#because they've stopped cramping

[tj-crochets]

I have some good news and some less good news: Good news: I think I'm probably going to make the giant cuddly Toothless, I can probably get by Joanns tomorrow during the fleece sale and pick up some black fleece.

Less good news: I am probably not going to be able to finish the quilt today like I'd intended to, my electrolytes apparently got even more out of whack than my normal, because in addition to regular muscle cramps and spasms I got the smooth muscle cramps again! 0/10 do not recommend, they finally stopped but I am so sore (as my doc explained it to me a while ago, smooth muscles are the ones around your organs, and normally you can't feel them at all. If they cramp or spasm very badly, you can feel them and they hurt real bad because you are not used to feeling them. I am not a doctor that's just what he told me) Good news: Sonic is my go-to Maximum Sodium meal so I'm going to have Sonic for lunch and see if that fixes me lol

[would-you-punt-them]

I just want to tell you this:

Thank You So, SO Much for informing people about the horrid Mr. Beast situation occurring within his Squid Game Beast Games.

I don��t think would’ve known about this awful and disgusting event occurring as much as I do now if you didn’t post about it on this blog.

Thank you.

I do think it isn't something that should be brushed under the rug, and I also feel that the more people know about it, the worse it becomes for Jimmy when the Beast Games show actually comes out.

One thing I forgot to include in the post is that the Las Vegas shoot is going to be uploaded on YouTube as an extended qualifier to the actual show on Amazon Prime.

It's worth noting that the contestants didn't know that until they arrived at the stadium. They'd been told that the Las Vegas shoot was the Amazon show, and there would only be 1,000 competitors (which is how it is marketed by Amazon). They only learned that the player-count had doubled and this wasn't going to be on Prime once they were on set, and were shown a video message from Jimmy saying he forgot to mention that actually there were 2,000 people and this wasn't the Amazon show (though MrBeast later claimed that this was always the intent).

I don't know when the video(s) will be uploaded, but I honestly can't wait because I'm dying to know how they're planning on editing the footage to cut out the horrors that took place during the challenges.

Like, how are they going to show the Red team losing the first challenge with the rope and pulley? On the one hand, surely they've got to show the 400 people who were eliminated in that challenge. But on the other hand... what exactly do they have to work with?

The production team refused the Red team's pleas to stop the challenge and demanded they keep going to the end, presumably because they needed them to do it for the sake of the video. Instead, anti-capitalist icons that they are, the entire team abandoned the challenge mid-way anyway so they could go help their teammates who were literally being strangled, throwing the game. And once they'd abandoned the rope, they never picked it up again.

Obviously, the producers can't show competitors being throttled. But that means that they also can't explain why the Reds lost the challenge. If the throttling happened toward the end, maybe they'll be fine, but if it happened closer to the middle, there's no way for them to explain why those 400 people just gave up so early.

It also presumably means any overhead shots of all the teams are ruined, because that would require them to explain why the Reds just aren't participating.

Maybe they could show the Reds giving up, but give a different reason. But no reason I can think of works. If they say they "tried their best but knew they couldn't win", they would then also have to answer the question of why the challenge was impossible for them - the reason being that their team of 400 consisted of about 380 women, while their opposing teams consisted almost entirely of the youngest and strongest male competitors.

And I'm not sure how they're going to explain that, because if they show the challenge of everyone going for coloured jerseys, they can't reveal why the teams ended up so unbalanced, as the actual reason is that the male contestants were hoarding jerseys and were physically violent against the female and elderly contestants, and organised themselves to guarantee they were all on the same team, resulting in a gender split.

I'm also not sure how they plan to edit around challenges like the briefcase game, where in the middle of the cramped field the male contestants were attacking and trampling the women. It's going to take a lot of editing to cut around that. And while they can edit out the injuries occurring they can't edit out the fact that by the end of the challenge there are suspiciously fewer female contestants remaining than there were to begin with.

Additionally, they're going to have to justify why the contestants started off so diverse in gender and age, only for the 1,000 who made it to the actual Amazon show predominantly being young and male, without it becoming clear that no one else had any chance. They can't introduce new contestants to re-diversify the cast, because 1,000 were promised by Amazon, 1,000 qualified, and people will complain if they try to fudge the numbers or cheat by introducing last-minute entries, which is especially bad now that he's currently under fire for allegedly faking and rigging competitions.

Jimmy also can't just not upload it at all, because then he'd have to explain that as well, and this is such a massive event people, both fans and detractors, are going to notice.

The more people know about it, the worse his situation becomes, because there's just no way out of it without inviting questions he doesn't want people to know the answers to.

While this is obviously too much to hope for in this timeline, in an ideal world enough people start talking about this that Amazon cancels his show due to the controversy - Jimmy has said Beast Games is intended to be his break into more traditional media, and I think it would be nice to shut that down.

[emlittly]

God there's some good fucking text posts on this site huh.

Inspired by browsing the v.ore tag at midnight:

Going to a mixed predator/prey bar, but it's subtle y'know? classy-like. The tables have nice linen on them and people are all dressed up in suits and skirts and all sorts of eye popping combinations. They've even got jazz music. Shit that's nice.

You find yourself hugging a corner near the emptier side of the bar, in fact there's only one other person: an ambiguously gendered, short-haired rocking predator who you can only identify as one because the last three buttons on their shirt are undone and oh my god you can see something squirming in there. There's a thin trail of hair that leads down to their pants but you can't help but stare at that soft imprint just that little bit higher up.

So you're a little freaked out right, it's not like you've ever sat down with one of these people before but they're nice enough and even offer to buy you a drink and, yeah, they're halfway through a tall glass of foamy alcohol that lingers on the corner of their lips and makes a nice big imprint down their throat whenever they swallow and the bulge in their gut squirms a bit harder when that delayed swallow of beer ends up inside that same stomach they're in right now.

And their teeth are just the most interesting thing (you can't stop staring at them). They're a bit jagged, canines like the kind you'd see on vampires in old TV shows. You ask if they bite. They laugh and wink and say only if you want to. You brave a question:

Did the last sucker you asked that answer honestly?

They laugh and run a hand along their stomach. You can just barely hear the sobs inside. They must be so cramped in there. A stomach designed to squeeze and churn food into calories - that'll treat a human no better than any other piece of meat you subject to an acid bath for hours and hours. So tight, so hot, so oppressive.

They offer to take you to their place tonight and, fuck, you're not sure you're strong enough to say no.

[zepskies]

This is more of a Sam and Dean request than a reader and Dean request but what about Sam having a crush on Dean's gf? How would he react to that, I am honestly CRAVING angst and this is the angstiest, is that a word, thing I could think of, I am so sorry if you don't like angst or this makes you uncomfortable!!!

Oh my God. You killed me with this one, hun. 😫😫 I have another SB imagine coming next week, but I thought I'd put out this one for Dean to break it up a bit.

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, one-sided Sam W. x Reader Word Count: 1,500

Imagine: You are Dean's one exception.

Sam knows it's wrong.

You're smart, with a degree in history that aids them well on hunts.

You're sharp, with a smart mouth that rivals Dean's (and keeps him on his toes).

But you're also kind. You take care of him and Dean with all the feminine grace and care they've never had in their lives.

Sam realizes it when he's up until 3 a.m. in the bunker's War Room. He's sat at the table, researching, eyes bleary, hands cramping from turning pages. And he finds a mug of hot tea sliding next to his idle hand on the table.

You're there with a smile and a hand on his shoulder. "Workin' hard or hardly working?"

Sam clears his throat and nods, chuckles a little. "I'm good." He eyes the mug. "Thanks, though I might need something stronger."

You eye him with gentle reproach. "Nope. Green tea is better for you this late at night. You really should go to sleep, Sam."

Sam tacitly agrees, but only because he can feel the warmth of your hand through his clothing, and it makes his face warmer than the tea. He watches you walk away, notices the curve of your ass in those little shorts. He can imagine your warm hands on his body, caressing him. He can imagine letting his lips graze your skin, exploring you, then devouring you.

And that's when his thoughts stutter to a halt. Sam inwardly cringes.

Despite his sleep-deprived brain, he's reminded that you're traveling down the hall to the room you share with his brother, and for Sam, it's nothing short of torture.

Because he realizes then that he isn't just fond of you. He doesn't love you like an older brother, or even a quasi-brother-in-law. He wants you.

Again, Sam knows it's wrong...but he can't help it. It's one of the saddest cliches in the fucking book. You're his brother's girl, and he wants you for himself.

And it's getting harder to hide it from Dean. They know each other too well -- a result of having no one but each other, but more practically, having lived in such close quarters for so long before they discovered the bunker.

When Sam gets hurt on a hunt, the cut is at a bad angle. He can't quite reach, so you dutifully come around and gently move his hand out of the way to do the stitch yourself. You tsk at him in playful disappointment. "I swear, it's a wonder you and Dean aren't walking patchwork quilts at this point."

Sam chuckles through his nose, wincing when the movement pulls on the stitch. You shoot him a stern look. "Stop moving."

"You're the one making me laugh!" he says, smiling incredulously.

"I don't accept excuses," you retort. "Keep still, please."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam says, his breath hitching for a different reason as he feels your soft hands along his side. He plays it off as pain. "Sorry," you murmur more sincerely. He tells you it's okay. His gaze flicks up, unconsciously finding Dean's face across the room.

He's just finished cleaning a cut on his hand. But he's been watching; Sam can tell. Dean's too perceptive not to notice Sam's discomfort. He probably even knows why. Sam can see a glint of it in Dean's eyes, the stoic front of his face.

"There we go!" you say in satisfaction, and you pat Sam's bare arm. He gives you a wan smile. "Thanks."

"You done, sweetheart?" Dean asks. You get up from your seat by Sam. "What do you need?" you ask.

"You. Come 'ere," he says with a smile, giving you a beckoning finger. "I felt that knot on the back of your head earlier. Think you're slick?"

You huff, but you also smile, in the way you only do for Dean. Sam watches you get up and go to Dean, who touches your cheek, stroking with a thumb first. Then he parts your hair to inspect the back of your head, and you wince a bit. You did fall pretty hard, now that Sam thinks of it. He frowns.

Dean lets out a deep breath. "You've got a nasty bump. You're taking it easy tonight, got it?"

