#and i actually posted this at a reasonable hour!

[dollishmehrayan]

𐔌 . ⋮ DAMIAN WAYNE AS A S/O .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ── .✦ ( solo damian wayne x reader run )

𝜗𝜚 a/n: I’ve been reading damian’s run these days and aww stop he’s so adorable anyways I thought why not to write something for him to get out my writers block sooo enjoy?? anyways I was pressured by my bbg @kyriakis to post this so after this I’ll probably write genuine hcs of him only of things he probably does / used to based off canon, tags: ( damian wayne x reader ) ! Disclaimer the following tags include jason, dick, bruce, Tim even when not mentioned this allows for the fandom to equally react since most don’t follow damian tag

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

A BIT OF A GREAT GIFTER ── .✦

Damian’s idea of romance is... a little dramatic. You once casually mentioned how you like the color purple or any other color and the next day you received an extravagant bouquet of rare lavender flowers, LIKE THIS MAN REMEMBERS WELL.

“Purple is a necessary part of your aesthetic,” he states nonchalantly as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

But then, if you ever mention how much you love a particular type of chocolate or a specific scent, he’ll track it down and somehow acquire it without you knowing and just say it’s a ‘gift’ as if he didn’t spend hours finding it.

And if you dare to ask him about it? PFFFF

“Tt, don’t know what you’re talking about. I simply noticed the details, as any competent person would.”

DRAMATIC BUT ON LEVEL 10 ── .✦

Damian acts like you’re going on an actual mission when you leave the house. “What do you mean you’re going for a walk? You can’t just walk around Gotham. There’s danger everywhere.”, “It’s just a bodega damian.”

And even if it’s just a trip to the store, he’ll insist on accompanying you with that “I’m doing this for your own safety” tone, but the moment you come back home, he acts like he’s been out on patrol the entire time.

“I’ve successfully completed the task of ensuring no harm came to you.” HIS LOVE IS IN ACTIONS NOT WORDS OKAY?!

He says this while wearing a full suit and tie, because of course, that makes sense for a walk to the bodega ( corner shop )

Not the Best at Compliments, but...

Damian’s way of showing affection can be a little... rough. But somehow, it always gets the point across, think of like people being sarcastic as a love language but his seems to be like kinda blunt? Where at first he won’t say out loud ‘oh I love you’ no but he isn’t ignorant either, he knows he loves you and that’s validated to him.

“You’re fine. I mean, I guess I could see how someone would find you attractive. It’s not the worst thing in the world.”

And then he’ll look at you, almost daring you to call him out. But in truth, his eyes are saying, “I think you’re the most beautiful person in the world, but I’ll never admit it because I am Damian Wayne, and I am far too cool for this.”

The thing is, though, he’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy, even if it means begrudgingly going out of his way to make sure you get exactly what you want.

WILL DEFEND YOU 100% ── .✦

one of his brothers say something mildly annoying to you?

“Don’t talk to them like that.”

Damian’s got your back no matter how small the offense.

Someone’s being rude to you in public? He’s ready to pull a full I’m Damian Wayne, son of Batman, sole heir to ra’s al ghul and start a verbal altercation, followed by a very intense, “No, they didn’t just say that about you” look.

You? Trying to defuse the situation like a normal person?

Damian? “Nope, too late. I already decided it’s a fight now, this is mockery.

If you’re lucky, he’ll look at you and say, “It’s okay. I’m protecting you,” with a glint in his eye that says, “And you better be grateful.”

GENUINELY DOESNT GET PDA BUT FOR A GOOD REASON ── .✦

Damian’s not one to show affection publicly. In fact, he’ll try to avoid touching you at all if he’s around anyone. But the second he’s sure no one is looking, you’ll catch him glaring at you from across the room like, “We’re together, and everyone should know it, but I won’t say it.” BUT he isn’t embarrassed by you or isn’t hiding you relationship

It’s just private not secret.

He’ll give you the occasional side-hug or brush your hand ever so slightly, then immediately retreat like nothing happened if you don’t grab it fast enough.

But if you’re standing near him, don’t be surprised when he casually places a hand on your shoulder or rests his head on yours... only for it to turn into the most awkward five seconds ever, followed by an immediate, “What? It’s not like I wanted to do that. You were in my personal space.” HE DOESNR WANT TO ADMIT HE’S DEPENDENT 😭

So, yeah. PDA with Damian is... complicated, BUT ITS DIFFERENT

“It’s a Normal Relationship. I Don’t Know What You’re Talking About”

Damian, when you ask if he wants to do something like go for a walk, or watch a movie together:

“I don’t know what you mean. We’re not doing anything special. This is just a normal... well, normal for us. What is ‘normal,’ anyway?”

And yet, there he is, sitting with you, absolutely enjoying the time together trying to act like it's nothing special, but he’s leaning in just a little too close to you to be that casual.

Sometimes, he’ll act like he’s too cool for the typical date stuff, but in reality, he’s all in. He’s just trying to pretend he’s not, to maintain his Bat-cred.

COMPETITIVE TO A TEA ── .✦

This seems like a regular occurrence for him where, it’s not only you but anyone, he likes competition and challenges in general by classmates, friends, you, teammates, anyone. ( This also why he doesn’t do well on teams in canon but we ain’t ready for this convo )

Whenever there’s something to compete over whether it’s a simple game or a sparring match damian’s all in. He takes everything way too seriously.

“I’ll beat you at Mario Kart.”

Damian: “Tt, you think I’m going to let you win? You underestimate me immensely this is social injustice to my name.”

And the next thing you know, he’s strategizing his every move, plotting out every turn like he’s planning an actual mission. MEANWHILE ITS JUST JENGA DAMN

When he inevitably wins (because he’s Damian Wayne, and you knew he was going to), he’ll throw you the most smug smile.

“I told you. You should’ve known better.”

BUT HE LOVES YOU ── .✦

Underneath the tough exterior, Damian’s a softie who occasionally lets his guard down when you're alone together. He might not say it, but you know when he's trying to be vulnerable.

For example, one evening, after a particularly intense patrol or he says something too smart during a simple game of uno , he’ll just stare at you, quietly, in the way that only Damian can.

“You’re... okay, right? I didn’t, uh, hurt you…. I apologize for my lack of understanding if that hurt you.”

You’ll blink and be like, “You literally saved me like 10 minutes ago?”

And he’ll just look away, muttering something like, “Well, I don’t want you to get hurt. I just... don’t want to lose anyone again.” ( damian ‘I will not have anyone dying for my mistakes the way he did’ Wayne ☹️

And then he’ll change the subject super quickly, because he doesn’t want to burden you with his fears

[magesofmucloch]

So iirc, different places had different rates of homeschooling, and it was by no means necessary to send your kid to a school. At this point I can't remember how much of that was our addition to the lore and how much was already the case, but it accounts for some of the disparity in catchment area sizes - certainly not all though.

So we started adding more schools.

We also set about giving names to the unnamed schools, and renaming "wizard castle", "wizard castle" and "magic place" (Castelobruxo, Koldovstoretz, and Mahokotoro) as well as the generally dodgily-named Uagadou.

Now here's the thing. This was worked on by two team members who are very interested in languages. And these schools were founded centuries ago. So why would their names be in the modern forms of the language?

Several hours down a rabbit hole of tiny dead languages from the rough area we'd set schools in ensued, using what words are still known (in most cases very few) to construct a reasonable name. Did we continue on the theme of "wizard castle"? Well, yes, a bit, but we put thought into it which is probably more than she did. We've slowed down work on it since - it's not terribly relevant to the actual story, so it's more of a side project to work on - but at present only three original school names remain (Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Ilvermorny).

Yes, you read that right, though it was probably pretty clear in the name of the blog itself. Hogwarts (which is a rather silly name, let's be real) was replaced by a Scottish Gaelic name, which I subsequently checked worked in the medieval version of the language once I started learning it (it does). Given there's a rather prominent lake in the grounds, loch seemed an appropriate element to include, and to that we added the pig (hog) only in the correct language this time. Mucc + loch = Mucloch.

Here is the current map (remember, this area of the world is still a wip, and changes are happening literally as I type this since seeing this post sparked discussion):

The school names may not be particularly readable but hopefully the areas (circled) are visible.

Population issues like Halesimjyi ("school #10") are still not fully ironed out, but we're thinking in that case specifically that they have multiple connected schools/campuses of the same school - there's a suggestion of a dividing line for if there are two of these, as an example, but again this is not a fully fleshed out idea and it may end up further divided.

Above all, we want it to make sense. Your suspension of belief needs a logical framework to be suspended from, after all.

[szatears]

inked all over, stack.

summary: stack comes back to you with a new surprise, one that you must say suits him a little too well.

pairing: modernau!stack x blackfem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), p in v, use of the n word, descriptions of reader.

notes: modernau!stack has finally arrived! ever since i made that post about smoke and stack w tattoos i couldn't get it out of my head so here we are! also switched up the pov to third person for this one. ignore any errors, did not proofread at all. smoke version coming soon :)

"Goddamn, you said how long?!" Stack's eyes widened as he leaned back in the tattoo chair, sat opposite his tattoo artist, Deuce.

"We're looking at 'bout six hours?" Deuce laughed seeing the expression on his client's face.

Stack was always at Deuce's parlour when he wanted a piece done on his body, he didn't trust anyone else to do it for him. Same with his brother. Today, he walked in wanting to get something he had on his mind for months.

"Six hours? Nigga, I'ma need you to cut it down to like, two and a half. My lady already pissed I ain't wake her up with a kiss this morning," he blew out a breath, thinking about the messages his wife had left him a few hours ago.

He'd been up since the early hours, and it was almost 4 o'clock now. He was only meant to be out running a few errands with Smoke and some by himself, but he just couldn't get the tattoo out of his mind.

Deuce laughed, nodding his head as he placed the drawing of what Stack wanted on his forearm. "This good for you?"

Stack looked down at the placement, a faint smile on his lips. He couldn't wait to see her reaction to this. "Yeah, it's good."

He knew how the process would go, he just hoped he'd be back home at a reasonable time to not get his ass chewed out. Mrs. Moore didn't play like that.

