#but hey sometimes something hurts so badly it takes you back to that sad and scared child version of yourself right?

[gen4grl]

you would think after all the yapping i do about these losers i would have a plethora of art uploaded … no… so here is my first kantrio post lol

i did these over the last month while watching the olympic weightlifting and jamming to kpop (stan red velvet and kiss of life BTW!!!)

[risingmoonyue]

In the end, it was a quiet morning when it all happened. The dew was still sitting gently outside, and the sun was just beginning to rise. Shinichi and Ran were in some small resort in the woods, quietly taking in the stillness of the sunrise while Kogoro slept inside.

"...hey, Conan-kun?" Shinichi looked up at Ran, who was glancing at him hesitantly. She was beautiful, coated in the first rays of the morning. He would never get tired of looking at her. "Let's say for a minute... Someone like- like Shinichi, was hiding something, and even though I confronted him about it, multiple times, he kept hiding it... Why do you think he would do that?"

But he would get tired of her unique ability to consistently take him off guard.

He stopped breathing for a minute. His heart raced. Ran was suspecting him again, but... Rather than directly confronting him, as she had all the times before, she was asking for his reasoning without directly acknowledging him.

His heart ached. Ran; dear, kind Ran who just wanted to know why he kept pushing her away. Why he couldn't stay, but couldn't ever leave. Why he could never bring himself to be honest with her. Why he left her once and came back so unbelievably unrecognizable to almost everyone.

Ran, who was possibly the most patient being on Earth.

Ran, who Shinichi sometimes privately thought was the closest thing to an Earth-born angel.

Ran, who Shinichi was deeply, completely and utterly, hopelessly in love with.

He wanted to tell her so very badly. The need to say something that always burned at a low simmer in his gut roared to life once again, making him feel almost lightheaded. Perhaps he couldn't - wouldn't - do so directly, but maybe...

He thought for a minute, contemplating his next words. He shouldn't. Haibara and the Professor would kill him, but. It's been so long, and in the end, Shinichi is so very weak for Ran.

If he hadn't been stopped before, he would have told her way back when this started, and several times over in the coming months.

Indeed, if Ran asked anything of him, no matter how much he put up a token complaint, he tried his level best to fulfill it. Even what she didn't ask for directly, he tried to give her. Despite that, true and honest answers about himself were one thing he has been unable to do give her recently, much to both of their dismays. First by outside interference, then by his own fear and paranoia.

But... In this gentle morning, where everything was gently illuminated by the rising sun, could he perhaps give her the slightest bit? Could he ease some of the fire burning him alive?

Shinichi loved Ran more than he feared death itself, and feared her death more than any torture he could possibly imagine. The thought of speaking about everything aloud, into her ears where anyone could see or where something might get out... It paralyzed him.

But this was all phrased as an innocent question. A simple thought experiment, a hypothetical, early in the morning in a small resort isolated from the rest of the world.

A simple question a big sister is asking her little brother in a moment of quiet contemplation.

If this was the way she was asking, then...

"... I dunno, Ran-neechan. But maybe it's something he's not allowed to tell and he's super scared, or it's something reaaaaally big and mean, and he's trying to keep everyone safe!" Ran looked at him, a terribly sad and understanding look in her eyes. It hurt to look at, so he looked out towards the sunrise again, letting the reflection off his glasses hide his eyes. "Or! Maybe he's hiding, or even protecting other people too! He's never here, and never wants to be noticed, right??"

Silence. A deep breath - in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. He thinks she's using the same breathing pattern.

She exhales slowly, her breath wobbling a little. He didn't look at her. In the end, it's all in her court.

"... I see. Thank you, Conan-kun. That's a interesting idea."

It was quiet for a while longer, and as the sunrise reached its last rays, he tentatively asked, "Ran-neechan?"

He heard her clothes rustle as she looked at him.

"Will you..." He paused. "If. If my idea is right, and Shinichi-niichan comes back later - for good - and wants to apologize and tell you everything... Will you listen to him?"

A breath. Two. Three. The sunrise has ended, and thus begins a new day.

He felt a hand gently lay itself on his head.

He looks at her. She's smiling gently, the same smile that tells him it will be okay, and it will always be so.

The one that gives him life every morning, that feuls every breath he breathes.

The one that is so uniquely Ran.

"Of course, Conan-kun. I'll be sure to listen carefully when that time comes."

Shinichi stares with wide eyes, almost unbelieving. A wave of relief crashes down on him, as some long hidden tension finally leaves him, rendering him unable to hold himself up anymore as he slouches into Ran.

No, he thinks. No matter how mad Haibara and Hakase get at him later, he won't regret this one bit.

