#and i hadn't eaten since noon

[selarina]

Bleeding Heart Dove

-> Nanami Kento x Reader

Summary: In the quiet routine of a strained marriage, a simple proposal for a trip offers a glimpse of hope.

Tags: angst, slow burn, marriage au, marital strain, emotional hurt/comfort, implied emotional neglect, second chance au, rainy day, fluff, suggestive, mention of reader having boobs, unresolved tension (they need to fuck nasty), unedited

Word Count: 970 words

Author's Note: it's raining and I finally got a surge to write something <3 anyway, bleeding heart dovessssssss have my heart

Read on AO3 | Part 2

Today had been sad and gloomy, the rain pouring relentlessly as the clouds had been crying since noon.

He tried to make his entrance small, creeping in like a nimble thief in the night. Slowly, he removed his sodden shoes and coat, hanging them up to dry. His umbrella he placed on the ground, even more slowly. See, it was an old one, and tended to spring up and about with sudden movement.

He stepped inside the kitchen now. There was food on the table, just as always. He uncovered the plastic wrapping and placed it in the oven, not even bothering to check what was for dinner. Hunger was gnawing at him and he would eat a human hand if you let him.

"Hello," a voice cut through.

"Oh," he turned, startled. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"I was up anyway," you replied. Your business clothes clung to you like the remnants of a very weary day. You must have returned late as well. "Let me help, Nanami."

He didn't say anything, simply stepping aside to let you tend to his plate and yours. He had assumed he'd have the whole meal for himself, a strange notion given the portion size. But given that he hadn't eaten all day, he didn't question the rationality at first. Now, it made sense — you hadn't eaten either.

He started setting up the glasses, placing two for wine and two for water, movements mechanical and jittery.

"Here," you said, appearing before him with a corkscrew in hand, as if conjured by some quiet magic.

Your hands looked tired. Lagging. Your eyes bleary. An impulse stirred within him, as though a needle had pricked at his heart, he felt the urge to swipe his hands over your eyes, to wipe away the weariness. But he withheld.

"Thank you," he murmured, taking the corkscrew and setting to work on the bottle.

Your gaze lingered for a mere second on his hands, watching the way they flexed with the way he handled the bottle. Precise. Gentle.

"How was work?" you asked, turning to the oven.

He wonders if you actually cared about what he said. “Horrible,” he answered.

"Oh," you replied. Neutral. "Okay." Neutral again. It drove him a bit insane every time. But he was a calm man.

"And your work?" he asked.

"Oh, quite lovely," you replied, a soft, dove-like smile gracing your lips. It was a smile that brought a sting of sadness to his heart, for he knew you would not elaborate. Not for him.

"That's nice," he said, his voice hollow. He poured the wine into the glasses, filling yours to three-quarters and his to a scant half.

And then the two of you sat, on opposite ends of your teak dinner table. Eating and swallowing in silence. The clanking of the forks being the only music that filled the room. He thought about getting up to play set the record, playing some of those old jazz tunes you were quite fond of. But the record was likely dusty. It was much too much work.

So he remained seated, the silence between you so vast and impenetrable, it made you conscious about how loud you were chewing your food.

—

"Well," you returned from the bathroom. now clad in delicate sleep shorts and a camisole, applying your usual moisturizer to your elbows. "The water's cold," you commented.

"Yeah," he responded, glancing up from his spot on the bed. "Sorry, I prefer it cold so I didn't notice. I think it's the rain."

You chuckled, a sound that seemed almost out of place. "I know you prefer it cold, Nanami. We've been married for practically a millennium, for God's sake."

An exaggeration, of course. It had been six years. You did this a lot.

He offered a faint smile in response, the corners of his mouth barely lifting. "Right," he said.

He felt the bed dip slightly under your weight as you sat. "Will you get my back?" You asked, holding out the moisturiser as you turned to present your back.

He took it, as his hands lifted your camisole, all the way up. He poured some of the white lotion onto his hand as his eyes flickered up, only momentarily, to see your reflection in the mirror. The front half of your top had risen as well, cinching up your breasts.

His eyes trained back to your back, and he began to rub the cream in. Up and down. And up and down. And up and down. When he was finished, he smoothed down your top. He rubbed his hands over your shoulders, giving a gentle squeeze to let you know he was finished.

And then the two of you slept, side by side, waiting for sleep to come find you in the dark. And just then, he doesn't know how or why this happened so don't ask him. All he knew was that somewhere in those first twenty minutes, he had gotten up, his hands reaching for the night lamp to turn it on, leaving you sat up, surprised.

"What is it?" You had asked.

"We should go on a trip," he proposed, calmly.

"A trip," you squinted, your eyes adjusting to the sudden assault of light.

"Yes, we could go to Okinawa," he suggested.

You paused for a moment. "It's storming these days. The weather will be horrible."

"You pick," he said. "Wherever you want to go. We can go."

And then, you thought about it. For a few seconds, he was almost afraid you'd call him a foolish old man and fall back onto your pillow. But instead, you smiled—an earnest smile, outside of your usual politeness. And he felt his heart beating fresh blood.

"Okay, old man," you said. "I'll think of a place."

He smiled.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

To Warm You Up

Natasha Romanoff x GN!Reader

Summary: A snowy day means a good book, warm drinks, and cuddles

Word count: 704

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff

A/N: I wrote this last night while my sleep meds kicked in. I used the prompt, 'bring you a hot drink'

It was quiet. The snow fell outside, watching the flakes dance every so often as you looked up from your book. It had been snowing all morning, and so you felt it was the perfect day to stay curled up in bed. Finally, you got the chance to read through a book you'd recently purchased. Your Maine coon, Dumpling, curled up by your feet.

You smiled content in how your day was going so far. The only thing missing was your girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff, she had gotten up early this morning and had occupied herself in her office with work since the snow kept her from going to the office. You hadn't heard from her all morning and now as early afternoon was about to turn to late afternoon you heard movement. You assumed Natasha had gotten up to grab herself something to eat. Making you remember you hadn't eaten yet. Your stomach growling at the realization. You didn't want to move though. You had become invested in your book and Dumpling had moved himself to your thighs, sprawling out across them.

Just as you finished up a chapter Natasha came through the threshold of your bedroom, tray in hand. Her red hair loose, falling over her shoulders in waves. A smile on her face when your eyes met as she got up on the bed with the tray. She'd made you a sandwich; turkey and cheese, a small pile of chips next to it and your favorite mug filled with hot chocolate. You could smell the peppermint and the two cinnamon sticks poking out gave away that she made it exactly how you like it.

“Oh moya lyubov. You didn't have to do this.” You set your book down on the side table before cupping her cheek. She leans into your touch. The two of you had been together for years. You knew everything about the other.

The Natasha you had met years ago who had defected from Russia who was so closely guarded. The Russian who was cold and calculated in every move she made. The Russian who when you first met was assigned to you and Clint. The Russian who put every wall up, used every sweet little lie with you and you who called her bluff everytime. She'd been put with you for one reason. You could tell when people lie. So really in the end she had no choice, but to tell the truth which terrified the red head.

“I wanted to. I hadn't heard you move since your trip to the bathroom this morning.” She raised an eyebrow at you, making you smile.

“Yeah I haven't. I got engrossed in my book. I'm already a little more than half way through!” Natasha could hear the excitement oozing from your voice. How could she not love you who only ever showed her love and kindness? You who would listen to her ramblings after nightmares. You who when she needed to be handcuffed to the bed to sleep offered your hand instead. You who offered a place when she had nothing and noone.

Some might think Natasha couldn't possibly settle down, but here she was with you as the snow fell outside. You picked up the mug, giving it a few blows before taking the first sip. The hot liquid falling down your throat and warming you instantly. You can't help the small ‘Mmmm’ that pushes up your throat, eyes closed. The mug warming your hands that you hadn't realized had gone cold as they tended to do, especially in the winter.

You talked with Natasha as you ate, catching up on her day and how work was going. She'd been writing reports and working on Intel the young Avengers had picked up on. You moved the empty tray aside, pulling Natasha against you. She always clung so tightly as if you'd disappear if she didn't hold you that way. She'd always been like this. You tried breaking the habit early on, but it never worked. Now it is something you look forward to, like a weighted blanket or stuffed animal. Natasha brought you comfort on such a level and in such a way you know no one else could compare.

[firerose18991]

Shacking Up

Gildarts x Reader

Minors DNI

Info: reader gets hit with an enchantment that sucks the energy out of the body in a peculiar way🥴; p in v, fem reader, age gap?

Wrd cnt: 2.67k

The rain poured on the tin roof covering the worn down mountain safe house. It was just your luck you ended up in the thick of it with another wizard on the abandoned half of the mountain. You took the assailant down but not before they casted some weak enchantment on you. You barely noticed the faint purple lettering over your abdomen but as the night drew quicker and the letters amplified themselves their effect made itself known.

But there are little miracles in this world. You were positive once you got to the safe house that no one had been there for months. You could probably stay there for a few days uninterrupted until the effects wore off. Is what you thought while you sat by an old scratched window watching the rain storm turn the summer mountain scene into a mudslide. The house was anchored with magic so you didn't worry too much about going with it.

But a loud thump at the door made you much more alert. The cabin is free for any travelers through the mountain but you'd hoped to be lucky enough to be the only maniac out in this kind of weather. When the door swung open you saw a clothed figure. He entered through the frame with heavy, metal like steps. And swung the door back into place, as if it was some flimsy plywood door, not solid oak.

You curled back a bit into your spot by the window as he walked in.

“This damn mountain.” He cursed. Throwing off his tattered hood and dropping what you could only assume was a bag of stones, to the ground.

He quickly snapped his head to look at you. You tried not to jump at the sight of him. The magic power he emitted was more than what you could pray to protect yourself from in your state.

“Well this is a surprise, most folks don't make it to this side of the mountain alive.” He smiled at you. “Sorry to break in on a lady, the rain caught me by surprise. This place is usually free.” His hand tangled in his auburn hair shyly as he brushed back his hood.

“It's not a problem, I was just getting some sleep so I could get off this mountain.” You let out a breath of relief in seeing he meant you no harm.

He laughed “ Yeah looks like this place chewed you up kid. What'd you get into it with some vulcans?”

“Close enough.” You slouched into the corner feeling even worse.

“Well how ‘bout some dinner? Nights like these always make me crave some green mountain soup. Course I can never finish the pot by myself.”

Now that you'd thought about it you hadn't eaten since noon yesterday and you wouldn't make it down the mountain hungry.

“If you don't mind.” Your eyes darted between the floor and his stubbled jaw.

“Course not.” His roguish smile and warm tone drew you in.

Enough to coax you off your perch to walk over and help. But as your feet hit the floor your legs couldn't support you.

“Wha” You gasped as you fell forward only to be caught by the stranger.

“Up you go.” He lifted partially to your feet, still using him as a support. “Looks like you got cursed. Don't tell me you were out fighting the mountain bandits.”

“It was for a job” You grunted as he sat you back down. “I just had to steal something back for someone.”

“Yeah but those guys never let you get away with anything. May I?” He lifted you and indicated at your abdomen where the enchantment energy radiated off of you.

You nodded with hesitation. He lifted your shirt slightly and frowned.

“Yeah I know what this is. The curse of fatigue. The more tired you are, the worse the effects. Worst 6 hours of my life.” He rubbed his beard.

“What are the effects?” You struggled a bit to sound clear.

“I think you already know, dear.” You squeezed your legs at the pet name.

“It lasts 6 hours?”. You were breathing noticeably from fear.

“That's how long it took for me to recuperate my regular energy while still afflicted by the curse. It varies from person to person.” He looked in your eyes which threatened to spill over at any moment. “I'm Gildarts by the way. I'm a Fairy Tail wizard. And you?”

“I'm (Y/N) I'm just a freelancer. I don't have any-one… to come get me.” You choked through the sentence as you began to cry.

Gildarts’ hand came up to your back to cradle you.

“Shh don't worry sweetheart you'll be okay. I'll make sure you get home safe. And we wouldn't be able to move now, you're exhausted.” His hand stroked down the side of your cloaked body

“Let's get you settled down for now.”

He pulled out the mattress left for travelers in the closet and set it out on a platform it tucked snuggly into. Followed by some blankets and worn down pillows. He walked over to get you and placed you into the center where you sank in to cover yourself with the blankets.

“Sorry.” You sniffled as you laid down fully.

“It's not a problem. Don't cry so much you'll make yourself worse.” He patted your head.

“Now, I'm gonna go out and grab a couple extra ingredients for dinner.”

“Outside?” You began to sit up a bit only to be stopped by his index finger pushing you back down into the bed.

“Well I walked here through the storm. I'm just grabbing a couple herbs that'll help you. I'm tougher than some mountain storm.” He walked to the front to put on his cloak and bagged his feet to keep them dry in his boots.

“I'll be back.”