"Yeah? Gonna help me relax?" you whisper. But Sam still hears you, because apparently no one taught you how the hell to whisper.

Dean smirks. "Watch it. I'll think you're flirting with me."

You give him a coy smile as your hand travels up his chest, between the open edges of his plaid shirt, then all the way down, to tease at his belt. "Believe me, when I do, you'll be the first one to know."

Dean's smirk deepens, but his eyes are softer. He closes a hand around yours and brings it to his lips. You lean up and request, wordlessly, for a kiss. Dean obliges you, capturing your lips with a soft kiss.

He eventually breaks from you, only to press his lips to your forehead next, closing his eyes with a sigh. He doesn't like it when you try to hide your injuries from him. You just don't want him to worry so much.

You smile and rest against his chest afterwards. It's clear as day what your heart holds.

It's hard for Sam to watch. His throat constricts, but he takes pains to avert his gaze.

He's so full to the brim with this that he sees no other recourse. He catches Dean alone in the kitchen and tries to make a confession. "Dean, we need to talk."

"Can it wait 'til I'm done?" Dean's plating up some stovetop mac and cheese -- your favorite.

"You're done cooking," Sam points out. Dean looks up at him. "We're doing a little dinner in bed situation. I made her promise to take it easy."

Sam admires the way Dean takes care of you. He really does. But it's also like a small oyster knife twisting in his gut. "Good. I'm glad," is all he says. "Yeah, we can talk later."

"Later" doesn't come for a long time. Weeks, in fact. But every time he tries to broach the problem, Dean finds a way to wiggle out of having the conversation. Always a distraction. A hunt. A fire you almost started in the kitchen. Being "in the middle" of something -- something in the bedroom that you insist needs Dean's immediate attention. Sam gives up for a while after that.

But Winchesters are nothing if not goddamn stubborn. Sam finally catches Dean alone in his room for once. You've gone to the grocery store, leaving the brothers alone in the bunker, but not for long, so Sam needs this chance.

"Dean, can we talk?"

Dean looks up at his brother from where he sits on the edge of his bed. He taps his knee, releases a breath. They both know what this is.

"Are you gonna do more than talk?" Dean asks. It's not what Sam expects. "What?"

"Whatever's on your mind, are you ever gonna do something about it?" Dean asks.

Sam stares back at his brother. He thinks. Hard. He's flipped back and forth for months. If he tells you how he feels, it's over. Things will never be the same between the three of you. It'll confuse you. It might even hurt you. It'll hurt Dean. Sam loves you both, if in very different ways.

So Sam is a bit deflated when he raises his resigned gaze and meets his brother's. "No."

After a moment, Dean nods. "Then we've got nothing to talk about."

But... Sam wants not to want you. Not to love you. Deep, deep down, a large chunk of him feels that he shouldn't have to hide himself. That you have a right to know the depths of what he feels, and what he feels for you.

"I see you're not convinced," Dean says dryly. Sam is silent, until Dean sighs and beckons him over. Sam obliges and sits down next to his older brother, the man he's looked up to (at least metaphorically) his whole life.

"I'd give my life for you. You know that. Right, Sammy?" Dean says. "If I couldn't tear the world apart, I'd lay myself out flat."

Sam sighs. "Dean..." Of fucking course he knows that. Dean already had given his life for him once. Remembering that only adds to Sam's guilt.

Dean meets Sam's gaze directly then. "But this is where I draw the line. She's my line," he says. His face is almost stoic, but his eyes are filled with unyielding fire. "I'm not layin' down on that. Not for you. Not for anyone."

Sam's heart clenches with every kind of pain, but he's also never respected his brother more. He nods. "I get it."

"No, you really fucking don't," Dean says. He's more than serious. "I mean it, Sam. I'll break your damn nose."

After a long moment, Sam nods. He knew Dean loved you. Of course he did. But this is the first time Sam truly understands how deeply. How completely. It's more than jealousy can fathom.

Sam realizes then that he lost, even before he began.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 I got way deeper into this than I expected to. Poor Sam. 😭 But I hope this scratched your angsty itch, my dear!

Read the Sequel

Here's the requested sequel to this: Sam crosses the line.

Also, if you want to read the reverse of this (Dean is in love with Sam's girlfriend): Dean gives you an impossible choice.

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[jd07201990]

I shouldn't have opened my mouth. All I had to do was just walk away, and I'd have been fine. Now, It takes 3 showers a day, and a can of Axe a week, just to control the apocalyptic funk of athlete that pours from my pits... and feet... ok, ok I just stink, ok?! And its all because I tried to stop Pops, a local Gym Owner, from bullying one of his regulars.

The massive man was absolutely raging, as he berated a Jock for skipping sessions, despite the young man explaining desperately that he couldn't miss any more assignments or he'd lose his scholarship. It didn't seem to quell Pops's anger, as I watched the man drag the boy to a bench, and force him to lift rep after rep, until the Jock was panting, begging for a break, promising not to miss any more sessions. 

I'd been walking on the treadmill the whole time, and decided to get involved. My first mistake. Walking up to Pops, I cleared my throat, and told him to lay off, that clearly the Jock was exhausted. Pops grabbed my collar and hoisted me up off the ground, before I could react, his face nearly against mine as he went off, first about my nosing about, then about how ridiculously thin I am. I stammered, my legs dangling, until Pops put me down, and smirked.

"You know, a little meat on those bones wouldn't hurt. Maybe with a few pounds, those big, sweaty dawgs you've got wouldn't look so clownish!"

My jaw dropped, a squirmed under his gaze, as a shiver went down my spine, and a dull, warm itch began in my feet. I don't know where he'd gotten the idea that my feet were clownish, I'm 5'7" with size 9.5s! But suddenly, my sneakers felt cramped, warm, with a dull humid dampness making it feel as if I'd stuffed my foot into a wet towel.

Then, I groaned, as a sharp pain shot down my ankles, and my sneakers burst open, revealing wide, reeking Jock-feet, at least size 13. A dense funk rose, and I gagged, the intense reek of Athlete poured from my torn shoes. Pops laughed heartily, then sneered. 

"And those pits! You'd think with hairy, sweaty pits like those, you'd be top of the roster! Not even Big Billy has pits as bad as yours! There's a bull inside you, just waiting to come out!"

Again, that cold shiver ran down my back, and my armpits felt as if fire ants were biting them. Hundreds of itchy bumps formed, then, hair sprouted, filling in and dampening until the stink of the locker room oozed out from them. I whimpered as I caught the scent. Looking up at Pops, I begged.

"Please! Don't do this! You gotta undo this! I'm not a Jock!"

Pops laughed, taking both my shoulders in his massive rough hands, and pushed me down onto a bench, taking my arms and forcing them up onto the bar. My pits were fully on display as he growled.

"Lift. Don't stop until I come back, or those pits and feet will be the least of your worries."

I believed him, and tried to pull the bar down, barely moving the weights. Pops facepalmed, moved to a backpack next to a mountainous young brute lifting what had to be the weight of a small car. He fished out a protein shake, pressed the nozzle to my lips, and forced me to guzzle a few mouthfuls, pulling it away as I heard my stomach gurgle. 

I hiccuped, then burped, as my body seemed to warm, sweat forming, soaking down my shirt. Then, muscle began to swell under my skin, not huge, round bulk, but enough to look as if I'd been hitting the gym for several months, not days. When it settled, I must've gained 10 lbs, all of it hard muscle. When I pulled the bar down this time, it wasn't easy, but I wasn't lifted off the seat this time. Again and again I tested my new size, and Pops grinned. giving my thicker shoulder a punch. 

"I'll make an athlete out of you yet. Like it or not, you're gonna be one of Pops's boys! No one mouth's off to pop, unless they've earned it here at my gym! got it!"

I wanted to be defiant, to insult him, or run, but the look in his eye told me if I so much as thought about leaving, I'd be waddling out of here, sideways through the door, looking like the Behemoth that Pops had taken the shake from! I gulped, looked down, and forced myself to lift. Maybe if Pops is happy, he'll at least tone down the absolute fog of stink that screams, "Big Dumb Jock" from a mile away!

[roosterforme]

I Love Being 'Us' With You (Rooster x Reader)

Part of The What If Collection of blurbs for Roo and Baby Girl. My masterlist.

Warnings: language, angst, pregnancy topics, mention of miscarriage, Carole and Goose coming to the rescue

It had been months since you used birth control. Originally you planned to stop taking the pill when you embarked on your honeymoon, but the two of you agreed to stop filling your prescription before that. For more than a week when you were in Hawaii, you and Bradley had sex at least three times a day. He was like a man on a mission. Well, several missions. He wanted to keep you satisfied, but you could also tell he wanted to get you pregnant sooner rather than later. He wanted to have a kid before he turned forty.

The first time you ever mentioned wanting to have kids, he took you home and kept you in bed for hours. And that was before you and he were actively trying. Since last fall, he had been meticulous. He knew your cycles, and he was seemingly always ready to go when you were ovulating. But it had been months, and while he was outwardly as relaxed as always, you could tell that he was starting to get concerned. You were, too.

At first, it was easy to go with the flow. "It just takes time," Bradley told you, and you agreed. You continued to keep track of your cycle. You tried to be hopeful. You had a partner. You weren't doing this alone.

But you really were.

Because as much as you knew your husband was there for you, it was your body that wasn't working correctly. It was you, not him, who was messing everything up. Every time your period started, you had to cry alone before you could regroup and let him know that another month of trying had ended unsuccessfully. With every negative pregnancy test, you felt a little bit more of your optimism crumble into something much uglier.

You were at the point where you hated your body after so many months, and of course that's when Bradley's parents asked if it was okay to come stay for a long weekend for his birthday. When you got off the call with them, you started crying.

"I don't understand why you're being weird about this," Bradley sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "It's just for three nights. They've stayed with us before. Hell, I don't make a big deal out of it when your parents come out."

You shouldn't have to explain yourself to him. You didn't even know how to anyway. "I'm not being weird! I just don't want to have to talk to them about our plans to have a baby."

"Sweetheart. They don't even know we're trying."

