#Saff stuffs

[pinch-of-saffron]

QUEEN OF WORMS

in her diferent shapes

[unicornpopcorn14]

No. 9 Ramposano for the hug prompts (could be platonic or romantic it doesn't matter to me I'm starved for content of them either way tysm if you'll take the request)

—from @tulipe-rose

Hug prompts

9- Hugging them from behind to see what (how) they're doing.

Got carried away once again and wrote 2 parts and almost 3k words dgdhdj +This is more angsty than I originally planned gosh xdhdeh. tw for suicide, panic attacks and PTSD!! Hope you like it, Saff!! :D

Qualms Unprompted

1. 👓 → 🦋

Papers fall, medical utensils clank and disarray in a heap on the floor. She’s stock still.

The rope tied in a loop before her, hanging from the middle of the agency’s office’s ceiling, greets her silently with its ominous presence– and suddenly she isn’t at the agency anymore, suddenly the room is tainted in harsh hues of red, and suddenly there is a body limply suspended mid-air, one she cared so so much about and shit- shit she has to save him, she can’t mess up this time, not again, nonono-

A tap on her shoulder jolts her, and Yosano rigids so hard she thinks her body’s sturdiness was the same as a rock’s for a second, about to whip her head around, to confirm that what she’s beholding is real, to tell the other person to help her save him-

“Hey.” That voice- she knows that voice, “It’s okay… You’re okay…”

Arms gently wrap around her midsection from behind, securing her arms from treading upwards in order to claw her eyes out. Yosano’s world swerves in colors, dark red, bright white, dark red, bright white- Flickering and glitching like a playing of an old, dusty tape. The arms stay. They ground her. Always have.

The following minutes don’t feel like mere minutes, as the flames in her chest take a while to ebb down. Slowly, her thoughts clear enough for her to make sense of her surroundings, the scene finally stuck on bright white rather than dark red. She doesn’t dare look up at the noose again, transfixed on the ground and inhaling deeply. Finally, she realizes who has embraced her, who she trusts so much that her mind hadn’t offered a second of doubt that that voice is here to help-

Ranpo…

Sweet smelling, anchoring, trusted Ranpo…

“I’m sorry.” He croaks in her shoulder, sounding appalled, angry.

She chokes, “What- What is that-”

“It’s Dazai’s doing. The new guy.” He explains, and Yosano’s eyes close– right, right, Dazai. That was his schtick. How could she forget? “Sorry, I should’ve figured something like that would happen. I’ll make Fukuzawa give him a scolding or two about this.” Ranpo lets go, prompting her to turn from the scene. She does, though her eyes don’t yet open, paranoid about seeing dark red again.

Something about what Ranpo said rubs her off the wrong way– well, aside from the fact that he’d apologized two times in a row, “No- No, don’t.” She tries to articulate her thoughts, finding hands guiding her to sit on the floor, granting her shaking knees mercy, “He didn’t know– don’t blame him too hard. It’s not his fault I’m broken-”

A pinch to the ear surprises her, causing her eyes to open without permission-

“Ow, hey!” She glares at the man before her, though her fight leaves her at how serious he looks. His eyes are open, glaring at her from his cross-legged sit on the floor.

He takes her hand aggressively (never roughly), opens her palm, then puts something metal on top of it. Her eyes flick to the butterfly clip, her second anchor, and she grasps it tightly as she looks back up.

“It’s not his fault you’re broken, you say? Well, newsflash, genius, we all came to this agency broken.” He points at her, she blinks, “Don’t give me that look-” He mumbles quickly, “the blame on who broke us never falls on any person here. So, what, you’re suggesting we shouldn’t ever consider each other’s problems?! That we just shut up and take it whenever anyone crosses a line?! Are you insane?!”

“I-… But-” She wanted to counter, argue that chastising someone for something they didn’t know about is unfair. Dazai’s evidently a bundle of problems– problems she didn’t want to think about too hard, and getting rough with him the first few weeks after joining isn’t ideal, “Isn’t including Fukuzawa-sensei a bit much…?” She mutters weakly.

“Pff, who do you take Fukuzawa for? He knows how to handle each one of us, from the most recently joined to the latest. It’ll be fiiiine.” He flicks his hand nonchalantly, Yosano isn’t impressed, “No, I’m serious. He’ll just give him some stern words, provide him a brief idea of your situation, and a bunch of ‘please never do this again’. That’s it.” Yosano still isn’t convinced, Ranpo clearly takes offense to that, “Come on! When am I ever wrong?!”

Yosano smiles weakly at the clip. At least she’s a little reassured now. “Hm. You’re right…” Her expression falls quickly, however, her shoulders sagging, “Hope he doesn’t hate me more than he already seems to do, though…”

“Eh? He doesn’t hate you…?” Ranpo cocks his head, like it’s obvious, “He’s scared of you. There is a difference.”

Yosano’s brows furrow, eying Ranpo quizzically, “What? Why would he-”

“His past seems to be thoroughly erased, that even I haven’t figured out, for now.” He adds quietly, “Though it doesn’t take a genius to realize he has some sort of trauma associated with doctors, you know?” He shrugs

“Oh…” Yosano whispers. She should have considered that when the guy avoided her and her infirmary like the plague. Though, she was probably too busy escaping him and all his suicide ideations. Gosh, they need to talk. “Thanks… for pointing that out.”

“Wow, you didn’t even realize?” He sighs dramatically “Must be hard to be this dumb-”

“Shut up.” She punches his arm lightly, which he exaggeratedly whines over like a toddler. Yosano smiles, dark red forgotten entirely.

Despite her certainty that it will forever be a part of her, moments like these remind her that there are always people that will help her overcome it. People who’ll guide her, who’ll accept her, who’ll never use her, and never let anyone else use her, at least without the involvement of carnage and bloodshed.

People who’ll let her broken soul heal, slowly, slowly, never rush it, and never dismiss it.

Sometimes she wonders how she’s been blessed with such people.

