she could finally relax, the weariness was catching up to her. When Peach tried to stand and walk away from her vanity, her legs trembled so badly that she had to take a seat again before she could get upright and she bit her lip hard against the sudden sting of tears. She lifted a hand to her face, covering her eyes. Oh, how she hated this. Hated to be a bother. Hated to need the help.

“…I think Mario might need to carry me,” she finally admitted to Toadette in a little whisper.

That was all she needed to scurry out of the room to fetch him; Toadette knew perhaps better than anyone else just how much Peach hated to feel like a burden—especially to Mario—so for her to say it in so many words meant that she knew she was at her limit. It didn’t take long for her to come back with Mario in tow, and Peach found herself a little surprised by just how solemn he looked until he laid eyes on her, and his mustache curled up in a gentle smile.

“You look like you feel better. Your eyes are brighter,” he said warmly, once he was within arm’s reach. Her heart fluttered a little at the sweet words—he always claimed he wasn’t very good with them, but he managed to say the nicest things to her. “Are you ready to move?”

She nodded, unsure if she trusted her voice not to waver if she tried to speak. He smiled at her again and slid an arm around her shoulders.

It was little effort for him to lift her into his arms and as always Peach was struck by how safe and secure she felt. For all his small size, he was so strong and fast and always, always so careful with her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and fought the strong urge to bury her face in there as well. She barely noticed as he walked her out of the bathroom and back to her bed, feeling like she was floating instead, and it felt like the time was cut criminally short when he finally laid her down. A lump rose in her throat and her hand shot out before she could stop herself, wrapping her fingers around one of his thumbs as he started to back away.

“Stay with me? Please?” she asked. Her voice was starting to catch up to everything that had happened, a bit hoarse and reedy. She shuffled back towards the center of the bed and tugged weakly at his hand, giving him the big, wet eyes that had usually convinced Toadsworth to let her have just a couple more hours to read before bed as a child.

“Princess…” Mario’s cheeks were pink and getting darker. He glanced around them, as though he was afraid of being watched, or perhaps of being caught. “I don’t think it’s very, ah, appropriate as your guard…”

Before Peach could say anything else, or come to her senses about what she was asking of him, really, Mario jerked forward a bit, stumbling against the edge of the bed. He turned and saw that Toadette was behind him, a firm hand pressed between his shoulder blades. The look on her face was no-nonsense.

“Take off your boots, please,” was all she said, and Mario knew that there would be no getting away.

He pulled Peach’s hand from his and gave it a soft squeeze before he leaned down to unlace his shoes so he could join the princess. He sat on top of the bedclothes, leaving what he must have thought was a respectful distance between them, and leaned carefully back as he turned to face her. He’d taken off his hat at some point, she finally noticed. His hair was a bit disheveled, as though he’d been running his hands through it and then hastily tried to comb it into place again. That lump in her throat returned at the thought of him being so concerned.

“I’m sorry I made you worry so much,” Peach said after a long few moments of silence.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Mario said back, almost immediately. He shook his head at her. “You can’t help being sick. It happens to everyone.”

She didn’t say anything back for a long moment, unable to come up with words to express what she was feeling. After a beat, Mario picked up one of her hands in his and she blinked when she realized neither of them were wearing their gloves.

The skin of his fingers wasn’t as rough as she might have expected, but his knuckles were a little hairy, and his nails trimmed. His palms were wide and creased, and he had a scar across his index finger she’d never seen before. Most of all, his hands were warm, and they utterly engulfed hers. She would never get tired of seeing her hands disappear inside of his.

“My brother and I used to get sick a lot as kids,” he said. She looked up at his face again and saw the spark in his expression, the one that always came through when he talked about his brother and made his blue eyes twinkle. “And Luigi would always apologize over and over for needing help, or for getting me sick because I helped him. Do you know what always I told him?”

Peach shook her head slowly, sinking back further into her pillow.

“Un peso che si sceglie non si sente,” he said, and the smooth, melodic cadence of the Italian words felt like it was dancing over her ears. His thumb caressed over her wrist, and her heart caught in her throat when he translated for her. “A weight that you choose is not felt.”