Maybe that was true, but it was the only thing you could think about. So you excused yourself to go cry in bed with the door closed. You could feel the cramps starting. You knew you were just days away from getting your period. You knew the tears weren't going to stop. Another month was down the drain, and you were starting to resent when Bradley would initiate sex. You didn't even want him to look at you. And now when his parents came to stay at the craftsman for his birthday, you would be ovulating once again. It would be another month of disappointment where you felt like you were on display for your in-laws to witness it this time.

-------------------------------

You were distancing yourself from him, and Bradley didn't know what to do. It had gotten so much worse in the last few weeks since his parents asked to come stay for a few days. You stopped driving to work with Bradley. You started working late. You started to schedule sex with him to the point that he was surprised he wasn't receiving calendar invitations. He wanted to have a baby, sure, but he wanted you to be happy above all else. As soon as his parents left to go back to Virginia, you and he really needed to figure this out.

"Are you listening to me?"

Bradley's attention snapped back to his dad who was standing right in front of him, holding a nine iron with an annoyed look on his face. He let his mind wander so far away from the golf course, he didn't even realize it was his turn.

"Sorry," he grunted, digging in his golf bag. "Just got distracted."

"I was telling you that I'm finally taking your mom on a cruise. It leaves the day after her birthday," Goose told him.

"Right," Bradley replied. "Got it. She'll love that."

After Bradley hit his ball a little too aggressively, his dad carefully lowered the club and said, "Now why don't you tell me why you look constipated, and why your wife cried when mom told her that Brenda is going to have another grandson."

Bradley shoved the club back into his bag, and as much as he told himself he didn't want to talk about it, the words just started flowing. "We've been trying to get pregnant since last fall, and it's just a fucking mess now. Sometimes she doesn't want me to touch her. Other times it's like she thinks we need to have sex right then and there. Honestly, I don't know how to fix this, but having a kid isn't worth it if she's not happy with me."

"Have you told her that?"

Bradley stared at his dad, letting the words penetrate his brain. "Well, no."

"Have you put pressure on her?"

Now he felt like the one who was going to burst into tears. Truly, he never meant to, but he probably had. Talking about wanting a kid before he gets too much older. Mentioning how they would have to start saving for money for college. "Shit."

Goose pulled him in for a hug, and he let the soothing feel of his dad's hand on his back calm him down. "Bradley, women are smarter than us. They pick up on everything. If you want to fix it, then you need to be as honest with her as you can be. Because I don't think you want to destroy your marriage like this."

"I sure don't," Bradley said, his voice muffled against his dad's shoulder.

"We've still for fourteen holes and plenty of time. Let's hop in the golf cart, and I'll tell you all about some of the ways I fucked up with your mom and how I managed to fix it afterwards."

Bradley couldn't help but laugh. "At least she keeps you honest."

--------------------------

You were mortified. Your hormones were a mess as you were almost definitely ovulating. You wanted to have sex with Bradley this morning before he left to play golf, but you didn't even know how to tell him that you just wanted him and not the potential to get pregnant. And now you were out to brunch with his mom as tears filled your eyes, because the couple at the next table over was younger than you and Bradley, and they were taking turns holding the most adorable baby you'd ever seen.

When you tried to excuse yourself from the table, you felt Carole's hand on your wrist. "Sweet Girl," she whispered. "Let's talk about it."

You nodded and slid back into your seat as you choked back the tears. "We're trying to get pregnant, and it's just not happening. Was it that obvious?" you asked, knowing you'd been a mess all weekend.

"Of course not," Carole told you in her calm voice that you loved so much. "I just know this type of situation very well is all."

"You do?" you asked, dabbing at your eyes with your napkin. "But you had Bradley."

"Sure," she told you, still rubbing your wrist with her warm fingers. In a lot of ways, it was always easier to talk to her than your own mom, and you were thankful that you didn't have to act like nothing was bothering you right now. "Sure, I had Bradley, but ol' Goose and I wanted a baseball team worth of kids. A whole boatload of snot nosed little critters running around."

You laughed in spite of yourself. "What happened?"

"Well," Carole said with a smirk, "Bradley wasn't exactly planned, as I'm sure you well know. He was born in June after we got married in November. I wasn't showing yet in the wedding photos, but Goose and I both knew he was there." She smiled softly as she added, "I loved being a mom to him. He was the sweetest baby in the world, and I wanted a bunch more. But you can only handle the devastation of repeated miscarriages for so long before you throw in the towel, because you realize it's not worth your sanity. It's not worth it when you already have so much. Goose and I had some long, hard conversations, but we realized we were both already on the same page."

The tears were back, and this time you could feel them rolling down your cheeks. You hated that she didn't get to have what she wanted, but she was looking at you with kind eyes as you said, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't you dare apologize to me," she said with a soft laugh. "I got to raise Bradley, and then I got to pass him along to you." When you nodded and smiled in spite of yourself, she added, "And I just know that he's more than enough for you, and that you are more than he ever dreamed of. Just promise me you'll have those hard conversations with him. Maybe you'll find that you and Bradley are already in agreement about your future."

-------------------------

Bradley was thoroughly unamused when his Bronco wouldn't start on his birthday. "I think it's just the timing belt," his father said as they tinkered under the hood after dinner. "Order a new part and see if that does the trick. In the meantime, you'll just have to drive us to the airport in the other car."

"Sure," Bradley replied sarcastically as he grinned at you. "No problem, Dad. We'll just all cram into the red car like a pack of clowns."

"It's not that bad!" you said as he pulled you in for a hug. You already felt better after spending twenty minutes last night promising each other you'd spend even more time talking after you dropped his parents off for their red eye flight back east.

"It's so bad, Baby Girl," your husband whispered into your hair. "I don't know if their suitcase will even fit in the trunk."

"Stop being dramatic, Roo." 

Of course the suitcase fit. And all four of you fit, too. You let Bradley drive so he wouldn't complain about the leg room. He parked in the garage at the airport, and you and he walked Carole and Goose inside the departures door, taking turns embracing them before they dropped off their bag and headed through the security gate.

"Listen," Bradley said, reaching for your hand and giving you a kiss. "I know we said we'd talk when we get back home, but I need to apologize to you." His brown eyes were sincere and a little sad as he led you back outside and said, "There's nothing I want more than you and me together. Safe and happy. That's it. If we don't have a kid, it's not the end of the world, and it's certainly not the end of us."

You smiled up at him. "I agree. I don't want to think about it like a chore any longer. If it happens, then that's amazing. If not, well we can always regroup and talk about other ways of becoming parents. Or we can just be us."

"That's music to my fucking ears," he crooned, pulling you in close against his body. "I love being us with you."

Before you could assure him that you felt the same way, his lips were on yours, hard and heavy, taking your breath away. The scrape of his mustache and the way his hand kept sliding lower on your back until he was palmig your butt reminded you how badly you wanted him, just because he was your Bradley. You moaned into his mouth.

When you broke the kiss and looked up at him, a cocky little grin bloomed across his lips. "I have an idea, Sweetheart. Call it an extra birthday gift."

"What is it?" you gasped, already trying to consider how much you and he could get away with in the nearly deserted parking garage. But he was a step ahead of you.

Bradley unlocked your car, handed you the keys, and unbuckled his belt. He eased himself carefully onto the backseat, rubbed his thigh and braced his big foot against the center console. "Come here," he coaxed, and you climbed right in.

-------------------------

[whumpfish]

Physical Signs of Extreme Pain: Weird Edition 👽❤️‍🩹🤷‍♀️

I've made some pain reference posts over the years, but apart from passing out from pain, I haven't gotten much into the just plain weird shit the body does when it's really hurting. Time to fix that.

Fireflies: Sure, seeing spots is a thing. Black spots on the edge of your whumpee's vision, getting closer in slow pulses when they're having trouble breathing and struggling to hang onto consciousness. But when they just straight up hurt, your whumpee can get weird little floating things that flash like fireflies or tiny pieces of metallic silver confetti drifting around. In my experience, they've been linked to effort--they tend to either start or multiply fast when I stand up or otherwise try to move when I'm in unusually intense pain.

Shivering: Not because your whumpee is cold or in shock, but because their muscles are taut to the point of strain (because the body responds to pain with muscle tension), and when those muscles can't tighten further, they shake. It's the same mechanism that makes your fists shake if you're angry and clenching them past the point they can reasonably be clenched, just all over.

Teeth Chattering: No, seriously. In my experience, it mostly tends to happen as the shivering escalates, but I've had it just start up on its own when I get slammed with a spike in pain out of nowhere like cramps, or if I'm late taking a dose of my meds. I hate it because in the first place it's annoying, in the second place it's very noticeable, and in the third place I have absolutely no control over it. Clenching my teeth doesn't stop the muscles from trying to make them chatter, it just makes them (even more) sore. Also it's hard to talk, and I bite my cheek and tongue. A lot.

Ear Stuff: A ring that your whumpee feels as much as they hear. It's not a tone like a lot of tinnitus is, it's more like the pressure-changing "sound" you'll get as a plane takes off. And it feels like it's physically inside their ears, like someone has taken the world's heaviest, smallest ball-bearing and stuck it in their ear canals and it's trying to pull them down into and through the floor.

The Air Hurts: Your whumpee gets an all-over feeling like someone pressing lightly on a bruise, and the more they think about it, concentrate on it, the more their brain becomes irrationally convinced that the air has become dense around them and that's what's causing it. Because nothing is there, there is no external pressure, it's just pain signals behaving in a goofy way, and their brain is scrambling for an explanation. They might subconsciously pull their hands or other exposed skin into their clothing, or hunch over and pull everything in toward their chest to "protect" their skin from the air around them.

Have chronic or acute traumatic pain? See something missing from this post? Add on!

[ninikrumbs]

Close to you

Gojo Satoru x sorcerer reader. fluff. idiots in love.

You gently shut the door to the entrance of your shared home, hoping you don't wake up its sleeping residents at midnight. Your soft footsteps still made the wooden floorboards creak; moonlight glowing through the window, the peaceful quiet welcoming you home.

Your eyes catch the few toys scattered around the coffee table, books on the kitchen island, and the faint smell of curry still lingered in the air, making you smile. Undeniable proof of the life being lived within these walls.

Slowly, you made your way up the stairs, stretching your aching body from a mission that took more time than anticipated.

A yawn escapes your mouth as you peek in mimiko and hanakos room, silently chuckling at the way the two sisters huddled together under the covers with their favorite plushie in the middle. It was only their favorite because Suguru bought it. They obviously had a favorite guardian.