Then left you dizzy where you laid watching the ceiling spin waiting for some noise of his return to stir you while the pit in your stomach expanded and contracted. As if you'd lost all decency you managed to spread your legs wide enough to palm at your soft puffy labia. A curse designed to get worse as you get more exhausted by further exhausting your body. It probably would've killed you on the mountain.

“Death by orgasm.” You laughed a bit to yourself. There are worse ways to go. You shuffled out of your pants only an inch or two, still not fully committed to what you were about to do.

Your fingers smoothed their way down under your underwear and through the slit and nudged at the gummy flesh beneath. A deep shaky sigh erupted out of you. You were already wet or more, slathered in your own dripping arousal. The experimental circle on your clit was messy from the fluid. Getting your bearings on it took a few tries and then you were off agitating the sensitive nerves. Small stifled moans slipped out as you squirmed under the covers. There was still some missing fulfillment between your legs. You spread your thighs instinctively as if expecting something to quell you.

Nevertheless you'd never felt this sensitive, every move felt just right and only added to your release. And soon you felt like you'd crossed the threshold. You swallowed thickly before letting out a broken moan and falling weakly back into the bed. You were so lost you hadn't remembered that Gildarts would be back until the door creaked open again.

You weakly turned your head towards the door but didn't bother to pull back on your pants under the blanket. You were still panting lightly. It was pretty obvious you were decompensating and Gildarts decided to start a fire without many words.

The cabin soon smelled like herb soup. Your stomach growled as it stirred you back to your senses. At some point your eyes had closed. Opening them felt like a chore. You managed a soft hum.

“Hey, it's about ready.” Gildarts was sitting on the bottom edge of the bed sorting some cards. “Think you can eat?”

“Yeah” You started to pull yourself up, with more success than you would've had a while ago.

“How long was I out?”

“No more than 2 hours.” He called from the soup pot.

He brought back a bowl. Instead of handing it to you he took a spoon full and blew on it to cool.

“I don't need to be taken care of.” He put the spoon to your mouth and hummed in acknowledgement. “Don't you want to eat?” You prodded.

“I can wait until you're fed.” You sighed and ate as fast as possible.

Aside from the embarrassment of someone walking on you post nut clarity, He's now feeding you. Oh so teasingly close, with perfect messy auburn hair and that pine woods smell about him. If the soup wasn't so good you'd probably feel sick to your stomach from the backflips your pussy performed each time he blew on the soup.

When you were finally done he went over to get himself a bowl and sat to eat at the table. You faced him half staring at him as he ate.

“Did you want some more? It's kinda hard to eat with you starin’ like that.” He joked.

“It's not like I can move around much right now, but if it'll make it easy for you to eat I'll close my eyes.” You rolled 'em before they shut.

Now you felt vulnerable, as you were 100% sure if you were to open your eyes you would be met with him staring at you laying in full view under a fairly thin blanket. You heard some shuffling from his end after a while and peeped one eye open.

“I thought the soup would knock you out again, but my cookings’ never been something to write home about.” He was taking off his outer layers of clothes and hanging them up.

“How ya feeling?” His well toned back chiseled its way through his tight shirt.

“About the same.” You hid your rapidly heating face behind the covers.

“Do you think you can sleep through it?” He was over by you again. He smoothed a hand over your head.

“I'm tired, I just can't sleep.”

“Alright, let's see what else I can do for you.” He winked and set his hand lower on your hip.

“Okay” you whimpered, feeling the solid grip on your hip.

The wooden supports creaked underneath you as he settled onto the bed between your legs

He tousled his hair letting the slicked back locks flow and curl around his face.

“Putting on a show?” You tried to crack a joke but it just highlighted the cracks in your voice.

“Just wanted to give you something to hold onto.” He leaned down to capture your lips in a smoldering kiss.

You moaned oh so pitifully into his mouth. So you didn’t mind when he made quick work of removing the covers, your top, and remaining undergarments. All the while, quelling the sweet noises “the spell” compelled from you.

His large hands moved to fully cup your breasts, pinching lightly at the pert supple nipples that bloomed. You squirmed freely beneath him, legs tangling the sheets below and knocking against the strong thighs that caged you. Gildarts moved down and suckled on your neck. He nipped and lapped at what you could only assume was the dried sweat from your ordeals of the day. It was heaven to him.

He was no stranger to picking up women on the roads of his adventure but very few of them stuck in his mind. He knew you’d be unforgettable.

Your scent was already stuck in his mind and he would've gone for more. Taking his time to truly savor you. But a swift kick nearly missing his bulging crotch brought him back to his senses. He grinned into your neck, turning the skin with it.

“Can’t let an old man have some fun.” His breath was hot against you.

One hand traveled from your breast down your side, you arched with each inch down until his hand rested on your hip. You moved one leg to hook around his back pulling him closer to your desire.

“You gotta slow down baby, just let me do all the work.” This of course fell on deaf ears as you pulled further down.

He pulled off his shirt revealing his chiseled physique decorated in sunspots, freckles, and a teasing v line and flattering happy trail. He unzipped his pants and slid them down revealing the rest of the trail and a thick cock. He pulled your other leg up and held it in the air where he wanted it with his metal hand.

“Now I mean it sweetie, relax~.” He drawled.

His unoccupied hand rubbed slow circles to start on your clit, eventually moving faster, sloppier and drawing waterfalls from you. Then one finger and two then three made their way inside of you. The spell's effect on your sensitivity had your eyes rolling back with every flex of his hand.

You were in a complete haze letting the ripples of pleasures tear through you. You barely had enough strength to reach up and urge Gildarts on again, running your hand through some hair and resting on his chin which he nuzzled further into. His fingers withdrew and he lined himself up with your weeping pussy. The stretch was delectable and careened through you.

The ample thrust that followed was almost enough to send you over.

Gildarts had taken his spot in the crook of your neck once again. He pumped dutifully. Taking his time to drag his heavy cock out before gliding back in. The soft squelches of your essence that accompanied your breaths of pleasure encompassed the space. It was surreal, you were enveloped in each new sensation that arose. Suddenly the small drops on the roof weren't such a nuisance.

His thumbs dug tender circles into the deepest parts of your inner thighs. You bucked up against him meeting every thrust and then some. You were fighting to meet your release but the increasing lack of energy held you down.

“Just a bit more.” You panted into his ear.

Your soft lips brushing against his face short circuited him. He rallied for the last part of the act holding your lower back off the mattress to leverage hitting your deepest pours repeatedly until you came. You came down sore and delirious, passing out for a few minutes after. Gildarts pulled out and turned the two of you to the side still caged by one of your legs.

—

In the morning the sun leaked through the cloudy windows of the cabin. The storm had passed without much fuss. You mumbled feeling some of the rays bored into your exposed bum. You opened your eyes to see the man you shacked up with, mouth again and head thrown back as if he spent the night waterboarded in his dreams. Your abdomen no longer shone with the purple script and your body felt no worse for wear.

You felt it best to make a graceful exit and delicately started to maneuver your legs and arms away from his hold. You flipped yourself out and over to the other side of the mattress. As you got onto your knees you felt a tug on your ankle.

“Leaving just like that?” Gildarts caught your ankle, leaning up from his possession, hair tousled about like he was fresh from a workout.

“I figured you'd want the cabin to yourself.” You winked.

“Uh uh sweetheart. Last night I helped you so this morning you help me.” He threw his weight on top of you trapping you against the bed and a bulge boring into your thigh.

[bella-rose29]

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 3

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: swearing, Stephanie is a bitch, lockwood was a complete arse in the past, he's also very guarded in the present, they kiss for like three seconds (because Steph makes them), mentions of sex, mentions of lockwood's family being dead, neither of them can deal with emotions, proof read maybe once

series master list

Anthony Lockwood was starting to think that this family Christmas would be a disaster.

He had no issue with playing the perfect boyfriend at all; in fact, he was doing rather brilliantly at it.

But something wasn't quite right with Y/n.

Now he didn't know how large families were meant to work, since his own relatives were either gone or lived too far away and his only experience with larger gatherings was the few times he'd been to George's, but he did know that the snide remarks about how much cake Y/n should be given and the fake laughter from her aunt wasn't particularly regular.

The cake and tea situation had certainly been strange.

Normally Y/n went through around four cups of tea before noon, and if cake was offered she would have such a large slice that Lockwood would often joke about leaving some for the rest of them. Instead of cracking one of those jokes that afternoon, he was currently staring at her half-drunk mug and a plate of cake that hadn't even been eaten, and Y/n was in the toilet instead of glaring at him.

He didn't exactly like her, but he hadn't been raised to not be a gentleman. He excused himself with a smile, pushing himself out of the loveseat and making his way out of the living room in a search for his fake girlfriend. It took him nearly five minutes to check all the bathrooms in the house, and naturally the last one that he knocked on was the one she was in. There hadn't been any answer, but he had heard sniffles from the other side of the door of their en-suite bathroom and had assumed that it was Y/n.

"Are you alright?" He was starting to get tired of asking that question, but she was clearly not alright, and if this whole charade went wrong then she'd just have more reason to hate him, so he was attempting to carry out damage control.

"I'm fine, just... go back downstairs, Lockwood."

"Anthony."

"Whatever." He could hear her huff in annoyance, and bit back a retort, instead settling for a frown. Lockwood sat down, his legs pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his knees to keep his balance as he leant backwards.

"I'm not going back without you," he said to the door. "Your sister looks like she's going to eat me alive, and I don't think I'll be given the satisfaction of dying afterwards which scares me."

"...What?"

"I said that-"

"I heard what you said, I just... don't know what you mean."

"Your sister... is going... to eat me. And I don't mean 'she's going to eat me like Christmas dinner', I mean 'she's going to... eat... me." He was trying to get his point across through euphemisms, but apparently that wasn't working. It didn't help that Y/n couldn't see his face or hand gestures, but at least he heard the door lock click.

He had barely registered the sound before the door opened behind him and he fell backwards, only being stopped from landing on his back like an upside down beetle by Y/n's legs.

"What the fuck are you doing? Get off the floor, you dipshit."

He stood up, brushing himself off and turning around to inspect her face. She'd obviously been crying, but was trying to hide it, and was now shoving past him into the bedroom.

"What do you mean, eat you?"

"You know..." he gestured vaguely, now feeling embarrassed. He sighed when Y/n only looked quizzically at him. "She keeps looking at me like she wants to fuck me and it's making me uncomfortable."

"Oh, poor you. What a shame for you."

"Oh shove off." She was irritating him again. At least that meant she was somewhat back to normal. "Are you going to come back downstairs? I think your mother has nearly finished cooking dinner."

"Right... uh- I don't know, really." She was folding her arms now, closing in on herself and looking away. Lockwood felt like he was missing something, the key piece of the puzzle that would give him all the answers, and it was frustrating him. It was so close, he was sure of it, but what 'it' was he couldn't say.

"Well you can't leave me down there on my own! You dragged me up here to be your boyfriend for the holidays!"

"You'll be fine. You're great in these situations!"

"Yeah but this is your family, Y/n, you should spend time with them. You never know when-" He couldn't finish, his throat closing up slightly.

"I don't exactly want to spend time around them when I have to pretend that I'm hopelessly in love with you!"

"Well you don't have to go that far with it!"

"Oh like you aren't? What was that earlier? 'Best Touch in England' and 'there's nothing that could have stopped me from falling for your daughter'!"

"I've got to butter them up somehow, haven't I?" She huffed again.

"Look. I have no issue with pretending to date you. I have no issue with pretending to date you in front of my family to make them think I'm not a lair, even though I am. What I do have an issue with is you trying to tell me how to live my life in my own home, and how to act. I know my family, Lockwood, and I know what I'm doing."

"Do you? Because so far I've seen you leave half a mug of tea and an entire slice of cake, which is entirely unlike you. And what the hell was that thing that happened with Stephanie saying you don't need a large slice? Is that why you don't want to come down for dinner?"

"No, it's not that, I just... Stephanie always makes comments about me because she doesn't like me, and I don't really feel like spending an entire meal being watched by her."

"Well then I'll tell them you're not feeling well because of the journey and could we eat up here!"

"You-!" she was still shouting, but broke off when she registered his words. He had only just realised what he'd said himself, and he was taken aback at his offer. "That... would actually be nice, actually. If you don't mind."

"No, I don't. It means I don't have to fake liking you for a while."