“Thank you, Ranpo-san…” She says again, though it feels foreign on her tongue, seeing as they resort to teasing most of the time, their dynamic never changing since they’d known each other as teenagers– and it doesn’t help that Ranpo is still mentally stuck at fourteen, either, “For real, this time…”

“Ah.” Ranpo flicks his hat in pride, “It is but my very easily performed duty, though I am moved by your appreciation all the sa-”

“And please never sincerely apologize again.” She adds belatedly, feigning shivers, “That was weird.”

Ranpo��s speech comes to halt, for him to flatly say, “I don’t like what you’re implying with this one bit.”

“As you should.” She smiles teasingly, clip in hand, lost to the world as Ranpo throws a tantrum at her ‘disrespect’ and she laughs to his face, and keeps on laughing…

2. 🦋 → 👓

“Uh oh…” Yosano stops by the room she passes, eyes wide as she takes in the scene inside. Her non urgent duties get put on hold, taking a reroute as she steps inside.

Ranpo’s back is facing the door, but the glasses he wears are visible. That wouldn’t have halted her if it weren’t for the fact that he’s also deathly silent, seated alone. That’s never a good sign.

She doesn’t approach quietly, intentionally loud as to not spook him. He definitely knows she’s there, however, had known the exact second she’s stop and enter, every move she herself doesn’t yet know she’ll make.

On a whim, she resorts to lighten the clearly somber mood by wrapping her arms around him– a gesture either of them made whenever the other were too far in their own heads that they forget everything else, including themselves.

“Wham! You’ve been caged in by Yosano!” She chirps, glancing at the thing Ranpo’s holding. It’s a crossword puzzle, one with at least a thousand letters, but the older can easily solve with his eyes closed (literally), there is not even a need for glasses.

It’s surprising, however, that there are no words yet to be circled.

Ranpo doesn’t perk up or stiffen, as per expected, “Oh my, I’m so scared…!” He reciprocates weakly, though doesn’t take his eyes off the paper, as if in a staring contest with it, whoever breaks the stare-off loses.

“Hm, seems to be a troubling case we’re working on, huh?” She sarcastically mutters, breaking the hug and sitting on a chair parallel to his. He’s yet to lose the stare-off.

“Haha, very funny…”

“Well, it’s either that or you’re genuinely struggling with a crossword puzzle on a Tuesday morning.” Her gaze softens, “Seriously, why are the glasses on?”

“Don’t want them off.”

“Alright.” She shrugs, but doesn’t get up to leave, “Anything I can help with to take em off, then?”

“I won’t.” He speaks monotonously, “Also, stop insulting me before I hide all the chainsaws.”

“Hey, that’s too far!” She points jokingly, “Is that what I get for trying to help?”

“You aren’t helping.”

“Well,” She leans back, arms crossed, “I have nothing to do at the moment-”

“I know.”

“And the kids are outside so there is no one to scare for fun-”

“I know.”

“So I’ll naturally stay here until you take em off.”

“I knew you would-”

“Point taken, genius,” She snaps, frowning, “Come on, do I just yank them by force?!”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Gahhh!” She leans back, frustrated, “Look, Ranpo-san, maybe you know everything, Mr. ‘I have the best ability in the world’, but the inferior sum of us need context, here. Talk to me.”

Ranpo pauses, then finally loses with the paper, to give her the flattest look in history, “The sarcasm doesn’t erase the fact that this is a wildly embarrassing statement. Don’t say it again.”

Yosano blinks, taken aback. She wasn’t really sarcastic with the idea itself, more with the tiresome recite of a concept that she wholly believes in.

Besides, this is the first time Ranpo openly acknowledges that he’s not an ability user, at least to her, so the few seconds of her shocked silence is warranted, “What, weren’t you the one adamant that it’s an ability?” She asks with little bite to it. Matter of fact, they’ve just escaped from Poe’s book a week ago, marking this conversation’s uphold a bit too soon, “We just went over that.”

“And you’re humoring me, huh?” His grip on the paper tightens, teeth starting to grit, “Because I’m just a ridiculous fool who needs to be humored.”

“Woah, woah.” She reaches forward, taking the paper in her hands herself. She weakly tugs on it to ensure it won’t rip, and when Ranpo doesn’t fight back, she removes that barrier between them, “Where is all this coming from? I was serious about the ‘talk to me’ bit, by the way.”

Ranpo runs fingers through his hair, appearing troubled. Yosano patiently waits for him to gather himself. He sighs, head hanging as he mutters, “Sometimes… taking them off reminds me of how monstrous the world can become…”

Yosano leans forward, eyes down-casting as she takes that in, “Monsters, huh? You mentioned that before.”

“And it’s stupid, isn’t it? It’s the one thing I can’t wrap my head around.” He strains, trying to take them off but his shaky hands never pull them past the nose bridge, “This thing doesn’t amplify my ability- I don’t even have an ability. So why does such a useless artifact make me feel infinitely better? It’s nonsensical…”

“Hm.” Yosano nods, taking a moment to gather her own wits. She feels prided in the fact that she’s got Ranpo of all people to talk about something bothering him, trying not to mess up her chances, “It’s understandable, though. You’ve lived with that belief for… what, twelve years? I mean, I’m no psychiatrist, but it’s natural you won’t stop feeling those things all of a sudden…”

“But there is no logical explanation behind it, either.” Yosano is about to argue that there is, though doesn’t get the chance to when Ranpo scoffs, “It shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does. I hate it, but I can’t convince myself that they aren’t good for me. So better to leave them on then, right?”

Yosano takes a moment, then shakes her head, “No. You’re going about it in the wrong way…” Ranpo’s gaze lifts to meet her eyes, “Maybe they really are good for you, no reason or explanation needed. But that doesn’t mean you should wear them all the time, either. You’ll lose your sense of self.”

“But I can’t… take them off. Not right now. Not when everyone– everything is…”

“Scary? Monstrous?” Yosano’s tone softens, “Perhaps we really are. And perhaps I’ll never truly understand. But look at it that way: Wouldn’t that mean that you’re the only one in this world strong enough to not become a monster like the rest of us? Do you realize how special you are?”

“Special…?” He looks at her unconvincingly, “Or fractured…?