He made himself comfortable, his arm out on the extendable part of the bed to allow Deuce to do his work. Many Men by 50 Cent played through the speakers, and Stack pulled his phone out of his pockets before Deuce started tattooing.

He already had a few tattoos, but he still wasn't too used to the pain. Smoke on the other hand? Stack would say "you could tattoo that nigga's eyeball and he won't even flinch."

Stack had put a lot of thought into this piece. It would be the beginning of a sleeve he hoped to complete later on, but to him, this was the most important part of it. It had the typical designs of a sleeve ─── shaded clouds with the sun peeking through, cursive writing with some red for that pop. But it was what was written that held the most meaning to him.

With time, Stack came to realise that one of his wife's favourite ways of expressing her love to him was through words. It could be something simple, like telling him she was proud of him or that he was doing well with everything. Or it would be more, like a note in the morning before she left to go somewhere, or one of the many texts she sent him throughout the day.

One of these letters stuck with him the most. In it, she wrote about how he'd become such an important part of her life, the tie that held them together growing stronger each day. The exact words he was getting tattooed on his arm were "you're my favourite person and my forever person, i got you always," something she never failed to mention to him.

It was obvious how in love the two were. You rarely saw them without the other, and even if they were, it wouldn't take long for either to mention the other.

Along with the words, Stack added her lipstick print that she always signed her letters off with. He knew he'd be making a joke soon enough about how her lips were always gonna be on him now.

The rest of the piece had some other smaller yet intricate designs, he told Deuce he could freehand whatever, he trusted him like that.

-

Surprisingly, Deuce actually managed to cut his estimated time in half, finishing the tattoo almost three hours later. As Deuce finished taking pictures and wrapping Stack's arm, his phone rang, looking down at the caller id to see his wife's name with a heart next to it. He accepted the facetime, smiling at the mug on her face.

"Why are you smiling? You must like playing with your life..." she mumbled, fixing her hair in the camera frame.

"I can't be happy to see you no more?" He chuckled, watching her fight back a small smile. "You look good."

"I know," she leaned her face closer to her camera. "Where are you? Come home already."

"I'ma be home in a minute, mama, I'm at the shop with Deuce," Stack turned his camera to face the man who was tidying up his supplies as he held up a peace sign.

"Hey, Deuce. So you're the reason my man's out til these hours when he said he'd only be gone for two tops?" Her head tilted as Deuce laughed.

"It ain't my fault he picks the tricky designs."

"Design─── Baby, you got a new piece?" All of a sudden the frown on her face was wiped off, replaced with a smile.

"Yeah, I did. Look at you, smilin' over there," Stack laughed as he got up from the bed, reaching into his pocket to pull out a stack of 50s, handing it to Deuce.

Before he could even complain about being given too much money, Stack gave him a look. "You really gon' make me argue with my lady on the phone?"

"No, sir," Deuce smiled, putting the money away.

"Aight, til next time Deuce."

He grabbed his coat and left the shop, opening the door to his car that was parked right at the front. "You need me to bring anything, baby?" he looked down at his phone as he put on his seatbelt, seeing his wife already staring at him. The smile that graced his face was just his natural reaction to seeing her; he couldn't get enough of her,

"Could you get some more fruit from Mama Glo's corner? If she's still open."

"Yeah. You gon' stay on the phone?"

"No, I'm gonna take a shower real quick. But I'll see you soon, handsome. I love you," she kissed the camera.

"I love you too."

-

Stack came back with a brown paper bag containing the fruit his wife had asked for, closing the front door with his foot. He slipped his trainers off, walking to the kitchen and placing the fruit on the counter. When he didn't hear the sound of footsteps coming down to greet him, he tilted his head, making his way up the stairs.

He found her lying on their bed, dressed only in a bra and a small pair of shorts. She turned her head to the door when she heard the floorboards creak, a smile on her face as she set her phone down on the bedside table.

Stack smiled at her smile, his hands resting on her waist as she stood in front of him. His frame slightly towered over hers, his head dipping down a little to kiss her lips.

"Nice of you to come home, Elias," she hummed into the kiss.

"You know I could never be away from you for too long." His words were like music to her eyes as she used the hands that were around his neck to softly run her fingers over his skin.

"I got your fruit," he told her, tapping her hip twice so she'd let him go briefly, letting him take off his shirt. It was only when he took off the black muscle t-shirt that he wore, that she let her eyes run over the tattoos that adorned his chest and back before she remembered the reason he went out.

She let her eyes wander over him whilst he put his phone on charge, finally spotting the wrapped part of his right arm. Stack glanced at her, noticing how quiet she'd gotten. "You wanna see it?" he laughed at how eagerly she nodded in response to his question.

He stepped closer to her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as she stood between his legs. He slowly took off the wrapping of the tattoo, much to his wife's impatience. When he finally revealed the finished work of art, the look on her face made his impulse decision ten times worth it.

He let her gently run her hands over the ink, waiting for to notice what made it even more special. He watched her face closely as her eyes flickered over his forearm, holding it with so much care. It wasn't until she turned his hand over so his palm was facing her, that she saw the writing.

"Elias..." she whispered, a pout on her face as she ran over the words and the copy of her lips.

"You like it?" he smiled at her, flashing his gold caps.

"Like it? Baby, I'm in love with it, oh my God," she couldn't tear her eyes off it. Throughout their relationship, Stack would always say something along the lines of "I'ma get your name tatted on my face," but this was far more meaningful.

"Good, 'cause it hurt like a bitch," he mumbled, pulling her into his lap. He kissed the side of her face as she held onto his arm. "I love you more than life itself."

"I love you endlessly," she took his face in both her hands, kissing him.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

He turned his head into the kiss, letting his lips leave hers to kiss down her neck to her collar. He flipped them over, bringing her to lay back down in the middle of the bed.

Her hands ran down his toned arms, massaging his broad shoulders. She let her fingers trace over the inked parts of his skin that she could reach, having memorised where every part was.

Stack used his knee to nudge her legs apart, letting him slot in between them as he kissed her. His tongue danced with hers whilst she held him closer to her face by the back of his neck. Her soft moans only encouraged him more, as did the growing friction her hips created against his.

"Yeah, you gon' have to come up outta these," he mumbled against her lips as his hands fumbled down to her shorts, pulling them down her legs.

"Elias..." she whispered, tugging at his belt. She was almost naked whilst he was still half clothed.

He smiled at her, pulling away from her lips to kiss a trail down to her pelvis. "Hold on, baby. I wanna make you feel good first." He kissed her clit over the lacy underwear she wore, and she shuddered, leaning back further into the pillows.

Stack used his thumb to rub her clothed clit, watching how her legs started to close around his hand. "Baby, please," she whined, and it didn't take long for him to give in to her pleas, taking off her underwear.

Just as quick as he had done that, his head lowered closer to her core, his mouth latching onto her creaming opening. His tongue licked up and down, his hand holding either side of her hips as he ate her out. She let out a loud moan, her hands gripping the back of his head.

"Fuck, baby, just like that," she breathed out, her eyes fluttering with pleasure.

"Yeah?" he mumbled against her, the vibrations just adding to the feeling.

Stack lapped at her for all she was worth, the unholy sounds emitting from her lips and his work. He used his thumb to rub her clit as he continued to work her away with his tongue. She writhed underneath him, feeling that familiar coil inside of her begin to surface.

"Why you moving away, huh? You can take it mama, I know you can," he assured her, replacing his tongue with his fingers as he briefly looked up at her. The sight alone almost made her cum right there; his mustache and goatee coated in her fluids.

She couldn't keep it in, especially when he went back to her with his tongue, his two fingers pumping in and out just as fast. "Shit, I'm gonna─── Oh, my God," her moans aligned with her release, all over his mouth.

Stack continued to eat her out through her high, her hips grinding into his face as he sought more. "Baby let up," she groaned, trying to push his face away.

"One more, baby. For me?" How could she say no when he was making feel that good?

It wasn't long before she came again, her body letting up as Stack cleaned her up. Only he could make her tap out like that.

He finally moved his head from between her legs, hovering over her as she grabbed his face, pulling him down for a messy kiss. She licked over his lips, moaning at the taste of her on him. His hand travelled to her throat, the same arm that was newly inked now right in front of her.

Stack's tattoos were such a turn on, it was almost impossible to describe. If he wanted to make her orgasm fast, all he had to do was talk her through it, or have her analyse his tattoos. Easy.

"You not tapping out on me, are you?" he smirked, as she gave him a lazy smile. She could feel his dick through his pants at her entrance. Shaking her head, she let go of him to take his belt off, eyes on him as she pulled him out of his boxers.

He briefly got up to take them off all the way, before he settled back between her legs, hiking them up his hips. She let her arms rest over his shoulders as he pushed in, both of them groaning.

He fit so perfectly with her, and he made her feel that way every time, through sex or not. The sound of skin slapping soon took over the room, as did their moans.

Stack ground his hips into hers, his head resting in the crook of her neck, leaving small love bites where he could.

"You're doing me so good, E," she whispered lowly in his ear which only spurred him on. He picked up his pace, finding that spot of hers that had her arching into him.

"Like that, baby? Hm?" he asked as she could only not in reply, too far into it to speak actual words. Stack fucked her so good, without fail every time.

He looked down at where they connected briefly, fascinated by her precious pussy taking him in so well. "You're doing so good for me, pretty." he told her, his eyes back on hers.

She managed to keep the contact for a few moments before he had her eyes rolling at the back of her head, her muscled walls clenching around his dick.

He grunted at that, feeling himself close to unravelling. But like he always did, he wanted her to come first.

"I'm almost there, E, keep going─── Yeahhhh, just like that," she moaned, whining even as she felt herself about to come for the third time. She held his head to her face as he kissed her, groaning as she reached closer and closer to her climax.

"Fuck!" she screamed as he cum coated his dick, spilling out as he fucked her through it.

"You got it baby, shit, I'm gonna cum too, hold on," his words trailed off to a whisper as he came in her, her eyes fluttering shut as she adjusted to the overbearing amount of pleasure only her man could give her.