He smiles up at her, his eyes watering as he stares into his own personal sun, the star his very life and being orbits around.

"Thank you, Ran."

[luveline]

sorry if this is basic- but miguel with reader having nightmares?? Ty! <3

thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader

Miguel's already awake when you stir. Sitting up in bed, a lightweight tablet against his thigh with schematics for a slightly more optimised ADJF (autonomous dimension-jump facilitator) open and burning into his retinas one pixel at a time. 

You sleep badly, sometimes. More than a hundred moons ago, before sharing his bed was the norm for you, before Miguel knew how best to bring you down, something awful happened. A strike against an anomalous Doc Ock turned bad. You got thrown down and concussed, enough wits about you to watch with clarity but no strength to stop it as an octobot culled a civilian two feet in front of you. 

It bothers you often. You tell him less. You can't run from it in your sleep, arms locking up against your chest, your body inching closer to his under the sheets like you're looking for him. 

He puts the tablet frame on the nightstand and turns to you. 

Your elbow digs into his ribs. He frowns and takes your wrist, pulling your hand down to your thigh. "Cariño," he murmurs, laying down next to you to sweep over your face with a fond concern. "Es un mal sueño. Nada más." It's a bad dream. Nothing more. 

You make a sound. Not quite a whimper but a hurting pull of air. Miguel frowns and wraps his arms around you, pulling your sleeping weight onto his chest. 

"Estas bien. Cálmate, mi corazón," he says, his lips barely parted. It's okay. Calm down, my heart. 

He waits for the flinch. It comes every time you have one of these nightmares, like you've missed a step. You wake with a harsh gasp and racing pulse, the heel of your palm pressed to his heart as you jolt, your head nearly slamming into his chin. 

"Miguel?" you ask. 

He hates that you actually sound scared. 

"I'm here," he says. 

"You're here," you say, breathing funny. You inhale too much and exhale too little. 

Miguel isn't confident, but he can act it. He strong arms you, your face to his, your tight shoulders under his hand. He rubs your thumb into the tensed muscles there unapologetically. The pressure is unkind, and it snaps you back into place, so to speak. 

"It was that dream again," you explain unnecessarily. 

"I know."

He pulls you, hoping you'll lay down again, but you stay put. He pulls again. You're a statue, lethargic and lost in your own mind for long, quiet minutes. All he can do is stroke the back of your hand.

You squint at the bleary light slugging in from the window. "Shit, sorry. Did I wake you? It's so early." You stroke his cheek, but your hand is shaking. 

"I was awake. I don't need you to worry about me, I'm worried about you," he confesses, bringing his pinky finger to the corner of your eye and stroking downward. You look at one another. His gaze is patient, unfailing, while yours is wired wrong, tears shiny along your waterline. "Don't look so sad, mi cielo. Please." 

"I keep seeing his face." 

"I know," he says, bringing his second hand up to cup both of your cheeks. "Hey, look at me." 

"I don't want his face to look like yours. Like, I'll start seeing you in my dreams instead of him. Is that– is that selfish? To want it to stay his face?" 

Miguel doesn't know if that's selfish, but he knows you aren't, not at your core. You make mistakes, you give in to temptation often and poke fun at others, but you do what's best for people when it counts. You would've saved the civilian if you could have. You would've died for him. 

"You're not selfish," he says. "You're brave. Now lay down. The sun has some work to do." 

"You don't need to go?" you ask, sighing quietly as his hands trace down your neck, your shoulders. 

He drags you into his chest. One arm curls around your back like an iron bar, corded muscle taut behind you. Miguel can't stop the nightmares and he's awful with words, but the physical is easy. He can hug you and hold you and press barely there kisses to the top of your head while you settle down. He can lay there with you for a few hours while you get some much needed rest. 

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen act after catching a cold

requested by anon: "Hey, can u pls do "how svt will act after catching a cold" like will they be clingy or crank with their s/o 😆"

notes: hope you enjoy! this is basically like the s/o counterpart to this post haha but they can also totally be seen separately

masterlist

seungcheol:

has those great big hacking coughs that make it sound like his lungs are being torn in two. he starts coughing and then motions for you to back away really quickly bc he doesn't want you to catch his germs. also a whiny baby. complains about his headache, his blocked nose, even his own coughs. asks you to check his temperature every hour bc he swears he's burning up so bad even though "cheol it's literally just an ordinary cold—"

jeonghan:

clingy. so so clingy. acts like every cold is as terrible as some major illness. tries to use it as an excuse to not get up for the entire day and spend it cuddling in bed with you (and conveniently forgetting that he's sick and could totally pass it onto you—unless… that's his intention…?). sounds like an old man w a croaky voice, laughs at himself and is striking up a conversation with you every half an hour bc he sounds so funny