A weight that you choose? Did that mean he was choosing her, too, like he’d chosen to take care of his brother? That he didn’t mind the work, because she was important to him? That he wanted to be here, regardless of if she was sick or not? She didn’t like those kinds of questions—they had jagged corners that dug into her mind as they passed through. They hurt to linger on, like they might burn if she held on for too long, or too tightly. She knew what she wanted the answers to be; her pounding heart and the little zips of electricity from where their skin touched were too telling not to know. But asking them, putting them to voice, was too terrifying to even consider.

“I just…didn’t want you to see me like this,” she managed to say at last, with little energy and a melancholy that no one but Toadette had ever heard from her before. Her tiredness was really beginning to catch up to her.

Mario’s mustache tilted up, one of those smiles where she could hardly even see his mouth because it was hidden behind his thick facial hair. He squeezed her hand again. “Why? You’ve seen me in plenty worse states than this.”

“S’your job, though,” Peach said, and even fading she realized how that sounded. “I mean, not getting hurt, but… oh, you know what I mean.”

Her eyes were having trouble staying open, so she missed the utterly fond look that crossed his face as she scrunched her nose in irritation at herself, as well as how he lifted his free hand to his mouth to contain a laugh at how cute she looked, fussing over her own words.

“I know what you mean, principessa,” he said, once he had control of himself. He could see that she was fading fast, and he reached out to pull the blanket higher over her shoulder. “Just get some rest now. Maybe when you wake up, we can try to have some soup, yeah? Luigi knows this great recipe our nonna used to make…”

He kept going, telling her about how he’d ask his brother to share the recipe with the kitchens, about how it used to soothe them when they were young, about how his nonna used to serve it out of old heirloom teacups for the two of them, until he thought that she was finally asleep.

The last thing Peach thought she felt before she drifted off was a soft pair of lips and a slightly scratchy mustache pressed against her temple, but she was sure she just imagined it.

/fin

[i-appear-misssing]

I just had the horrible thought that I need to fall in love because having devastating crushes on beautiful, competent, authoritative women that I desperately want to please is exhausting and I need it to stop

[britneyshakespeare]

i finished the merry wives of windsor today btw. 4 shakespeare plays left to go

[skywitchmaja]

even before the transphobia came to light— jkr’s writing can be sooo cruel towards woman & girls for as much as she used to be celebrated as a ‘feminist’

like ginny is introduced as ron’s kid sister who has this big girlish crush on harry. this is mostly just very embarrassing for both of them. it’s fine, they’re middle schoolers.

then ginny has to be the damsel in distress for the second book finale which means she has to be vulnerable, she has to be manipulated (by voldemort’s diary), she has to do bad things (while possessed), and most of all, she has to be helpless and she has to be saved. this is some harrowing shit for an 11 year old to go through, but we don’t get much about it from her perspective bc it’s mostly there so harry and ron can be heroic and strengthen their friendship. ginny is still in the role of damsel by the end of this book.

a couple books later jkr decides to start setting up romances, so harry has a crush on cho chang bc she’s good at sports (which is cute). unfortunately for him, cho is dating harry’s cool seventeen year old crush friend & competitor, cedric digory, so harry is just crushing away, and cho doesn’t have much to do except for politely turn him down. ginny isn’t really important this book, irc i think she goes to magic prom with neville. ron and hermione have their own issues, but this book is mostly set up (both relationship wise & in the greater voldemort plot).

then in the fifth book, their relationship comes to fruition bc cedric died so now cho is single. she’s drawn to harry bc he was friends with cedric & he was there when cedric died , and she hopes that they can process their grief together. unfortunately, harry is having a lot of difficulty processing his grief, so he reacts badly when cho cries or wants to talk about cedric bc it reminds harry of his own feelings he’s trying to avoid. this would be fine on it’s own, except the fandom didn’t recognize harry as an unreliable narrator and began characterizing her as being “whiny” and “weak” and “annoying”. and it would seem like a fandom issue & not jkr’s misogyny, hermione even stands up for cho (although much of that grace is lost when cho/her friend narc to umbridge). meanwhile, ginny is getting cooler and cooler— joining the quidditch team, joining dumbledor’s army, dating boys to let us know she’s moved on from her childhood crush  on harry, and most importantly, joining harry & co at the climactic fight against voldemort, as a hero this time rather than a damsel. why is this a bad thing? it’s not, we love to see a girlboss winning.  but they way jkr writes romance puts these girls in opposition to each other.