Stack's thrusts slowed down as he pushed his seed back in her, a lazy smirk on her face as she watched him do so. He pulled out slowly, gently laying on top of her. She brought her legs around his waist, kissing his temple as they caught their breath.

"Damn," Stack sighed happily. "Might have to get my whole body tatted up now."

taglist. @childishgambinaax @abriefnirvana @blackisy2k @chrisevansmentee @siasoup @amethyst09 @heauxtales @skywalker0809 @thelightknight21 @klssngss @atomicearthquakemusic7 @oc3anbxbyxoxo @honestlyurslol @simpingfor-wakasa @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @favoritten

[svt-kiki]

kiki in nana tour but shes upset that cheol couldn't be there and mentions him every 5 minutes ;o;

　🧺 𓏔 DON’T LET SEVENTEEN KNOW　　⌅ .

𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗔 𝗧𝗢𝗨𝗥────EP. 001　✦　01

　　🥥 ⸝⸝ 𝗇𝖺 𝗉𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗉𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 — 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝖾𝗋.

⌇ 2023.　kiki ( fem!oc ) x svt　2.9k　fluff, crack, messy writing, kicheol is rly strong in here so be aware　✉️　i said i struggled writing this and still is but luv the layout so trying to write and post it as much as i can... enjoy !

“i think she would be the hardest to fool,” seungcheol presumes. “if you want to wake them up one by one, i think it’s better to go to her first.”

it is september 7th, 2023. few hours ago, seungcheol received the surprising news from the staff — youth over flowers is actually happening.

na youngseok pd agrees, “actually we’re planning the same thing... maybe it’s insensitive for women to just storm into the room while sleeping, you know,” then pd crosses his arms, tilting his head slightly and murmurs, “i mean, is this okay for her? i hope it’s not too much or unnecessary,”

he’s implying that she could be sensitive to getting different treatment with the rest of the members. since day 1, she needs to prove herself constantly to make people believe that she didn’t end up in the group for just instant attention gathering but because she deserved it in effect. seungcheol chuckles with a hint of surprise, “woah, you’re really thoughtful. i think it’s alright but have you talked with minji noona? if she approves, i guess it’s more than fine.”

“yeah we talked,” na pd nods. “in fact she’s on our side.”

“ohh is that so? but it makes sense,” seungcheol looked impressed at how their team planned well to make it before na pd retorts. “but you didn’t seem surprised?”

“minji noona is the best at poker facing. she’s so professional, no one can detect she’s hiding or concealing the truth beside kiki, so it just makes sense you, or other staff on your side choose to include her, because she’s the safest person to entrust your secret.”

“oh yes, she’s kinda an earnest person?” na of snickers about the way seungcheol describes a famous manager of seventeen like a boss he’s afraid of, or wishes to not pissed off. 

[ 15 hours later ]

next morning, at four thirty, na pd dashed into seungcheol’s room. 

“seungcheol-la, how’s it going?” general leader stuttered to pd’s question as soon as he entered the room. “it’s in danger! she might have noticed it! i didn’t know if i glossed over well!” na pd is lured to his upset as well and quivers, “what- what do you mean? who’s she? kiki-ssi?”

“yes,” he continues after pacifying his own agitation. “after the concert she asked me to eat dinner together. i was already shaken up for the ask because i’m not confident i can stick through with the plan in front of her — which means i need to keep lying to her — but i don’t have good reason to decline, thus i’ve been like well, she should have no idea what’s coming, there’s no way minji noona spills it unless it's unprofitable for her, so i was okay, then after eating the dishes she really concerned about me because i looked tired,”

“you looked tired?” na pd tilts his head before cracking up a little for his response. “because i shooted this with you in the afternoon!” 

[ he was exhausted ]

“she was genuinely worried about me and i felt so guilty,” he keeps going. “it was in the tip of my tongue!” na pd pat on his shoulder and reassures him. “i know, thank you for bearing that for us seungcheol-lie. in fact we couldn’t decide which to call first between kiki and the boys who are still awake, what do you think? i thought maybe we should go to her first quietly, you or minji-ssi enter the room before us and make sure everything is okay?”

“sounds nice.” seungcheol nods. “then we can go to their room,” he waves toward the direction where mingyu and others are having rap battles. after the explanation from pd about plan to go into energetic kids, they stand up and sneak out the room together. 

kiki picks up the call from seungcheol earlier than expected. “yeoboseyo? kyoka?” he calls her by the birth name, indicating the bosom relationship they have. while na pd glances at the camera to how his voice softened. “hey, sorry to wake you up this early. can i come in now? …okay, good.” he gives a thumbs up to the crew. minji follows after him, entering her room in silence. pd and the other staff overhear them chatting some words in the room from outside without looking into before seungcheol pops out the head from the door. 

“good morning kiki-ssi,” na pd greets the japanese girl who's still half asleep. “it’s been a while, do you recognize me?” 

“...??? annyeonghaseyo...???”

[ politeness in full of question marks ]

“but... why... how...?”

everyone cracks up to her guiltless state while trying hard to keep their voice low. her dark hair was a bit messy but flowed down smoothly to her chest area over the sweat shirt. she blinks slowly as trying to process what’s going on right now. kiki just wakes up with her bare face but somehow it looks almost intentional. her skin is glowing and there’s almost no sign of any puffiness, leading the female pd’s voice of awe. she sighs in impressed, just murmurs “wow…” and that makes them push into another bursting out, while they edited her with glowing effects around her with the sound of birds chirping and flower petals blowing in the screen. 

[ living sleeping beauty is here ]

“wake up sleepyhead,” seungcheol gently pokes her head with a palm which makes her giggle with slight confusion. then suddenly, she snaps back into the reality and gazes all over those people in the room. “wait- is this- for real? it’s happening?”

“yes it is, and you’re the first one to know.” pd confirmed. kiki is delighted, she beamed to seungcheol and the words slipped out from her mouth. “cheol-lie! oh my god, it’s happening! we are going to...” then she realized. all of the emotions drop from her facade. “wait,” she mumbles. “are you not... going to say that... the...” 

he casts a look at her face changes before holding and caressing the back of her hand. “kiki, it’s okay.”

“i’m sorry,” na pd droopes his head in guilt. “we tried to rearrange after hearing this news but since you have fourteen of them, it’s really difficult to find another date.” 

at the moment, almost everyone in the room feels pain with her. the way her eyes roamed all over the sheets, backed to with seungcheol, moved with minji, then backed to na pd again, she clearly trying to hide the sadness for the sake of this filming. “ah- i understand. thank you for trying to make it happen for all of us oppa. it’s…sad but, can’t be helped right?” she holds back his hand and swings it a little. “i’m so sorry cheol,”

“i know. you don’t have to worry about me, okay?”

in fact, this is the true reason minji agreed — moreover, recommended — to obtain her first. kiki must be heavily upset about the fact that seungcheol can’t make it to this trip. she’ve already registered deep concern for his injury a few months ago as he joked that the doctor needed to reassure her more than himself. in addition, she’s the one who is excited about this trip the most. carats know how she seemed happy during ttt in house and other behind contents when she was spending time with all of them. now she needs to depart to the destination leaving him behind alone. it’s not easy. “now, put this mic on!” seungcheol giggles as he does by himself for her. after managed to slip away from her room — she added the black frame glasses on her face along with the mic in last second — na pd told her the plan to surprise dino and others. he added the mention of the glasses, “oh you dressed up?” to which she responds “i thought... i should just cover up for it...”

“what? you don’t need anything! i can’t believe you were asleep 5 minutes ago!” he affirms which cracks up her. 

[ now let’s visit the energetic kids ]

“why are they still awake and loud like this?” kiki is genuinely bewildered about the voice which is heard from inside to the hallway. she almost collapsed onto the floor to hold on laughter while lending an ear to their singing. 

then pd catches hoshi who just came out from the room. kiki pulls him closer and whispers to not speak loudly. surprisingly, hoshi perceives the assignment in a second, guesses its for the show that jun and minghao would star. 

“no,” she quickly shakes her head. “it’s youth over with flowers, soonyoung! it’s happening!”

“woah- really? like actually? how? oh my god,” it’s funny that his reaction was almost identical to hers. after receives the call from the member inside, na pd leaps into the room as answering to the phone. “yeoboseyo?” 

the double bed room turns into chaos immediately. they blart out what they want to say randomly as “wait, are we not going back to korea?” or “what will happen to jun and the 8’s show?” and it becoming out of control by each seconds. kiki just giggles next to seungcheol throughout adorable little brothers falling onto the bed out of intoxicate until two reveal that na pd came to tokyo via fukuoka, which is one of the most west side of japanese major cities, while tokyo is the east side. her eyes get wider, mouth slightly parted. “woah, oppa... you’ve really gone through it.” her calm wards somehow bring more laughs among the members. although neither she couldn’t maintain her composure once na pd spilled the beans about destination. 

“italy?” the voice of her and mingyu’s synched. “are we... going to italy? really?” mingyu drops his knees onto the floor, making himself into the posture of begging towards him. “seriously?” she joins him by words. “how did you-” she couldn’t grasp what’s going to happen at this point. is there any chance that 13 of them — not 14, her stomachs become heavier for the idea — will going to europe?

“y’all really drunk,” she snickers about how four of them, dino, mingyu, seungkwan and joshua, that their brain is only functioning half of it because of alcohol. their gaze is still blurred and how hard they tried to focus on the filming, they are already losing the game.

“seungkwan-nie, guide us. this is your field.”

by hearing her demands, the tangerine fairy suddenly remembers the responsible as a variety-assigned-member. “pledis really does it, really!” he repeats with excitement. 

and the rest of the time, waking up members one by one, she just constantly fixes their hair in the background and pds make sure to highlight her habits in the edit. on the other hand, she can’t help but look up at the sky for how many of them are sleeping naked. 

“it can be bloopers by any chance...”

“that’s why we wake up you first before going into your room...” pd taps on her shoulder. 