joshua:

gets a cold just as autumn is setting in. gets another cold when winter is at its peak. gets a (kind of) cold in the summer due to his hay fever. asks you to carry around tissues w you so there's always someone who has it just in case. sometimes when he doesn't have a cold he'll lie in bed beside you and breathe rlly loudly through his nose as if to appreciate the fact that he can actually do it

junhui:

is absolutely Devastated. rarely catches colds, suffers terribly when he actually gets them. coughs so hard that his eyes start watering. loses his appetite, doesn't wanna eat or drink anything. initially refuses the conciliatory hugs you offer before falling into them willingly. is like a sad, dejected kitten for the entirety of his cold. almost starts crying in the middle of the night bc his throat feels like sandpaper n he hates it :((( needs to be petted on the head until he calms down

hoshi:

dramatically throws himself onto you when he comes back from work to tell you that he found out this morning that he was unwell and his head hurts so bad and he starting coughing so much that he almost wet himself. clings to you like a limpet for the entire evening. only lets you go bc you convince him you'll cook him something nice to eat. insists on sleeping next to you, croakily asks in the middle of the night if you'll still love him if he had no voice

wonwoo:

tries to breathe through his blocked nose, fails badly and sounds like the sputtering engine of a tractor. is utterly miserable, will not let you take care of him bc he's so sure he can take care of himself. eventually caves when you put his head in his lap and massage his headache away. very drowsy and kinda not-there the entire time he's awake, doesn't state it outright but he's really obviously hinting that he wants you to hold him throughout the night

woozi:

doesn't tell you when he catches a cold. you can only tell bc he's shuffling around the house a little sluggishly and he's taking ibuprofen along with his supplements in the morning. you try to convince him to sleep instead of going out to the gym but he insists that working out will help him sweat off the cold (?). comes home an hour earlier than normal bc he couldn't breathe through his blocked nose

minghao:

is mad. at his cold, mainly, but that makes him mad at everything so pls be a little delicate with him bc he might snap at you if you say the wrong thing. but then he immediately apologises afterwards because he doesn't mean it at all, he's just tired and his head hurts and his voice sounds weird in his own brain. gets really sleepy, ends up falling asleep on you on the couch while trying to tell you about his day. wakes up two hours later bc of his coughing fit

mingyu:

is sneezing??? a lot??? even though he has a cold??? asks you to cook chicken broth for him, is yelling instructions into the kitchen from where he's laying on the couch in the living room surrounded by pillows and a blanket. grabs the bowl and slurps the soup straight from it like a little child. asks you to pet his head to help him go to sleep, refuses to sleep in his own room during the day bc he wants to see you :((( it would sound rlly sweet if he hadn't coughed at you in the middle of the sentence

dokyeom:

is leaking liquid from his nose everywhere. throws his arms around you to hug you then pulls away quickly with a sleeve over his nose bc the sudden movement made his runny nose almost get all over you. doesn't carry around tissues with him, needs you to run to get some for him whenever he coughs too hard. puts his head in his lap and asks you with his puppy eyes to give him head pats and even tho he's sick you can't say no bc he's looking up at you so sadly

seungkwan:

asks in a baby voice for you to make him warm food bc he feels absolutely terrible </3 you have to force the paracetamol down his throat bc he keeps complaining about feeling terrible but doesn't Wanna take meds. carries round a silk hanky you bought for him once and always dramatically holds up a hand in the middle of a conversation to fish into his pocket and cough or sneeze into it

vernon:

has tissues permanently held over his nose, holds up his hand if you get too close and tells you to back away in case you get his cold. doesn't let you touch him even if it's just a common cold, tries to leave when you enter the same room as him before you reassure him 10 times that you'll be fine. sounds so nasally bc his nose is all bunged up to the point that it's almost comical, and you can't talk to him for too long before feeling like laughing

chan:

wants cuddles 24/7, even when he's sick. gets jokingly hurt if you hesitate, asks if a measly cold will stop you from giving him hugs. has those really wet coughs and they're so often and so hard that you have to pat his back to get him to stop coughing. disappears into his room saying he wants to take a nap, emerges the next day looking even worse than before bc now he even has a fever. wants to be spoon fed soup in bed

currently taking requests

[jarofstyles]

I’d love to read something where y/n is sad and anxious about her period leaking on his sheets but he comforts her and makes sure she knows it’s alright!!

I can do that! Absolutely. Periods can be awful and people don’t seem to realize how bad some people have it 😭

Warnings- talk if periods, blood, mention of hospital and bad menstrual cycles

Check out our Patreon!