Your next stop was Megumi and Tsumiki's room. Gently opening the door, you were surprised to see the scene in front of you. The two kids were sleeping soundly in their seperated beds except Megumi had an interloper. A slender body was curled next to the boy, a long arm was over his chubby middle, the covers barely covering half of his frame. Familiar tinted sunglasses were on his night stand and the interlopers snow white hair almost glowed in the moonlight shining from the window.

You quickly take pictures on your phone, snickering slightly, wanting to capture this moment forever and of course to tease them both tomorrow. Megumi could act indifferent to Gojo all he wants, you know he secretly admires him despite the short time being together.

Amusement and fondess graces your features. Gojo didn't even change out of his uniform which irked you a bit, but his sleeping face made up for it. You barely see him so relaxed- yes he was an overenergetic and overconfident idiot who makes it seem like everything is just rainbows and butterflies in this world, but you knew better- the things he hides behind those sunglasses, the pressure to be greater, to be stronger, to protect everyone.

He had the entire world on his shoulders. You can't even begin to imagine what it was like being the Gojo Satoru so sue you if didn't want to wake him up despite him sleeping in a cramped bed. He deserved to escape his responsibilities and pressure he puts on himself even for a little while.

A soft small voice laced with sleep pulled you out of your thoughts. You turn and see Tsuimiki sitting up,

"They fell asleep arguing with each other." She says, sleepily rubbing her eyes.

"Of course they did." You shake you head.

You sat at the edge of Tsumikis bed, voice quiet, "Sorry, did I wake you?"

She shakes her head in response, "No, I sometimes get up to pee at this hour."

You visibly relax, then another thought popped into your head, "What were they arguing about?"

She grinned teasingly, "About which boy in the house you liked best."

You stifle a laugh, covering your mouth. "Well jokes on them because I like Suguru best."

That was a lie, you know who your favorite was and it wasn't Suguru, but he was a close second.

"I tried telling them that too, but they just looked at me like it was the most disgusting thing they've ever heard."

You couldn't stop the giggle that escapes you, which made you quicklycheck if they were still asleep. You gaze back at Tsumiki after seeing that they were still snoring their heads off.

"I should probably go to sleep aswell, Tsumi-chan." You realize as you patted her head affectionately.

A small hand held on to the end of your uniform sleeve as you stood up. "Tsumiki?"

Her cute face turned red from embarrassment as she look at you shyly, "...Y/N, can you also sleep next to me?"

You internally coo. you could just die from the cuteness, you wanted to pinch her cheeks but you're sure that would just embarrass her further. She was like a little sister you always wanted to have.

"Of course, Ill just go take a quick shower and change."

She beams at your response and nods happily. She was so mature for her age, having to take care of Megumi that you sometimes forget that she's also still just a kid who also wants love and attention.

After a quick shower and a new set of comfy pajamas, you dragged your tired self back to Megumi and Tsumikis room only to find Tsumiki already sleeping. You smile fondly at the three people that took up so much space in your heart.

You pull the covers over Megumi and Satoru, tucking them both in before quietly sliding in next to Tsumiki, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. The little girl small from curls into you. Your tired body and the late hour made sleep find you the moment your head met the pillow.

-----

The early morning light hit your eyes, making you groan. You wanted to pull the covers over your eyes, but your movement was cut short when you notice warm air tickling down your neck, along with strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist, your back flushed against a sturdy chest, legs tangled on top of yours.

Unless Tsumiki turned into a big buff man overnight , this had to be..

"Satoru?"

Nothing. You crane your head to face him, unable to move anything else. There was no mistaking those long white eyelashes and smooth snow white hair, sunlight making him look like he had a halo. His pink and strangely always glossy lips curled into a small content smile. He looked so peaceful, it was almost a shame to wake him.

But honestly, when did he take Tsumiki's place beside you?

Speaking of, you glance to Megumi's bed and sure enough the two siblings are now sleeping there together. You let out an exasperated breath. The kids are gonna have a fit when they wake up. Yet you can't help but cover Gojo's hands with yours; wrapped tightly around your waist, squeezing them gently.

You did your best to maneuver your body so that you were facing him, eventually succeding. You noticed that he changed into a loose shirt and sweats. his natural scent made you tuck your face into his neck. Suddenly, he pulls you impossibly closer against him, making you giggle, Its like he was trying to hold you hostage.

"You awake, sweets?" His morning voice huskier than usual, making your stomach tingle.

"Hmm," You hum, curling into him more. He was so warm and solid, and as someone who gets cold so easily he has never missed any opportunity to pull you into him, using any excuse to have you close. (and of course he didn't want you to freeze.)

He mumbles a sleepy good morning along with a soft kiss on the top of your head which made your face warm, like it always does.

It was moments like these where you and Satoru tip toed around the boundaries of your friendship. And these days that thin line was turning non existent especially when things like this happen. It didn't matter to you though, you could get hurt later, regret it later, or things can go amazingly right later, but right now you wanted him close.

This wasn't news to you. From the moment you met him during that smoky bonfire two years ago, he had you overnight. Cerulaen blue eyes that reflected galaxies and sunrises over the burning fire, how could you resist? Ever since then you wanted him close and to your surprise he has always pulled you even closer.

"When did you take Tsumiki's place?" You mumble into his neck.

You feel him yawn before answering, "Around 3am.. I saw you next to her and I couldn't help it."

"Help what?"

"..You had your arms around her and stuff."

You pull back a little to look at his pouty face, sky blue eyes in slits. "You can't seriously be jealous of a child."

"Who says?"

"She's a child and a girl?"

"So?"

"You're impossible." You groan.

"You love me though." He whispers against your ear, making you jump in his hold.

You glare at him and push him as far as he'd allow which was barely an inch, "Stop teasing me."

He lets out a laugh, "Sorry, princess. Its just so fun to tease you."

Seeing your annoyed face, he pulled you back into him, tucking a strand of your surely messy hair behind you ear. "I wasn't joking about being jealous though. I wanted to be the one next to you."

Sky blue eyes gaze into your surpised ones, his so full of adoration and sincerity. Yes, his beauty always blows you away, but it was his honesty that overwhelmed you.

The intensity of his stare makes you hide into his chest. "Seriously, Toru.. We need to talk about this." You grumble, face warmer than ever.

He chuckles at your shyness, finding it so endearing. His arms tightened around you, pulling you flushed against his broad chest. "I know and we will. But for now, let me hold you close a little longer."

----

Meanwhile Megumi and Tsumiki under the covers.

"They're idiots." Megumi says dryly.

Tsumiki quickly shushes her little brother as she strains her ear to listen more, a huge grin on her face.

She couldn't wait to tell Shoko and Suguru about this.

AN : Finally got this out of my head 😭

[crossfandomslut]

At Peace in Your Fire (Pt. 1)

Summary: Y/n Archeron is an adaptable person. As long as there is a warm fire to breathe life into her soul, she can find strength. Even after all they've been through.

Pairing: Future Eris x Archeron!Reader

Word Count: 1,400

Notes: This is my first fic ever and it is hardly proof read haha I have a lot of ideas for this story, so it will have a few parts ! There is no Eris in this chapter, but he is coming ! What do you think the reader's gift from the Cauldron will be ? Please give me lots of feedback and I hope you enjoy ! Also if anyone has a better title suggestion I'm open to them !

Credits: @enchanthings created the beautiful text divider ! And @reveriesources made the gorgeous 'comment and reblog" banner at the bottom !! Thank you both !

Part two

Y/n Archeron has always been an adaptable person. When their father lost their fortune, when their mother died, and when they were forced to move into that shitty little cabin with only one bedroom, she had remained positive. Her and her twin sister, Feyre, learned to hunt together, forage for berries, and steal bread from the baker down the road. Y/n prided herself on being fast enough to never get caught, but if there was ever a close call, Feyre was standing by with a distraction- usually a rodent she would release to run into the house and cause chaos.

If ever the family couldn't find her, she could always be found by a fire. It made her an asset to the family, to be able to always start a fire and cook whatever meat her and Feyre caught, but it also made her “secret” hideouts pretty pathetic. As a child, when she was sick or sad, she would be by a fire. It was the only thing that seemed to sooth her. When she was happy after a good day of hunting and gathering or an afternoon of flirting with the baker’s son to get free bread, she would want to have a fire to celebrate. She would dance around its edges well into the night, even if there was no music to be heard.

That desperate need for warmth and comfort almost had her knees buckling as she and her sisters were ripped from their home in the middle of the night, blindfolded, gagged, and dragged to a land they had only heard of.

When the blindfolds and gags were removed, y/n looked around the large room, to her older sisters, Nesta and Elain, and finally they fell on her twin. Feyre looked to scared and helpless. Y/n had never seen that look on her face. Feyre was so brave and the last time they’d seen her she was so determined and fierce. What the hell happened?

Feyre was nervous about being in the mortal lands with Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian. She hadn’t seen her sisters since before she went under the mountain and becoming Fae. She hadn’t seen her twin since she was dragged to Prythian by Tamlin. Nesta told her that Y/n has been going out to search for her, only stopping at home for a few days at a time to make sure Nesta and Elaine had food to eat. Y/n was out on on one of her searches the last time Feyre was here, and she desperately hoped she would be home this time. She needed to see her twin. Not only to have someone on her team against Nesta, but because she relationship with y/n was the most important one in her life, and she needed to tell y/n everything that’s happened.

Making it through what she thought was going to be the most awkward part, the introductions at the door, Feyre and her friends found themselves in an even more uncomfortable position. Sitting at the table silently, Nesta staring daggers at them, and waiting for y/n to get home.

“She might not show up today. You know how she likes to take her time on her hunting trips. She could be out all night and getting back home in this weather would be a stretch. Travelling isn’t as easy for us humans as it is for your kind.” Nesta stated coldly, refusing to look at Rhys, Azriel and Cassian, the two Illyrians standing cramped in the corner, trying to make their wings as small as possible. “We might as well start without her. Tell us what you’re doing here so you can leave. Y/n can get caught up later.”

Rhys opens his mouth to pick a fight when the front door slams open.