Y/n scoffed, but she looked somewhat less disgruntled than she had before.

~~~

Ten minutes later Lockwood was knocking on the door, demanding to be let in.

"Seriously, can you hurry up? My arms are going to fall off in a second!"

"You are such a drama queen," she replied as she opened the door. He would never survive as a waiter, which was surprising since given he had clearly practiced with a rapier for years and had a strong throw, Y/n had assumed that he had somewhat sturdy arms. With the way he was acting now anyone would think he'd never held a thing in his life.

"Yeah, sure, let me come in. I need to put this down, I think I'm going to die."

"Fucking idiot," she muttered, stepping back and allowing him room to walk inside. He put the tray down on the desk, dragging over a second chair to put beside the one that was already there and sitting down. Y/n stood nearby, unsure about sharing a meal with Lockwood as he got stuck in, but then he paused for a moment and looked back at her with a frown.

"Well? Are you going to sit down? Imagine what your family will say when they find out I let you starve."

"Of course all you're worried about is what other people will think of you," she grumbled, reluctantly pulling out the desk chair and sitting on it.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're so obsessed with your image, Lockwood. It's a wonder that nobody has suffocated on your ego yet."

"I am not obsessed!"

"Ok, sure. Remind me, how long did you spend on your hair this morning?" Y/n asked, her face the picture of innocence. Lockwood floundered for a moment, then stuck a forkful of food in his mouth.

"That's irrelevant."

"I think it's entirely relevant."

"Shut up and eat your veg, Schmoopie."

Y/n threw a piece of carrot at him, and laughed when it landed in his hair and made him shriek.

~~~

Y/n had snuck downstairs with their empty plates and glasses while Lockwood used the toilet.

She had thought she could simply put everything in the dishwasher and go right back upstairs, but just as she closed the door to the machine and turned around she was greeted by her cousin.

"So," Stephanie started, attempting (the key word being 'attempted') to look disinterested. Y/n internally groaned, knowing exactly where this was leading. "How long have you two been... a thing?"

"8 months. And it's not a 'thing', Steph. He's my boyfriend."

"Sure, sure." Her tone suggested that she didn't believe Y/n at all, and was agreeing with her in much the same way that one might agree with a child who had said something wrong, but looked proud of themselves for saying it. "How'd it happen, then? Who asked who? What was the first kiss like?"

"Steph, I'm really tired, alright? And I'm only going to have to repeat this story multiple times tomorrow to literally fifty people, so please just let me go to bed and I'll make sure you're the first one I tell in the morning, yeah?" Y/n started heading for the door, pushing past her cousin.

"Oh, so you have more time to come up with the perfect lie?" Stephanie's words made her freeze with one foot out of the kitchen, and when she turned back the other girl was stood with a smug smile on her face.

"What do you mean?" Shit, her voice was shaking, and she was certain that if Stephanie came any closer she would see the slight sweat that had broken out on her forehead.

"Oh please. Nobody like him would ever go for someone like you, Y/n. I mean, he is way out of your league!"

"Personally I think that Y/n is way out of my league, but each to their own, I suppose." She hadn't even heard Lockwood come in, but now he was wrapping his arm around her waist like it belonged there and smiling softly at her like they hadn't been arguing about five minutes before (the argument was about something pointless, but that didn't stop Y/n from gloating when he gave in and said that she was right). "You alright, darling?"

"Yeah, just tired. Could we-"

"Oh, since you're both here, maybe you could share the story of how it all happened?" Stephanie cut her off, and completely ignored Y/n's responding scowl.

"I think we'll save that for tomorrow, Steph. If it'll make you happy we'll tell everyone at the same time and give a big speech," Lockwood said, and Y/n's insides started churning at the thought. She would have to find a way to convince Lockwood to do all the talking, or even her deaf older relatives would know that this whole relationship was a farce.

"Well, how about a kiss then? I still find it hard to believe that my little baby cousin has a boyfriend!"

"There's two months between out birthdays, Steph. It's really not that much. And we're not just going to kiss for your entertainment!"

"Aw, darling, you wound me. You don't want an excuse to kiss me?" Y/n could tell that Lockwood was having far too much fun with this, pouting and clutching his chest, pretending to stagger backwards in pain, and finally offering up his mouth in a ridiculous attempt to gain a kiss. She knew that he didn't actually want to kiss her, and what he really wanted was to rile her up, but she couldn't help but feel nerves in her stomach at the idea of it.

"Not really. You get enough of them as it is, Anthony." It felt weird, his first name in her mouth, and he paused for a moment in his actions to stare at her, tilting his head and frowning slightly.

"Oh, just one little kiss? You are under mistletoe, after all," Stephanie piped up again, pointing gleefully at the plant that had been badly taped to the doorframe.

The doorframe that Lockwood was leaning against, and that Y/n was stood under.

Shit.

They had an audience now, since her parents and siblings had come out of the living room to see what the conversation was about in the kitchen. Even her grandparents had emerged from their downstairs bedroom to join in. Y/n swallowed thickly as she looked around at everyone, her eyes finally landing on Lockwood. His frown was still in place, but his face was more relaxed. He pushed off of the doorframe, stepping forward and placing his hands on Y/n's waist as he leaned in a little.

"Is this... I mean... do you-?"

"We probably should. We were gonna have to at some point, right?" He was close enough now that she could feel his breath on her cheek, and his eyes kept flicking between hers and her mouth.

"Right." Lockwood brought a hand up to her face, holding her jaw gently as though he thought she might break if he applied any more pressure. His nose was brushing hers, and she had to push herself up on her toes and wrap her arms around his neck to bring her lips to his.

The kiss was short, only a couple of seconds at most, but as soon as they pulled away from each other she missed it.

Why did she miss it?

Claps from Y/n's family followed shortly after, and she was glad for once that Lockwood had no sense of personal space because it meant that she could hide her face in his chest without it coming across as strange to him, since he hadn't let go of her waist.

She absolutely could not start craving a real relationship with Anthony Lockwood.

Not when they hated each other with a burning passion.

And especially not when she had previously heard him say that he would never like her because she was 'not good enough for the company'.