—-

She was mortified.

Before even moving, she knew that it had happened. The cramps had been awful the night before and she had put on a pad just in case, but the feeling between her legs let her know immediately that it hasn’t been enough.

Y/N had awful periods. The cramps, the body aches, the heavier bleeding, all of it combined made this time of the month nearly unbearable. It ruined days and plans she made in hopes her period wouldn’t be too bad, but the first 3 days were the absolute worst for her.

She should have gone home last night, but Harry had tempted her. He was the perfect gentleman when it came to her periods and knew now how bad they could be for her, so he kept supplies at his house to help ease it. A heating pad, toiletries, extra clothing, oils to diffuse that would help with headaches or nausea- he asked doctor google about that one- and her designated pain relievers. Y/N had been lulled to sleep by a heating bad on her back and Harry’s hand gently massaging over her tummy, soothing a bit of the ache. He had put on some music meant to relieve cramping pain and she wasn’t sure if it was that or the complete state of softness that Harry brought that had her drifting off to sleep.

When her eyes opened she thanked whoever made the world that Harry wasn’t in bed with her. There was some tinkering sounds coming from the kitchen followed by footsteps and she has a good idea that he was coming towards her with some tea and toast.

Deciding to finally look at the damage, she felt tears well in her eyes both at the embarrassment and the pain of moving as she looked down at the splotch of blood. It wasn’t terrible, in terms of size- but it was the fact she had bled on his sheets at all. His sweatpants she wore were completely ruined and she felt so ashamed of it all.

Tears trailed down her cheeks as she held her stomach, the approaching footsteps showing she was too late as he opened the door. His hair was still messy and tossled from sleep and his shirt and shorts were haphazardly thrown on, a smile on his face while he carried the tray into the room. Tea, toast, and a chocolate truffle laid on the tray for her.

The smile fell as soon as he saw her face.

“Hey, what’s the matter? What’s wrong?” He whispered, placing the tray down on dresser. “Are you hurting very badly? Do we need the hospital?” It wouldn’t be the first time. The cramping pain sometimes couldn’t be managed and she would get physically ill from it.

“N-no.” She croaked. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to.” She pointed at the bed before burying her face in her hands. “I should have gone home. Or worn my own clothes. I’ve ruined it all. Made such a mess. I’m so sorry, Harry.” The weakness of her voice was obvious, a little sob tearing from her throat.

For her, it was mortifying. She bled on his bed! It was already gross to her as it was but she could only imagine how he would feel. Would he keep her from sleeping on it again? He wouldn’t blame her. The heightened emotions and pain of her stomach only made it worse.

“What? Darling… no.” His hands clasped over her wrists, gently prying them from her face. “No. It’s okay. You’re going to make yourself sick crying like that. Can you look at me?” He coaxed, his voice soft and as sweet as he could get it. When her wet eyes met his, he felt himself melt a little. Taking her hands in his, he rubbed over the backs of them with his thumbs to try and soothe a bit of her panicked emotions. “It’s okay. It’s just sheets. Just joggers. I can wash them both. Even replace them. I’m not worried about them. I worried about you.”

Y/N sniffled, trying to pull herself together as he calmed her down. What he said was true, but in her head was a bit of a mess. Especially waking up to that. “You’re not mad? I can clean it myself. Just let me get some peroxide and I can clean it now. I don’t want you to have to do it.” She babbled, stopping when she felt him squeeze her hands in warning.

“No. You’re not going to do anything but take a shower, a bath, whatever you’d like, eat your tea and toast and get back in bed. I’m going to change the sheets. It’s just period blood, love. Not something disgusting. It’s natural. As much as it pains me to see you have a period so rough, it’s natural and normal and not gross. Anyone who’s made you feel this terribly about getting it on some sheets is rude for making you feel like a burden.” He had just been happy to get her to have some sleep. “I’ve told you so many times, my love. I want to take care of you when you’re hurting. It’s okay for you to do the things that are natural to this cycle. A bit of a stain isn’t going to hurt either of us. I’m a grown man. If I couldn’t handle a bit of blood, I’d be more embarrassed than you should be.” He joked with her, releasing her hands to brush her wet cheeks.

“You’re alright. I know you’re sensitive right now, that’s why you have this reaction. I just want to take care of you, okay? Let’s get you cleaned up while I clean the bed and we can go back to nap for a bit longer as we wait for the pain reliever to kick in. You’ve got to rest.” His lips brushed between her brows, puckering for a little kiss. “I adore you. Being with you means being with this, and it’s hardly a burden for me. Just wish you I could take all the pain away, too.”