“Nesta I’m back! You won’t believe the size of the deer I got! Can you help me clear the table so I can drag it in here?” At the sound of y/n’s voice, Feyre lets out a sob. “Nes?” The sound of footsteps fill the hall as y/n rounds the corner into the dining room. Her eyes scan the room, making eye contact with Nesta before clocking the three strange males in the corner, and then finally at her twin. Y/n fell to her knees.

Feyre is up in an instant, running to her sister and holding her tight. Y/n holds her just as fiercely as sobs wrack both their bodies. Either Feyre doesn’t notice the blood covering y/n from the deer sitting outside, or she simply doesn’t care. When breathing is once again possible, y/n cups her sisters face in her hands and just stares at her for a long moment. Feyre holds her breath as y/n takes in the delicately pointed ears and the elongated canines. “Fey…you look so beautiful.” Her hands fall from her face as she suddenly realizes what’s happening. “Are you okay? Why are you here? How are you here?” The questions start to become frantic as y/n also realizes that none of the males in front of her are the one who took her away. The one who Nesta had told her Feyre was in love with and going to save. She studies them a second longer and takes note of the dark hair, the violet eyes, and then the wings of the other two males. Wait- wings!? Y/n’s eyes dart between them and then settle on Feyre.

“Y/n, this is Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. His Spymaster, Azriel, and his general, Cassian.” The three males gave Y/n a small smile and a wave as she and Feyre rise to their feet.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” Y/n looks just at Rhys then as she says, “Am I to assume that you are the reason my sister is glowing? Not that she wasn’t always stunning, but there’s something about you Faeries…”

Rhys smirks at Feyre as she rolls her eyes, but looks back to Y/n when he says, “I’m afraid so. But she is just as much to blame. Had to be the hero.” His eyes soften with the last part, almost something sad but proud flashed in his eyes before it was replaced by a self-assured, arrogant mask.

“Thank you.” Y/n says with all the sincerity she can conjure in that gaze, as tear once again form in her eyes, and she tugs her sister into another tight embrace. “I want every. Single. Detail of your story, sister.”

Now obviously being kidnaped was less than ideal, but again, Y/n is adaptable. She scanned her surroundings and tried to make sense of what lay before her. In the middle of the grand room, what looked to be in a palace, was a massive cauldron. Standing around the cauldron, on clearly opposing sides of the room, were Feyre, Rhys, and his Inner Circle as they called themselves, and on the other side stood who she predicted to be Tamlin and Lucien. Feyre had told Y/n the whole story. From falling in love with Tamlin, to going Under the Mountain. About Amarantha, the bargain with Rhys, Tamlin locking her away, Lucien standing by doing nothing, and their almost wedding.

With y/n and her older sisters standing at the front of the room, nearest to the cauldron, it was easy to piece the puzzle together. In a whirlwind, y/n fought back with Nesta to keep the Hybern soldiers from putting sweet, innocent Elain into the cauldron. Holding their breaths, they waited until a barely conscious Elain was tipped out of the dark waters. Feyre and the Inner Circle were in various forms of gravely injured, or being held down by the King of Hybern’s magic.

The next to be forced in was Nesta, but trust that she put up the fight of her life, along with y/n. It was of no use, and before she could be fully forced under, that wicked finger pointed right at the King. A gesture so full of wrath, the King had the decency to pale just slightly. When Nesta was dumped from the cauldron, she crawled straight to Elain and wouldn’t let anyone else touch her.

There was no one left to fight for y/n. She was so cold and she felt so helpless as she trashed in the soldiers hold that as soon as her feet touched the warm water of the cauldron, she let the water engulf her. Distantly she could hear Lucien calling out to Elain, but y/n wasn’t sure why. She couldn’t seem to care as she let the warm water embrace her and take over all her senses.

Taglist: @abysshaven @stained-glass-eyes0708

[berryless]

"What, want me to ruffle your feathers?" Tav asked with a smirk when she caught him staring, as if she didn't ruffle enough of his feathers prior to this moment—figuratively speaking, most unfortunately.

The owlbear's cub sprawled on its stomach beside her, head on her lap as it was cooing something. Given how eagerly it butted into her hand, rather obvious what it was after.

He took a step back, arms raised as he refused, "I'll abstain for tonight. Afraid the competition's too fierce for me to win this fight without any losses. Tomorrow, though…"

He let some hope into his voice, tone laced thick with promise.

Astarion looked at Tav, waiting for her answer, and she nodded to him with a smile on her lips.

"Wonderful. I'll be awaiting then. Most eagerly."

So easy.

Too easy.

He should've known better, but perhaps he was momentarily blinded that she'd finally given up keeping her distance.

Tav played with his hair for a good part of the evening, and Astarion tolerated it—the experience was quite enjoyable, if he was to be honest, but those weren't headpats that he was after. Finally the time came to take the heavy weapons against her, those that he was most proficient at using. Those that hardly ever betrayed him. And he needed Tav to not betray him either. To protect him, when hardly anyone in the camp was terribly happy about having a vampire in their midst. If Cazador… When Cazador… Even though Astarion didn't need to breathe anymore, the air staled in lungs when he thought about this. He needed Tav—and everyone else she have eating out of the palm of her adorable little hand—to stay on his side when that happens. Because as convenient as it may've been, out of many advantages the worm gave him, making his master forget about his existence wasn't one of them.

Her fingers raked his hair and scratched his scalp, sending him into shivers as Astarion couldn't help but lower his guard a notch. He wasn't an inexperienced youngling, still wet behind his ears. He wouldn't miss the change in her touch when it was most familiar to him. It would be rather convenient for Tav to hold his neck or slide her fingers under the lacing of his shirt, so Astarion expected that. Ears too were a good starting point… Lips, perhaps, if she was feeling adventurous for a sharp touch of his fangs…

He turned to the side, forehead pressed against Tav's stomach to let her get to the back of his head. Then turned again, face buried in her lap.

As tedious the pointless waiting went, this kind of foreplay was not without its pleasures. If she were to continue fondling the rest of him in same manner, Astarion wouldn't mind much. If anything, the thought was getting him rather excited, albeit weary in a similar way any kind of sex did. But it was familiar kind of wear he was most used to, so Astarion was slipping into it with ease like one would into old boots they've long been donning. Perhaps the heels were stooped a bit from years of use, and the laces were frayed and brittle, but those were the boots he'd worn for as long as he could remember. He didn't have a spare, if there even existed a spare the likes of him could afford.

Finally Tav's hand stopped, resting on his neck as she barely moved her big finger against the edge of his hairline.

He knew it was coming, and yet a part of him was strangely disappointed.

Well, no point dwelling on it.

Finally it was his turn to…

"Think I'm spent for the evening. My hand's cramping. Want to lie down for a little while longer, or you'd prefer to rest on something more comfortable than my lap?"

Her question came most unexpectedly. At first Astarion thought he heard it wrong. But when he raised his head to check Tav's face, there was nothing special on it, like she was asking something mundane, barely worth of notice. And it was a rather mundane thing to ask. If you weren't expecting anything else to follow.

She wasn't.

It stunned him when Astarion realized that.

Thankfully it lasted barely a moment, and then his instincts kicked in.

"Why? I find your lap a rather enjoyable place to rest my head on."

'It would be even better if you were to let me put it between your legs, but I suppose I wouldn't get much rest then,' was supposed to follow, but somehow it got stuck in his throat. He couldn't even say why at first.

Because she wasn't flirting. Because it wasn't foreplay. Because she just offered to ruffle his feathers in a most simple, primitive, childish way possible, and never planned to stretch the invitation to something more salacious and titillating.

Ruffled his feathers she did.

With much too fervor.

Astarion hardly remembered the way he traveled back into his tent and what he said in the process. Surely it was something appropriate for the occasion, he could trust the habits beaten into his skull by years of use.

No wonder she agreed so easily. He must've been blind not to notice.

He laid down, curled into a ball, sulking—for what, Astarion couldn't tell.

Perhaps it irked him that his plans fell through, and the cooked duck flew away from his mouth when he was so close to biting into it. What else could've been the issue otherwise?

But most strangely, a tightness in his stomach loosened as soon as he was left alone. He breathed with ease, warm ticklish touch of Tav's fingers lingering on his skin.

Safe.

From what..?

He didn't know.

[jedipoodoo]

Please I want more hunter or crosshair x pregnant reader is the best thing in the world to read that.

🥹🥹

I'll give Crosshair a break with this one 😘

Warnings: Mostly fluff, slight body horror (pregnancy). Crosshair learns more about babies, Dad Crosshair, Pregnant reader.

Cold Winter's Night (Crosshair x Pregnant!Reader)

The blackout was an inconvenience more than anything. Crosshair was able to see a bit better in the dark than most humans, but squinting into the dark for too long without a visor of some kind strained his eyes.

And so the fire roared long into the night as Crosshair kept watch. Without the constant hum of electricity in the background, and the snow continuing to fall in heavy drifts outside your cabin, it felt too quiet. He didn't like it. He wished he could fall asleep as easily as you did, your head resting on his stomach as you curled around your belly beneath half a dozen blankets.

He gently stroked your shoulder as you slept, giving his hands something to do. You shifted in your sleep, and the blankets slipped off your belly as you stretched out a cramp in your leg. Crosshair reached down to tuck the blankets around you again, and stopped.

Your belly was moving, stretching in a couple spots like something was trying to break out.

It stopped just as suddenly as it had started. Crosshair blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him or if he was just going crazy. Then it happened again.

"Sarad, sweetheart, wake up," He jostled your shoulder harshly.

"Mmm, Cross, wha-?" You mumbled, still half asleep.

"I think you have a parasite or something," He panted heavily, thinking of the report on Geonosian Brain worms Tech had read to him as an attempt at a horror story. They still kept him up at night sometimes.

You blinked up at him to clear your blurry vision, and Crosshair couldn't help but think of how this was not the time for you to look so cute.

"I have a what?" You asked, pushing yourself to sit up.

"That!" Crosshair pointed at your stomach as it started to move again.

You watched the jostling and stretching for a little bit longer than Crosshair was comfortable with, especially when you didn't start freaking out like he was.

"Crosshair, that's just the baby," You said at last.

"What?"

You laughed softly, and lay back down with your head on his lap. You gently took one of his hands and placed it against the baby bump.

"Baby's been a little active lately. They're just stretching, trying to get used to having so many limbs."

"It can do that?" He asked.