in the sixth book, harry realizes he has feelings for ginny, and she is everything cho is not. actually, cho is what ginny used to be, and vice versa. to make sure we know ginny is no longer the vulnerable, emotional, “weak” girl harry saved in the second book, jkr gives these traits to cho instead, as she’s incredibly emotionally vulnerable after losing her first boyfriend, and was hoping that harry would be there for her when he couldn’t.  in dating cho, harry realizes that the reality of being in a relationship with someone is very different from crushing on them from afar, and while cho may be pretty & nice & good at quidditch, she isn’t someone he wants to date (again, mostly because they have incompatible ways of dealing with grief). which is fine, they’re kids, they’re still learning about themselves and other people.  except the fandom/jkr didn’t really delve into that complexity, and it was almost always reduced to saying that cho was “wrong” for harry and ginny is “the right one”.  she does this, proving one love interest is “right” by showing another as “wrong”, in an even shallower way with hermione, ron and lavender brown.  it’s exponentially worse because cho, and lavender in the first five movies, are non-white characters. 

harry starts to catch feelings for ginny, which has significantly more depth than his crush on cho because he’s known her for so long, but he still admires things like her skill at quidditch (lol), and how cool and popular she is, as well as her strong will and sense of humor.  but in order to be valid as a love interest according to jkr, ginny has to shed the traits that characterized her as a damsel in distress in the second book, ironically, a role that is often filled by the love interest.  this is actually kind of subversive, but not necessarily in a good way– rather than rejecting patriarchal lens of reducing women to “damsels”, jkr simply pushes this lens onto cho, (not with a rescue plot, but with character traits), saying that damselization is bad, not because it’s bad to objectify women, but because some women are badass and cool and “don’t need to be saved” and the ones who are weak and emotional and do need to be saved are worthy of derision. this pushes the burden away from the male gaze that sees women as damsels and onto women and girls who must reject “damselish” or “feminine” traits.  harry realizes his feelings when he sees how different ginny is now from the girl who had a huge crush on him, the girl he had to save from an evil snake, the girl who was sensitive and helpless, because she isn’t those things anymore.  but cho, from harry’s perspective, is. harry avoids her like he avoided ginny in the first few books bc their emotionality makes him uncomfortable. to be fair, harry doesn’t hate cho for these traits anymore than he did ginny early in the series, but the fandom certainly did (i use past tense bc the fandom now is… idek) and i believe jkr does too. 

by the end of the series, harry has cool, tough, funny, pretty, quidditch star, ginny weasley, and to be honest he really doesn’t share a lot of vulnerability with her.  even when he’s worried about being possessed by voldemort, he doesn’t think to ask ginny what that was like when it happened to her, because he “forgot”.  in the last book, harry even breaks up with her for several months “to protect her” rather than taking her on a dangerous camping trip with ron and hermione. this is reasonable enough, and i think it’s good that the series ends with the same trio it started with, but it does deny harry and ginny’s relationship opportunity to develop because they only really see each other at the very beginning and the very end of the last book.  so ironically, a lot of people don’t like harry and ginny as a couple (especially in the movies) because jkr was so sparse with vulnerability in their relationship.  both girls, both relationships, suffer from this “sensitive” vs “resilient”, or more shallowly, as it tends to be perceived, “weak” vs “strong” contrast between cho and ginny.  but ultimately, ginny is rewarded for shedding her girlish emotional sensitivity while cho is punished, not just for her own but for ginny’s as well, because she’s taking over ginny’s role as “emotionally sensitive girl” so ginny can rise to the “cool girl” pedestal now that someone else is being looked down upon for having feelings.

[k-from-that-one-fic]

I've only seen the first season of Big Time Rush, so I want to hear people's season 1 headcanons! (And you can include anything from the time during their first tour, since it technically happened between seasons!)