[ true strugglers ]

“and also why did they display their front cover magazines like it’s in a shop or something?”

kiki bites her lower lip, displaying her concerns about waking up the 8 at the end. na pd already worries about the task, harks that he expecting this fake tv program filming so much from the boys all this time. in the matter of discussing how to ease his disappointment in jeonghan’s room, kiki throws a question to joshua who’s sitting next to her. he recommended entering the room while clapping and applauding. the idea’s quickly adopted by everyone. while marching towards the last room, jun chortles. “sounds so much fun! i couldn’t believe pd was there when i woke up... when he visited you, noona?”

she shared what had happened. “i was woke up first. i’ve also surprised so much, failed to process it right away.”

“i know.” jun nonchalantly put his arm around her shoulder. “it’s still hard to believe what’s happening. taking this number secretly must be so difficult.”

“yes. they must’ve planned the details to not be doubted by us.” she approves. 

after storming into minghao’s room, kiki couldn’t help but to cast a smile in the corner of her lips. although she feels sorry for him, it’s still humorous how he reacted to this news. he’s clearly not contended, or convinced fully, so she choruses besides jun when he reminds na pd once again that they ought to make an actual program for them. 

“i know few people from tvn as well, i can talk to them if you want.” she amuses. na pd facepalms as if he was waving the white flag. “are you... blackmailing me?” she said nothing but just smirked, and nothing shook na pd to his core ever.

[ for the context, kiki starred in tvn drama “it’s okay to not be okay” as the main lead in 2020! ]

they inserted the clips from future episodes in here, as she got recognized from the people in italy time to time, being asked for taking pictures or autographing to them. they also mentioned to her acting career, for example psycho-pass: zero, japanese drama on netflix that recorded a massive hit internationally this year. 

in the meantime, they go off in all directions to prepare for a depart in 3 minutes, while kiki runs out from the 8’s room as think out loud. “oh what should i do...” 

she rushes into her own room leaving the camera behind. first she washes her face with a water, put on all in one gel to keep her skin from drying out. then she throws the bottle into the bag, changes into a pair of adidas tracksuit. after she changes, the camera crews asked so she let them come in. “oh sneakers... i need to wear those... and my supplements,” even if she’s in haste, kiki doesn’t look upset. she just prepares things in calm to not waste precious 3 minutes. “oh and hats and glasses, too.” she brought those from the table and put it in. in addition, she also joins the toothbrush group alongside with mingyu, seungkwan, dino and jeonghan. 

“oh no, i don’t have extra underwear...” as she naturally murmured, they inserted “???” subtitles in the screen, telling how she’s carefree yet being female idol. 

[ is this okay to broadcast…? ]

“what should i do…does pd mean including this too?” she stands in the middle of the room like a scarecrow for a second, wondering what exactly he meant. however, she just stop minding all business before heading towards the meeting room with her tote bag. after all, things will work out, right?

“you can’t bring the bag,” as soon as she sets foot in the room, the boys who’ve already arrived there chorused the same thing. “oh is that so?” but unlike they imagined, she just gave a nod of assent and put that on the table. “you… accepted very easily, aren’t you?” na pd tilts his head with slight confusion. she just shrugs and answers, “because i’m counting on you, since you are the one who said all-inclusive.”

[ !!! ]

[ unexpected attack ]

pd bursts out laughing. they also add the subtitle “huge responsibility” on na pd. “i mean… yeah… you’re right…” he stutters as whipping the cold sweat. “you really don’t have to worry. i’ve already talked with minji-ssi and she prepared essentials for you to avoid inconvenience.”

“then let me just take my charger.”

she picked out what she said, made comfortable next to the 8. after jun sat next to her, she giggled about how they looked like matching theme outfits since both were wearing set-ups.

“but it feels so good. i’ve never- or anyone never left a country like this before, right? without worrying the luggages like just going to convenience store in the neighborhood.” and that’s true. no one would think she’s off to italy when you look at her outfits. it’s as if she’s heading to the practice room like usual.

and the time finally comes.

“oh, wait, hyung won’t go?” wonwoo awkwardly turns back to seungcheol and hugs him outside of the bus. she just stands next to him, observing members say goodbye one by one through lonely eyes.

“i’m so sorry we are not together. i’ll take lots of pictures and send to you, hm?” she puts arms around him, holds him tightly.

“i know,” seungcheol pulls her figure closer too. he really doesn’t feel sad or lonely. of course he wishes he could go with them together. but he’s also happy that his family can experience a once in a lifetime vacation like this. he can already sees her walking by the beach, basking in the sun of toscana, smacking her lips to the pizza and pasta, being a bit tipsy for the glass of red wine. oh, he loves to watch her eating. she’s an excellent cook, but she also expresses her content fully when she enjoys eating. truthfully, kiki never eats just because she needs to. she always finds a way to enjoy the dishes, whatever it is. even in haste, she always begins the meals with little “itadakimasu,” without fail. it’s a common etiquette in japan to show gratitude to people who played a role in providing food—they also say “gochisōsama-deshita,” at the end. it’s more like a secular custom than praying before the meals or something, but she never misses those. it never changes since he met her for the first time. she changes a lot like other members as well. but she’s always the same girl in his eyes.

the girl, he cares the most in this world.

to avoid being dramatic, he let go her quickly. yet her scent of fabric softener lingers with him. his chest tightened a little.

“just don’t mind and enjoy, you little workaholic.” he makes a little mess with her hair. once again, she waves at him before getting on the bus.

now, it’s time to go.

© SVT-KIKI　/　2025 .　

(　tag list　)　@smh-anon @jennwonwoo @angie-x3 @scarlet789 @cheeksung @babilou-pov

[omgfangirlland]

I random Idea suddenly appeared in my head (I was about to sleep but this is more important). Originally I had two Ideas but I thought.. Why not combine them? My first idea was a neglected reader who can see ghost.. Like, one day she just developed this abilities. Imagine how it would go if Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne were still in the mansion and looking after the batfam. They can see how Bruce Wayne is threatening his daughter and stuff.

The second Idea was a more realistic neglected reader where she's really neglected and I don't mean birthday is being forgotten or what not.. I mean real neglect where she had to work for money and her own food.. Where she has to learn how to cook for herself and learn how to do things at the very young age. I want to see her actual struggle for survival where there are times she barely makes money so she had to go hungry for some days.. Sometimes she resorts to stealing foods just to eat.

I wanted to combine these two but I'm too sleepy to continue two peace out ✌👉

-🔱

The sudden burst of creativity right as you get in bed is such a serious problem- like pls- I had like 10-12 hours where I could have done all of that- why at 3am?😭😭

When I first read this, it was way so late, and I was like "cooking her own food and working isn't neglect-" and then I realized I am in fact poor, and due to the necessity of my parents needing me to be somewhat independent my view of that point is skewed- also the reader is going to be quite young at the start of being in the family so really, a five or 10 year old shouldn't be operating the stove without supervision or finding jobs to pay for necessities-

Reader is the oldest sibling(I love the forgotten oldest daughter trope) in this for various reasons(angst) and I am so keeping ghost!Thomas and Martha btw-

CW - postpartum mental breakdown/psychosis turned into attempted infanticide via drowning, miscarriage/suicide/drugs mentioned.

My thoughts on how this MC came into Bruce's care come down to three options: Bruce and her mom were actually lovers and married, but after Reader's birth mama either left, had a postpartum breakdown, and is now rotting in Arkham, or she died. I personally prefer the Arkham route, but dying during childbirth is also quite angst filling. (Let's all ignore how I keep fridging Reader's mom, pls)

----

Martha and Thomas were by your mother's side as soon as she walked in with you in her arms, Martha almost crying at the sight of your scrunched up face, still wrinkly and flushed. They were both so happy when Bruce found love, both were so sure he'd die alone in some alley, and when the news of the pregnancy came, they were right there, celebrating with their son as if they were still alive.

But Bruce got busy, too busy with both Wayne Enterprises and being Batman. And while your mom had her friend and Alfred, she needed the reassurance of her husband. Martha was the first to notice the cracks.

They both noticed how you'd look at them as if they were right there, so they'd interact with you. Playing with you, making sure you wouldn't bump into anything when you started crawling five months later- but while Thomas would teasingly crawl after you, Martha couldn't help but keep close to her son's wife.

She tried her best to soothe her, trying to give her some warmth from beyond the veil. She knew what was happening- well... to some degree. Martha, too, went through post-partum depression, however, hers stemmed from losing Bruce's unborn brother. Martha hoped to be there for her daughter-in-law before she tried something she'd regret- The dead woman thought your mom would put herself at risk, try to take herself out. She feels guilty that she hadn't seen it earlier.

Your mom would sometimes stare at you for hours, and while it worried Alfred, he brushed it off as the woman simply admiring the bundle of joy she created. He, like Bruce, had other things to attend to. He was sure everything was fine, your mother simply loved you too much.

None of the living expected what happened, mainly because of their own willingness to ignore the clear changes, but Martha and Thomas did. They stuck around even after nightfall, so when at three in the morning your mom walked in and took you out of your cradle, they were hot on her trail.

Obsessive thoughts about your baby, paranoia, sleep problems, hallucinations, and delusions were all symptoms of postpartum psychosis, easily confused with the similar symptoms of postpartum depression.

It'll be easy that everything went to shit quickly- but it didn't. Martha and Thomas watched with pure confusion as your mom filled the bathtub, the thought that she may harm you not even crossing their mind as she held you close, swaying side to side while humming some lullaby. It was a slow build, but when she did submerge your head under the water and firmly held you there, it sure felt like a hundred years passed right through Martha.

She doesn't know how she did it, but Martha was screaming her lungs out as she and her husband pushed the woman away, making her slump against the opposite wall, but neither could pull the plug out, leaving you fighting to keep your head above the water.

Alfred ran as soon as he heard the yelling, a chill passing through him for a moment as he thinks it sounds way too familiar, and your wailing, pausing just for a second to look at your mom, shaking in the corner as she mutters to herself, before he had you in a tower in his arms. Both of the dead Waynes dropped next to the bathtub, clutching at their unbeating hearts and shaking

Bruce is left depressed, traumatized, and with a baby who keeps crying. This wasn't how it was supposed to go in his mind. They were supposed to be happy, the it couple with a sassy baby to boot, they were supposed to grow old, he was supposed to hand over the Batman mantle to you.