[kodamaghost00]

Can you do 30 headcanons for Glamrock Chica?

30 Glamrock Chica Headcanons

———————————————————

[Disclaimer!!]

This post will contain: NSFW,Sfw,Fluff,Smut

It’s also Genderless for the girls,gays and theys! You are a Technician in these scenarios!

———————————————————

Let’s begin!

She’d call you “Cupcake” and “Sugar”! She’d dislike calling you by your name.

She loves taking you out for dinner! She obviously loves pizza and will adopt your taste!

She’ll give her opinion on your outfits. And she’ll be honest about it too!

She’s very kind and some customers are taking advantage of that. Every time you step in and speak up for her she’ll blush badly.

She would initiate your first kiss and you also don’t mind it! But regardless she’ll say “Omg cupcake I’m so so sorry! I should’ve asked you beforehand!!!”. You’d reassure her that you liked it.

She would love the game “Just Dance” and whether you like it or not she will force you to do it with her.

When kids come in mazercise she loves to play tag with them in the labyrinth.

In the after hours of the Pizzaplex she likes to go to Roxy and chill in her green room.

She’d be a bottom but she also never had anything against topping you. She enjoys oral more than anything else.

She will plan so many dates for you two to go on. Most of them include cooking/backing so you two can talk while eating your self made food!

One time she told you to meet her in the her bakery after your shift ended. Once you entered the kitchen she ran up to you with a huge smile saying “You came! I’ve got everything ready for our date night!! Let’s get ready and make some cookies!”

When the cookies were in the oven you both sat down at a table waiting for them. She sat across from you and held your hand gently with a little blush forming on her cheeks.

You compliment her on a daily basis but this time was different. “Thank you cupcake… you’re the sweetest person I’ve ever known…”. You also blushed so you both started to laugh.

Once the cookies were ready you two brought them to her green room where you both sat down and watched TV while eating your food.

She cries every time an animal dies/gets hurt in a movie or series.

She is the most sexualized animatronic in the Pizzaplex so she gets catcalled/assaulted a lot. Everytime that happens it ends with you and the creep having a Fistfight. The police often gets involved too.

When you two cuddle she’s always giving you small kisses and goes through your hair.

She’d get super exited when she sees you wearing her merchandise! “You look super cute cupcake!”

When she has a solo on stage she performs like a goddess! Hitting every single note perfectly. One of her most requested songs is “Girlfriend” by Avril Lavigne.

She gets nervous when little kids request her for a birthday party. She starts to tap her feet rapidly in order to calm down.

Sometimes she gets lost in her own thoughts when she practices her Guitar. She hums to all her favorite songs.

She is super sad over Glamrock Bonnie’s death. They had a brother-sister bond that nobody could ever achieve with her. She keeps a bowling ball in her room to remember him.

She’s super flirty. When you do something nice for her she’ll say “For that you’ll get a nice little treat later…~”

She’d ask you politely for intimacy though. She’d exactly say “Hey cupcake…? Could we… y’know. Have some fun?” You’d chuckle and gladly say yes.

She also enjoys when you two take your time on the foreplay. She loves the feeling of your tongue.

She would enjoy Vanilla more than BDSM. But if you’re into it she’ll try.

She would go to Freddy if she had any self esteem problems. She looks up to him and loves his reassurance.

No matter how fun she is she also has her own problems. She’s scared that if she drops the build up persona that people will like her less.

She’s also scared that she’ll start eating garbage again. She can’t seem to control it.

In the end of the day it’s you two against the world. She’s always there for you and you for her. “I love you so so much cupcake… thank you for everything!”

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Thank you so so much for the request! If anyone else has requests drop them right at me. I love doing your requests. And once again thank you for reading! Also you can follow me on other social medias like TikTok or YouTube!

- Your Ghost ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

[atlasscrumpit]

Pale Eyes

(Miguel/Peter Platonic x Reader)

(trigger warning ANGST)

(trigger warning, it's sad and I cried)

"So, what did you need me for so badly?" Peter asked as Miguel sighed.

"I need your help on the next mission... You're the only one that can handle this, everyone ever is too weak." He muttered as Peter looked at him with confusion.

"What's so different about this mission?" Peter asked as Miguel brought up a picture of a person, but they were quite terrifying.

They looked like they had died three weeks ago and were still walking around.

"What the hell..." Peter muttered as he stared at the poor soul.

"What happened?" He whispered staring into the person's void less eyes.

"They were supposed to die, but after everything that happened with our last villain... A radioactive spider ended up in their universe and bit them just before they died." He explained, Peter looked at the image sadly.