“Both, if you will. But it’s the good kind of a fracture. The one so clean and unique doctors and scientists look into it and never figure out how it came to be.” She smiles a little at her analogy, finding it a bit silly but equally logical, “In other words, while your fractures don’t defy you, they’re equally a part of you that you have to embrace, Ranpo-san, and it all starts with accepting the fact that leaving the glasses on won’t help you the way you think they would…”

Ranpo listens intently, then pauses, glancing at the crossword puzzle for a second, the looking back at the ground. His fingers twitch in an ache to do as commanded, and Yosano smiles slightly,

“I have a feeling I’ve convinced you.” She opts to give the hands a verbal nudge, “Come on~ lemme see those pretty greens.”

Ranpo stares, then his face contorts in disgust, “Ew, you are so embarrassing right now– I think I wanna barf all the marshmallows I ate.”

Still not taking them off, then. One of her creepy smiles crack her face, “You’ll make me do it.”

Ranpo’s expression falls in horror, “No-”

Her fingers curl like the claws of a cat about to lunge, twitching up and down in warning, “I’ll do it!”

“No, wait-” He tries to escape but it’s futile-

“Tickle attack!”

“BAHAHAH- STOP-!” He tries to push her off, but it’s futile. No amount of genius can escape the dreaded tickle attack, especially when trapped in a chair, “Okay, okay fine! Geez!” He yanks the glasses off before he has the chance to dwell on it, handing them to her with a pout and a huff, “Here!”

“Thaaank you,” She sing-songs in satisfaction, then turns fake-doctor-mode on, “You’re suspended from wearing them for 24 hours, only I can wear them.” She orders, putting them on and making explosion noises, “Woah, I feel my mind growing in size, already!”

“Stop it,” Ranpo pushes her head away while snickering, making her snicker back, “You’re lucky I’m a good patient who listens to my doctor.”

“You literally aren’t. The Agency’s dentist gets a mini heart attack whenever you visit.”

“Well, she should lower her expectations, then! What do you mean I can’t eat three packs of gummy bears for breakfast?! This is abuse!”

“Oh yeah. Seriously, who does that?!” She wails along with him, both of them wide-eyed and comfortable, “I bet she even tells you not to end the day with four lollipops for good luck before going to sleep!”

“She does! Can you imagine?!” Ranpo giggles, “Wow, are the glasses really working?”

“Well, they’re certainly effective, seeing as they spent twelve years belonging to Ranpo-san, best detective in the world!” She lowers her pitch gesturing a headline before her, “Even the glasses should have picked some of your intellect, by now!”

Ranpo chuckles, subdued as he averts his eyes, “Would be stupid of them not to.”

“Yeah…” She deflates as well, taking them off, “Don’t call yourself that again, though, ‘kay? Foolish and ridiculous don’t suit you.” She opens Ranpo’s palm and places the old glasses on them, to which he stares at, and doesn’t do more than that, “Well, in most instances.”

It takes a while, but Ranpo finally mutters, “They don’t.” She relaxes, perhaps even sighs in relief, “You’re right.”

She watches him, face flickering with emotion, then giddy excitement and confidence taking over, an expression she’s so familiar with, the one she’s learned to appreciate immensely,

“You’re right. I am the best!” He jumps up, standing on the chair as he loudly laughs, “Who was that hater spouting nonsense about me a minute ago?! They don’t understand jack shit!”

Fukuzawa suddenly spawns at the door, “Language. There are children present.”

The two of them jump out of their skin, panickily looking at one another then in one breath exclaim, “Sorry, sensei!”

~

The next day, Yosano finds a crossword puzzle in her infirmary, and her eyes widen…

The words ‘Thank’, ‘you’, ‘upcoming’ and ‘genius’ are the only words highlighted, with a little note at the bottom reading: never as genius as I am, tho!

She smiles, already planning to get him back for that.

[saffron-gold-stardust]

I went to post and realized i’ve been hyprfixating on a completely different dreamtale au and now im like ohhhhh….. oh no

Gotta make that materpost baha

[mushroom-music]

midwestern poet moodboard

:3

[saffronthreads]

You and your f/o should play a game together right now, what game are you playing?

Can be anything too, board game? Video game? Card game? Tag? Idk whatever game you guys would find fun.

[tulipe-rose]

BROTHERS AND SISTERS OF THE BSD FANDOM.

IT'S SPELLED 'YOKOHAMA', AND NOT 'YOKOHOMA'?

[endless-shelter]

Dream + Fave OC

This year I'm going to try to commit to inktober by either traditional or digital means (i use ink pens for lining anyway LMAO) by combining inktober and @bweirdart 's oc-tober!! Some may just be the inktober prompts if I don't have an oc to apply it to or I just wanna draw Taís LOL

[slaughtrtime]

my new roblox avatar

going to space forever

[superellysan]

My dearest most wonderful friend @saffron-gold-stardust freehanded me a Kid and LOOK AT HIIIIM

[sometimeslapine]

[…Store-Bought Is Fine]

(the part two to the previous story! things get a bit more intimate...)

Shutting the door, locking the door, testing the door.

Satisfied, she slung the car keys back on their wall-mounted hook, and loudly announced her arrival home to nobody in particular. It was almost midnight.

She knew her roommate was out for the weekend, off to some convention thing. She knew she still had the house to herself for at least a few more days, but it never hurt to check. A little peace of mind goes a long way, especially given the whole… y'know. She was pretty sure that they were pretty sure that they knew the nonsense stuff she was into, but, still.

She looked down at the brown bag of oddities picked up about an hour earlier. She's really going to go through with this, huh. It almost felt anticlimactic, in a weird way? She'd mentally ran through this scenario about a dozen times on the drive home, almost burning the novelty of the situation out. Still, though…

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

The clock finally struck twelve, and she set to work, full of eager energy. She'd always been a bit of a night owl (partial consequence of her hobbies), so it wasn't long before most of the kitchen was an absolute mess. It's the saffron, you see. A nightmare to refine when all you've got is the kind of second-hand electric stove a a certain landlord would "so graciously" provide with the place. A few dozen croquaenen stigmas removed, drying out as best they can over the low heat of a burner.