Now the responsibility of caring for you fell on Alfred, Bruce being unable to care for himself, let alone a baby he couldn't look at without bursting into tears. And Alfred did his best... for maybe three years.

As soon as you started walking on your own, Alfred started pulling away, redirecting his attention to his usual work. By the time you were three years old, you barely knew of the existence of Bruce. Not because you actually saw the man, but because his parents tried to tell you about him.

You were a quiet toddler, mainly due to learning that if you cried, only Martha and Thomas would show up, and they really couldn't do much. Hell, they barely taught you to speak, but oh, did they love to hear your little transatlantic accent in the few sentences you could make.

They were indulging themselves, really, especially when you'd call the mama and papa- "No, MArtha! I'm not crying, you are, my dear-" They both were tearing up the first time it happened. They were indulging themselves with you, because if their focus wasn't on you, it would be on Bruce, and both were so disappointed in him.

They tried at first, exhausted themselves trying over and over again to nudge their boy towards his daughter- typing on his laptop, writing in the mirror, leaving her toys where he'll find them- nothing worked.

So they redirected their attention to your education- they were terrible at it, but Alfred sure as hell didn't seem to care- so they did their best. You could read perfectly, however, your writing isn't the best, and your speech was stuttered most of the time as you preferred to be mute. There really wasn't anyone to force you to speak, your father's parents unable to get much out of you, especially if they pushed. Teaching you sign language was the best course of action.

For the early part of your life, Alfred still cooked enough to leave leftovers for you to munch on, but sometime along the way, he stopped. Martha and Thomas were stumped. They were raised with buffets and golden spoons glistening in foods they didn't even think about how they were being made.

There was also the problem of you being too short to reach the stove top. Your newfound diet consisted of toast, sandwiches, salads, and the occasional baked potatoes and meat. As you grew older, you got better at cooking, mainly due to sneakingly searching the internet and quickly writing down recipes.

Sadly, the problems keep piling up. The more you grew, the more you needed new clothes, new shoes, sanitary stuff from pads to toothpaste- Bruce couldn't be bothered to be a presence in your life, so you tried to talk to Alfred. With no avail. The old butler was simply too busy, moving past you with more speed than you could keep up with. But you needed money, so despite Martha's protest and Thomas's worry, you went outside the manor.

At first, you did meager jobs that people gave you out of pity. Washing that, trimming the lawn, throwing away this, helping the old lady with carrying bags. It didn't pay well, honestly, it was mostly trading, some clothes or food for a bit of help. Until a goon of the Penguin stopped you.

You weren't stupid. You knew the package was drugs, but the amount he was willing to pay was simply too much to refuse. You guessed that was the perk of the public thinking you were dead, no fear of being kidnapped for ransom.

You became a familiar face among them, and while most were ticked off by a kid being involved, there were a few who threw in a few extra bucks. Martha and Thomas hated it. But you started having clothes that fit, food that wasn't burned, and even had a few extra to buy yourself treats, so they held their lips shut. You usually just put the extra money away.

By the time you turned thirteen, you just wrote Bruce off as a man incapable of love. But then Richard "Dick" Grayson came along. And then Jason. And Tim. Despite Martha and Thomas trying to tell you that it wasn't you, that they loved you- Bruce was just-... They couldn't justify it.

The more time passed, the more you thought those two were hallucinations your mind made up to stop you from going insane. You stopped talking to them. You stopped even acknowledging them. By the time Tim fully settled in, you had left.

There was nothing for you there, you took care of yourself for so long, you didn't need Alfred or Bruce- no matter how much you cried at night, wishing for an ounce of the attention they give the boys- and threw yourself into the crime world. There wasn't anything else you could do. You had no school, could barely write, let alone speak- but you were a good mule, and if someone picked you up and decided to train you to be a weapon, you were fine with that.

When John Constantine first set foot in Wayne Manor, the first thing he saw was the bat's dead parents glaring at him. He expected a lot of things when Bruce called him in need of help, angry grandparents who were worried for a runaway granddaughter, who had been missing for years, and that Bruce forgot even existed, wasn't one of them.

----

This took quite a lot of hours to write- kinda rushed towards the end.

Other thoughts:

If Reader did get picked up by a rogue, it'll be funny for them to be either Uncle Two-Face or Slade... It'll even be funny if it were Talia or Ra's after Jason left.

I strongly believe the Reader wasn't even sent to kindergarten.

I also think Martha and Thomas may have lied and told the MC that her mom is dead instead of institutionalized.

If there is supernatural shit, trust, John Constantine will make an appearance.

It'll ALSO be funny if Reader came to terms with her being able to see the undead, so she also becomes a mage/hunter on the side, kinda like the Winchesters. So when John finally connects the dots, he's just like- "Oh. Oh no. We have a bigger problem here."

Dick at first thought Batsis was a helper. So did the others until they were corrected by Alfred. Nobody cared to ask for further info, except for maybe Jason, who asked once why she isn't eating with the family, and it made Alfred pause for so long that Jay just assumed she's mean.

[thechthonicherbalist]

Dwagon! :3

I'm gonna use this reblog for a small status update real quick bc I don't have energy for anything else today.

Today was a heckin long day full of appointments at a hospital 3 hours away from me. Cancer checkups. Blood taken, MRI and ultrasound and ultimately also a gastroscopy with the result that yes, chemo is working well, but I've also been having some flares again since late February/March and ofc I've been also trying to have foods again in accordance with the cancer and IBD therapy plan and well. I grew another stomach ulcer. 😐

No big reason for worries, after all I do have a chronic inflammatory GI disease that commonly results in ulcers during flares and the only thing I can do is to avoid factors that cause them as much as possible. Plus not every ulcer is malignant ofc. So I'm getting treatment with acid neutralizers and then some atm and hopefully all will be good. Back to cold liquids and increase of IV fluids for a while. But it's still progress. I've still made a ton of progress battling this illness since September.

I'm so tired and in a truckload of pain rn (since weeks actually because of the flare). But I'm also at a point of recovery I didn't even hope I'd reach anymore for many months last year. I was genuinely just preparing to die under the worst circumstances, with no more peace, no more happiness and no more safety in my life for many months due to immense intentional violations of my limits and boundaries around my health and capacities that persisted for a year. I had given up all hope to escape these circumstances after many failed attempts and unheard begging. And I'm honestly grateful that things took the turn they did, even if it was painful, but I'm in a much better place since then, with new people in a healthier environment and with all important areas of my life disconnected from anyone and anything that was involved with these things that troubled me so much.

So I'll just go to bed happily after hitting post on this and wish kindness and calmness and peace upon the world and its people.

The Sea Foam Dragon

[dayntee]

10 Things Solavellans Agree On

Since I've been rolling around in Solavellan Hell for the last six months like a chinchilla in a dirt bath, I've been collecting little headcanons across the community.

I thought I'd share some of them. If you don't see yours that you absolutely swear by, you are honor bound to reblog or reply to this post so I can know about. These are either things I've had hours long conversations about or just notice a particular trend across several fanfictions/art.

He is an ass man. There's no way he isn't. He just can't keep his hands to himself.

He'll take any excuse to punish himself for his mistakes. Because everything is his fault forever. (Pretty sure this is just a fact tbh)

He has a horrendous sweet tooth. It's not just frilly cakes, he just enjoys sweet things in general.

He's a generous/caring lover. He gets his fulfillment out of his partner's fulfillment, not necessarily his own.

He's 8 inches and uncut. Boy is packing in front as well as in the trunk. (I can't take credit for this, the NSFW portion of the Fen'Harem is to blame and there was... uhhh a lot of consensus.)

He has a breeding kink. Thanks for this one, Trick; we know it was a joke, we just also all agree with you.

The travel to and from Crestwood makes no goddamn sense. Did he drag Lavellan out a week's travel by horseback just to panic and dump her? Was the ride home awkward as fuck? Did she bitterly leave him to walk his ass home? The world may never know.

Lavellan cried to dehydration and/or got irresponsibly drunk after Crestwood, and some poor member of the Inquisiton had to deal with it. Jury's out on who, I've seen Dorian or Varric most frequently, but my personal headcanon is Cassandra (who was 3 steps away from beating Solas' ass at any given moment afterward).

Solas, on the other hand, had a sad wank. Possibly several. Man has probably sad wanked a lot from Crestwood forward to be honest.

Whatever happens after Veilguard with these two, it involves a lot of fucking. It doesn't matter what your headcanon was for whether or not they had banged up until this point; once they retire to the Fade, everything is sexy times.

Bonus: 5 Personal Headcanons

These ones are less widely accepted, but my personal thoughts. Enjoy.

He's a mischievous partner. He knows where Lavellan is ticklish, taps her on the opposite shoulder when he approaches, and does other little pranky things (that are harmless, but teasing).

He's a switch. This is probably the most contested thing about any character, but I feel like Solas is too ephemeral and malleable a character to forever be a dom or sub exclusively.

Hates restrictive clothing. Veilguard was literally a form of torture; his loose hobo robes are his actual comfort zone.

After Veilguard, legitimately wants to learn everything he can about Dalish history. He didn't give it any mind before, but now it's clear how much it matters and the reason why is now by his side for the rest of forever.

I'm kind of a non-mage Lavellan truther, but I like the separation it gives them; they already have so much overlap in common as a mirror it's nice that there's one thing that really sets them apart. Mine was a rogue, but I have a special place in my heart for warrior Lavellans who have definitely fireman carried that man to bed more than once.

[millermenapologist]

Yeah, the reactions to the latest episode truly confirmed that the people who whine about the show will never be satisfied because they have built an alternative reality in their heads and will keep sulking until Mazin knocks at their door and begs them to give him screenwriting lessons.

So far, the biggest complaints can be summed up as:

This show isn't about men. Why isn't it about men???