Please try to keep it safe for under 18 audiences, as the characters were also under 18 at the time, and I really don't want this blog to be flagged as unsafe. :')

Music headcanons from season 1 are also accepted, as are anonymous submissions through my page! They're all much appreciated~ Have fun with this! :D

[lausticzt]

I wish laura could let herself be loved but it happened once (1) that someone almost accepted her for who she was ( he also wanted her to stop her ambitions in settlement of a peaceful life with the best intents ; but was so insistent on keeping her safe and them running off for his version of a happy life ) flaws and all that man had to suffer through her antics for many years before his confession. After his death (she was so, so useless to do anything ; and that failure was one of the things that destroyed her spark), she really shut out everything.

all the men in the interior care about her family name and looks (she is so pretty ... only when placid) , and god do they always get so, physically close to her that she just stares into the distance. the amount of times she had to wait for them to get their arms off her and only once they're leaving does she look at them with ferocity in her veins. at a young age she was paraded around by her mother, and marriage was humoured at her from men twice her age ; which her mother delighted on. they were all sick.

she found so many familial bonds in the survey corp and that had meant, everything to her. that was where her true peace was ; even with all the death, the loss of those very people,, the endless fighting and endless gore --- she would say that was her happy life.

complements are wasted on her. her love is unconventional. face her bullshit head on. don't treat her differently , don't put up with her front -- she will show loyalty to individual people, never a cause. but you put up with her for so long and vice versa, she will run to you when you're hurt, barge through the door and the look of panic is something never before seen - she will have to stop herself immediately because (...) what was she doing. traumatic shit goes down? she's keeps looking at you from a distance and god, she's not the best person for it, but she will check on you, albeit, there's so much confliction on her expression because she's not great at it -- but she knows she wants to be there, so bare with her.

but after all that crap, you know if she did love someone, and she could admit that to herself ; it's a freeing feeling. it doesn't matter to say it, or have it known to the other person, but if it passes through that barrier, all she feels she can do for you is watch your back, and make sure you don't die or get hurt. she won't deny it. it will take years and years before she can come to that point ; but fuck, she's holds herself so differently. it is also so true in her platonic bonds she has to go through this entire process so many times jkfdh

[homicidalfelidae]

Mutuals I am once again faced with a wretched speaker phone conversation involving me. Lend me your strength.

[orcelito]

Did a bit of a number on my knuckles. Hands r hard to bruise, but there's the shade of a bruise on the outside edge of my hand, right at the knuckle. That really was not intentional.

[cheriafreya]

this was painfully slow to go through, please don't ever do this again Hoyo :_)

[lilgynt]

yes i’m sick to my stomach over a guy and it’s like kinda pathetic but also my nails are super fuckin long so.

[sttoru]

older bf satoru catches you masturbating <3

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. smut, pwp. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). māsturbation. turns into cunnilingus. squirting. reader gets called ‘baby, angel, little girl’

you miss satoru so much. he had left you behind in his apartment after getting a call from a colleague, who needed help defeating a curse nearby. it’s been a few hours since then and you’re bored.

bored and horny.

you’re still riled up from the heated make out session you had with satoru before he departed. the one that got interrupted by that damned phone call. you need him back with you—for his slender fingers to touch you and his mouth to kiss you all over.

all you have of him is his shirt. you’re wearing it whilst laying back in his bed, the fabric seemingly oversized on your body. his scent is making you lightheaded. dizzy, to the point your hand moves down on its own.

“mhhg,” you cover your mouth with your free hand, not wanting to risk anything, even if you’re the only one in this apartment. you waste no time dipping your fingers underneath your panties, circling your clit with your thumb while your index and middle finger rub your moist folds.

all you can do is imagine that it’s satoru pleasuring you. he always does it so well—never once leaving you unsatisfied. you cannot recall the amount of times he’s made you squirt from just rubbing your cunt. you’re so touch deprived and he knows how to take advantage of that.

remembering that one moment where your boyfriend had you seated on his lap on the couch makes you increase the pace of your fingers. how he was so focused on listening to the news whilst gently rubbing your tingly cunt over the material of your panties, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

you recall how your panties were quite literally soaking after three whole orgasms. not once did his fingers directly touch your pussy, and yet he managed to elicit such strong reactions from you.

a frustrated whine in the shape of his name leaves your mouth. you want satoru back, so so badly. you want him to whisper sweet nothings inside of your ears as he makes love to you. that smooth and soothing voice of his makes you weak.