Several of the other reagents had been prepped by the time she was starting to grind up the would-be saffron in a mortar. Most of it was ready-to-use from the get go. Wasn't a lot to extracting the lavender oil, normally, but the need for a dry environment limited her options a bit. No boiling water, no steam allowed tonight. Still, she managed.

One in the A.M. finally landed, and she was prepping the space in her bedroom. The new moon tonight gave no ambient light to work off of, but old habits and comforts kept her craft project close to an uncurtained window, regardless. Small heat-resistant tarp laid out, sigil carefully drawn with the saff powder, lavender oil spread thinly around the perimeter, incense lit to set the mood, gemstones and the elemental charm each placed at a focal point in the design, and, uh,

…Hm,

Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she held the unlabeled bottle of that ficus sap stuff in her hand, gently rocking it back and forth in contemplation, feeling the viscous weight slowly shift its center of gravity, watching it coat the inside walls. She honestly had no idea what to do with the this stuff. Not for consumption, obviously, but uh. Damn. Really regretting not asking for clarification now.

Well, she was nothing if not one to improvise.

Running back to the kitchen to grab a small cup, she dipped the air charm in by its band and spilled enough of the latexy sap in to completely coat the thing. That's basically what balloons are on a technical level, right? A latex coating encasing air? Or the representation of air, anyway. That makes sense conceptually, right?? Yeah. What's the worst that could happen.

She carefully laid the encased charm back down on the decorated tarp, its position on the sigil representative of one's body. For good measure, she gave the same treatment to several of the gemstones, carefully removing them all from the mixture with a small pair of tongs. Another moment to dry, then back into their place they go. Again, why not.

She had herself a mostly-complete alchemy circle. As a final precaution, she opened the bedroom window to that moonless sky (cautiously, only giving about 12 or so inches of an opening), aiming her tower fan to cycle air out. She didn't know how much smoke this thing was about to put off, and the last thing she needed was the fire alarm flipping this late at night.

A pause, to admire her handiwork. A photo taken, to document this setup in the off-chance it worked. Just one final reagent to go, and a comparatively big one at that.

She brought a section of the lavender oil to ignition with the still-burning incense, and carefully stepped onto the tarp, into the circle.

There was a blinding flash. The full span of the ring was now quickly ablaze with a low, luminous indigo flame. It was silent, bringing a radiance that almost felt cold. She felt a tingling sensation shoot up her spine; Either an effect of the ritual doing its work, or the nervousness of the situation as a whole. Playing with fire indoors was always a bit of a hazard, but she'd rather not risk doing this particular one outside, not with her fear of heights. Last thing she needed was an open sky without a safety harness.

That tingling eventually spread out across the rest of her body, slowly at first, and then rapidly down her limbs, with an intense heat that felt completely foreign to her. It wasn't the flames, but something more… internal? The closest association her brain could make was someone very gently running a lint roller across every square inch of her body. Weird, gentle prickling sensations, a light tug upwards as if some phantom adherence was being removed. Under any other situation, she'd have kicked back to enjoy the sensory show, but this was nothing but terse apprehension, a feeling that felt like it was going to drag on for eternity.

And then it stopped, just as quickly. The flames sputtered to an emberless ash, leaving a sweet honeyed scent throughout the now-darkened room. She collapsed on the floor, exhausted, panic finally over. Wow, did she ever feel light-headed. Probably should've had something to eat before this.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

She laid there on her back for quite some time, hazy attention focusing in and out on the ceiling. Slowly coming-to again, she braced herself for the fire alarm to kick off screaming. The window precaution seems to have done the trick in evacuating the smoke, at least. That's good. That's… good. Wow, did she ever feel light… ah… …light-everything? What… what the fuck.

Was that a sign it worked?

She lifted a hand upwards above her, as best as she could. It felt like her strength was sapped. She- "Holy shit." Involuntarily spoken. She could almost see right through it though, if she looked hard enough. "Holy shit. What the fuck." Propping herself up against the side of her bed, she pulled off her shirt as quickly as she could manage, pausing to lament the smudged ashen marks the sigil left on the backside. It was faint looking down, but sure enough, she saw the carpet underneath, no, directly /through/ her own chest. "Holy shit." It was literally all she could manage, rendered otherwise speechless.

She placed a hand against her belly, and gave a hesitant push. It squished down in, far more than it had any right to, before springing right back up when her pressure relented. "I- I'm a balloon. Rubber. I'm- This is- I- h-hah," before fully giving way to excited laughter. The absurdity of it all hit like a truck.

A beat passed, her taking time to fully come to terms with the changes that had taken place. Right. She did this to herself, intentionally, with purpose. There was only one thing on her mind.

She scrambled across the floor to her closet (as best she could, given the lack of any actual internals that would've helped with that,) and- "Where the /fuck/ is that air compressor." …and unburied the thing she kept hidden but never had a chance to use, covered in dust as it was.

It was by no means powerful, but it moved air around, into things, and that's all she cared about in the moment.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

Plugged in, Powered on, Airflow tested.

With her clothes now fully removed, she did her best to prop herself up against the bedroom wall, naked and reaching (blindly fumbling) around behind her. The still-running hose went it with no resistance at all, and she immediately felt a pressure begin to build around her pelvis before dispersing upwards. Everything quickly felt tight. There was a bubbly tingle. A slight belly bump made itself known, and she stared at it in amazement as she watched the rise and fall of her shallow breaths become more of a rise and rise, and rise, and rise.

The feeling, the experience left her even weaker in that moment. She slid back down to a seated position, grabbing at her own tummy, cradling it as it rounded out to something akin to a basketball, waistline slowly gaining an inch or two every minute, puffing out onto her lap. God, this felt fucking incredible. It was greater, unlike anything she could've imagined (and that imagination certainly wasn't devoid of attempts). The pressure buildup, the restricted movement, the taboo nonsense feeling of it all. It was like getting a really good stretch in that just kept going and going. The bonus vibrations she got from the air compressor's magnet-driven motor traveling through the hose certainly didn't help her feel in any way Normal about it.

it was a few minutes of bliss before a hit of clarity successfully broke through the obsession. she needed room to grow, and the corner of her room wouldn't be viable for long. get up. she should move to the bed, if she could manage.