Ellie's character isn't written like the reader x Ellie smut fics people post on here, and therefore her canonical personality (awkward girl, act first and think later, enjoyer of nerdy things like bad puns, space, and dinosaurs) is cringey

Every single scene should happen in one single episode. From Joel's death to the porch scene at the end, the ~20 hours of plot of the second game should be condensed in a single, 120 minutes episode. This is a request so reasonable the only reason why they didn't follow through with it is because they're dumb

This show isn't about men. Why isn't it about men???

Why are we spending time expanding the female characters when we could talk about the male ones??

Micro expressions?? I refuse to acknowledge them. Unless the characters state out loud and directly how they feel, I'm gonna keep yelling about bad acting and character writing (see: Dina is definitely more hellbent on revenge than Ellie despite there being a scene of Dina wanting to leave as soon as they're actually risking their lives whilist Ellie insists on staying)

WHERE IS TOMMY???? In the game he shows up only after Ellie murders Mel and Owen but I want him now now now now

WHERE ARE THE MENNNN WHAT SHOW IS WORTH WATCHING IF THERE AREN'T MEN IN IT????

[storyweavingspider]

how are you black like at all unless that wasnt you in those pictures

I was born Black, I live Black, and I’ll die Black.

I’m mixed and very lightskinned, and I acknowledge this and the way I benefit from colorism. That said, p much the only people who ever question my Blackness are leftist crackers trying to find a reason to excuse their own racism, because if I’m not “really Black” then they can disregard me when I tell them they’re doing racist shit, which is in itself ironically a manifestation of antiblackness.

But if you want an actual *story* for your shit, I’m in a storytelling mood tonight. I grew up in a 90% white, 0.3% Black state where at absolutely no time was I considered anything other than “The Black”. Being light ain’t stop the kkk from threatening to burn my parents place down, ain’t stop a white woman from using my Blackness to rape me by threatening to call the cops if I didn’t capitulate - after all, would they believe the 5’5” white woman or the 6’4” Black “man” in a state like Montana? - and even now post-transition and besides the explicit transmisogynoir I experience, there are multiple groups of people that actively talk about lynching me, specifically, by name.

But my suffering ain’t the decider of my Blackness, despite all thats happened to me. Other Black folks are my community, are who I’m in solidarity with and who I be prioritizing. I experience the suffering, but I experience the Joy as well. My Black family, my Black community, my Black fuckin life, and part of that is doing what I can to protect and support and amplify other Black folks because y’all don’t fucking listen when anyone darker than me talks. Y’all ain’t listen when we suffer, y’all ain’t listen when we dying, unless someone my shade says it or it’s become the trending words of the hour.

That enough of a story for you?

[demonstars]

come out (wherever you are) | dnf | 1.2 k

Dream loses the second round of the duel. 

It’s—fine. It’s literally fine. He’d been too cocky, Daquivis had certainly played against him, and they had the manhunt. It would be fine. It would be great, actually, when he defeated him and finished this entire arc on a bang. He already had ideas of how he was going to edit it, even, considering he’s basically mastered the manhunt style of video. However it turns out, it would do great. His fingers tap on his desk with wasted potential. 

But he’s tired. He posts the video and deflates into his chair, trying and failing to grasp that feeling of success at finishing a project (and a good one at that) but all he ends up feeling is bone deep exhaustion. 

It weighs him down from his bones.

He wants to talk to George. 

He’d thrown him out of the room earlier, reasoning he couldn’t focus with the man in the room, and he wanted to get the video out now. He regrets it, painfully, when he looks to his loft bed and can’t see the curve of his bed curled up on top of the blankets. 

His hand finds his phone in a movement so familiar it may as well be a memory. He doesn’t struggle with it; his FaceID works and George’s contact is on top of his list, as is usual right after he’d been editing for a while. He can see George’s latest replies and he ignores it in favor of pressing FaceTime. He doesn’t have to wait for the first ring, because George picks up instantly. 

“Dream?” He asks. His voice is like finding water after walking through a desert for hours. 

“George,” he whines. He can barely help it. He’s tired, and he wants George. “I’m done. With, like, the video.”

There’s some movement on George’s end of the call that he can’t quite decipher. “That’s epic. Did you drink your water?” 

Dream’s eyelids barely open, just enough to check the half empty bottle. “A bit? I don’t know. I’m tired. I’m tiiiiired, George.” 

“I know,” George says, and suddenly he isn’t too far away, but right there. Dream isn’t sure if he fell asleep between the moments it took George to be there. He’s mostly just happy George is there at all. 

“Hi,” he says, in awe. George barely stands over him when Dream sits on his desk, but it’s a great height for Dream to collapse on George’s chest, squishing the man’s torso. 

“Hey yourself,” George replies. A hand finds Dream’s hair, and it pets it gently enough that he feels like melting. “Are you crashing?” 

Dream is not sure. He feels tired enough that if his head hits the pillow he’s going to pass out for days, maybe, but all that tiredness is no longer on his system. Just touching George must have some healing abilities, just like the chamomile his mother keeps in her garden. He’s sure science should study this perfect man and find what makes him so great, but he thinks it would be annoying to have scientists run tests on how great George is, so he’s fine with gatekeeping, actually. 

He just burrows more into George’s chest, pressing as close as he can. 

“You’re fine,” George soothes. “Is this about you flopping?” 

It isn’t really. Dream lost, but it’s fine, because he will do better next round. But the way he lost and had to bite his tongue was just—annoying. And editing his own defeat was demoralizing, in a way. He ends up groaning into George’s chest, which makes him laugh. It shakes his entire body, and makes Dream smile a bit. The first real smile he’s had for hours. 

“Not really,” he mumbles. 

“Oh, Dreamie,” George laughs, a little softer. “Come up, you need to lay down.” 

He stands up and follows George to his own bedroom with force he couldn’t have summoned on his own. It’s the desire to follow wherever George goes, really, what leads his head into the man’s lap, curling over his legs. If it’s uncomfortable for George to have his weight on top of him, he doesn’t show it, just resumes his head pets and offers a small, unassuming looking granola bar. Dream eats it with a pout, already used to George’s tactics. 

There’s some restless energy inside of Dream, the part of him that—no matter how much he’s already done, accomplished, archived—always wants more. His body isn’t cooperating and, yet still, he wishes he could do something. He feels his mouth open before he figures out what he wants to say. 

“It’s so annoying,” Dream begins, a bit shy. 

All he needs is a small hum from George before he starts ranting, elaborating on every complaint and failure he hadn’t had the chance to discuss with George. Everything he felt and thought spills out of him in strong waves, like the sea hitting shore rocks of George’s understanding. He asks Dream for clarification, on occasion, but mostly lets Dream just vent about everything that transpired for the video. He hums at the right parts, clicks his tongue when he’s supposed to, giggles at Dream’s clever insults. Slowly, so slowly, his body starts to respond to him again, his hand finding purpose in explaining movements or certain thoughts that require the capitalization of his arms. George’s gentle comfort doesn’t stop, but it moves to where he can reach, softly touching Dream’s neck and shoulders at certain parts of his rambles.

By the point that he’s all done, he’s managed to drag George down so he’s just as vertical as himself, with half of his body sprawled on top of Dream’s. He’s holding him, and George’s have just been tracing small shapes on Dream’s chest hair for the past half hour or so. He isn’t sure of what time has truly passed, but it feels like a good estimate. His brain feels sharp again, and so does his body, all the tension being released by just getting to be lazy and next to George. 

“I needed that,” Dream laughs a little, ducking his head down in embarrassment. George’s left hand comes up to his face, squishing it with force, and makes Dream look into his eyes. For a second, all Dream sees are freckles. 

“Yer welcome,” George tells him with a goofy smile. Then, his expression softens. “Do you feel less tired?” 

“Yeah,” Dream answers, offering a small smile. “I wasn’t like—it was like mind tired, y’know. Not really tired, but I don’t know, this was fun. Thank you.” 

“That is really tired,” George corrects him, abusing his hold on Dream’s face to press a single kiss on his lips and then scotting back. “And that’s, like, the point. Don’t thank me.” 

“You always help,” Dream says, not oblivious to how completely enamoured he sounds. 

“Stop,” George scoffs. He can’t, however, hide the soft blush that contrasts quite nicely with the dark curls he has. “You’re an idiot. ‘Not really tired’, stupid.” 

“Okay, well, whatever,” Dream says. “Are we gonna sleep or what.” He can feel the hours he didn’t sleep coming back with force. And he hasn’t slept next to George in ages, so his heart expands and threatens to explode with the force of his hope. 

“If you insist,” George says, like he isn’t leaning towards their blinds. 

[fushitoru]

it wont let me reblog so to be clear, this is the post im responding to lol

tl;dr @hyuckworld says anything calling out pakistan's support of terrorism is "xenophobic" and "pro india / war propaganda!" you're better off arguing with a tree, it would be more productive

when anyone says that pakistan is supporting terrorism, they are referring to the pakistani government and how its officials have lined their own pockets with the money meant to defend against terrorists. instead, they hide and support these same terrorists to continue the influx of security funding at the cost of both innocent pakistani civilians and indian civilians. to call out a corrupt government is not xenophobic.

i dont know why you're so intent on defending its actions as a "fellow indian." for example, when @/creamflix-main mentioned how when operation sindoor killed a key terrorist leader in the LET, his funeral was attended by government / army officials in the pakistani government. the crux of your argument has been "while pakistan is complicit and turns a blind eye to terrorism, there is no explicit proof of sponsorship/support." they are openly attending his funeral and offer him honors with a state funeral....if this isn't explicit support what more do u need babes...

actually your only response to that was, and i quote, "i’m compeletly with you that it’s absolutely ridiculous that he was able to continue to operate openly, but “if that doesn’t scream funding” is a huge leap in logic." are you dense on purpose or

ur response to when army officials literally listened to a terrorist give a speech and operate openly: hm, that's weird

furthermore, @/gojover mentioned that india has only been retaliating by striking known terrorist locations (which india has given proof for, btw), you don't even acknowledge it and try to then say "both governments are at fault" when india is targeted TERRORISTS and pakistan is retaliating by attacking CIVILIANS. not only that, but when i chipped in with the fact that pakistan broke the ceasefire a mere hours after it was established and attacked civilians, your only response is that we're recycling the same few points.

i could resort to calling u xenophobic at how your page is literally filled with anti-india speculation for the same flawed reasoning u gave @/creamflix-main, but i wont. but it's just so weird ur so vocal against indians but have not spoken up a word about the hindus that lost their lives at the hands of islamic terrorists at pahalgam (as well as other countless instances where pakistani involvement has been proved) and denounced pakistan for attacking civilians w the same fervor you have for india....