“fuck, angel,” satoru’s voice interrupts your little session. your eyes widen and you immediately pull your fingers out of your aching hole. you stammer and stutter, stumbling over your words as you look at the white-haired man standing at the doorframe of his room.

how do you even explain yourself?

your gaze flickers downwards which grants you the delicious sight of his bulge. his hand is right on top of it, indicating that he’s been touching himself before he decided to make his presence known.

satoru is panting, the sweat already starting to form on his forehead. he walks up to the bed and pries your hands away from your cunt. his cock stirs in his boxer briefs at the sight of you in his shirt. you’re so adorable to the older man. so needy. . .

without a word and like a starved man, satoru spreads your legs and yanks your panties down. your cunt is warm and soppy, the slick trail staining your underwear telling him enough. he doesn’t hesitate before diving his head between your plush thighs.

you feel a rush of warmth go through your body the instant his tongue comes into contact with your pussy. satoru’s nose repeatedly bumps against your clit as he tries to press his entire mouth onto your folds. his tongue lolls out, the tip navigating up and down your slit before pushing through, finding that little hole he can’t wait to devour.

“thank you for preparing my meal f’me while i was away,” satoru hums against your cunt before pulling back to allow his fingers to explore you. he glances up at you with a proud smirk before placing his mouth back where it belongs. he can’t let all the prep you did go to waste after all, “she’s fuckin’ delicious, baby.”

your hands pull at his hair in response, gaining a needy whine from your lover. he nearly chokes on both his spit and your juices. his hands hold onto the back of your knees and he uses that firm grip to push your legs further apart.

you’re nearly seeing stars. you didn’t even have time to register satoru’s sudden appearance. hell, you couldn’t even greet him or welcome him back home. that man wasted zero time in getting between your legs, eating you out like there’s no tomorrow.

you stumble over your own words. no matter how hard you try, not a sentence is able to form. all that leaves your mouth are moans of pure pleasure. your thighs shake and your hips buck against your lover’s mouth. you’re more than desperate for a release.

“c’mon, say my name again,” satoru sighs as he circles his tongue around your wet hole. he prods at it, tongue fucking you to acquire as much of your fluids as possible. your sweet wetness is making him throb in his pants, “mhmmm— my naughty little girl couldn’t wait.”

the older man feels great satisfaction at the thought of you being unable to withstand your pleasures. the sinful sight of you trying to fuck yourself with your little fingers on his bed, with his shirt on, is engraved in his mind forever. the second you moan out his name again, he goes all out.

satoru’s tongue doesn’t stop. even when you squeal and beg him to slow down because you feel like you’re going to cum early. that’s exactly what he wants; having you squirt all over his mouth and face. he needs to be covered with your slick.

you tug at his hair again - thinking that’d make satoru pull away - though the effect is the exact opposite. “nhh, do ‘t again,” he whines and moans against your folds, lapping up all that your pussy gives. the loud slurping noises reverberate throughout the room.

satoru’s eyes are closed, his furrowed brows adding to the concentrated yet content look on his blushing face. his lips, which are usually glossy, glisten even more with the liquid your cunt secretes. his eyes open every now and then to take a peek at you—to see if you’re still enjoying what he does.

“bet your small fingers weren’t enough, hm? y’ need mine?” satoru coos once he finally pulls his head back to breathe. he licks his lips as he stares at you with glazed and half-lidded eyes, totally pussydrunk. you don’t even have to respond to his questions. the answers are obvious by the way you’re trembling and desperately babbling incoherent pleas.

your boyfriend nods in understanding. he pouts at you while his fingers rub up and down your spread pussy lips. the pad of his thumb manoeuvres from your gaping hole to the little bundle of nerves at the top. satoru sticks two fingers in your cunt without warning. your high pitched whimper makes him coo at you, “yeah, i know, baby. let it out.”

the white-haired sorcerer pumps his long fingers in and out of you, a rhythm so addicting that it’s impossible not to give in. your back arches off the mattress. you’re trying your best not to stain satoru’s shirt with your juices, though you have a feeling he’d secretly like that anyway.

“am so close, ‘toruuu—fnngh,” you gasp and instantly feel satoru’s tongue replace his fingers. he wants to taste and feel your tight cunt spasm all around his tongue and mouth while you reach that point of no return. he’s going to try his best not to cum untouched in his pants this time.

satoru holds your hips with his big hands, keeping you down so he could properly eat you out and make you release all that tension. your pussy tingles and throbs, and you truly feel like you’re going to ascend.

it feels way too good. inhumanly good.