Right. Okay. She attempted to stand. It was a little easier this time, the pressure keeping her body a bit more taut, less prone to collapse (is this what a pooltoy feels like?) but the vibrational waves of that motor reverberating through her core still kept her weak. It was all so much to feel. She almost looked like she'd swallowed a beachball at this point, and her sides were starting to round out just as much as her front was. Hell, she couldn't even see over the rising dome of her belly anymore.

Moving to the bed, she…

…

Well, She tried to, anyway. She practically fell face-and-tummy first onto the floor with a slight rebounding bounce, coming to a stop on all fours; A clumsy combination of the ever-shifting balance point, and a rough reminder that the hose kept her on a short leash about five feet long.

Y'know what, the floor was fine. She didn't care. She really could not care about anything else. She was suddenly in the perfect position to feel everything, every sensation, straddled over her own ballooning body, feeling the high-pile carpet gently brush across the increasing surface area of her expanding frontside, while her overall weight (or whatever fraction remained of it, this hollow) squished downwards, stretching and distorting her tummy outwards to the sides as much as it did the front.

With some hesitancy, she took the weight distribution off her palms, seeing just how well she could remain in this position without the added support. The shift in balance and the new restriction in room to grow gave a subtle redirection in airflow. A pressure in her chest built up, and she gave a questioning squeeze around her front-right. A squeak vocalized at the unexpected sensitivity, but she confirmed it, face reddening as expanding titflesh slowly billowed out around her grip. It was the first noise she'd made in a while, having been enjoying the experience in silent bliss. Boobs too, huh? God, what a fucking experience.

Minutes passed with the hum of the motor still whirring away in its duty, steadily blowing the girl rounder and rounder, pressure increasing bit by bit. Completely content, she thought back on that squeak she made; Embarrassing as it was, it was the kind of noise you'd expect from a balloon, and she held on to that thought almost in pride, nuzzling her face down in the unexpected cleavage she'd gained. She was more balloon then girl at this point after all, and balloons are meant to get round and squeaky. Balloons are designed for this. It's completely normal for a blimp to want these things, she reasoned with herself. Thi-

Train of thought cut short, her whole world suddenly flipped forward. Sheer size alone had outgrown her ability to retain traction, and her legs were now kicking skyward, hose and all in full display. Only thing that stopped her ending up face-first against the carpet as she tilted forward was her airbag of a chest.

Well, things were… a little more awkward, now.

Attempts at repositioning were challenging; It was a bit of trouble moving her arms around with all the boob in the way, but there was just this… odd resistance, on top of everything else? It's… stiff. Everything felt stiff.

Ah.

She slowly, hesitantly, relaxed as much as she could, taking note of how her arms now found natural resting positions straight out to the sides. They were tough to bend elsewise, and that stiffness was slowly giving way to a new, even-more-foreign feeling of pressure, like nervous butterflies flooding every cubic inch. The feeling was mirrored along her hips, down her legs. She didn't feel at-capacity yet, but the air was already searching for new places to go.

This… wasn't anticipated. Everything gently started to puff ever-so-noticeably rounder, and she was losing mobility fast. She tried to fight it, flailing a bit, trying to shift in any direction, but it only served as a reminder of how sensitive everything was, blown out like this. The air compressor was far too out of reach in this position, and she'd completely lost the mobility needed to pull the hose out. Alright. Fuck. stay calm. take stock of the situation. Okay. Yeah.

She was still mostly center-of-the-room, halfway between the closet and the bed, safe from the danger of pushing into anything sharp, but she really had no idea just how much give she had left in her. The pressure kept increasing in step with her size, and the square footage of this bedroom wasn't ever much to write home about. She could still feel the light reverberations from the compressor's motor, vibrations increasing in intensity, a whine crying out from the little device as it tried to fight PSI it almost definitely wasn't rated for.

Well, that's a potential solution, if she could manage that long. Outlast the motor. Hope it burns itself out. Prooooobably doable. And if she couldn't…

The threat of popping loomed overhead. Jeez… Hell of a way to go. She always knew she'd be done by one of her own spells, but it being something as dumb and air-headed as attempting to live out kink nonsense surprisingly wasn't high up on her list. It just.. didn't really seem all that dignified, to be honest. Hell, just thinking about how silly she looked, all blown up like some parade float mockery of herself, sensitive squeaking with every move, so round, so shiny, so huge, so very fucking huge, and tight, and full and stretching so thin you could see right through her, only moments away from total release like any good party blimp lovingly pushed to its limit and ready to explode, and god why was she so into this, this isn't helping her case, agh, focus, focus,

She was well past the point where internal pressure beat out features. Arms and legs swelling out comically conical, the valley dividing belly and underboob beginning to taper outwards, even her face felt a little bloated. She was over minutes away from being blown full-body spherical, and all she could do was ride it out. The pressure began to peak. Ah. This is it, then.

Closing her eyes, she waited.

Slow, calm breaths, trying to avoid adding any more tension to the body.

She waited, in intense anticipation.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

…Thirty seconds moved by without fanfare.

She… didn't feel any tighter? She was still really fucking tight, but… she didn't seem to be growing. The pump's still flowing, she can certainly feel that much, but the pressure wasn't increasing. Where's the bang.

Why was she almost disappointed…?

It was as if the compressor just couldn't move air anymore. Either that, or she sprung a leak somewhere. Airflow had normalized. She wasn't getting any bigger, but she wasn't getting any smaller, either.

She was just kinda… stuck like this. At least eight feet around, way too blown taut to do anything about the situation, almost completely unable to move (save for a slight rocking back and forth), and thanks to the motor of that hose gently buzzing away in a process she could still one-hundred-percent feel, she'd be stuck here for the foreseeable future, thoughts all but scrambled, with what amounted to a vibrator stuck between her legs. It still felt amazing, but, jeez, what a fucking scenario to be in. Her only possible release was still out at a con for the next few days, completely unaware they'd be coming home to a weather blimp for a roommate. (how on earth is she even going to explain this one.)

But, time still moved forward. She tried to let herself enjoy what she could of the situation. Occasional hushed moans broke through the silence of the night, intermingling with the white noise of the motor working diligently to ensure she'd always be topped off, like any good balloon should be.