[peanutheaddd]

After possessing dm is Petey afraid to leave his body and see the damage that possessing him has caused? (For a physical cost maybe burns on dm’s back that matches the placement of Petey’s wings on his?)

Ur art is absolutely amazing btw! (Runs away with a suspicious art shaped lump in my mouth)

i actually think petey would leave the instant hes able to . the longer he stays in there the more dms soul degrades .

i thot more abt the phyiscal tax on dms body and i think one immediate effect is like . a temporary comatose state thats proportional to the amt of time his soul was dormant . so the sooner he leaves the shorter that comatose state is . i reckon once he realizes that dms soul has gone dormant hed get kinda frantic trynna wrap up the possession so he can haul ass outta his body .

ALSO THE BURNS ARE SUCH A GOOD IDEA ANON. LOVE U SO BAD. CANONIZED!!!!!! i think maybe the demonic parts of him get burning hot when hes adrenaline pumped hm hm……..

also peteys actually never possessed anyone before bc he just . has never seen a reason to . hes been able to commit all of his acts of tomfoolery without possession and most potential vessels disgusted him LOL . its funny bc for petey any vessel thats willing automatically makes him Not wanna possess them . like “oh… this vessel is weak to temptation /: i dont think this shitty vessel deserves my awesome demon powers” its like BECAUSE petey is such a powerful demon his offers of possession are more tempting. so most people accept his offer which in turn makes him not wanna possess them anymore LOLLLLLL

dm is the first vessel hes actually been interested in and he keeps proving his holiness bc he keeps rejecting his offers of possession even in situations where he could benefit which makes pt wanna possess him more and more (#yaoi)

all that to say idt hed fully Know the consequences of possession well enough to be scared of leaving . he knows that possession is physically taxing on the vessel but he mostly knows that bc he was told by other demons and thats abt it. he knows abt the comatose state and the soul degradation bc those are just classic parts of possession . but bc his wings being burning hot are a more petey specific thing idt he Realizes that his wings would burn dm .

when hes actively possessing him its all petey in there . theres a certain disconnect betwen the demons soul and the hosts body so the demon usually cant rlly feel what the hosts body is phyiscally feeling . its like piloting a mecha ina way? the mecha can take damage but the pilot woukdnt feel anythjng. similar to that

not to mention dms last words before going dormant were to not hold back and to use his body to its limit if it means lp would be safe . so he went all out which is proportional to the amt of damage taken by dms body . also there were probs js some physical costs during the fight itself like broken bones and skin cuts that petey doesnt feel.

i reckon he only realizes the sheer Extent of the physical tax on dms body Post possession and he feels guilty as hell abt it LOL 😭😭😭 the typical human body does Not fare well having been burned broken and cut all within the span of a few hours and be can See that . pts only unaware of it during possession bc hes Inside dms body. but once he ends the possession he sees him in 2nd/3rd person pov so he can actually see all the physical damage his body took . and i reckon that makes him a litle sixk to his stomach . so yeah .

i did NYATT mean for this post to be this long but i js keps thinking of ideas . THANK UFOR ASKS MY GOATS I LOVE RAMBLING ABT AND DEVELOPING MY AUS YAAAYYYYYYY

[monbons]

Stitchy Sunday Musings

Thanks for the tag @thewholelemon. I also don't really have an update, but I did have a bit of a reflection I wanted to share today that I hope will speak to some of you---and selfishly---also keep me motivated on the days that are hard. So, with that, story time...

Exactly a year ago, I started my doll-stitching journey and the very first set of dolls I ever gifted were mermaids. I was inspired by @iamamythologicalcreature's gorgeous mer-May art.

This first set was entirely hand stitched because I did not have a sewing machine, nor did I think making dolls would become something I actively pursued in any real way. It was just something I did for fun---a way to channel my creative energy when the words wouldn't come while also paying tribute to some of my favorite fics and their authors.

Fast-forward to my newest dolls and the growth is almost unbelievable. You can see aspects of my final style in my very first dolls, but everything about this last set has evolved. This particular set represents just over 24 hours of work (a significant chunk of them on that tail that boasts 600+ hand-sewn sequins). I also experimented with new hair textures and colors, and apparently, I embroider eyebrows now. (As if making the eyes symmetrical wasn't hard enough!)

It may sound like I am boasting. I swear I am not. Instead, I wanted to post this because this is just one year of committing to a thing and working really fucking hard at it. It is also the kind of visible "success" that is so hard to get elsewhere.

When I first started contributing to fandom, it was as a writer. If your primary contribution to fandom is writing, it can be really hard to do a side-by-side comparison like this. As a result, we often rely on measures of growth or success that can be compared: kudos, reblogs, and comments obviously, but also word counts, fics published per year, etc. Honestly? None of those are reliable (and dare I say worthy?) measures of how beautiful a piece of work is, let alone a journey of growth and joy. It isn't to say they don't have their place, but "the numbers" aren't everything...and they can often feel disheartening.

Anyway, I've been feeling really down on myself recently for a whole host of reasons, but a huge contributor is that I've been having so much trouble with writing. For weeks, "the numbers" have haunted me. Not just the public numbers (I've wanted to scream into a pillow about kudos and likes more than once this year), but the private ones (I'm "behind" on words from this same point last year).

And then I took this humble doll offering to a book signing this past week and the author cried tears of joy, which made me cry. Several people in the signing line gasped when they held up my little merman and his love. Several others came up and talked to me about my art and wanted to know more. For the first time in months, I felt really proud of something I had made, and I guess this post is about holding on to that feeling. When I made these dolls, I wasn't trying to meet some external metric or creating for audience consumption. I wasn't even sure I would post my dolls anywhere since this isn't SnowBaz. I was simply making for the joy of it, and that night, which cannot be quantified in likes or comments or numbers of any kind, filled me up in a way I desperately needed.

Anyway, if you are still with me after this long ramble, thank you. Like I said, it was mostly for me. I wanted to remember that the beauty of my work actually can't be measured, no matter how much I try to do so. That I may not always be lucky enough to see the impact on others like I did with these dolls, but that doesn't make the effort any less valuable. And most of all, that none of that is the point. I wanted to make these dolls, I enjoyed making these dolls, and I am getting better at it because making dolls makes me happy. I needed to remember that. And if that was the case for me, I figured someone else might need to remember it too.

It feels weird to tag people in this, but hellos and high-fives from the philosophical doll factory anyway. May your creative endeavors bring you joy today and every day.

@alexalexinii, @argumentativeantitheticalg, @aristocratic-otter, @arthurkko, @artsyunderstudy, @bachusekart, @best--dress, @blackberrysummerblog, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @bookish-bogwitch, @confused-bi-queer, @cutestkilla, @drowninginships, @emeryhall, @facewithoutheart, @harrie-leithillustration, @hushed-chorus, @iamamythologicalcreature, @ic3que3n, @ileadacharmedlife, @katatsumuli, @larkral, @letraspal, @mooncello, @noblecorgi, @orange-peony, @prettygoododds, @raenestee, @rbkzz, @roomwithanopenfire, @run-for-chamo-miles, @rimeswithpurple, @shrekgogurt, @skeedelvee, @stitchyqueer, @supercutedinosaurs, @talentpiper11, @the-beard-of-edward-teach, @twinkle-twinkle-up-above, @theimpossibledemon, @thewholelemon, @wellbelesbian, @whatevertheweather, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold, @jyae23, @j-trow-95

[8-rae-rae-8]

i am feeling angry for no reason. and someone has to suffer for this, so let it be my dearest phillip graves ❤️

make him suffer violently. physically, mentally, and emotionally. maybe on their own, but hopefully in pairs at least (maybe even all three if you're feeling really sadistic).

but wait! a moment! give him a crumb of comfort. he cherishes it but it simultaneously makes him feel guilty beyond belief because he quite honestly believes he doesn't deserve it for betraying the people he wanted to be friends with under means of just trying to keep himself and his shadows alive. the comfort makes him let down his shields a bit, but that just makes him vulnerable for others to attack.

i do not have specifics other than this. just graves whump in every single way you can possibly think of. (all of this is /nf by the way. i've never actually given requests so i don't really know how this works)

thank you for possibly considering me, o great one. 🙇‍♂️

Thank you anon thank you, I will take this opportunity briefly to say

[CW: manipulation, child abuse, abuse, implied brief noncon, conditioning(?), mentions of death]

Imagine if you will

Phillip Graves being trained so well, from a young age, to do as he was told. To be seen, not heard. The military was an escape until he got hooked by Shepherd and, damnit, he was too weak to resist the promises he made.

He listened. He behaved. He cared, way too fucking much. Graves practically signed away his life for a chance at something more. Shadow Company was supposed to be his more. His new thing, something he'd love—and he does—but the picture gets clearer and clearer to him every day.

Those promises were fake, the benefits he got were null, the pay was worse, the work was more strenuous. But Phillip Graves learned not to complain, hushed with a finger to his lips or snapped at and scolded until he understood. He sees a little better what he's been looking at from tinted glasses.

From where he sits at Shepherd's feet as a guard dog, he's nothing more than a tool. A measley mutt, something weak and waiting to be used because he was so desperate to prove himself.

He can't dig himself out of this hole. He knows it. There's nowhere to go. Who would he run to anyway?

When he steps a foot out of line, the barely healed wounds remind him of what happens when he does. The stern gaze sends terror through him, the all too similar way his father standing in the hall with a belt would; except this time, he'd be losing a lot more than just his ability to sit for a few hours.