"Poor thing." He whispered as Miguel looked at him.

"Don't get attached, they ruined the Canon." Miguel growled as Peter's eyes widened.

"You're going to kill her?" Peter asked in shock, making Miguel sigh.

"Peter, they were meant to die." Miguel replied, Peter stared back at the image.

"Why can't we take them here?" Peter asked, he couldn't live with the fact of killing someone due to a mistake.

"Fine, I'll do this myself." Miguel grumbled as Peter sighed.

"No, I'll come with you." Peter said as Miguel rolled his eyes.

--

Peter and Miguel walked through an abandoned building together.

"This place is creepy." Peter muttered as they made their way through the abandoned apartment building.

"Shut up." Miguel groaned as they found their destination.

They heard soft singing as Peter quickly hid behind Miguel.

They entered the apartment and saw you sitting there with a moldy teddy and singing softly.

Peter felt like he wanted to cry right there.

"Oh god." He whispered as they saw your peeling skin, dull eyes and falling out hair.

Miguel made his way forward and you looked up at him.

"No! No please... Please don't take me back." You whispered over and over as Miguel knelt down.

"You're Y/N, right? My name is Miguel. It looks like you're in pain." He whispered as tears came out of your eyes.

"Hurts... It hurts. It hurts even more when they do those experiments." You replied as he looked at you in confusion.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked as he sat on the floor and took his mask off so you could see him.

"They found me... And they tested on me, over and over and over." You whispered as Peter slowly came forward.

He could see something in Miguel's eyes, something other than numb emotions.

"Are you going to take me back?" You whispered, looking at Miguel.

"No, no of course not. We're going to take you somewhere safe, okay?" He said, offering you a soft smile.

"You promise?" You whispered as he smiled more.

"I promise."

--

You clutched your teddy close to you as you looked around the spider society.

"It's so amazing... Do I get to be a superhero too?" You asked as Peter and Miguel smiled.

"Of course you do, Y/N. You'll be the best hero out of all of us. Hey, can I show you something cool?" He asked as you nodded excitedly.

Miguel took you to a city you'd never seen before, you were on the top of a building looking at all the wonderful lights.

"It's so pretty." You whispered, making Miguel smile sadly.

Miguel went behind a shed and pulled out two lawn chairs.

"Sometimes I like to come here and just look at the city." He said as you smiled and sat in the chair, still hugging your teddy to your chest.

"It's nice... It makes me forget about the pain." You whispered as Miguel sat beside you.

You felt your eyes becoming heavy.

"Get some sleep if you'd like." Miguel offered as you looked at him.

"Will you stay with me?" You asked as he offered you a smile.

He held onto your cold hand.

"I won't leave." He whispered as he watched you turn your eyes back to the city lights.

He watched your eyes slowly close and the muscles in your hand relax.

Not long ago he'd injected a lethal serum into you, one that would take away your pain before you died.

Miguel felt himself tear up as he stood up, he lifted your body up in his arms.

"You can rest now, sweetheart. Don't worry, I'll bury you somewhere nice in your universe." He whispered staring down at your motionless face.

"You did the right thing." He heard Peter say as he saw him in front of her.

"Can you come bury her with me?" Miguel asked, not looking at Peter.

"Of course I can, big guy."

[pastelsandpining]

Firstly, congratulations bb for the 400!! You deserve more! 🥳🎉💕

Than bots lol

For the prompts may i ask for our blonde children to have fight and make up? Maybe just me that rarely see these 2 fight lol

WILD I LOVE YOU!!! enjoy some Sky babies! <3 I don't think they would stay upset with each other for very long

enjoy my take on "hey, what if link didn't win the wing ceremony?"

special thanks to my beta @badmoonbuns !!

Masterlist | 400 Requests

<><><><><>

flying low

Skyloft was quiet.

The air was colder high above the small expanse of her world. Zelda tugged her knees to her chest and tucked the hem of her skirt under her feet so no wind could pass through. There was a heavy sense of sadness sitting on her chest that afternoon, a plaque that had built up since the morning: since the Wing Ceremony had ended and the little wooden statue of the winner did not sit in Link's hands. 

It hadn't been the time or the place to confront her best friend, and the expression on his face should've been enough to make her realize he was just as disappointed as her, but she couldn't help herself. She was hurt, furious, because the Wing Ceremony wasn't something of luck. Link was a natural flyer, the best she'd ever seen, and she longed to know how he'd lost to Groose. How he could let himself lose to Groose, let her have to endure the ceremony at the top of the statue with Groose.