No, she couldn't crave a thing with him other than their usual dynamic.

~~~

Lockwood was warm.

They had turned out the light and gone to bed about forty minutes ago, and after around twenty he had heard Y/n's breathing even out as she drifted off. As per usual he was still awake, left to stare up at the ceiling while he tried everything he could think of to fall asleep.

Normally it was the fear of nightmares that kept him awake, and if anybody asked tomorrow he would tell them that, or possibly something about how he was so used to working at night that he now found it difficult to sleep.

Realistically, though, he was too warm.

He had contemplated the pros and cons of taking off his pyjamas (pro: he'd be cooler, con: Y/n might scream at him and attack him with a blunt object) for the last thirty minutes, and had heard an owl hoot for the sixth time. He was also relatively sure that there was a fox somewhere outside the house, but since he had spent his whole life living in the city he wasn't entirely sure what they sounded like. The ghosts normally attacked any animals that tried to make a home in London, and as such wildlife was limited.

Another five minutes later and Lockwood decided that if he was going to die by having a lamp thrown at his head, he would much rather be more comfortable than warm and stifled, and peeled off the blanket that Y/n had given him when he first got comfortable in the armchair to take his pyjamas off. He folded them neatly, creeping around so that he didn't wake up the witch sleeping in the bed, then got back in the armchair and pulled the blanket over him again.

Why was he still warm?

He huffed in frustration, making a mental list of all the reasons his body could be overheating, then froze.

Somewhere along the way he'd added 'kiss' to the list, and then all of a sudden his mind was filling with the events of earlier and images of mistletoe.

Shit.

It had been awkward after they kissed in the kitchen doorway, Y/n's whole family watching and clapping with joy afterwards, and he had been very glad that she had hidden her face in his chest, because that meant that she couldn't see his own flushed face.

He had told himself that he was blushing because that had been his first proper kiss, and then followed that up by listing all the annoying things about Y/n.

They had been forced back into the living room for another two hours after that, with introductions being made to Y/n's grandparents (the ones that owned the house) and siblings (since they hadn't had the chance to say a proper hello yet). He had felt a little scared when all four of Y/n's brothers crowded around him, including 11 year old Tom, and made a promise to have a chat the next day, and then he'd been downright fearing for his life when Olivia pushed through and draped herself over his arm.

Y/n had simply been snickering in a corner at the whole thing.

Lockwood had glared at her in response, hoping that she might come and save him, but instead she turned back to her grandparents with a smirk and left him to her sister.

When they had finally been allowed to leave for bed, Lockwood and Y/n had got stuck in the doorway in their rush to go upstairs.

"After you, darling."

"No, you go first, Anthony."

Her family had been not-so-secretly watching the whole affair, and after a moment of staring at each other Lockwood had stepped back and swept his arm out for her to go first. He told himself it was because he had been raised to be a gentleman and also so that her family would think of him as the perfect boyfriend, but realistically it was so that he could hide his second flushed face of the evening when his gaze darted down to her mouth.

They had got ready for bed in silence, the only words spoken between them "excuse me" and "thanks" as they moved around, and then Y/n had given him the throw blanket from the end of the bed and turned out the lights.

"You sure you're fine in the chair?"

"Perfectly fine, Schmoopie."

"Do you want to die, Lockwood? Because you're getting dangerously close to seeing my rapier sticking out of your torso."

He hadn't answered her question, instead opting to shuffle around in the chair until he was as comfortable as he could be and bidding her goodnight.

And now here he was, around fifty minutes later, attempting to go to sleep while he also attempted to not think of the feeling of Y/n's lips on his.

He really should give up the game of hating each other that the two of them had going on.

Since that first night where they had met by quite literally bumping into each other, Lockwood had maintained the belief that she was no good for his business.

His meaning for what that meant had changed over the years, though.

Originally he'd thought that she would be clumsy and ineffective in a fight since she'd walked right into him and nearly pushed him over, and then when she'd come for an interview and walked into the doorframe his mentality had stayed the same. He was in too much debt to waste money on an agent that was as accident prone as Y/n.

But then? Then he'd seen her in action.

It had been around four months after she first joined Lockwood and Co (as he had stubbornly refused to go on jobs with her). George was behind on research for other jobs, and Lucy had a case of her own to deal with. Lockwood would have taken this particular one on his own, but Holly had recounted the client's report of what could be felt and dictated that he needed backup or he wasn't going. She herself had claimed there was a mountain of paperwork with her name on, and so Lockwood had been left with Y/n as his only option.

The taxi ride had been silent, with Y/n ignoring him and instead looking out the window, and when Lockwood thanked the driver his mouth was dry from disuse.

He knew he'd been an arse the last few months when all she was doing was attempting to be nice, but now he felt he was too far in to stop. She likely wouldn't believe he was being sincere anyway.

Two hours later they were done, worn out from running around trying to find Sources, and Lockwood had taken a new stance on his feelings towards Y/n.

It would have taken them at least twice as long to locate the Sources if Y/n hadn't used her Touch, and from what he could gather she was actually seeing the scenes play out in front of her, complete with sound and all as though she was actually there. He had never seen anything like it before, and when he went to tell her in the taxi home he was met with a very different Y/n to the one that had been trying to be his friend.

"You were incredible back there, Y/n."

"Not sure why you care, Lockwood. You've spent the last four months avoiding me and putting me on different jobs so you don't have to be around me." Her tone was harsh and cold, so far from the warm voice she had had only a few hours before, and Lockwood couldn't help but bite back.

"Of course I don't want to be around you, I was only saying that to make you think you're actually worth keeping around." It was awful, and he would never normally say something like that, but she was an enigma and he was tired and scared that if anyone found out about her Talent then she would take the spotlight away from him, and the words were out of his mouth before his brain could catch up and tell him to stop. She had stared at him, and for a moment he thought she might start crying from the way her eyes glistened and her lip trembled slightly, but then her expression was turning hard and a scowl settled on her face, and after that it became the norm for Lockwood to catch her eye and be glared at.

He knew he should apologise, but he couldn't figure out how to do it in a way that she would accept, and they were so entrenched in this hatred now that he was struggling to see how they could ever leave.

No, better to stick to what was normal and safe.

Not his normal mentality, but when venturing into the unknown meant exploring why he felt so warm, he was perfectly fine with staying behind the iron chains he had placed around his heart.

part 4

Tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams, @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @locklyebrainrot, @locknco, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @ran23sblog, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list! <3

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for asking my friend for some kind of financial recompense for helping her move?

My friend (25f) and I (22x) met at college about 6 months ago. We hung out after classes, occasionally saw each other on weekends, especially with a 3rd friend of ours from class, every now and then.

She is in the US on a student visa and ever since I got to know her well she has been asking for advice and support with trying to stay in the US. I did the best I could by offering guidance and asking other people for guidance for her, drove her to a job interview that was an hour away, and asking my roommates if she could stay with us for a few days during one instance of panic where she thought she would be homeless and then ended up not needing it-- generally a lot of sticking my neck out for her.

In return, she has tried to be a good friend too but honestly isn't aware of my needs and she's going through so much that she hasn't exactly been a resource for me.

This last Friday I had an incredibly exhausting day at work, but we had made tenative plans to see each other so I made it to her house around 9pm and found her in the midst of packing to go back to her home country. I hung out and helped her pack until midnight, and then I was going to leave to crash at a friend's place nearby but she asked me to sleep over there instead so I dragged my camping stuff out of the car since she had already sold her bed and furniture.

In the morning I felt awkward leaving while she clearly wasn't going to be able to pack everything without help, so I agreed to help her pack more but told her I wanted to leave around noon since I needed to get home and there were other things I wanted to do and people I wanted to see this weeekend.

I ended up helping her until around 1:30, when I expressed that I wanted to go (we had eaten breakfast earlier but now I was hungry.) She then said that she really wanted a ride to her workplace (a milk tea place) to pick up a jacket she left there and that she would make me boba. I agreed and mentioned that we could get lunch or something too.

There was an absurd amount of traffic, and after half an hour we ended up stopping at the beach because I was tired of driving and needed food and a break. Only, when I suggested we go to a sandwich place I like nearby, she started talking about how she only eats 1 meal per day and wasn't hungry, and we didn't end up going. Throughout this, I was getting crankier and suggested a few times that her sister (who was driving to meet her to help her move) meet us to pick her up so I could leave. She refused to even ask, saying her sister wasn't the type to like to change plans. We ended up getting back to her house around 5:30.

Her sister (~35f) showed up in a Tesla with her husband and was polite but a little cold to me, and I said goodbye and went to use the bathroom before leaving. When I came out they asked me if I would be willing to drive some boxes an hour away (not in the direction of my house) for them since they couldn't fit everything in the car.

I said no for obvious reasons, and then they asked me if I could take the boxes to a goodwill dropoff center nearby. I didn't understand why they hadn't thought ahead and just taken 2 trips with the extra boxes, but at this point their car was already packed and my day was already basically gone so I said fine, drove her there, with the sister following, and left after unloading the stuff.

In the car I explained that I was a little upset because I had wanted to leave much earlier and I hadn't eaten. My friend apologized but then I ended up reassuring her a little and she didn't offer to make it up in any way-- I'm not sure what I expected.

I am used to, when helping people move, being given food or something to compensate me for free labor, even if it is for a friend. I'm not used to giving up 5 extra hours from my day for nothing but an apology. I don't think she did it on purpose, and honestly am more pissed at her sister for expecting me to continue to help instead of figuring it out herself, since they're family and my friend was clearly in over her head, but I'm not sure what to do.

WIBTA for asking for money to compensate me for my time and effort? If not,how much is reasonable? This all happened yesterday and I'm just going to forget about it but honestly I'm not really inspired to keep in touch after this unless she makes it up to me somehow. AITA for even thinking this? I don't think I'm the AH in this situation but idk if it's salvageable.

What are these acronyms?

[sicknessbysalem]

Do you have any new female characters you would like to try writing for? I would be interested in a stomach virus fic from them if you’re okay with that.

of course! not technically a new oc but new to me courtesy of @simplysickness !

if you have any questions, comments, concerns, etc. send them my way

tw emeto (lots of it), nausea, fever, dialogue comment about weight

side note: cassius and calypso are 20, but are under contract with their aunt and uncle

Calypso Delacroix was not one to admit weakness of any sort, including illness. Her confidence bordered on arrogance, and her pride was her shield against the world. So when a mysterious bout of the flu began to sweep through their town in late August, Calypso was convinced she could stave it off. Cassius, her twin brother, would likely catch it too, considering how much time they spent mingling with the townspeople. It was inevitable. The real question was who could withstand it longer.

Unfortunately, Calypso's resilience was tested sooner than she hoped. She could feel the first signs of illness creeping in— a dull headache, a slight fever, and a scratchy throat. She swore to herself she wouldn't admit it until it became unbearable. She prided herself on her ability to handle discomfort, and handle it she did, for three long days. She took every remedy and medication she could think of, even resorting to Cassius’s meticulously marked notebook, which detailed various concoctions and spells for warding off sickness. But her efforts were in vain; the flu was relentless.

The night of their show, Calypso felt worse than ever. Her body ached, her head throbbed, and her stomach churned ominously. She hadn't eaten since noon, hoping that an empty stomach might spare her the worst of it. The thought of food made her queasy, and she knew she had to conserve her strength for their performance. She plastered on a brave face, but inside, she was a mess.

"I'm fine," she insisted through gritted teeth as Cassius hovered close, his concern evident. He reached out, trying to gauge her temperature, but she swatted his hand away.

“Obviously not,” Cassius countered, frustration and worry mingling in his eyes. “Where did you learn to put up an emotional blockade like that? I can’t even read you.”

“Practice, darling,” Calypso replied, forcing a smile. Her voice was strained, lacking its usual spark. “Can we just have this discussion later?”

“Fine,” Cassius sighed, clearly unconvinced. “But please, if this gets out of hand…”

“I’ll handle it then,” she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. She glanced at his outfit over the fan of her enchanted tarot cards, desperate to shift the focus away from her. “Now, please tell me you aren’t wearing that for the show.”

Cassius glanced down at his clothes, momentarily distracted. Calypso took a shaky breath, grateful for the brief reprieve. She knew she was pushing herself to the limit, but she couldn’t afford to show weakness. Not now. Not ever.

-

Calypso managed to hold it together until the end of the show, but it was a struggle. Each passing minute felt like an hour as her body screamed for relief. Her vision blurred at the edges, and she felt the sweat forming a cold sheen on her forehead. She clutched at the props and moved through their performance with mechanical precision, every step and gesture rehearsed to perfection despite her deteriorating condition.

Tonight's outfit was Calypso's favorite jacket over her black bodysuit, a pair of tights with stars on them underneath the shorts of the bodysuit. But her heels felt unstable and her jacket felt unusually tight on her abdomen.

The audience was oblivious to her internal turmoil, mesmerized by the Delacroix twins’ seamless act. However, as the show drew to a close, a special guest volunteer was called onstage—a woman with a cloud of strong perfume that hung heavy in the air, assaulting Calypso’s already fragile senses. The scent was overwhelming, a cloying floral bouquet that wrapped around her like a suffocating blanket.

Calypso fought valiantly to maintain her composure. She could feel her stomach churning violently, the nausea rising with alarming speed. She swallowed hard, forcing back the bile that threatened to spill over. She managed a weak, snarky comment about the woman’s perfume, drawing laughter from the audience who thought it was all part of the act. But behind her mask of confidence, Calypso was losing the battle.

Cassius, ever perceptive, glanced at his sister, worry etched in his eyes. She gave him a look that spoke volumes—one of desperation and resignation. 'I can't do this,' her eyes seemed to say. He knew that look all too well. Usually, it came from him. But he knew it.

Her back heaved involuntarily, and with a final, desperate effort to hold back the tide, Calypso bolted from the stage. The crowd murmured in confusion, but Cassius quickly covered for her, transitioning into the closing remarks with practiced ease.

"Calypso, wait—!" Cassius called after her, but his sentence was cut short as she disappeared behind the curtains. He finished the performance with a flourish, the audience none the wiser, then hurried off to find his sister.

It took several agonizing minutes of searching backstage, but Cassius finally spotted Calypso hunched over in a corner, her body wracked with violent retches. He rushed to her side, his heart aching at the sight of her distress. Kneeling beside her, he gently pulled her long, dark hair back, not uttering a single word. He knew there was nothing he could say to make it better in that moment.

Calypso continued to heave, the sound echoing painfully in the empty backstage area. Her face was pale, and her body shook with the force of her sickness. When the worst of it finally passed, she slumped against the wall, panting and trying to catch her breath. She spat repeatedly, trying to rid herself of the foul taste that lingered.

"Are you okay?" Cassius asked softly, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. He kept her hair back, his touch gentle and reassuring.

Calypso relaxed slightly at the sound of his voice, though she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his question. Normally, she would have retorted with a sarcastic remark, but she was too exhausted to muster the energy. Her head felt fuzzy, and her stomach, though temporarily relieved, was still in turmoil.

She shook her head weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't feel so good..."

Cassius sighed, his concern deepening. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, offering silent support as she leaned into him. "Let's get you home," he said gently. "You need to rest."

Calypso nodded, too tired to argue. Cassius kept a protective arm around her, his worry evident in every step. There was so much wrong that he wished he could help.

Calypso had always got very sick. If she had a cold, it could be weeks before she was fully recovered. If it was a stomach virus, like this seemed to be, he knew she’d be bloated and nauseous and vomiting for days. She always did.

“They’re going to be so mad…” Calypso said, getting in the car after handing over the keys.

Cassius sighed, taking them, “Yeah… I know.”

-

Cassius supported Calypso as they made their way up the front stairs, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. He could feel her trembling, her breaths coming out in labored pants. The effort it took for her to move one foot in front of the other was evident in every step she took.

“Cal, is there anything in your spellbook that might be able to help?” Cassius asked, his voice filled with concern.