You nodded, "It's the sign of a perfectly healthy baby. They've been doing it more often because it's been so cold, and it gets the blood flowing more."

Crosshair relaxed his hand against your belly, feeling the baby kick firmly against his palm.

"Does it hurt?"

You half-groaned, half-laughed, "Sometimes. I'm kinda used to it at this point."

Crosshair looked at you in awe. "You are so much more terrifying than I give you credit for."

You grinned back at him, "I know."

Crosshair leaned down, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead and then your lips.

"Go back to sleep, Sarad. I'm sorry for waking you."

"Are you going to go to sleep too?"

"Yes, dear," He sighed. You nodded, satisfied with his answer.

As your eyes fluttered shut and you snuggled closer to him, Crosshair leaned over to your belly, whispering so only the baby would hear.

"I'm glad you're not a parasite, but you need to settle down so your mom can get some sleep, okay?"

You giggled, and Crosshair flashed you that little heart-melting smirk he knew you loved.

"I think baby might be able to do that. For one night."

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Room 1011 - Eddie

Day #23 - Up and Coming | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Sex | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Touring, Winding Down After The Gig, Long-Term Relationship, Road Manager Steve Harrington

1 Night, 4 Rooms Each is standalone, but takes place on the same hotel floor.

Eddie | Goodie | Gareth | Jeff | Steve (Bonus morning after!)

"You ready?" Steve asks, stuffing his napkin into his empty beer glass, cleaning up the area surrounding his seat at the long table they've all been occupying tonight, at the bar they found after the show.

Eddie nods, because hell yeah. If Steve's ready, he's ready. Always.

He's just grateful Steve wanted to come out at all. This far into a tour, and with all the other stress he's been under just trying to keep them up and running, he's getting worn out.

Eddie knows that. 

Plus, it'll be nice to get back to the hotel before anyone else, anyway. They can do anything they want, as loud as they want, and not have to worry about Goodie hearing through the walls. Goodie's known for annoyingly banging on adjoining walls, or once, quite memorably, calling the fucking front desk and turning in a noise complaint like he didn't know them.

Hilarious, now.

At the time, not so much, as Eddie stood in the open doorway in his robe, Goodie watching out his own open room door, fucking cackling.

Tonight, Steve's set up a car to pick them up, and it's waiting. It'll circle back to wait for everyone else when they're ready to go.

Eddie holds the door for Steve, letting him get in first. 

It's not a long ride, but Steve has relaxed into the seat, head tilted back, like he could easily fall asleep right there, lulled by the vibration of the road beneath the tires.

Eddie rubs his thigh, lazy circles with his thumb, and before they get there Steve is snoring.

"Okay, sleeping beauty," Eddie says, when they pull up under the hotel canopy. Steve wakes easily, he always does, and is up and moving. He can sleep anywhere in short bursts, but can also be back in motion at the drop of a hat.

Eddie doesn't quite understand it, he could never.

In the room, Steve sheds his clothes and flops on the bed, facedown. Eddie does the same, and crawls in after him, running his hand up and down Steve's back. 

They're spreading him too thin. They probably should have skipped the bar entirely tonight. Eddie played a full gig, sure, but he's still running on adrenaline. 

Pulling his hand back, Eddie settles into bed next to Steve, closing his eyes. 

"Why'd you stop?" Steve asks, turning his head towards Eddie. 

"So you can sleep, sweetheart," Eddie answers, leaning forward and kissing Steve's head. 

Steve rolls onto his side, "We actually have a room, all to ourselves, and not a cramped bus bunk. I'll sleep after." 

Eddie laughs, "It seems like you needed to sleep before."

Steve scoots closer and closer until he's on top of Eddie, and Eddie wraps his arms around Steve's back. Holding him tight. Naked skin to naked skin.

"You work too much," Eddie tells him. "Tomorrow's a day off. Sleep in. Let us handle our own shit."

Steve laughs at that, and Eddie is aware of how unrealistic of an offer it is. They don't know shit about running their own lives, not anymore. 

There's a schedule, a plan, and Steve's made it. 

"How about you do all the work tonight, and I'll relax," Steve says, and Eddie laughs. 

He'll take that deal. He'll take any deal Steve will offer him. 

"Tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen, sweetheart." 

"Just love me," Steve says. 

Eddie smiles, "That's a done deal." 

Steve laughs, his chest rumbling against Eddie's. 

Eddie taps his back, "Roll over. I've got you." 

Steve does, and Eddie situates himself between Steve's thighs.

He takes Steve's cock in his hand, already hard, and Eddie just wants to look at him in the low light. Feel him. 

And yeah, love him. 

He braces one hand against Steve's hip bone, rubbing his thumb back and forth as he makes himself comfortable between Steve's legs. 

Eddie rubs Steve's dick against his bottom lip, teasing Steve, just a little, before he slides down. Tongue and hand working together. 

Steve rests his hand on Eddie's head, and it doesn't feel like he's being guided, just touched. Grounded. 

Eddie looks up, expecting that Steve's eyes will be closed, but they aren't. They're half-lidden and hazy, just watching him. Eddie smiles, or tries to, since that's kind of hard to do around a mouthful of cock.

Steve gets the message loud and clear, though, because he smiles back. Moving his hand to cup Eddie's cheek. Thumb stroking, brushing against his lip. It's a little distracting, but in the very best way.

"Come up here," Steve says, and Eddie does. Straddling his hips, leaning forward, pressing his mouth against Steve's. He knows that's what Steve wants, to kiss him. Eddie grinds down against Steve, and if he just had some lube, he'd-

Steve reaches over, and comes up with the tube, reading his mind. He always does.

Eddie slicks up his palm, gripping the pair of them, stroking both cocks as he rocks his hips and fucks against him, trying to keep his mouth on Steve's as he does it.

It feels good. His own hand on one side, Steve's hard length on the other, just sliding together, rushing headlong. 

Steve makes a noise from deep in his throat, and comes, hot over Eddie's fist and Eddie keeps working himself against Steve until he can follow him over the edge, coming with a groan right against Steve's mouth.

Eventually he lets go, and cleans them up, curling against Steve, anchoring his leg over Steve's hip.

"Sleep in tomorrow morning, okay," Eddie says.

Steve hums in agreement.

"I love you, rest," Eddie whispers.

"Love you, too."

Eddie wakes up needing to piss, and it's just after eight. Steve's already up and gone, back to work. Eddie should just stay up. There's coffee already made in the room pot, and not even the smell of that brewing woke Eddie up.

He drinks a cup, and it's getting old. Already. 

Steve's been up that long. 

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

My take on the Bad Kid scars! AKA my excuse to make like a 4 page Google doc worth of headcanons.

I've thought about this kind of a lot while considering how I draw the Bad Kids because I love when characters carry evidence of their history with them (not just scars, stuff like the tin flower emblem or Figs Ayda-feather-earring also exist in this category, and I have separate notes for those too)

Since magic is a big part of healing in this world I have some stipulations for what actually causes scarring in my own headcanons-

(Rest is under the cut. This bitch is looong and it's technically unfinished. Heads up for descriptions of injuries and spoilers for the first 2 seasons of Fantasy High.)

So here's the rules:

1. It's a big story moment. Random slashes or scratches or whatever don't show up because they're not relevant to the characters history and they're small enough that I think magical means would completely cover them.

2. The attack downs them. This just makes it easier to track, any attack that knocks a character out has the potential to leave a lasting mark.

3. Based on some comments from Brennan, it seems like low level healing magic (ex. Cure Wounds, Healing Word) is essentially time-based. It basically fast-forwards the healing process months in advance. That's gonna affect how scars work. Unless otherwise stated, that's how I'm gonna approach the magical healing process.

Figeuroth Faeth

• Tuna Surprise Eldritch Blast- Doreen (S1E2)

Small burn scar on the left side of her check/around her lips from when she caught the Eldritch Blast with her face. The Phoenix Egg spell mostly took care of it, so it's quite faint, but it still can get tight and itchy. Fig has a special moisturizer for it that she keeps next to her horn cream.

• Torn ear- Figueroth Faeth (S2E12)

Honestly this is mostly because I find it funny. This is from that moment when Fig rips out her earring to give to Ayda in exchange for the feather. It's very common in D&D designs for characters with long ears to have rips or notches in them to show that they're active or battle-worn. I really like this idea of a kind of Jason Grace style scar where you look at her and you wonder "Woah, I wonder what battle caused that" because she's this legendary adventurer but the truth is that she did it to herself because she's a sweet-hearted dumbass who was tripping over herself trying to give her crush a gift. It got healed up soon enough, there's just a divet at the bottom of her ear now.

Riz Gukgak

• Hand Cuts- Crystal Interior (S1E14)

Riz was tearing through his hands trying to get out of that thing, I can't imagine that it didn't leave a lasting impact. Both sides of his hands and a little up his forearms are covered in slashes. They've healed kind of unevenly since he does a lot of work with his hands that require some amount of dexterity and precision (mostly writing, typing, drawing up maps, ect.) The forearm scars are pretty much settled, but the ones on his palms and fingers are still irritable and sometimes painful enough that he has to stop working. It does not help at all that this kid refuses to sleep or stretch or experience rest, so he probably gets a lot of stiffness and cramping too (at least, more than he would if he actually got sleep ever). Since they got re-agitated in Sophomore Year his friends have gotten very good at noticing when he's ignoring the pain and force him to take a damn break every once in a while. He has a tell for it and none of them will tell him what it is. He appreciates that they care about him, but god is the mystery infuriating. He actively refuses to acknowledge the irony of that.

• Lightning to the Chest- Aelwyn Abernant (S1E12)

In the sister fight Aelwyn knocks Riz out with a fucking lightning bolt. This is what sets Adaine completely over the edge. He gets healed up pretty fast, so it's not a life threatening scenario, but it's still a fucking lightning bolt. He's got a circular burn scar in the center of his chest. Much like Figs, it doesn't bother him much, but it still requires some attention and maintenance for at least a couple weeks. Honestly he straight up forgets it's there sometimes. Adaine probably thinks about it more than he does.