She'd looked at him on the landing platform, at the lost look in his eyes, and she couldn't help herself. She hadn't exactly been level headed. Zelda stepped up to him, voice low and quiet and sad, and asked,

"Oh, Link... Did you even try?" 

They'd never argued that badly before. Well, maybe she shouldn't use the word argue, because that implied a heated conversation between two people. In their case, one person had been conversing and the other had been receiving all of the heat. Link had always been a quiet boy, never one to stick up for himself because nothing ever really seemed to bother him, but his quiet compliance in the face of her disappointment had angered her even more.

Cruel. It was a cruel question; of course he'd tried. Maybe he was a sleepyhead, sometimes a bump on a log, but he gave his all to everything he did--being upset was no excuse. But she thought he'd win. She'd planned for him to win, because her gift had been specially crafted for him; her song and all of her practice had been with him in mind! She'd had so much faith in him.

Zelda had turned on her heel, her back to him, and stormed off to get the ceremony over with.

It was a dumb ceremony.

It wasn't a big deal.

But it was, because she'd only get to be the Goddess Hylia this once, for her class, and Link didn't win. He wouldn't be the one on the statue with her. He would have another chance to compete, to win, to take on the role of the Chosen Hero before his official knighting, sure, but it wouldn't happen with her, and Zelda was jealous.

Jealous and bitter.

She hadn't come down from the statue. She'd sent Groose on his merry way after a song and some convincing, but the peaceful quiet at the top had given her the space to let herself feel. She'd sunk against the goddess and buried her face in her hands, cried until her head ached and breath heaved, and even when she calmed down, she didn't move.

It was over now. There was nothing she could do to change what had happened. Not the race, not the ceremony, not the things she'd said. Zelda could admit she'd been irrational all day: pushing Link off of Skyloft, not believing a word he said, nagging him about practice--and she crossed a line. After the race, he looked like she'd slapped him. She couldn't help wondering where he was now.

She leaned her head onto her knees and closed her eyes. The breeze cooled off the stinging skin of her puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, and she was so exhausted that for a moment, she understood Link. She wanted nothing more than to fall asleep. Maybe she would've, had the sudden footsteps not startled her. An awful feeling hit her when she told herself it could be Groose again, coming back with the ego she'd squashed when she disrespected the ceremony by giving it the least amount of effort possible. Or maybe he'd told on her to a professor or her father, and they were coming to scold her for it. Reluctantly, Zelda turned her head.

Maybe she'd prefer the sight of her father right now, rather than a windswept and hesitant Link.

"Hi," he said. It was a wonder she could hear his whisper over the wind.

"Hi," she replied.

"Can I... Um. Do you want company?" he asked, one of his hands gesturing awkwardly to the space beside her. Zelda shrugged her shoulders halfheartedly. When he didn't move, looking like he was still unsure of himself, she said.

"Sure."

The air between them felt horribly wrong. He sat down, leaving a decent gap of space between them, and she tightened her hold on her legs. For a moment, neither said anything. She watched him trace mindless patterns in the dust with his finger.

"I'm sorry I didn't win," he said while. He was avoiding her gaze.

"It's okay," she told him--and that was when he whipped his head to face her.

"It is not," argued Link. "I promised you that I was going to win and then I didn't."

"Things happen." Promises got broken, but Zelda didn't want to be mad at him. She wanted to have her best friend again, so they could march around Skyloft and soar through the skies. "Groose needed it for his ego."

Link's nose wrinkled and he replied, "What for? It's already as big as his hair."

She would've giggled if she hadn't felt so sad.

"I'm sorry for saying you didn't try," she said. "I was just upset and-"

"No, you were right, Zelda. I should've practiced more. I didn’t take it seriously before today and I’m really sorry I let you down.”

“I wanted it to be you so badly,” she admitted quietly, leaning her head against her knees again. “Did I put too much pressure on you…?”

“What? No. Gods no, you didn’t-! Zel, the only thing you did was believe in me.”

Zelda gazed at him, at the look in his eyes, and offered a hand. There was no hesitation this time when he took it, making a tiny smile curve on her lips.

“I’ll always believe in you. Even next year, when you’re flying for some other Goddess.”

Link made a face. It was half a wince, half disgust.

“I’d rather never be a knight at all than be knighted by someone else.” 

It was a stupid thought on his part, but it made her heart swell no less. An idea brewed in the depths of her mind; she’d already disrespected the ceremony once, what harm would a second time be? She scrambled unsteadily to her feet, dragging a confused Link with her in the process, and both of her hands grasped wildly for his.

“What if we did it anyway?” she suggested, her grip tight. “What if… What if we redid the ceremony, right now?”

“But I didn’t win?” he replied, brows furrowed. Zelda shook her head.