Calypso shook her head, her face pale and drawn. “We’ve looked before, for both of us. There's nothing. No spells, no rituals, no potions… nothing.” Her voice was weak, tinged with a despair that Cassius rarely heard from her.

Each step was a struggle for Calypso. Her body felt like lead, her limbs heavy and unresponsive. Her stomach churned with a nauseous fury, and she could feel the bile rising with every movement. When they finally arrived at their home, their aunt and uncle were waiting, their faces set in stern lines of disapproval.

"That was a disgrace," their uncle snapped as soon as they entered. "Calypso, your performance was abysmal. You were sluggish, uncoordinated, and completely unprofessional."

Cassius tightened his grip on Calypso, his protective instincts flaring. “Cassius, dear, you did fine, but we really need to have a conversation with your sister,” their aunt said, her tone dismissive.

She glanced at Cassius, clearly expecting him to step away. Instead, he held Calypso tighter, unwilling to leave her side. That was his twin. No way in any heaven or hell was he going to leave her.

Their aunt's glare was icy, but Cassius stood his ground. Calypso, meanwhile, was doing her best to appear attentive. She nodded at the right moments, feigning interest in their aunt and uncle's harsh words, but her focus was elsewhere.

Her stomach felt like it was tied in knots, the bloating making her jacket painfully tight. The pressure was unbearable, and she could feel her control slipping. Every time she got sick it went straight to her stomach, literally. And now the usually comforting feeling of her show jacket and jumpsuit felt like is was squeezing her, trying to force everything out of her stomach.

"Calypso, are you even listening?" her aunt demanded, her voice sharp. "This kind of behavior is unacceptable. Your appearance on stage was a mess. Have you gained weight? Your jacket was far from flattering like it’s supposed to be tonight."

Calypso barely registered the words. She was more concerned with the mounting nausea that was threatening to overwhelm her. Her breaths came in short, shallow gasps, each one a struggle against the urge to be sick. She swallowed repeatedly, trying to keep the bile down, but it was a losing battle.

She felt Cassius’s hand on her back. But it was far from soothing. Not because it was Cassius or because he was trying to comfort her. But everything was so uncomfortable.

"Do you even care about your appearance, Calypso?" her aunt continued, oblivious to her niece's distress. "How can you expect to be taken seriously if you can't even maintain a professional look?"

The pressure in Calypso's stomach was building, each reprimand adding to her stress. Her body was rebelling against her, and she knew she couldn't hold on much longer. Her vision blurred, spots dancing before her eyes. She must’ve stumbled back, she felt Cassius grab her and steady her.

She felt a lump in her throat, felt saliva pooling on her tongue. Despite her efforts to stifle it, a sickly burp escaped her lips, a warning.

"Calypso!" her uncle barked. "That is so unladylike. What on earth—"

Before he could finish, Calypso's body gave in. She doubled over, vomiting suddenly onto the floor in front of them. The suddenness of it silenced the room, the harsh criticisms cut off mid-sentence. The retch was violent, her body convulsing with the effort as she emptied the contents of her stomach. The bile was hot and acidic, burning her throat as it came up. Cassius grabbed her hair and she used a hand to brace herself on the arm of the chair next to her.

Her aunt recoiled in disgust. "Oh, for heaven's sake!"

Her uncle's face twisted with anger and confusion. "Are you pregnant? Is that what this is?"

Cassius immediately stepped in, his protective instincts overriding any fear of reprimand.

She pressed her hands into her cramping, bloated abdomen, trying to push enough that everything would just come up and out.

“She’s sick," Cassius said firmly, his eyes blazing with anger. "She has the flu. She’s been sick all day.”

Ignoring their shocked expressions, Cassius guided Calypso towards the bathroom. She was shaking, swallowing thick to not throw up on the floor again.

Calypso clung to Cassius, her fingers digging into his arm as her stomach continued to revolt. He could feel her manicured tips digging into his bicep. If he didn’t have holes in his sleeve, he’d be shocked. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was Calypso.

Once in the bathroom, Cassius knelt beside her, gently holding her hair back. He knew her stomach was bloated from the illness, he could see the way it stretched at her clothes. Her normally flat stomach was distended. If he knew she wouldn’t amputate his hands, through magic or otherwise, he would have offered to rub her stomach to either ease it, or force whatever was filling her sick gut to come out.

Calypso’s breathing was shaky, reflecting her pain. The way she moved, each breath seemed to add to the pressure. He watched as she retched violently, her entirely body convulsing with the effort. He knew better than to try anything beyond holding her hair; Calypso valued her independence fiercely, even if she was puking her guts out.

Calypso always got violently ill. Cassius wouldn’t lie, he did too. But he would get sick in what he assumed was a normal way. Violent at first and then taper off. Calypso, though, her suffering was always extended. The sheer violence of her illnesses always lingered, which probably did her no favors.

Cassius was too busy thinking, looking over and analyzing the whole situation, that he almost missed the way Calypso let out a soft whine and tried pulling more of her hair back away from her face. The violence of getting sick, coupled with Cassius’s distraction, left way for a chunk that usually framed her face to get caught in the crossfire. Cassius also noticed the back of Calypso’s jacket was wet and her body temperature was way too warm.

“God, Cal, you’re burning up…” Cassius said, tucking whatever sections of Calypso’s hair that weren’t covered in whatever Calypso had for lunch or breakfast behind her before standing to grab two washcloths, one for the hair, and one to keep cool through magic or simple cold water to run over her face or put on the back of her neck to cool her down.

Calypso stayed in front of the toilet, a protective hand over her stomach. She wondered if it had gotten more bloated, signaling more vomit to come out of her, or worse.

“Cal..?” Cassius said, finishing up cleaning off Calypso’s hair, “What’s wrong..?”

“My stomach…” She mumbled, “I… feel like… I have to throw up… but… but…”

“It’s not coming up… is it?” Cassius said, “You have so much content in your stomach that needs out, it’s overwhelming your body. Like when I got that stomach virus after going on that date with that girl.”

Calypso let out a weak giggle, “Yeah. That was your punishment for going out with her… Ashley was bad news. And damn, was she obsessed with you…”

“She was,” Cassius said, running the cooler rag over Calypso’s face now that she had a minute to breathe, “But I paid for it. And never saw her again willingly.”

“No…” Calypso said, “You were so sick. Convinced she poisoned you.”

“I was nauseous as hell, felt like I couldn’t keep anything down, but nothing would come up,” Cassius shrugged, “What was I supposed to th-“

“Help me stand up?” Calypso said, an idea coming to mind, prompted by her twin’s words.

“Are you ready to go lay-“

“No, no I need to…” Calypso said, a sick burp cutting her off, followed by a wince. “You couldn’t throw up when you were on the floor… so what if…”

Cassius helped her stand, Calypso leaned forward, bracing her hands on the back of the toilet.

Calypso retched hard, her body expelling the contents of her stomach with brutal force. Cassius grabbed her jacket by the belt at the waist, holding it to keep her standing. Each wave of nausea seemed to sap more of her strength, leaving her weak and trembling.

The bile was thick and abundant, a sickening mix of what little she had managed to eat earlier. It all made her stomach spasm and lurch.

She pressed a hand into her cramping, bloated abdomen, trying to push enough that everything would just come up and out. Her fingers dug into her flesh, she was sure her nails might leave red marks as she tried to force the sickness from her body.

Another violent retch tore through her, and she leaned forward, her body heaving as more bile and undigested food spewed out of her. The sound was guttural, raw, and echoed in the small bathroom, a testament to her body's desperation to rid itself of the illness.

Calypso gasped for breath between bouts of vomiting, her eyes watering from the strain. The acrid taste of bile burned her throat, and she spat into the toilet, trying to clear her mouth.

Her body didn’t want to give her a break now. It was all so sudden, like a switch flipped and now her stomach was going to make absolute sure everything was out.

Another wave of nausea hit her with merciless force. So hard it made her dizzy and clammy, she felt Cassius grab her again. She clutched at her stomach, the pressure and pain intensifying as she continued to heave.

Cassius watched, his heart aching for his sister. He knew that whatever was in her system needed to be expelled, but it was agonizing to see her suffer like this. She was his twin, he didn’t like this happening to her.

"You're doing great, Cal," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos. "Just let it out. You need to get it all out."

Calypso groaned in response, her body convulsing again. This time, the vomit was even thicker, as if her stomach was dredging up the very last remnants of its contents. She retched again and again, each bout more violent than the last. Her entire body felt like it was on fire, her muscles screaming in protest with every heave.

Finally, the retching began to slow, her body exhausted from the relentless vomiting. Calypso panted, her breaths ragged and uneven, as she leaned against the cool porcelain of the toilet. Her stomach still felt unsettled, but the immediate threat of vomiting seemed to have passed. For now.

Cassius flushed the toilet and nudged her to sit. He reached out, wiping her mouth and face with a cool, damp cloth.

"It's okay," he whispered, his touch gentle and reassuring. "It's over now. Just breathe."

Calypso nodded weakly, her eyes half-closed. She was utterly spent, every ounce of energy drained from her body. The bloating in her stomach had subsided, her jacket no longer felt near as tight, but she still felt nauseous and weak. She leaned into Cassius's embrace, grateful for his presence.

"Let's get you into something more comfortable," Cassius said softly, helping her to her feet. He supported her as they moved to her room, finding a loose, soft shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He offered them to her with a small smile. "Change into these. You'll feel better. I’ll go grab you some water and some of that electrolyte stuff, for later. When your stomach is more… settled?”

Calypso took the clothes with trembling hands, changing quickly. The relief of the looser clothing was immediate, and she flopped onto her bed, exhaustion overtaking her.

Cassius set a glass of water and a water bottle on the nightstand, grabbing Calypso’s show clothes from the floor and tossing them in her laundry bin, before sitting on the edge of her bed, just watching her with concern.

“They still mad?” Calypso asked.

Cassius shrugged, “They’re always mad at us.”

“At me. Not you.” Calypso said, “Not tonight.”

“Who cares?” Cassius said, "You did great tonight, better than I would’ve done if I was in your position."

Calypso managed a weak smile, "Thanks, Cass," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah, anytime,” Cassius said, “Do you want me to stay here?”

Calypso shook her head, “You don’t have to.”

Cassius shrugged, “I’ve got nothing better to do, Cal. I’ll be across the hall then. Just call if you need anything. Or come over.”

Calypso nodded. Cassius ruffled her hair and nudged her trash bin closer to her bed, just in case.

“You so owe me,” Cassius teased from the doorway.

“I don’t think that’s how it works. You owed me before this.” Calypso argued. “Or I could call up that darling Ashley…”

“No, no,” Cassius said, “We’re good… we’re even.”

“Yeah… that’s what I thought,” Calypso said, chuckling softly as her door clicked shut.

[sonicasura]

Speaking of your Skyscraper Softie au, how exactly are Kafka's friends and colleagues at Monster Sweepers able to tell him when he can come and eat the corpses they are cleaning up? Is not like they can just call him.

Oh and what exactly about Kafka's private life? Like he's nabors, landlord and the like are going to notice Kafka has not been home for quite a while. Or in the landlords case payed any of the bills in weeks if not months after he turned into a giant kaiju? Won't the police be notify about it?

What if Mina found out about it? That Kafka had suddenly disappered and noone knows why? How'd she react to that before she found out the real truth?

Since he can only stay human for 4 hours tops with a 7 hour recharge, it was enough time to move out of his apartment. Reno made sure Kafka doubled check any important things such as housing cause a missing person's report won't be good for them. The Sweepers came up with a little communication system when it came to corpse eating.

Only some of a Kaiju's body is useful so most often ends in the trash disposal anyway. Wild animals and smaller kaiju are also attracted to the corpse when there's no activity either. Thus Kafka can swoop in for a meal without drawing too much attention.

Now the night he first transforms is noted by the Defense Force. It was already suspicious that No.8 not only had no casualties during his first emergence but no signs of an entrance. They found the tunnel the Honju he eaten had made. Yet there wasn't anything pointing where No.8 emerged.

Almost if he just materialized at the hospital. Then there's also the one sole patient who hadn't returned that night: Kafka Hibino. He would later be reported walking in public a few days after. It became a footnote that is eventually forgotten over time.

You can say Mina and Kafka are gonna have a long talk once he's in his new enclosure.

Also if you are really looking for a gut punch then imagine her visiting him on the night he transforms. The look of terror as Kafka jumps out the window only to watch the man transform into a giant kaiju. Mina would have to do a lot to convince the Defense Force to not kill him right there. The Never Again Route if I do write it.

[drpeppertummy]

[hunger, stuffing, tummyache, tummy rubs]

Sunny's belly rumbled loudly. He looked up at Laurie with puppydog eyes, arms wrapped around his aching stomach. The two had been out running around all morning trying to accomplish what seemed like an endless list of tasks, and Sunny, who'd woken up late and hadn't had time for breakfast, hadn't eaten a thing all day. Now, it was nearly noon. He was absolutely starving, and beginning to get a headache. Laurie, who'd had the foresight to eat before picking up her diminutive friend, wasn't hungry in the slightest, but he'd been begging her for the past hour to stop somewhere for lunch. With a sigh, she finally agreed.

"Let's make this quick, alright?" she said as she pulled into the diner parking lot. Sunny's stomach growled in response, as if to make it clear that he had no intention of fooling around. Once they were seated, however, it became apparent that lunch wasn't going to be a simple task. He was quick to order the most absurd sandwich on the menu. It was a cartoonishly enormous heap of assorted meats--from the picture, Laurie could make out at least two hefty burger patties and what looked like a massive hunk of pork--generously decorated with just about every topping in the book and stacked precariously between two thick slabs of bread. The waitress seemed amused both at the idea of a tiny thing like Sunny eating that monster sandwich, and at Laurie's exasperation when he ordered it.

"Sunny, we still have stuff to do. Don't eat the whole thing, alright?"

"What?" He looked sadly at her. "I'm dyin', Laurie! I haven't eaten anything all damn day!" His tummy growled pitifully in agreement.

"That thing's gonna be bigger than your head! You're gonna give yourself a stomachache," she said. "Save half for dinner, it'll probably still be too much."

Before Sunny could argue, the waitress returned with their lunch: a simple basket of chicken tenders for Laurie, and the sandwich of Sunny's dreams. The two of them stared wordlessly at it for a moment, astonished. In addition to what was easily enough meat for a family of four, there were two fried eggs, a revolting amount of cheese, and several unidentifiable sauces oozing down the sides, as well as a variety of healthy vegetables peeking out among the greasy mess. His stomach rumbled again, and he just barely caught his drool before it began dripping from his mouth.

"Sunny."

"Huh?" He looked up at her, pulled from his trance. "What, you want some?"

"Listen," Laurie said firmly, taking him by the shoulders. "Do not try to cram that entire thing into your stomach. It's bigger than you are."

"Since when are you the boss?" He gave her a defensive glare.

"Since right now. I'm declaring myself boss, because I know how you are. Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna take that as a challenge, because you're a complete child, and you're gonna eat as much of that sandwich as you can just to spite me, and then you're not gonna be able to do anything else all day because you're gonna make yourself sick like an idiot. Right?"

"I am not!"

"So cut it in half," she said. "You're still gonna have a bellyache, but maybe you won't be totally useless." Sunny looked grumpily at her.

"Fine," he muttered. "But only because I wanna have leftovers. Not because you told me to."

"Whatever," said Laurie, rolling her eyes. She picked up a chicken tender and left Sunny to his business.

Cutting the sandwich was a task in itself, as was picking it up. His stomach growled in anticipation as he tried to get a grip on it. Even half of the sandwich was far more than the average person could possibly eat in one sitting, but Sunny didn't care. He felt like he could eat a horse. At long last, after starving the entire morning, he shoved the gooey, meaty mess into his mouth. The feeling of the first bite hitting his empty stomach was divine, and he began wolfing the sandwich down as though his life depended on it.

With the massive onslaught of greasy meat and bread filling his belly, it wasn't long before Sunny was full. In fact, it was only about halfway through the enormous piece of sandwich that he found himself feeling stuffed. His stomach didn't hurt yet, but it was beginning to look and feel bloated. Still, the sandwich was as delicious as it was messy, and he knew if he put it down now, it would fall apart entirely. Additionally, he had no intention of wimping out in front of Laurie. He felt confident that he could put away the entire half, and he was determined to do so.

Laurie, still working on her own lunch, glanced over at Sunny. He was still wrestling with the sandwich, and didn't seem like he was giving up just yet, although he certainly looked stuffed. She looked down at his tummy. He was dressed in his usual fashion: a snug, colorful button down tucked into high waisted jeans, complete with a big flashy belt buckle to tie the look together. His tummy was bulging firmly against the already tight shirt, and the belt buckle was starting to press uncomfortably into it. Laurie sighed. She knew it was a mistake to lecture Sunny about the sandwich; she'd known it before even opening her mouth. He always seemed to feel like he had to prove something. She wasn't sure whether he was desperate to prove himself or just stubborn as a mule. Probably both. He was certainly stubborn, there was no denying that, but there was a certain insecurity underneath that stubbornness that she just couldn't figure out how to handle.