“cum on my tongu—“ satoru can’t even finish his sentence. a loud moan slips from between your lips, followed by a grunt from your boyfriend. his eyes roll back as your cunt releases more of its lewd fluids—spraying the liquid all over his mouth and chin.

you’re too busy trying to catch your breath to notice the mess you’ve created on satoru’s face and his sheets; a complete and total mess. the older man doesn’t mind neither. in fact, he enjoys it.

“shitttt, that was fuckin’ hot,” satoru flashes you a wide grin. he’s still somewhat drunk on you, which is visible by the way he’s licking up your mess from both his chin and your body. he cleans your cunt with his tongue—even if it’s overstimulating you.

he’s a greedy man when it comes to you. he wants more, more and more. whatever you’re offering, he will get.

satoru’s hands rub your sides to comfort you. he places soft kisses over your clit and pussy, as if he’s thanking you for the meal he just had the pleasure of devouring. he looks up at you with a cheeky smirk before laying his head against your inner thigh, his tongue peeking out between his glossy lips;

“think you can give me one more?”

[mira0000000-blog]

**puts ong GG rev ost** WHAT A HEAVY DAY

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

I wonder if I'm makin things better or worse for the collective bein like this. On one hand I'm not happy or makin any progress towards it, but...I can't rly even imagine that. I can't imagine a life without him. It's not that I don't want it, on some level I know it'd be better for me, but...I can't even dream about it cause I just can't imagine it at all.

On the other hand I make a great decoy. He's basically dropped all interest in Angel cause now he knows I'm the one who still wants him n loves him n can't exist without him. So at least one of us will make it out this time, I think.

[hugintheraven]

How Bethesda fixed Vampires without realizing it

So there's a LOT of takes on vampires across media, and most of them are radically different from each other. The Elder Scrolls series has an interesting version that I haven't seen anywhere else, that incidentally fixes a bunch of lore issues with vampires, and yet Bethesda hasn't ever really leaned into any of that.

So, the issue with vampires in large RPGs like Elder Scrolls games, D&D, etc, is that a world where various elements of character building are supposed to be balanced, vampires are heavy on the upside and light on meaningful drawbacks. So in Oblivion, Bethesda completely reworked their vampires, coming at it with a blank slate:

Vampirism is a 4-stage affliction, with each stage increasing the numerous benefits of being a vampire as well as the middling drawbacks. Stage 4 brings with it all humanoid NPCs recognizing you as a ravenous monster and attacking you, basically wrecking the game. And, this is the unique part, you reduce stages by drinking blood. Being a vampire is LESSENED by doing the most vampiric thing out there, it actively makes you weaker.

And this is great. From a gameplay perspective, you vanish below ground to kill zombies/robots/whatever, and you grow stronger as the dungeon goes on. But if you don't rush through it, or if it's large, you surface having ignored your hunger for several days and have to do a whole second quest to sneak into town at night and drink blood, where the only reward is to engage with the game again. It's a drawback in the gameplay sense rather than the stats sense. And it lets game designers throw the player against weak vampires in town early on, and face dungeons full of max-bloodlust monsters later once the player knows how things work.

Meanwhile, from a lore perspective this is also great. Suddenly, it's not that vampires have to be evil, it's that they have a choice. A good person who flees their family to hide in a cave is going to starve, turning into a ravenous, uncontrolled, extremely strong monster. Someone who's comfortable sneaking around town drinking blood, meanwhile? They never lose control. They walk in the sun. They're perfectly human. Or as human as anyone can be while the blood of their neighbors flows in their veins.

And Bethesda doesn't DO ANYTHING with this. People you talk to in-game just treat it as "all vampires are evil, why would you expect anything else", when they've created a world where vampire morality is so much more interesting. The few vampires who exist in civilization that you're not supposed to kill don't really discuss their condition at all. And there's plenty of evil vampires choosing to live in caves running societies of vampires, when that makes no sense compared to basically any other way of life they could set up.

Bethesda games are a masterful disaster, in this as in everything else.