He's a mutt chained to a post. He can lunge and bark and bite, but it'll get him nowhere. At this point, after everything, he's not sure he deserves that regardless. Here, at least, he's made a home. Someone will ask how he is, and he'll lie away every follow-up question with a smile on his face. The way they hug him is so much more gentle. Safe. Warm.

And yet, like a dog, he'll always crawl back here to lay at his owner's feet before Shepherd can catch a glimpse of what he's doing—he always knows anyway. Another punishment, another scolding, another bruise or cut.

Weary and tired, it's hard to keep up appearances, but he does it just well enough.

Shamefully, for just a second, he believed the 141 and Los Vaqueros could see him. The chuckles, the fist bumps, the banter... He thought he'd get a chance, just one. But he never deserved that, did he? Shepherd wasted no time with them, sending orders to Graves' desk, telling him to kill each and every remaining team member. Make them pay for daring to treat Phil with an ounce of kindness.

He couldn't even say he was sorry, just tried to aim where it wouldn't kill. It had to look real, after all. Even still, he had half the thought to think that maybe, just maybe, they'd see him. See all this. The Shadows' confusion, his tenseness, his fear... Why'd he ever think he'd get lucky like that?

If he ignored the order, it would break him. Literally. His shadows would be out of jobs, god knows Shepherd isn't above sending others to kill them for no reason. He'd lie about them "going rogue" or something. He'd lose everything he ever wanted and only ever got because he was stupid enough to think this could all happen and be okay.

The shadows noted it, a little bit. They saw his panicked eyes and restless stance. The only comfort he got out there were small smiles and brief touches. Brush of the shoulders, a gentle pat. For a minute, he could believe it was okay.

The one chance at getting out was that godforsaken court room, and even then he failed when his walls kept coming down until the stupid idea someone would see this terrifying situation. But no. No one will come for him when he drowns in the ship he dared to live on. No one will see the way his eyes dart around as Shepherd clasps a threatening hand over his shoulder like it's a kind gesture. No one will hear the way he sobs that night, knowing it'll always just be him, drowning here alone.

I got carried away and I think I missed some points but it's almost 6am so

[lovesbiggerthanpride]

against all odds

pairing: Clint Flood x Black f!reader (AU)

wc: 445

tags/notee: inspired by a scene in the movie, spoiler-ish, au-ish, established relationship, in my Clint feels and already love him. he’s such a loverboy who deserves everything good. literally after I figured out the title, i thought of the Phil Collins song. it felt really good to write and actually post something. 💙

masterlist - ao3

-

Everyone thinks he’s too smug, too harsh, too mean. That is the truth. His job requires a tough exterior, cold responses, a threatening stance that makes others cower when he approaches.

But with you, he’s the opposite.

Sweet, affectionate, funny, and undeniably loyal. A broad teddy bear in your eyes. Dropping everything to make sure you’re safe, comfortable, and feeling loved at all times.

The odds are usually never in your favor. Too much at stake every damn day. It will never last. But you made a promise, with honesty heing paramount. You and Clint are going strong, looking out for each other. It just works. While you don’t look like you could physically take someone down, you’re fiercely protective of your husband.

He has your heart.

The banter about music, sports, and movies. Quiet moments while your bodies are connected under cool sheets. Chuckles that are soft and husky, lingering kisses that take your breath away. Dreaming about a life that doesn’t require looking over your shoulder.

This is what they don’t see when he’s on the clock.

Your hands on his shoulders, massaging away the weight of the world. Letting him select the movie, even though he’ll usually find the one you want. Every now and again, you tenderly pat ointment on the scar that’s a part of him now. Holding him close.

“You’re doing great, baby.”

Like clockwork, he blushes, not resisting your touch. Knowing it’s alright to accept extra doses of affection too.

You are the reason he keeps going.

Little reminders on the fridge to stay safe and I love you ground him. He scribbles a mushy note in return. He’s never felt so light and hopeful. You’re what he has to look forward to, maybe more…

This way of life isn’t perfect, but you know it will end soon. He’s determined to make things right.

When the time arrives, he gets out of the car, in his uniform of a black leather jacket, a flannel, jeans, boots, standing tall. Clint’s not there to find a target. He’s ready to greet you after work. He knows you can hold your own on these bus rides. But your smile is all that matters. And you need to know that you both made it another day.

The breeze cools your skin as you hurry to meet him. Three kisses in a row. Not too superstitious, but it just works.

His hands move down to your waist. He knows you’re here, but he wants to feel you right now. Using them for good. Not just for off-hours, but for the rest of time.

“Hey, baby,” he shyly grins. “I gotta tell you something.”

[phleb0tomist]

i’m so glad this post resonated with people. i wanna add some extra tidbits bc why not:

the majority (up to 80%) of ME cases start after a virus. but not all! in those that didn’t, most people can identify a shock to the system right before they got ill—a road accident, mould exposure, a traumatic event, even a pregnancy. there are also genetic factors.

ME and long covid may not be the identical but there is overlap, with a big chunk of LC patients meeting the ME criteria. LC is the only other condition to feature the symptom of post exertional malaise. i hold LC patients in my heart, i think we should uplift each other

I mostly talk about severe ME bc it doesn’t get enough focus, but ME can be mild and invisible. ‘mild’ ME is also harrowing and is still a 50% reduction in functioning. it’s crucial if youre mildly affected to pace yourself bc the impact of repeated overexertions seems to accumulate. prognosis is much better with pacing!

post exertional malaise feels very very bad but it seems to be a protective mechanism—your body shuts down after you push too far to prevent you from doing any more activity (read: damage). PEM is not a punishment, it’s a signal from your body asking you to listen and accommodate.

ME is mainly neurological but it can affect all bodily systems. the hallmark symptom, post exertional malaise, is basically a worsening of symptoms/emergence of extra symptoms 24-72 hours after any physical, cognitive, orthostatic, or sensory exertion beyond one’s individual limits. in PEM, a lot of people get non-infectious flu-like symptoms like sore throat and swollen glands. another distinctive symptom is peculiar sleep dysfunction with loss of circadian rhythm or ‘extremes’ of sleep i.e. being awake or asleep for an unusually long time. other symptoms include pain, sensory intolerances, gastro issues, spatial disorientation, weakness, inability to main upright posture for long, and temperature issues. cognitive symptoms cause difficulty processing basic info, some people forget simple facts or lose the ability to read or write. this is a processing issue and is not necessarily permanent(!!), but it still might last months or years at a time.

relapses can be scary and last a long time, but loss of ability is not always forever. i was very severe for about a year and for much of that year I couldn’t eat solid food or talk, but I can now! I know others who spent a while in the very severe category but regained ability since then.

closing thought after rereading my op.. it’s possible that the reason ME had good prognosis in the past but poor prognosis now is that back then, people were actually encouraged to rest in the early stages of illness. bedrest was the prescription whereas today you’re pushed to keep working and ignore all symptoms until you break, by which point you are, naturally, broken. when i was a kid I used to experience incredible remissions during the weeks where i was allowed to skip sports classes and long walks, and I truly believe I might’ve had a chance to recover if I hadn’t been made to increase my activity. the best thing I ever did was restructuring my life around accommodating PEM. it freed me. it’s the only thing that helped me improve over 15+ years of illness (and 10 years of being severe). ok goodnight

today is myalgic encephalomyelitis awareness day if you want to read a little about it. this date was chosen bc it’s florence nightingale’s birthday and she was bedridden for a long period by what is thought to have been ME.

ME was originally understood as a post-viral condition with features similar to MS & polio which generally improved after a few months of rest, but in the late 20th century, figures with vested interests began to claim that ME was a psychosomatic fatigue-based syndrome and that the best treatments were cognitive therapy, graded exercise, and ‘believing’ you will get better, despite this approach causing many patients to decline. under this model, patients are blamed for not getting better and are told that if they’re still unwell, it’s only because they didn’t believe enough or exercise enough. children are told this, patients are told this when they’re bedbound, unable to speak, unable to swallow, tube fed, etc.

gradually the guidelines are being changed to reflect the fact that exercise beyond one’s individual limits causes profound damage to ME patients, but it’s a slow process and the decades of (ongoing!) harm are unforgivable. the care ME patients receive is of such a wilfully poor standard that ive foregone the ER in the past because i would rather die than go there again and be treated as less than human. bear in mind this is under free nationalised healthcare. i skipped free healthcare because that’s how bad it is. ME patients frequently slip through the cracks—after becoming severely disabled from harmful medical advice or forced treatment, many patients are too fearful to ever see a doctor again. it’s pretty common to hear of a patient who has been bedbound for over a decade and hasn’t seen a doctor since their first year of illness. home visits are often denied and hospitals often refuse to accommodate our basic needs (e.g. a dim environment, since light can cause long-term symptom crashes).

the diagnosis of ME has been stigmatised, minimised, and watered down, and patients face neglect and iatrogenic harm on such a scale that at least half the ME patients i encounter have been made permanently and PREVENTABLY worse by inappropriate treatment early in their illness, like i was as a kid. most patients are women, especially the patients who become severe or die; misogyny is a factor, and frequently the patients who face significant medical harm are children or young people who are trusting and can’t stand up for themselves. being traumatised on a systemic scale by the medical establishment also means that these people do not report back to doctors afterwards so the harm goes unreported much of the time. ME charities try their best to document these cases.

25% of patients are severely affected like me. basically, the body struggles to maintain normal homeostasis so any activity can cause symptom worsening (aka post exertional neuroimmune exhaustion) including the activities of daily living like brushing your teeth, speaking, digesting food, being exposed to minor sensory stimuli like light and ambient noise etc.

various links if you want to take a look:

caring for the patient with severe ME

life threatening malnutrition in severe ME

who cares for ME?

25% ME group

severe ME in children

the death, mistreatment, and starvation of maeve boothby o’niell

three cases of ME

about severe ME

why patients with ME are housebound or bedbound

graded exercise does not restore ability to work

patients remain severely disabled after specialist cognitive behavioural therapy

(note: ‘chronic fatigue syndrome’ is an alternative name for ME, but i don’t use it due to the large-scale harm and damage done under that name)