As he ate, Sunny's long-since-full stomach began to ache. The ravenousness that had gotten him here was long gone, and he had slowed down drastically. Each bite pushed him deeper into discomfort. Not wanting to quit, he pushed on, but eventually, he forced his stomach to his limit. He paused. There was only a little bit of sandwich left in his hands, and as badly as he wanted to, he wasn't sure he could finish it. He felt unbelievably bloated, as if the contents of his stomach were pushing out in all directions as hard as they could. Even inhaling was uncomfortable; his drum-tight belly could barely stretch to accommodate the breath. He glanced sheepishly up at Laurie, then back at his sandwich. Reluctantly, he set it down.

Laurie was surprised at Sunny's willing defeat, but refrained from making any comments, at least until the rest of the sandwich was safely packed up. The waitress brought him a box--you look just about ready to pop, she'd teased, and Sunny had blushed brightly--and the two were on their way. Although he'd quit willingly, Sunny had still failed to quit soon enough. Now, as he trudged alongside Laurie back to her decrepit minivan, he had to face not only the shame of being unable to finish his lunch, but the shame of proving her right as well. They got into the car and buckled up, but Laurie didn't drive. Instead, she turned to look at him, arms folded.

"You are absolutely ridiculous, you know that?"

"And?"

"And what? Look at yourself!" She prodded his distended belly. He winced and held his arms defensively over his stomach.

"And what nothin', I was hungry," he protested.

"Yeah, and now you're gonna be useless all day!" He looked up at her, hurt, and she immediately regretted her choice of words. Sunny could be many things--foolish, mouthy, cocky, immature--but useless wasn't one of them. In fact, he tried very hard not to be useless. He had a way of making himself annoying while doing it, but he was often willing to drop everything to help Laurie when she asked.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, her expression softening. "I didn't mean that." He looked away, unconvinced.

"Let's just go," he muttered. "We got stuff to do."

"No, we don't," she said. He looked at her again. "I've been running you around all morning. I think we both need a break. And your tummy looks like it could use some time to settle." Sunny couldn't argue with that. He felt queasy and bloated. In addition to being just plain stuffed, he'd eaten far too fast, and the greasiness of the meal was beginning to upset his already sore belly even more. Laurie reached over and undid his belt for him. He blushed, surprised, but didn't argue. He hadn't realized how tightly it had been squeezing his stomach until the pressure was relieved. She gave his belly a gentle pat and started the car.

Laurie drove back to Sunny's apartment, and the two went inside. Sunny immediately dropped himself onto the couch. Laurie sat beside him. His stomach let out a miserable gurgle. She looked at him for a moment, feeling sorry for him, then reached out and placed her hand on his belly. He looked up. He nearly opened his mouth to say something, but she began gently rubbing his belly, and he felt himself begin to relax. As cuddly as he was with his other friends, Sunny often found himself feeling nervous when it came to contact with Laurie. He adored having his tummy rubbed, though, and the touch was especially comforting when he wasn't feeling well. He sat still for a moment, then let his head rest against her shoulder. Laurie paused, surprised, then carefully pulled him into her arms, still rubbing. They sat together, silent apart from the occasional gurgle of Sunny's aching stomach, and as she continued softly massaging his tummy, he slowly melted into sleepy bliss.

[noiriarti]

The Arrangement: Armitage Hux x Reader (College AU) Ch. 3

Summary: A cuddle-buddies-to-lovers college AU.

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, [Ch. 3], Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

Chapter 3: Four Knocks

He felt even more fucked the next morning. He had promised himself he would not fall asleep with you there, and instead spend the night on the couch. But he wanted five more minutes. And so he five-more-minutes-ed his way into falling asleep remarkably quickly. Unlike most other nights, he didn't wake up tossing and turning, or stare at the ceiling and beg for sleep to come. But that was a problem.

When he woke up, it wasn't to his blaring alarm clock. The room was silent, apart from the sound of your breathing. Right. Your breathing. He was in bed. With you. Maybe five more minutes wouldn't hurt. As he drifted off, he saw the clock he kept on his desk. It was fucking noon.

Armitage had very regimented days, and sleeping in until noon was not part of the plan. He usually loved days crammed with activities and tasks. They kept him on target, made sure he achieved all his goals, and prevented him from thinking too carefully about what he really wanted in life. Today, however, he found himself wanting to do none of his usual routine. He'd already slept through orgo and the gened he shared with Phasma--did it really matter if he didn't do his stupid MCAT flashcards?

After laying there for over half an hour, in and out of sleep while still holding you, he decided he should probably wake you. The very thought seemed cruel; you were so angelic like this, the frizzes in your hair caught by the morning light, your lips parted just so. Your hand had gotten under his at some point in the night, and he tentatively rubbed a gentle circle with his thumb over your knuckles. 

But he really should wake you, he reasoned. Armitage said your name and squeezed your hand (and decided not to process that he was holding your hand), but you didn't shift. He repeated himself, louder this time, and then again, which drew a groan from you.

"I'm up, I'm up," you grumbled. You shifted under his arm, turning around to face him with your eyes still closed. He found himself almost smiling at you, so clearly pretending.

"Alright, then open your eyes," he teased. You produced some sort of noise, obviously displeased, but opened your eyes to look at him.

"The good news is you got plenty of sleep, but the bad news is that it's 12:30," he said. Your eyes widened, and you bolted upright in bed and cursed, looking for your phone, or a clock, or something to prove him wrong. He was, unfortunately, completely correct, which meant that you had missed one class, and half of another. Goodbye, sweet attendance points.

"Well, there's nothing I can do about it now. Besides, I'm in Discrete Math and Algorithms with one of my friends, Dopheld, and he can send me the notes," you said. The silence hung between you for a few seconds. "Want some breakfast? I mean, lunch? ...Brunch?" Armitage nodded, and you hopped out of his bed to go back to your room and change.

Ten minutes later, he found you in the kitchen, making yourself an obscenely large bowl of Lucky Charms. You offered the box to him, and he hesitated. Usually, he ate two cups of Greek yogurt with rolled oats, a teaspoon of honey, and fruit, if someone else hadn't eaten it already. Lucky Charms were calorically inefficient, according to his stepmother Maratelle.

Fuck it. He poured the cereal into the bowl and covered it with milk, then went to perch on the couch. Millie, who had spent the night somewhere around your feet, came up to lay next to him. Gwen had sent him a couple of texts asking where he was, and then just sent her notes when class had ended. While drunk on wine, once, he had bitched to her about how little sleep he got, and, since then, she had been buying him melatonin gummies and encouraging him to sleep through his early morning classes. You deserve it, she said, although Armitage wasn't sure he "deserved" anything, really. Working hard was the entire reason he came here.

You sat down next to him, thighs touching again, and ate your cereal with a vicious speed. By the time you finished, he was barely a quarter of the way through, so you got up and made yourself another bowl. Between mouthfuls, you determined you would be the first to speak.

"So, we should probably talk," you said. Apparently, that was the best you could come up with. 

"Is everything alright?" Hux asked, although he really meant to ask what he did wrong, and beg you to give him one more night. The desperation with which he wanted to touch you, to hold you again was staggering. He didn't remember where it came from, and it shocked him. You didn't seem any the wiser to his generally panicked state, so you continued eating the cereal.

"Yeah, just thought we might want to establish some ground rules. Like, no sex, just cuddling." Armitage nodded. "And we can end at any time one of us wants to." He nodded again. "And we shouldn't tell Gwen and Kylo. They wouldn't let us live it down." Armitage chuckled, but nodded. "Finally, I think we should promise to tell each other if we catch feelings. And just, be honest in general."

"Agreed." The final rule worried him for some reason he couldn't quite place, but he let it go. "Perhaps we could meet later in the night, when Gwen and Kylo are asleep? They tend to sleep earlier than I do, so we could meet around 12:45? Oh, and we do not have to meet each night. Just text me if you want to," he added. You smiled at him, finished your cereal, and the two of you watched garbage Netflix shows for two more hours before going back to work.

And so, your arrangement was born. Most days, he'd get a text from you in the afternoon saying something like "see you tonight?" or "hang out later?" and he knew to expect you. At 12:45 am, almost on the dot, he'd hear it. Tap tap tap tap. Always four, always quiet. What you did each night varied. Sometimes, you wanted to be quiet and rest, but, on others, you'd go through your day and tell him about what had happened in class, and he found himself telling you about his day, too. About how he loved chemistry, but was terrified of med school. Of the responsibility. His medical ethics gened with Gwen was really scaring the bejeezus out of him. 

About three nights in, you turned to him and said that you should get to know each other better. Each of you would ask 5 questions of the other, you said. He answered your questions with ease the first night. Favorite animal? Cats. Duh. Favorite TV show? Doctor Who. Best friend? Gwen, probably. Last time he went on a date? A year ago. Why become a doctor? That one was much harder. Because it felt like the right thing for him to do, he said. Because he liked it.

He asked the same questions right back. Cats, Friends, also probably Gwen, last month, and because the pay is better in computer science. He tried not to dwell on the fact that you had been on a date recently (by his standards). He casually inquired if you were still seeing them, but you told him it didn't go well. He didn't ask more questions about it.

Night over night, though he found your closeness and warmth incredible, he realized he was looking forward to hearing about your day more than anything. The tap tap tap tap on his door meant he'd ask you five questions about you--not just the you that went to classes and put food out for Millie, but the real you. The core of you. One time, when your head was on his chest and he was trying to slow his heart down so you wouldn't hear it, you asked him about his insecurities (how pale he was, that he wasn't smart enough for med school). When he asked you the same question, you listed some that baffled him. What did you mean, your voice? Or your hair? Or that you felt like you were always behind everyone else in class? It broke his heart to hear you speak about yourself like that, which he immediately told you, and regretted. He whispered into the night that you had a great voice, and he thought your hair was very good hair, and that you had literally caught up to the compsci juniors in half a year, so you could be nothing short of brilliant. He didn't see it, but a tear or two slipped out.

A month into your arrangement, Armitage took stock of his life, and realized you probably knew him better than he did. Some mornings, he'd come out of his room and find a bowl with two cups of Greek yogurt with rolled oats, a teaspoon of honey, and strawberries. Just how he liked it. And he would grab you lunch right before the dining halls closed, so that when you arrived ten minutes later after class, you could still have food. 

It was little things that alerted Phasma to whatever you two had going on. The unsubtle mooning eyes Armitage was giving you across the living room were disgusting, but confirmation. You were making he same face at him when he was poring over his books five minutes later, which was doubly disgusting, but double confirmation. It was time to do something about it.

Two days later, when she had left class, Phasma sent a text to the roommate group chat, like she always did around that time. Lunch? Within 5 minutes, Armitage had sent a thumbs up, and you had liked the message. Kylo left it on read, which was Kylo-speak for yes. Thirty minutes later, you were gathered in the Holdo Dining Hall, eating a variety of carbs, as usual. Kylo was giving a replay of something that had happened at their last match (something about their goalman getting hit in the face by the ball?), when Phasma interrupted him with your name. 

"Yeah?" You asked nonchalantly. Gwen smiled like a predator about to catch its prey, mainly because she was.

"I've got some juicy gossip about you," Gwen singsonged. Armitage's head whipped around. He didn't even realize he had been staring at you. Gossip? About you? That was probably about some party you went to. You had skipped last Saturday, and, after surviving the bone-crushing emptiness of his room, you had told Armitage the next night that the party was absolutely insane and featured multiple friends-of-friends making out. His heartbeat accelerated. What if you had kissed someone there?

"I know someone who has a crush on you."

Armitage's heart stopped.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

AN: all four of them share a brain cell, and phasma has it 99% of the time

[throughtrialbyfire]

WIP Wednesday <3

thank you so much to the incredible @skyrim-forever @thequeenofthewinter @dirty-bosmer @gilgamish for tagging me this week, if you haven't read their posts or checked out their art, you absolutely should!!

i'm gonna tag @orfeoarte @umbracirrus @aphocryphas @wispstalk @thana-topsy @v1ctory-or-sovngarde @totally-not-deacon and YOU! yes, you, reader, if you haven't been tagged then consider yourself tagged and feel free to hop in! i'm so excited to see what you're all working on this week, and no pressure as always!

i'm doing another two-for-one special this week because i'm having so much fun with writing the different points of view of the dragonborn trio, and want to show how their thought processes differ when grappling with situations. these are snippets from chapters 22 and 23 of "Cycle of the Serpent", Wyndrelis and Emeros' POVs respectively. hope you enjoy it! <3

Chapter 22, Wyndrelis POV

Wyndrelis sipped coffee. Ate little. Did his best to recall yesterday. They had wandered into Solitude on a bright noon, sun glistening off the Sea of Ghosts. Every green tree and every bounce of the light off the stones and the grass, every palm of the wind along their backs and sound of Athenath's tambourine, the birds dove and swept the breath of Kyne along their wings. It had been picturesque, a painting, a moving landscape of a perfect journey. To get into Solitude, to get their official Imperial pardons. To join the Bard's College, and maybe spend a few months learning from them before heading back on the road. The kinds of things that made sense, that formed coherent images in Wyndrelis' mind. The gates opened. Then, the shouting. Then, the crowd and the gates locking and the Nord up on the block, instantaneous, nothing they could do, crowd cheering and dispersing and all so quick, all so calm, a reminder of where they were and what that meant. This land was a leviathan, spines rising from the seas of calm as a reminder that this land was fed in blood.

Athenath had cupped their fingers over their mouth. Emeros stood, still, balling his fists. Wyndrelis didn't remember anything much further. He'd slid down the city wall. He felt grass beneath his palms. Sweat on his brow. Tremors. Helgen. He smelled it still. Burnt flesh and homes destroyed. Ash still stained his clothes if he thought on it too long, creeping back just when he'd been able to push it from his mind. Emeros had made an absent motion. The other two followed him closely, Athenath fidgeting with his hands, Wyndrelis' gaze focused on the ground. The Bosmer paid for a room at the inn. The laughter at the tables and the songs of a student bard gave the Dunmer a headache. Had they eaten? Had anything to drink since they'd stepped foot into the inn - the Winking Skeever - up until now? The bitter gnawing of his stomach when he'd awoken told him no, they hadn't. He sipped water slowly. Athenath had made a small dent into their soup. Every bite took more strength than the last. Wyndrelis held his gaze on his own meal, now. Half-consumed. Barely tasted. The linger of salt on his tongue. "I don't think we're doing much of anything for a few days," Emeros commented, attempting a light tone, "so if neither of you have any immediate plans, we should…" trailing off, he caught sight of Wyndrelis, the furrow of his dark brow, then the look on Athenath's face, neutral aside from the reddening under their eyes, and he sighed, "…gods. Let's… Take a few days. To collect ourselves, I suppose. We're no good to anyone, not even ourselves, if we're in this state."

Chapter 23, Emeros POV

If Emeros ever got General Tullius and Ulfric Stormcloak together in a room, he'd kill them both. A languid haze shone off the waters of the Sea of Ghosts. He watched it from the window of the Winking Skeever with what could only be described as mild contempt. Contempt for the silence. For the goings-on of the people down the hall, at the hearth, in the town square. The sundry moods of them in all their garish hues, impish laughter coating one, stress coating another, cloaked all in these colors of the day ahead. But in none of them, did Emeros sense grief. Roggvir's head had lolled off the stone stage, landing squarely with a grotesque plop at the foot of an Imperial soldier. This had aroused no response. Another head. Another axe. What difference, then, was made in this one? None. None at all, he concluded with a quiet scoff. So, it had meant what, nothing? A life cut with a deft swinging of a blade at orders given, same as a tree fallen to a woodsman? Sawmill machinery, this war. The warmth of a hand on his arm startled him from thought. In the reflection of the glass, he saw the face of Athenath, Wyndrelis' figure hovering close behind. The night's rest had done them all some good; Athenath's unusually rosy hue returned, and Wyndrelis seemed to have regained some light in his eyes, or at the very least, stopped shaking. "You okay?" The question arrested him, a quiet surprise settling in the Bosmers features. What good would it do to answer honestly? What would be the point? They had all seen the same thing, the same, horrific thing. They shared, too, in the suffering for it, the knowledge of their own terrible near-miss with the executioners. How ironic, then, the dragons, those dreadful bastards of Akatosh, had been the ones to save them. The bashful shuffling of Wyndrelis' fur-lined boots against the stone floors drew Emeros back from his silent thoughts, meeting Athenath's gaze. "Yes, I'm fine," he replied, shaking his head, "I'm more worried about you two." The sprawl of Athenath's thumb along the side of his shoulder forced Emeros to find some way to redirect. To keep the other two grounded. He cleared his throat, turning slow on his heel to face both of his friends in full, amber eyes darting from one to the other, small smile catching on at the edges of his lips. "Truly, I do hope you're both feeling at least a little better." The other Mer glanced to one another. Emeros turned back only to the window to catch sight of a hawk, sweeping the sun away a moment, his own grave face staring back at him, his smile a grim touch. He dropped it.

[mrs-luigi-vargas]

Tiny Adventure

Chapter 1 (of 2)

Rating: General Audiences Relationship: Mario & Kamek Tags: Humor, Shrunken Character, Nonverbal Mario

Summary: “Either that spell I’d cast was more powerful than I’d realized,” Kamek slowly said, “Or I somehow managed to shrink myself, instead.” “…” “I’d shrunken myself, didn't I.” Word Count: 2,269 words

[AO3 Link]