…god. this was looking set to be a very, very long weekend.

[pinch-of-saffron]

Gog ofers you a worm (a second chance)

[sapphicbookclub]

Author Spotlight: Jill Gaudio

Interested in hearing more about one of our current club reads, The Fleet Admiral's Daughter by Jill Gaudio? Read on for a guest post about authentic representation and how to get a sneak peak before the book releases on February 4th, 2025!

Thanks for giving me the opportunity to guest blog!

I want to talk about authentic representation in literature - it’s something close to my heart and can be tricky to get right!

Funny enough, when I started writing my first book, I didn’t plan on including a love story. I had one in mind for the sequel, but it was for a totally different character. Annie, my main character Sarah’s love interest, was originally supposed to be her rival—someone to clash with. But as I kept writing Annie, I couldn’t help but fall in love with her character. So, I pivoted, and their romance ended up becoming a key focal point of the story.

When I started developing their relationship, I knew I didn’t want to rely on some of the usual tropes like “will they, won’t they,” “enemies to lovers,” or even a “slow burn.” I know, I know—those tropes are popular for a reason, but I wanted to explore something different. I’ve always been drawn to stories where the romance doesn’t end with the two characters getting together, but instead shows what happens after. Like, what does their love look like in the day-to-day? The growing pains, the quiet intimacy, the sweet moments—it’s the stuff we experience (or hope to) in real life, and I wanted to capture that. I always find myself wanting to know more (looking at you, Saff and Maddy).

And I know I’m not the only one! Most fan art and fan fiction depicts the ongoing relationship and how they wish for it/imagine it to be after the story has ended.

But wait—doesn’t that get boring? Where’s the drama?

Here’s the thing: I don’t love drama for drama’s sake. It feels forced, and honestly, it pulls me out of the story. For example, I was so excited about the sapphic relationship in the tv show Station 19. I even skipped ahead to the season where it starts because I couldn’t wait to see how Maya and Carina’s romance would unfold. I loved how Carina’s character helped Maya grow as a person. But then…(spoiler alert) they had Maya cheat. For no good reason! It soured the whole thing for me. I couldn’t keep watching, even though I knew they eventually got back together.

Forced drama like that doesn’t feel authentic. Fiction is fantasy, something we like to get lost in, and when authors/writers throw something in simply to get an emotional reaction, it pulls us out of the world instead of reeling us in deeper.

“Good writing doesn’t need to kill the dog to make the reader feel something.”

- Me, who will die on this sword.

Instead, it should make us feel deeply because it’s honest and relatable. Authentic writing makes your heart pound, your stomach swoop, your eyes well up, your pulse race, your temper flare, your fist pump into the air. That’s what I hope readers experience when they see Sarah and Annie’s relationship unfold in The Fleet Admiral’s Daughter.

Take a situation like this: What would you do if the person you love decided to move somewhere you didn’t want to go? Maybe not outer space (like Sarah and Annie), but it’s a real question. Do you follow them? Do you stay behind? Is your love strong enough to take the leap? These are real-world questions that I think a lot of readers can relate to, even if the story is set in a futuristic, sci-fi world.

I saw a meme recently that was humorous, but it got me thinking about how some people still have these wildly skewed ideas about what same-sex relationships are like.

To me, showing a sapphic couple as just a couple—full of ups, downs, twists, turns, and, most importantly, love—feels like a step in the right direction.

At the end of the day, I want The Fleet Admiral’s Daughter to show readers that love is love. It’s universal, whether it’s between two women or anyone else. And it’s not just about representation—it’s about crafting stories that feel authentic and human, even if they’re set in space.

My hope is that Sarah and Annie’s love story will resonate with readers as both extraordinary and relatable—an example of how love, in all its forms, can transcend the stars.

Hope to see you all in the Space Legion soon!

Jill (@jagauthor)

If you’d like to see how Sarah and Annie’s story unfolds—and experience a sapphic love story that’s grounded in authenticity and full of heart—you can check out my upcoming book, The Fleet Admiral’s Daughter, releasing on February 4, 2025. 

But if you can’t wait until then and want a little taste, you can download Duty’s Edge, a free novella that introduces Sarah’s journey and her first meeting with Annie. It’s the perfect way to dive into their world before the adventure truly begins!

Duty's Edge - Sapphic Sci-Fi Novella Prequel to The Fleet Admiral's Daughter

[tabitha42]

The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 3

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

Chapter 1 Previous chapter Next chapter

Morning came all too quickly. Her body still ached from the day before, made worse now by sleeping on little more than the ground. She could hear movement outside - seems the others were already awake, or some of them at least. The smell of food wafted in and was enough to finally pull her out of bed.

Outside the others were preparing for the day - sharpening weapons, readying armour, inspecting arrows. Gale sat at the campfire, cooking once more. “Saff!” he called once he saw she was up, beckoning her over. “I’ve saved some for you.” She wandered over and sat down next to him. He handed her a plate with some bread and cooked meat. Considering it was rations looted off of dead bodies cooked over a campfire, it looked pretty damn good. She thanked him and eagerly began eating. “We’ll be heading out with the others today to help search for the tieflings. Lae’zel thinks she knows what direction to go in,” he explained, filling her in on the discussions that had happened before she’d woken up. 

“Ah… ok,” she said, a little bit nervous. “What about the camp? Shouldn’t someone stay to guard it?” “Shadowheart will stay here.” That took her by surprise. Even though Shadowheart had been pretty quiet last night, one thing Saff had gotten from her was that she was very determined to do whatever needed to be done to free herself of this parasite, and staying in camp for the day didn’t seem to fit in with that. 

“Really?” she asked, glancing over at Shadowheart, who was eating her breakfast in front of her tent. “Yep,” he said, before lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “Between you and me, I get the impression she wants to be in Lae’zel’s company for as little time as possible.” “Ah…” she murmured. Now that she thought about it, that matched up with how they’d been acting around each other last night. The two of them clearly weren’t exactly friends. “What about our stuff? Can we trust her with it all?” Gale shrugged slightly. “We don’t have much choice, unless you want to carry that backpack around with you all day.” 

She certainly didn’t relish that thought. 