Fabian Seacaster

• Enucleation- Dayne Blade (S1E16)

So the main thing here is the eye, but it also covers a good chunk of the left side of his face. Essentially this big slashing weapon caught him right at the top of where his ear connects to the rest of his head and dragged forward far and deep enough to take out his left eye. Also notable is that he doesn't get any medical attention beyond minor heals for a hot minute. And when he gets hit he spends a couple minutes running around a burning house filled with ash and smoke and blood. The moment of Bill giving Fabian his eye patch is incredibly tender. It's also NASTY, dude. That thing is for sure covered in blood and ash and he puts it right over an OPEN WOUND. I love that scene to death, and there is absolutely no way that that thing isn't getting crazy infected without immediate/magical medical attention. I imagine Kristen and Riz took a good chunk of that frozen time to treat it as much as they could. I picture the slash healing into a pretty thick hypertrophic scar that goes from his ear over his eye to the edge of his nose. He definitely had to actually go to a hospital after prom to get proper treatment. His skin could be mostly stitched back together magically, so the main focus from actual medical professionals was putting in an orbital implant and getting him a conformer to maintain the structural integrity of the eye socket. He probably has a bunch of cool decorative prosthetic eyes for big events because he's a fancy little rich boy, but I don't think he actually uses them a lot (for a couple reasons, the main one is the eye patch. Why bother putting it in when he's gonna cover it up immediately anyway?) He just uses the conformer like 99% of the time. The eye patch mostly has sentimental value, but it also does have that charisma stat boost effect, so he has it on when he's adventuring or at school, but takes it off at home. His big issue is adjusting to his new depth perception. He spends months and months re-learning the sword with Hallariel, which is immensely frustrating. He knows how to do it, but he has to completely readjust how he thinks about approaching it, which I think would really get under his skin. Especially since it's such a big part of his identity at this point. It takes him a good while to get back to his previous skill level, but damn if he doesn't do it.

Kristen Applebees

• Gored Through the Chest- The Great Unicorn (S2E17)

100% my least grounded in any form of reality headcanon. She fully resurrected herself. The scar left from the horn of the unicorn is a little more like a slightly raised tattoo than an actual scar. It's more of a magical imprint of the divine act of resurrection than anything left behind by the wound itself. As her bones and skin and muscles literally stitched themselves back together they sort of knitted into a single point, which grew a patch of discolored skin. The skin is thick, and purplish, and shaped like some kind of rune that doesn't actually exist in any surviving magical language. A permanent mark of the impossible magic she enacted. There's an identical mark that's a little bigger on her back, where the horn entered through. A less obvious element of that scar is how it affected her heart. The thing was ripped apart, and basically the only thing that could fix that was god magic. Luckily, she got that! I imagine that her heart now has this weird rippling effect over the muscle, almost like aurora borealis. It doesn't actually affect a ton because, again, god magic, but man does it fuck with medical equipment sometimes. I also think that if you were to cast Detect Magic on her, without any of her gear or spell effects, you would still read that Raise Dead effect just radiating off of her.

• Pinky Finger- Removal and Resurrection

I think that her right pinky finger didn't entirely recover from having a full bone taken out, and now the last knuckle has some mobility issues. It's just really stiff and doesn't really bend on its own. She's also lost a lot of sensation in that finger specifically. It shouldn't get any more intense than that without extenuating circumstances, but given that god magic is a little unpredictable she and her doctor are keeping an eye on it. She does a lot of stretches and exercises to keep her hands loose and moving. Ounce of prevention and all that. It's also a part of her gym bloke routine in Junior Year.

Gorgug Thistlespring

• Slice Through the Hand- Forest of Blades (S1E3)

All the way around his hand there's this line, as though his hand was cut clean through and then perfectly realigned and glued back together. By Sophomore Year the scar has almost completely flattened, it's just a discolored line all the way around the surface of his hand.

• Crushed Heart- Nerd Ghosts (S1E14)

The effects of this one are two-fold; first, the streak of gray hair, second, a lasting effect on his heart. The prolonged strain on the actual organ of his heart from this encounter left him with increased risk for cardiovascular problems that he didn't have before. He doesn't really notice it (mostly because when it's noticeable he's so high on adrenaline that he's not really noticing anything) but his heart is definitely weaker than it should be. It's not life threatening, but it's for sure something that Digby and Wilma have stressed the importance of monitoring because they are good responsible parents. The actual visible impact from the ghost attack is the streak of gray hair he has, which is permanent. It just grows gray there now. He thinks it looks pretty cool.

Adaine Abernant/ O'Shaughnessy

• Teeth Marks- Jawbone O'Shaughnessy (S1E6)

Basically just a dog bite on her right forearm. Normally healing magic would be able to patch that up without any scarring, but the werewolf pathogen adds a complication to it. Still, pretty average looking scar. She feels a little weird about it, cause on the one hand getting it sucked, but on the other hand now every time she sees it she thinks about her amazing new dad, so there's a weird sentimental element. She and Jawbone have for sure had a long discussion about the validness of any of her feelings about it and how it's ok to acknowledge the harm done to her, even by well-intentioned parties. He probably feels a lot worse about it than she does. The reveal of which probably initiated another very long discussion.

• Gored Through the Chest- The Great Unicorn

This time it's just a normal scar, no crazy magical runes involved. I'm not entirely sure how a fully healed version of this injury would actually... Work? The part that's visible would be the broken skin, so probably a combination of a fine-line scar and a depressed scar, (sharp edges + impaling motion) but I'm not entirely sure how to properly translate that visually, or if it's at all realistic. Further research pending. Anyways she and Kristen have matching injury scars! The besties ever

[middlingmay]

German Gale AU Part 3

Links to Part 1 | Part 2

Their journey is made in stages. They're given no time, no information, no chance to catch their breath after being whisked away from the safehouse.

They're led through backstreets to a Bäckerei and stuffed into a small, cramped delivery van. This deep into Germany, John is frightened to talk (for the first time in his entire life) in case he gets them caught. Besides, with how tight he's packed behind the crates full of wholegrain flour sacks, he can't draw enough breath to say much of anything anyway.

But he and Gale keep trying to reassure each other through looks and small touches where they can - mostly nudges with their feet when the other one looks life they're drifting away too far into their head.

At one point they stop and they hear German voices shouting and John's breath hitches. Gale brushes the knobble of John's wrist with his finger in slow circles until they move off again.

They're taken to a barn, given coarse bread and a miniscule piece of cheese that definitely wasn't cheese and Gale mumbles something through his exhaustion about quark. John doesn't care though and inhales his food. If it was a bigger portion he'd have made himself sick, and Gale tries to give him his portion, but John glowers at him over the half-pint of beer they were given to wash it down until he eats it. He does take Gale's beer though, when it becomes clear he's not going to so much as touch the glass.

For days they're walked through forests, paddled (if they were lucky) or marched (when they were not) up tiny rivers, and stuffed into more vehicles, all under the order of absolute silence, until finally they arrive in Belgium or the Netherlands (John isn't sure which).

They're put on a ship back to the UK, hidden in some freezing storage unit not intended for people.

They sit almost touching on the floor and Gale shivers from the cold. John slips one arm out his double layer of coats (one Gale's, on his), and throws that half over Gale, dragging him in with an arm around his back, under his shoulders. Gale eyes the sheepskin unhappily but gratefully sinks into the warmth.

John does feel a little bad at dragging Gale away from everything he's ever known, even if it is to save his life, and it's the first chance they've really gotten to talk.

So John starts with a terribly butchered attempt to thank him which comes out as "Dane-ka shown", which makes Gale snort and look at him bewildered and tell John he should be glad he never became a spy. "Shot in five minutes..."

They play a game to pass the time, each asking a question that they both have to answer. It starts with favourite colours, foods, and movies. John learns that Gale has a sweet tooth and originally learned English from movies, and Gale learns about Yankees Blue and a book called Guys and Dolls.

Eventually Gale's blinks get slow and long and his head droops. John directs it to his shoulder with the back of his palm. They haven't showered in days but Gale still smells good and John enjoys the feeling of his hair against his neck and face.

He also has to clamp down to stop himself from trembling when Gale's lips brush his covered collarbone when he tells John some of what he knows about his father:

"He doesn't do things. Du verstehst? He tells people things. He...lies and tells secrets."

"He's an informant?"

"Ja. Ein Informant. And lots of people are dead, because of him. Ich bin sicher. How do I...pay this back?"

John tries to figure out how to explain to Gale that it's not his fault, but Gale's not done and in halting English explains to John that he always wanted to do more, but was frightened; thought that if he looked too suspicious, he'd be next.

And John scoffs and calls Gale the poster boy for Germany, "No offence". But Gale freezes and tries to pull away but John doesn't let him.

Gale knows it's stupid, the kind of stupid that could get him killed, but there's something about John Gale trusts, so he asks (though he is afraid enough still that he can barely ask it in English), "Ihre Luftwaffe - what do they do mit homosexuelle Männer?"

That kicks a few things out of John's chest: curses and swears and a little bit of panic, but he grips Gale close as he can so he knows none of it is aimed at him. But, it's another thing he needs to try and protect German-national, son-of-a-Nazi-informant Gale from when they get to England.

Gale looks up at John where his head rests against his chest, looking calm but for in the eyes, so John tells him, "Well, in my experience promote you to Major. But they don't exactly know about that and they're not going to know about you."

They finally reach port in the UK and the door to their hiding spot is opened by a Colonel and two military police, and John puts himself between them and Gale.

The Colonel gives orders to arrest Gale immediately and John pushes the advancing MP back on his ass and starts yelling for all he's worth.

"He's the only reason I made it back." "He's resistance, not a spy!" "Risked his neck for me--!" And he's about to do something that's going to get him court martialled when Gale grabs his shoulder and pulls him back and murmurs, "Es ist okay. Es ist okay."

Gale carefully and slowly pulls out the piece of paper given to him in the safehouse in Germany and holds it out for the Colonel to take. The Colonel reads it and his demeanour changes from frosty to business.

"Very well. Herr Cleven, with me. Major Egan, you'll be escorted back to Thorpe Abbotts."

And there's nothing John can do as Gale leaves with the Colonel, gifting him a sorry smile as he goes.

When John arrives back at base, he barges into Colonel Harding's office after sprinting all the way there from the jeep, interrupts a meeting, and says,

"I need a favour, sir."

[warrior-cats-rewritten]

Honestly, I feel sorry for firestar… if he still trained brambleclaw, he had such high hopes of him, tried his best and everything and bramble still turn out like that?