~~~

This particular afternoon found Kamek trapped in a tree hollow in the middle of a forest.

Now, a forest wasn't the first place Kamek would have chosen to find himself in, given the copious amount of pollen usually found in such biomes that would wreak havoc on his sinuses. Unfortunately, Lord Bowser’s latest scheme had necessitated his presence in this area; in these first few stages of said scheme, Kamek’s magic proved to be critical in making sure everything went smoothly. Which stoked Kamek’s ego something fierce — though that warmth was little compared to the cold reality of the crushing amount of overwork he was enduring. More so than usual, too, which was quite the feat considering his usual amount of work. But it had been a while since the overwork was of the magical variety, and Kamek couldn't help but appreciate the challenge.

However, casting spells day in and day out in the name of Lord Bowser still cast him dangerously close to magical exhaustion, and as a result he hardly had the reserves to cast much else. For instance, he couldn't cast anything to scare off this bird that had been trying to eat him for a while now.

And, well, normally that wouldn't be a problem, because it was a bird. But sometime this morning he received a report that Mario had been spotted skulking about in the forest, no doubt drawn in by rumors of their presence. That had been...unfortunate. All those delays caused by inexperienced minions had finally added up. So, since he could hardly trust anyone else to do it properly, Kamek had gone to stall him for long enough so they could finish harvesting the resources they needed. And the chosen method of stalling him? It was hardly original, but...he had been rather fond of those size-changing spells he’d gotten to use ages ago. Although, with how tired he’d been lately, he couldn't exert as fine control over them he would have liked.

Hence him hiding in a giant tree, being pecked at by a giant bird.

How embarrassing.

The bird lunged for Kamek again. Kamek pressed his back against the mossy wood behind him — he was very much running out of room, here. The next try brought it closer; with a curse, Kamek swiped at it with his broom — the broom that had barely stayed airborne during his flight to escape the bird in the first place, crashed him into this tree hollow, and refused to start flying again no matter how much magic Kamek tried to pour into it. The broom that was then grabbed by the bird, and that Kamek had to fight to keep, because that was his broom, damn it, and sure it wasn't working right now but he’d spent a whole month enchanting it in the first place and he was not losing it now!

Just as Kamek was starting to lose his grip, the bird let go with a squawk. Falling backwards from the sudden lack of force, Kamek watched the bird flap its wings and fly away from the hollow’s opening in a hurry. Kamek crawled out at a much more sedate pace, brushing dirt off his robes as he stood. Now with that inconvenience dealt with, he could finally get back to work. He needed to figure out where exactly he was, how to get out of this forest and back to the base, what progress the other minions had made while he was gone, all the incompetencies and mistakes he’d have to clean up, and on top of that he still had to deal with Mario —

Mario waved.

— running around causing trouble and threatening to ruin their hard work, and he still needed to figure out how to tell Bowser about Mario’s presence, or whether he should in the first place considering Bowser’s likely reaction to that news, and he hadn't eaten since breakfast despite it now being past noon, and he’d been meaning to go back to that backwater town at the end of the river and steal all the allergy medicine he could get his hands on, and —

Kamek shrieked, almost falling back into the hole he’d just crawled out of. “Wh-when did you get here?”

Mario shrugged. It was a larger gesture than usual, as was the rest of him. Was larger than usual, that is. Kamek blinked at Mario’s way-too-big mustache, and his eyes narrowed. When he’d fired that last spell, Mario had been nowhere near in range of it.

“Either that spell I’d cast was more powerful than I realized,” Kamek slowly said, “Or I somehow managed to shrink myself, instead.”

“...”

“I’d shrunken myself, didn't I.”

Mario’s mustache curled up in amusement. Kamek ground his teeth and fumed. Of all the stupid mistakes to make...!

Despite his magic reserves being low, Kamek reached into his sleeve for his wand; whether to put himself back to normal or knock the amusement off Mario’s face, he couldn't say. Either way, his hand came out empty. As it did the second time Kamek rummaged for it, and the third, and the fourth, and the —

Absolutely not panicking, Kamek dove back into the tree hollow to overturn every dead leaf and stick pile and moss clump in search of his wand. He didn't find it, of course, and he spared a moment or two to stand there, head in hands. With how today was going, he’d probably dropped it somewhere after miscasting his spell. On the very dim bright side, though, at least he knew why his broom wasn't working; those enchantments weren't designed to play nice with these sort of shrinking spells. Kamek sighed. Curse Lord Bowser and his incessant, near-impossible demands...

Kamek lifted his head to find Mario peering through the opening of the tree hollow, considering Kamek’s misfortune with a furrowed brow. He backed up to allow Kamek to leave, and once Kamek stood upright, he extended a hand to him.

“I don't need your help,” Kamek snapped. Ignoring Mario’s hand, he turned on his heel, marched a few steps, tripped over a protruding bit of exposed bark, and lost his balance. His next step was on empty air, at a height borderline unsurvivable, with little but a nonfunctional broom to break his fall.

So he fell. And he hit the ground. Sooner than he’d expected, considering. Kamek unscrewed his eyes and found the surface he’d landed on was whiter than he’d expected, as well. And then it moved, and Kamek lost the little balance he’d been barely holding on to. Mario’s worried face filled Kamek’s vision, and he realized he wasn't dead because Mario had caught him.

“...I suppose I should thank you,” Kamek eventually said, with no intention of thanking Mario. Mario huffed, but still watched him, lips pursed in thought. He was being quieter than usual, and that combined with the sudden awareness of just how vulnerable he was — many fractions his size, unable to cast any spells, and sitting in his archenemy’s palms — had Kamek swallowing nervously.

“You can put me down now,” Kamek hesitantly said, because Mario was a good guy, and he would do as he asked. For sure. Hopefully.

Except Mario didn't. Instead, he transferred Kamek to one hand, opened the front pocket of his overalls with the other, and dumped Kamek in there as if he was some common —

Kamek struggled to right himself in the small, mostly enclosed space. “Wh — You —!” he sputtered. “How dare you — !”

Mario chuckled at Kamek’s indignation. The vibrations of it rumbled through Kamek’s body, and the whole ‘you’re very tiny and powerless and more-or-less at your archenemy’s mercies right now’ dilemma screeched back to the forefront of Kamek’s mind. So he shut his mouth with a clack, thinking better of poking his head out of the pocket to give Mario a piece of his mind. Through the meager opening above him he saw Mario give him one last look before starting to move; the way the world shifted probably meant he was at a brisk walk, down the forest path to who-knew-where.

Kamek sighed, making himself comfortable the best he could given the circumstances. Well... at least Mario wasn't likely to let Kamek get accosted by wildlife again. And besides, all Kamek had to do was wait until he could scrounge up enough magic to cast spells again; though he was still without his wand, he’d be free to ditch Mario and make his own way back to the base for his spare wand and broom. And then he could come back and make Mario pay for this indignity ten-fold.

---

Kamek blinked, roused from a nap he hadn't realized he’d taken by a shift in movement different from the steady sway of Mario walking around. He reached for the top of the pocket and pulled himself up. They were in a clearing lit by the waning light of the sun, and Mario was leaning over a burgeoning campfire.

Mario grinned down at Kamek when he noticed he was awake. Kamek scowled back at him, because he’d been hoping the earlier events of the afternoon had been a terrible dream. In the face of the contrary, and with the dregs of near-magical exhaustion and the nap he just took still clinging to him, the colorful commentary floating through his head didn't make it to the twilit air.

Meanwhile, Mario finished arranging the wood he’d gathered. He raised a hand to Kamek.

“I can get down on my own,” Kamek said, surly, and then he pulled himself out, misjudged the force necessary to do so, and tumbled end-over-end into Mario’s still-raised hand.

Mario had the grace to refrain from laughing this time, setting him down on a nearby log and lighting the campfire with an errant fireball. He sat down on the ground next to him with a sigh, shoulders slumped in clear exhaustion. Sensing Kamek was watching him, though, he straightened, rummaging through his pockets and pulling out a lunchbox. He opened it, and the smell reminded Kamek that he hadn't eaten since that brief pastry at sunrise. He supposed a blessing of being this small was that the grumbling of his stomach was harder to hear.

Busy regretting skipping lunch, the tray placed next to him completely startled him. That tray was actually the lid to the lunchbox, with some of Mario’s food placed upon it. A look to Mario had Mario pointing to his food and shaping his fingers into an ‘L’ shape with an easy smile. Ah. Well, at least Kamek could be sure the food was edible.