“Suppose you’re right…” she muttered. Still, she wondered if this was really the best idea. Shadowheart looked like a much more capable fighter than Saff herself was…

Soon breakfast was done and the four of them were ready to go. “Good luck,” Shadowheart said with a wave as they were about to leave. “Do try not to get yourselves killed.” 

“Same to you, darling,” Astarion replied. “It can be awfully dangerous in these woods all on your own.” “I can handle myself, don’t you worry.” With that, they were off. Lae’zel took the lead while the rest of them followed. “You sure you’re ok with this, Lae’zel?” Astarion asked after a while. “Two wizards and a rogue… we won’t exactly be joining you on the front lines.” Despite the apparent concern in his words, the playful nature with which he said them seemed to lack any real concern at all. 

“I am perfectly content with that. Less people to get in my way,” she said confidently. Everything she said seemed to be confident, like she had not a shred of self-doubt. Given the stories she’d told them of Githyanki culture, Saff supposed anyone with any self-doubt wouldn’t have survived their training. 

“Are you saying our dear Shadowheart got in your way?” Astarion asked, with the tone of a teenager wanting to start drama. “Shadowheart’s been getting in my way since we met her. I will fight better without her.” 

Astarion glanced at Saff and Gale, now with the look of a teenager excited about the drama they’d started. 

“Well if you can fight even better today we have nothing to fear.” 

At this point Saff wasn’t sure if he was actually being sarcastic with everything he said or if that was just how he spoke. 

The walk was long, interspersed with the occasional conversation. Astarion seemed quite chatty now, as long as the subject wasn’t himself. During the conversation she decided to tell them all to call her Saff, though mostly because it would be odd to have Gale call her one thing and the others call her another. But she hoped once she got to know the others more she’d feel as comfortable round them as she did right now with Gale.

It was early afternoon when they heard the shouting. Running to catch up with it they discovered what they’d been looking for - a large door, disguised with ivy, manned by tieflings atop the wall. Had it not been for the group of adventures outside the door shouting to be let in, they’d probably not have noticed it. 

Then came the goblins. Hollering war cries, the group descended on them and the battle began. Lae’zel wasted no time charging in, and before Saff even knew what was going on, Astarion disappeared into the shadows. She might have thought he’d fled had she not seen an arrow fly out from his hiding place right into the skull of a goblin, before he quickly darted to another hiding spot. Next Gale ran forward and effortlessly threw a firebolt at one of the worgs as it went to attack a tiefling. His hand gestures were so quick she barely saw them. She’d never seen someone cast a spell with such ease… but she soon realised she’d been staring a bit too long as she suddenly noticed a goblin running towards her, taking advantage of her lapse in concentration. In a panic she quickly summoned a firebolt and threw it at the goblin, but her aim was off, and even if it had hit it lacked the power to kill, and the goblin easily dodged to the side. She tried to summon another, but her shaking hands couldn’t do the movements, and before she knew it the goblin was on top of her… 

The goblin was slammed aside by a bolt of fire, leaving a huge clump of burnt flesh sloughing off the side of the corpse. She looked in the direction it came from to see Gale looking back at her, taking a moment to be sure she was ok, before quickly turning back to the battle, another spell in hand. 

She knew in that moment she had to be better than this, and for now adrenaline drowned out the fear and she found herself running to Gale’s side to join the fight. It was mostly a blur, throwing firebolts and dodging arrows as the sounds of battle cries and dying screams echoed in her ears. 

Then just as suddenly as it started, it was over. But she didn’t hear the celebrations of the survivors. She could still hear only the dying, the screaming. The cracking of bones and skulls, the thud of bodies hitting the ground, the stench of burning flesh. She heard voices, but the words were lost. Her hands shook, her heart raced, her ears rang, and all she could do was stare at the massacre in front of her… 

Suddenly she was being pulled away. She didn’t resist - she couldn’t even register what was happening enough to consider resisting it. A familiar figure by her side, one arm around her shoulders, the other taking her hand, leading her away from it all. Then she was sat on a stone next to him in the quiet serenity of the forest. 

“Saff? Saff, look at me.” His words gradually made their way through her muddled mind and his face came into focus in front of her, a look of deep concern in his eyes. 

“Saff, can you hear me? It’s ok…” 

She felt him squeeze her hand, and finally the visions of the battle left and she found herself back in the real world. With a deep gasp, as if finally being released from an iron-like grip, she closed her eyes and shook her head. 

“Gods… oh, gods…” she whispered, her voice shaking as much as her hands. “Hey, it’s alright,” he said softly, gently rubbing her back. “It’s over now.” 

After a long moment she finally opened her eyes again, and when she did they were full of tears. 

“I… I… oh, fuck, what am I doing here…” she whispered in a panic. “I shouldn’t have come… I should have told you I can’t do this… you should have taken Shadowheart, not me…” 

“Saff-” “I’ve put you all in danger, I’m just going to slow you all down, I can’t fight like you all ca-” “Saff!”

She went quiet, looking at him in surprise. 

“I know this is difficult. Trust me, I do. The first time I ever found myself truly fighting for my life, I was terrified. But I also know that it gets easier. Don’t give in to panic and fear, trust and believe in yourself. You can do this,” he said honestly, squeezing her hand as he spoke. 

She looked down, letting his words sink in. Gradually the panic faded, leaving just the warmth his voice gave her. Finally she wiped her eyes and nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice still shaking slightly. He smiled, giving her the time she needed. Eventually she took a deep breath and steadied herself. “Lae’zel and Astarion weren’t impressed by this, I’m guessing…” she murmured, dreading the judgemental stares she’d get next time she saw them. “I told them we would stay behind and loot the bodies. I’m not sure how much they realised what was actually happening,” he explained. “Oh,” she said in surprise. “Well… thanks for covering for me,” she said, realising what he’d done for her. “But still… I shouldn’t have let it get to this. I should have told you from the beginning. Someone who can’t fight doesn’t exactly make for a good travelling companion…” “Oh I don’t know about that. I’d still rather travel with you than with any of them.” 