It gets to a point where "I'm not mad, just disappointed" stops describing it.

"Actually... I am mad. I'm glad you're not a serial killer, but that's a really low bar, and you still acted like this."

He already has so much on his plate with Starclan, having to work to reform everything. He missed his own sister's death just because he was busy speaking to older Starclan cats who wanted to damn his daughters.

Then to look down and see his former apprentice, his ex-deputy who he finally put trust in after everything, having put him into the Deputy position specifically to keep an eye on him, and he goes and mistreats his grandchildren like THIS?

"Juniperkit, buddy, why don't you go ask Nanny (Sandstorm) to play hide and seek with you? Papa needs to do something..."

He sits by the Starpool, watching as Bramblestar snarls at his beloved granddaughter, a cat he raised until he tossed her aside like rotten meat when she didn't have enough of his blood for his liking. He insults his own child, Dandeliontuft, the molly who only ever wanted the love of her father who couldn't bear looking at her.

Firestar watches, embers burning at his paws, flickering through the air as a dark cloud gathers within Starclan. His body is rigid, muscles tensed, tail lashing back and forth as he watches the leader of Thunderclan greedily cling to his remaining lives, refusing to give them up to his rightfully ascending deputy. Firestar's body shakes with rage, and his breath comes in heavy shudders as Bramblestar snaps at Sparkpelt and Jayfeather, making himself bigger as he curses at his daughter and his former son, blaming his long faded father for their doubt in him. Blaming them for his behavior.

But Tigerstar was a murderer. He never hurt his children. Firestar remembers Tigerclaw standing outside of the nursery, looking exhausted as he waited for Spottedleaf to finish giving his tiny daughter Lynxkit her medicine. Cuddling with Goldenflower afterwards in the cramped den...

Tigerclaw was a monster, but not that kind. There are many kinds.

Bramblestar lift a massive paw, claws extended, towards Squirrelflight, who backs away in fear from the threat that, while never meant to be followed through, spoke enough volumes. His eyes flash amber in the bright autumn sun. Fire blazes in Firestar's body. Bramblestar will not hurt his daughter, not ever again.

The next flash is blinding, and suddenly, Firestar feels drained. He looks back over the Starpool... What was that? Was that him? He wanted to send a sign, what happened?

He looks at Brambleclaw's body, cats around him stood still in shock, most of their fur now on end.

"Starclan has spoken..." Hollyleaf remarks in a voice that only barely shakes, steeling herself. "They've made their opinion clear."

The Starpool goes gray again, blocking out the sight of them once more. It's been doing that a lot lately...

Suddenly, Juniperkit bumps into Firestar's back leg, snapping him out of his thoughts. He hadn't realized he'd jumped up in anger.

"Papaaa! I can't find Nanny anywhere! She hid too good."

Firestar's fur settles. "Oh no, silly Nanny." He purrs softly. "Let's go find her together."

He walks off with his little grandson into the beautiful forest. He has a meeting with Thunderstar and Lightning Tail tomorrow, and Juniperkit will go play with his uncle Swiftpaw, or perhaps his cousin Flametail will show him around a new place in Star-Shadowclan's land...

Around the Starpool, the ground is scorched black. The grass smolders where Firestar stood, the embers slowly fading off and drifting into nothing.

A lone spirit lingers, and fades off, unwelcome.

[lateraniansweets]

Your forehead thing with vash blew me away cause im so in love with this man

So here are some thoughts for u :

Imagine vash and reader having a crush on each other but not saying a word. They've been traveling together for some time now,even before the gang was formed so reader knows Vash's secrets.

Think about when vash is down after some incident,and reader puts his forehead against HIS cause it always calms them down!!!

Imagine Vash's shock and then happiness about how his crush loves that part of him that's plant as well 😭😭😭

YOU!! THIS!! AA!!!!

JUST SDNFJASJFD DSAF i couldn't get to this ask now cause of school but aaaaa this is so <333333 DRIVING ME INSANE I SWEAR wrote this instead of my policy paper asefihfhi hifiihf

anyways i kinda just wnet wild with this cause ahdbfhasdbf VASH <333

You've known Vash for some time now—two or three years give or take, and travel side by side with him for almost as long as you've known him.

He's tried to get you to leave his side multiple times. Vash feared you getting hurt or worse because of him but you won't let him. Vash is stuck with you whether he likes it or not.

With the time you've spent travelling with him you've come to realise how little you actually knew about Vash. Sure you knew his favorite type of pizza, favorite color, all that stuff—all surface level stuff. Vash tended to avoid questions about his scars, how he knew so much about lost technology and how he could basically shrug off wounds that would have the average human bedridden for days.

But over time you've come to know his secrets, the mysteries of Vash the Stampede unravelling themselves to you.

Vash wasn't human but an independent Plant and he had a brother, a twin.

"I have a brother, " there's pain and guilt in his eyes, " his name's Nai—" He stops, cutting himself off, "Millions Knives, " He corrects, fingers gripping the threadbare blanket.

The inn you two were staying at was more than a little run-down but it would do. It was better than staying out in the cold desert barrens.

Finally, he turns to you, lips pressed into a thin line, "He looks a lot like me..." he pauses, lips quirking downwards, "He's the one who's been stealing Plants."

Vash left it at that. Guilt and hesitance in his eyes as he forced a smile on his face as he waves you goodnight.

The conversation regarding his brother ends right then and there. Whatever questions you have for him dies in your throat at the glimpse of his eyes.

The topic isn't brought up again until you met the man himself.

It was brief, brutal and followed by pure devastation.

Millions Knives—Nai, as Vash called him looked so much like Vash. This man looked so much like Vash—your Vash, sweet, caring Vash who could never bring himself to harm anyone, glared at you with pure unadulterated hatred.

Horror rushes through you and you find yourself stuck in your place like a deer in headlights. A chain of knives rushes out for you, with full intent to kill but you make no move to dodge.

You would've died if it weren't for Vash managing to shove you out of the way and carry you to safety like a sack of potatoes.

You didn't even realise he'd done so until Vash puts you down, telling you to stay where you are as he plastered on a reassuring smile. It looked more like he was reassuring himself than reassuring you.

The near-death experience with Vash's body-suit-wearing evil twin doesn't fully settle in until the thick blast doors shut close behind you.

The room Vash had left you in is dark, cool and cramped. A room for cleaning supplies judging by the shadowy outline of a broom.

BANG!

You jolt, curling up against the metal door and covering your ears.

There are shouts, both from Vash and Knives.

BANG!

Another gunshot.

Then another and another and another and another.

You count eight in total.

Vash emptied out an entire cylinder.

The most you've ever heard him fire.

Shouts, screams and cries from both parties but mostly Vash.

Metal twisting and bullets ricocheting.

It's gut-wrenching to hear it all.

All you could do is bite your lip and hold back tears. Opening the door and going out there would be a death sentence for you. Knives moved with inhuman speed and agility. His weapons, those knives weren't weapons made from lost tech, they moved too fluidly for that.

There's a crash outside.

"You'd..."

BANG!!

BANG!!

"...your....ther.... for-"

The metal dome of the Plant facility creaks and twists as if something is cutting the ceiling open.

"...ese... ILTHY HUMANS!"

Another set of gunshots.

"NAI!"

The metal beams of the facility creak, twist and snap. The entire room shakes as the roof of the facility is lifted by those limb-like chains of knives.

You curl into yourself further, dust and debris falling down on you.

With terror in your veins, you will yourself to look up.

Your eyes widen and your heart drops.

Vash cries out for his brother to stop but it's too late.

The facility's roof is tossed down to where the town is and the bulbed Plant is gently lifted out and stolen away.

You shut your eyes close as the giant hunk of metal lands on the town. It shakes the ground with a mighty crash.

Then...

Silence.

Your heartbeat rings in your ears as you stand with shaky legs, blood running down from a long cut on your forearm. You force open the closet door, and you're met with an empty and destroyed Plant chamber.

There are bullet casings scattered on the ground and metal beams jutting out everywhere.

You find Vash at the centre of it all, standing shellshocked where the Plant and its bulb were once kept.

"Vash...?" You call out, a hand reaching out for him.

He doesn't answer.

You call out his name again, concern and fear lacing your voice.

"Mayfly?" Vash turns around and your heart breaks.

A lone tear slides down his cheek, his eyes hidden in the orange tint of his sunglasses.

You close the gap between you and him, pulling him into your arms.

Cupping his face, you gently lift the sunglasses to unveil his blue eyes holding back tears. He breathes out your name in a sob and your heart shatters further. "Oh, Vash..."

Another tear escapes from his eyes. Gently and lovingly you wipe it with your thumb.

"I...I..."

You know what he'll say all too well.

You meet his eyes, "You deserve to cry, Vash."

"No no, I don't..." his voice quivers, "I-This is my fau-"

"It's not your fault Vash."

"You don't understand, ____. Because of me Nai-" he chokes out a strangled sob, croaking out words of self-blame. Vash's breathing quickens and his body shakes in your hold.

You call out his name again and again but he doesn't respond, spiralling down the rabbit hole of self-blame and self-immolation.

"Vash," you whisper, pulling him down so his forehead is pressing against yours.

"Vash," you can only pray that this would work.

This was something he did to you when you were sick or upset. You figured it was a Plant thing seeing as he does something similar when he heals his sisters.

"____"

Vash utters your name, and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Vash."

He leans forward, pressing your foreheads closer. You could see the faint blue glow of the Plant markings on his eyes.

"I love you," The three words come out as easily as breathing. "I love you so much," you press a kiss, soft and chaste on his lips.

"It wasn't your fault, Vash," you repeat and the damn inside him breaks. He sobs silently, tears flowing, his gun dropping to his side with a metallic clack. "None of this was."

You hold him close for who knows how long, holding him as he sobbed and let his tears flow.

When Vash wipes away his snot and tears, it's well into the night. He separates himself from you, the light on his markings fading away. He opens his mouth, an apology ready to be released but you cut him off before he could.

Once again you press your forehead against his, standing on your tippy toes, "I love you, Vash. All of you."

I love you, all that you are and all the burdens you carry, I love you.

THIS MAN MAKES ME

I LOVE HIM SM AAAA

okay this concept with Nai tho