The two of them ate their dinners in relative silence. As they polished off some roasted mushrooms to end their meal, Mario’s focus was on a letter clutched in his other hand. Kamek read it over Mario’s shoulder. It appeared to be a letter from the Princess.

Mario saw him looking and tilted the letter towards him, pointing at a passage that spoke of the troubles the nearby town had been going through recently.

“I don't know anything about that,” Kamek lied. At Mario’s unimpressed look, Kamek rolled his eyes. “So what if they’re having water problems? If they're not going to use their river to its full potential, then they can't start complaining when someone else swoops in and does so.”

Mario’s face turned contemplative. He flipped to the second page of Peach’s letter, and as he glanced between it and Kamek, Kamek realized he might have said a little too much. Whoops. He’ll blame it on how tired he was. Even still, no matter how Mario needled him further, he didn't say anything else on the subject. Absolutely nothing. Besides, if the minions were being even halfway competent in his absence, then it didn't matter at this point how quickly Mario cottoned on to what they were doing.

Mario raised an eyebrow in challenge, and Kamek really needed to stop talking now, didn't he?

The hour grew late, and soon both Mario and Kamek were stifling yawns. Mario was surely used to laying down on the wilderness’ floor for a rest, but where was Kamek supposed to sleep?

Mario thought about it, looking around for a suitable surface. He couldn't find one, and Kamek was all set to resign himself to an aching back tomorrow morning until Mario’s eyes lit up with an idea. He took his hat off his head. He held it out to Kamek.

“Wh —? In that?” Kamek hissed. Mario shrugged. Was there anything better?

Kamek grumbled. Mario put the hat on the ground below him, near the cooling fire, leaning back against the log as Kamek slid off his seat to land in it. It was soft. Not quite soft enough, though. Luckily, there was plenty of moss nearby, and Kamek unrepentantly padded his new temporary bed with it. Mario looked pained. Served him right.

Mario forced himself to ignore the nearby travesty as best he could; he shimmied into a more comfortable position, ending with an aborted motion to pull his hat over his eyes. He rested that hand on his stomach instead, the other behind his head. One leg crossed over the other, Mario cast his gaze to the stars peeking between the leaves and branches above them, the picture of evening relaxation.

Kamek pulled a relatively clean leaf he’d found amongst the moss earlier over himself. Though he still hoped he'd wake up tomorrow morning to find this had all been a terrible nightmare, he knew he’d probably end up disappointed. But that was a problem for his future self to deal with.

[hylias-library]

Part 1 featuring: Hyrule, Four and Wind

[Navigation] [The Chain Masterlist]

[Part 2] [Part 3]

Hyrule

Your shift at the Inn was soon over. At least it would have been, if there wasn't this group of travelers wandering into the main room.

Having to suppress a groan, you went on and grabbed a few menus while listening into their banter as they let themselves fall onto the chairs around your biggest table.

"Finally some place with normal food. With the Champ not cooking I thought I'd have to starve." The young man that spoke wore a red tunic and had a faint pink strand of hair. How odd.

"Leave him be. He's injured. And the traveler at least tried." Their leader said. At least he gave the impression to be in charge. He was clothed in silver and golden armor, a scar over one of his eyes. You wondered what had happened for him to end up like this.

"I told you, the meat would have put hair on your chest! You're just overreacting!" Another one of them said. He had dirty blonde, almost brown hair, wore a green tunic with a brown undershirt that had yellow seams. He looked rather handsome.

If you were honest, all of them were.

The, what you assumed, was the smallest one of the bunch snorted. He was wearing a headband and four colored clothing. "I don't even want to know how long you've had that meat in your bag."

You had to stop yourself from laughing out loud, so you settled for subtly shaking your head in amusement. It'll put hair on your chest. What a peculiar phrase.

Having gathered everything you needed, you headed over to their table. With a friendly smile, you placed the menus down for them to grab.

"Good evening, gentlemen. I'll just drop these off here. Please have a look and call me when you're ready to order."

They all gave you a nod and friendly 'thank yous' as you went back to the counter to dry off the last few glasses that resided in the sink.

Not long after, you got called back to get their orders, writing them down on your little notepad.

Halfway through, you noticed one of them eyeing you. It was the one who apparently had failed cooking duty. Giving him a friendly smile, you finished taking orders and took a beeline to the kitchen, not aware of how his ears became red or how some of the boys clapped Hyrule on the back to tease him.

He was cute. And their banter from earlier didn't leave your mind, like your smile never left your lips ever since you turned away from the table. And soon, an idea made its way into your head.

Bringing out the food one plate after the other, you made sure to leave Hyrule's for last.

When you brought it out, you couldn't stop yourself from grinning, earning a few raised eyebrows from the boys already munching on their food.

Gently placing the plate in front of the apparently horrible cook, you searched Hyrule's gaze and huffed out an amused little laugh.

"Don't worry. I'm sure this will put hair on your chest as well."

Then you left him, as he turned bright red, his companions breaking out into laughter after hearing what you said. The last thing you heard before entering the kitchen being,

"Traveler, that one's a keeper!"

Four

Wiping sweat off your forehead, you left your shop for a quick break. It was already noon, and you hadn't eaten properly yet.

Strolling around the market, you settled for a loaf of bread and some cheese, taking a seat near a small fountain next to the villages Inn.

Closing your eyes, you enjoyed the mild winds blowing through the marketplace. It felt like a small eternity since you last sat here, just doing nothing. You had to admit it felt good. A nice change instead of constantly working your butt off.

You had already finished your meal, when the clearing of a throat brought you back to reality.

"Excuse me? Is there by any chance a Smithy in this village? A few friends and I need to stock up."

Wide-eyed, you locked gazes with a young man. Fairly short, with longer hair, a headband, and an interesting looking tunic. Split up into 4 pieces with 4 different colors.

You must have stared at him like you've seen a ghost, judging by his apologetic expression. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Quickly, you shook your head, dismissing the earlier situation with the wave of your hand. "It's fine. I was just deeper in thought than I anticipated."

Getting up, you dusted off your pants and turned back to Four.

"The forge you say? I'll bring you there it's not far."

He gave you a short nod and a 'thank you' as you took off, quietly following you until you noticed the sword he was carrying.

"That’s a nice blade you've got there."

And so you fell into a pleasant conversation with the stranger until you reached your desired destination. "Here we are."

Four smiled when he took a look at all the options and materials that were laid out for display. He seemed pleased with what he saw.

But before he entered the forge he turned back to you again.

"Say. You know a lot about smithing. How come?"

"Oh." You laughed. "Of course I know about smithing."

Passing Four, you opened the main door, holding it open for him with a grin, a small bell indicating a new customer has arrived.

"After all, I run this forge."

Wind

Putting the rupees into the small pouch on your hip, you thanked the latest customer of the potion stand you were currently working for.

A few minutes ago, a group of 9 travelers had placed a huge order of potions of all kinds. They spend a small fortune here, but you weren't complaining since it helped you keep the roof over your head.

You normally never gave the customers second thoughts, but this time, you were genuinely surprised. They seemed to travel with a boy around your age. Blonde, wearing a shirt with the outline of a lobster in the front. He couldn’t be much older than 14, you guessed.

Having received the last potion to pack, the group turned to leave again when you noticed a paper slip out of the boy's pouch.

Curiously, you picked it up. It was a drawing, obviously made by a child.

You looked up at the still retreating travelers. Neither them nor the boy seemed to have noticed that someone lost something.

Quickly, you took off after them, already shouting for the boy to wait up.

You came to a halt in front of the group, and everyone had turned around to see what the ruckus you caused was about.

Having this much attention was making you more nervous than you wanted to admit and you shrunk a little into yourself, locking eyes with Wind.

"You dropped this."

Stretching one hand forward, the drawing carefully rolled up, you held it out for the boy to take.

Meanwhile, Wind had waved his companions off with the words, "I'll catch up." And came your way to gently take the paper from your hands.

"Thanks." He grinned at you.

A contagious grin, you returned gladly.

"It’s a very pretty drawing."

Wind nodded along to your statement. "My little sister drew it for me... Thanks again, for bringing it back to me. The name's Link by the way!" He introduced himself.

"No problem! I'm (Y/n)!"

You shook his outstretched hand.

"Nice to meet you, Link!"

[vampirethin27]

I ended my 60 hour fast (Sat, 2/10 7:30pm ~ Tues, 2/13 7:30am) with Powerade, and I think that's the ticket for me honestly.

The dropped insulin + the raised adrenaline (because I have POTS syndrome and that kicks in heavy in the mornings) were awful, but I was really just trying not to get sick again because I don't want my mother thinking I need to go to my cardiologist 💀 so I researched for like 5 minutes and figured I'd give it a shot since there's like 34g of sugar in a Powerade, and apparently that followed by eating baked potato chips is what my body wants after?? I'll probably switch it up with like a sugary smoothie and some almonds or whatever in the future, but woooo!

So yesterday was spent talking to a friend and getting food back in me. I was able to eat the foods I struggled not to break my fast with (chicken alfredo with a new 4 ingredient pasta which I swear is the best pasta I've ever had, never going back to the boxes, the last half slice of cake left in the fridge, dark chocolate, Greek yogurt, strawberry Ramune, it was lovely), and then I almost skipped dinner because it was supposed to be shrimp tacos and they're like meh to me, but then they ended up being sandwiches with cabbage and tomato and a sauce my mother made and they were under 250kcals, soooooooo I caved and it was delicious

Sometime at 8 or 9 yesterday morning I realized that the belt I had cut a new hole into that was a bit too small for me that I had to suck my stomach in for fit me. I fit into the goal I forgot I set, and I have never felt a feeling like what I felt in my body when I realized.

Today mother made me food at noon and I hadn't eaten yet today, so I went into my fasting app and checked how long it had been between meals to see if it was even worth logging... I accidentally fasted for 17 hours. For reference, fasts 16 hours or over are loggable to me. Anything else is, personally, barely a fast and I won't even acknowledge it usually. So I've been having quite a nice few days 😎✨️💃🤭

OKAY good luck to you all, may you reach random ass goals, go hydrate bitches (<33)

[000marie198]

The way I felt for poor Toothless in this episode

Thinking back on it, he technically hadn't eaten anything since noon and went hungry throughout the night

[shamazingwrites]

Batangas, A Trip Down Memory Lane

This place is where you’d really get the most out of your vacation. First off, you’ll pass by this abandoned fantasy world. It’s breathtaking, colorful, and totally eye-catching. It's enormous, and you’d really want to step inside, but sadly, you can’t because it's abandoned. But what's more cool is the smoky roads, it feels like you’re in another country. It’s a bit risky though, so the driver better be good to avoid accidents. But Shamblers, seeing that smoke while inside the car is so SHAMAZING! I actually don’t know where it comes from, definitely not car smoke because there aren’t many people around. The air? So fresh, making you feel like you're really in the province. The hills and houses you pass by? Gorgeous. So peaceful, this place is a definite must-visit again.

My experience here was fantastic because not only was I with my family, but also with my friends. We stayed overnight and it was really short because most had to go to work the next day. But in that short time, I had so much fun!

By the way, this is my uncle’s resort, so we go there every year for free since it's a family property. But every time we’re there, the happiest is when the whole family's there, and friends too (I remember our family used to not allow anyone else to join our family outing).

This resort has a beach and even a swimming pool. I remember arriving late because of the traffic. Sadly, we couldn't use the beach at night for safety reasons. But thankfully, there was a swimming pool we could use even if the beach was closed. Night swimming, let’s go. I still remember we all slept in one room, us three girls side by side and the two guys on the floor. We slept really late, chatting all night. We whispered a lot 'cause some of my relatives were in the next room, they might hear us still awake.

But even though we slept really late, we still woke up super early. I think we slept at 3 am and woke up at 6 am. We all went out together, made our coffee before heading to the beach, just to feel the moment. Sipping our coffee while strolling by the beach was just right. At first, we really wanted to jump in, but we hadn't eaten yet, so we just settled for taking photos. By noon, after we ate, we hurried to dive into the sea. Swimming in the ocean is so much better than the pool, just warmer. But Shamblers, it’s only once a year, so you gotta make the most out of it.

Absolutely epic experience. This one's going down in the books for sure. Might sound cheesy, but I'm holding onto this memory forever and ever.

[shezasag]

i'm back home & the surgery went well & literally general anesthesia is so wild. i was there watching them figure out how i was supposed to be positioned on the operating table then suddenly i was in a recovery room like hello ?!?

but it was only supposed to be around 5 hrs in total including the preop and postop stuff and the surgery itself an hr but i was there from 9-4:30 bc my surgeon had to do an emergency surgery & then he was missing forms & hospital shit was just happening and i was soooooo irritable bc i hadn't eaten anything since 6 pm last night lmaooooo. i was only snippy with my mom tho not the medical staff cuz like obv it's noone's fault i just was Irritated