Again, she looked at him in surprise. “Really? But… they can all fight. You’d be so much safer with them.” “Perhaps, but a good travelling companion can do more than just fight. Most of travelling is, well, travelling, not fighting. It’s long and boring, and you make far better conversation than they do.” 

She had to look away to hide the blush on her cheeks. Though she wondered if he saw anyway, given the way he chuckled. 

“Still… I won’t be able to talk us out of a fight, if it comes to it…” She said quietly, feeling doubtful again. 

“Then how about some lessons?” he offered. She looked back at him in curiosity. “You clearly have a fairly good grasp of the Weave, but you’ve never really studied combat magic, correct?” She nodded. “Then I shall teach you. And with as great a wizard as me as your teacher, you’ll be a powerful battlemage in no time.” 

She was sure whenever he said something a bit full of himself like that it was intended to command respect, though all it ever seemed to do was make her laugh. Luckily, that was exactly what she needed right now.

“Alright, I’ll hold you to that. If I’m not throwing fireballs within a tenday I’ll blame you.” 

“Deal,” he said with a smile, holding his hand out. She gladly shook it, feeling a bit more confident about this now. “The lessons start tonight, after dinner.” “I’ll be there,” she promised him, quite looking forward to it. “I suppose for now we’d better get back to the others before they realise something’s up.” “A good plan,” he agreed, standing up. She stood too and together they returned to the site of the battle. 

By now several tieflings had come out and started looting the bodies for weapons and supplies. Saff tried to push the images out of her head as they walked past them and through the gate into the grove. 

Once inside they met Zevlor, shaking his head over the unconscious adventurer he’d apparently knocked out in a moment of rage, who pointed them further into the grove where the others had gone. They found them talking to one of them men from the fight earlier, who had agreed to join their group in search of a cure. After a tadpole-induced vision of Avernus and quick explanation as to the one-horned devil they saw he introduced himself properly, and Saff's face immediately lit up. “You’re the Blade of Frontiers??” she gasped in excitement. A smile spread across his face, as if he’d been hoping someone would recognise him. “The very same. You’ve heard of me, then?” “Of course! I’ve heard all the stories! You’re fighting evil in the Hells now??” 

“Indeed I am. Wherever evil lurks, I will be there to flush it out,” he said proudly. Lae’zel rolled her eyes, Astarion sighed, and Gale looked… just a bit uncomfortable with how much Saff was suddenly gushing over their newest companion. Not that Saff noticed any of this. 

“We need to focus on the tadpoles,” Lae’zel reminded them. “Zorru. Where is he?” 

“Ah, he’s over there, by the hut,” Wyll said, pointing to a tiefling further down the grove. “Let’s move,” she ordered, starting to head in that direction. “Quite the merry little party now, aren’t we?” Astarion said, referencing how many people they now had. Lae’zel paused. “You’re right. Five is too many. Once we leave here, we will attract too much attention.” “Well, I for one think we should explore all avenues,” Astarion continued. “How about you and I talk to this Zorru while they go talk to that druid healer the trader mentioned?” Lae’zel looked at the others, considering this suggestion. 

“A pointless exercise, purification is the only way to cure ourselves. But if seeing for yourself that no others can cure us is the only way you will accept this, then very well. You three seek this healer in the grove - this Nettie. We will speak to Zorru. Return here when you are done.” 

With that she turned off and headed towards Zorru. Astarion gave the three of them a look, then went off with her. Gale couldn’t help but wonder if Astarion had some ulterior motive to splitting them up like this… he’d probably never have guessed his motive was just to see what drama would come out of it after seeing how uncomfortable Gale looked just now. 

“This way, then,” Wyll announced, leading them towards the druids.

[tulipe-rose]

𝓗𝓲𝓲! 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝔂!

𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎? >>

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

You can call me anything, but Saffron works, you can give me another if you want! (My friends call me Saff/Tulipe/I literally love any names you give me I love y'all sm. I nickname myself Ron sometimes, or rosy when I'm in a pinky mood.)

My birthday is on the 6th of January.

My favourite color is blue, (specifically baby blue) and purple

I'm a self taught fanartist and fanfiction author. Trying to learn how to animate

I'm impulsive, and let the intrusive thoughts win when I'm hungry (too often).

I really like reading manga, and I honestly prefer it over watching anime. My current fixation is on the Bungō Stray Dogs manga, including every single spin off; they bring me life.

I occasionally draw fanarts, and maybe post some hcs, but that would be on my main blog @saffron0v0

My ocs are Marie, Celestine and Sayaki Haga.

This blog is dedicated to writing, and it would contain some non fandom stuff. Probably about the happenings of my daily life.

yes, I'm matching with myself. No, I don't take criticism.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

I do requests, and some of my fandoms are →

Kny

Silent voice

Ansatsu no Kyoshitsu

Jshk

Sxf

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

My tags →

Saff Ron tag ≈ My posts

Saff Ron rb tag ≈ Reblogs

Saff Ron reacts ≈ Reaction to bsd LNs

Things I will do are, {canonx reader, canon x oc, oc x oc, or just a platonic fluffy or angsty one shot, I can do self discovery and internal struggles aswell} prompts along with the requests would be appreciated.

However things I absolutely won't be doing under any circumstances are, {smut, gn!reader x canon (because of religious reasons I can't support LGBTQIA++, I'm very sorry), gn!reader x oc, basically anything gay (again I'm sorry), proships. I'll add more if I come across anything else that might trigger me.}

I can do gn!reader in any platonic contexts, though, so you can ask for that.

Requests: Closed 🔒

Archive

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And whoever is reading this: Don't try suicide, nobody's worth it. the dividers and graphics are by @caferteeth

[breadandthread]

Hey! Would you be able to spread the word about this?

BackseatPhilosopher: signal boosting this from a friend in North Carolina, for anyone (probably mostly US folks, given How International Shipping Be) in the market for Yarn And Stuff

> Hey yall- as you might know the Southeastern Animal Fiber Fair in Fletcher, NC was canceled due to the impacts of Helene. If you're able consider doing crafty shopping from (what would have been) 2024 SAFF vendors. Special shoutout to queer owned Briar Patch Fiber Co

>

> https://saffregistration.org/secure/vendors.asp

Thank you!

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