“Does it matter? I don’t— None of this is real, right? I don’t have the power to knight anyone. So what if I just…did it? With you this time?”

He looked at her as if she’d suggested throwing Mia off of Skyloft, but both events would have no real repercussions. Link thought, and thought, and to her utter delight, he nodded.

“I owe it to you,” he decided. “For sticking you up here with Groose.”

And it felt so much better, so much more natural to see him kneeling before her, his head bowed and hand in hers. Like he belonged there, looking every bit like the hero she knew he could be. It felt so good to remove the sailcloth she’d refused to give Groose from around her shoulders so she could hand it to Link instead. Something in them had healed, soothed by the ridiculous giggles of a secret ceremony, and when he stood up to meet her, she had the wild thought to kiss him. 

Instead, Link offered her his hand and gave her a smile that could melt ice.

“Will my Goddess bless me with a race through the skies?” he asked and her face burned.

“You’re on,” she declared, and without warning, she leapt from the Goddess statue.

[mental-health-advice]

Hello!

(tw mentions of sh but nothing graphic)

I really dont know if this is the place for this, if so simply being able to write this out is probably helpful. I am in a romantic relationship with someone who self harms (were both 19). This was a thing i knew about before we got together, we were both going through a rough patch then and bonded a lot of beinf able to talk about our problems, i think back then i was so busy dealing with my own mountain of problems and thoughts of self inury (that i luckily never followed through on) that worry for someone else didnt even fit.

While all the resources I can find are really helpful im at a bit of a loss now, ive done everything right, i already had expierience with other friends and myself. They are in therapy and are on the path to healing, take good care of the wounds generally and we can openly comunicate about this and generally have been able to do so effectively.

These last few months however theres been more slip ups than before. I know progress is not linear, and its still much a work in progress (this has been an issue for 7 years, 1 year of recovery is obviously nothing). I am incredibly proud of the progress they have made, last year it was twice weekly trips to the ER, so even twice a month is huge already. also know they wont be able to quit or even signficantly reduce the self harm until they move out, since their family is unstable and does everything wrong (gets angry, threatens with ultimatums, generally extremely scared of their scars).

last few times with a slip up its made me freak out too, I have an anxiety disorder which this now triggers (i used to have a slightly better grip on this) I try to remain calm and helpful for their sake, but its mostly incredibly upsetting im not there to help them, and i know being there to talk helps but ive run out of material ways to help. It also feels like it proves my fear that something will always go wrong, which can lead me to have panic attacks. Ive talked about this with them of course and we get through it together, i really want to be better at keeping a slightly leverer head though. I used to have counceling too who helped me, but since i turned 18 and finished school im now on a waitinglist for adult help, and while talking to other friends helps somewhat its still generally makes me panic, sleep badly and sometimes have nightmares. I really love them, whenever were together we bring out the best in eachother and im afraid if i talk about this too much to people theyll tell me to break up with them.

we have plans to move in together for university next year, which im sure will help a lot (i know they wont magically heal then either, but ill be there as a more sturdy support and theyll be able to access ER, etc without being shamed) and ill have a therapist again then too, so its just these coming months that are going to be very rough. I just never know how to calm myself down, i know its not rational (they are hurt but never badly, they always talk to me about it, their psychologist will generally help too) i also know im allowed to feel sad and scared, i just want to be more in control.

back when i had a therapist she used to talk about trying to stay at my own feelings, not getting dragged down into someone else. But i just dont know how to do that, whenever it happens its just so sad and i hate it. No matter how much i remind myself even after ive allowed myself a period to be sad that itll be okay and they are relatively safe and i see them every week it feels so awful. Its not very tennable to ruin my whole night, next day on this every time. sorry this is sooo long but i feel the context is important as ive gone through a lot of advice, thank u tho.

Hey there,

Whilst I think that it is great that you have been able to help this person for such a long period of time, unfortunately it is not always sustainable no matter how much we would like it to be. This though doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t try if you want to, I am just trying to point out that unless you look after yourself too and put a bit of a barrier between you and this person then it is likely that things may not change or improve for YOU.

I know how great it can feel when we help another and especially when we see such big improvements for the person we are trying to help and support, but the end line is that we can only do so much until we ourself begin to crumble or struggle a bit (which it sounds like you are to some degree) and so I am wondering if you can put some space between this person and you at all to focus on yourself a bit more and self-care may be of some benefit to you.

In regards to this person, any day of no self-harm is an amazing achievement and no amount of set backs or slip ups/ relapses can take these achievements away from them. It’s important to know that that recovery comes from within and so unless this person chooses to and is ready to focus on their recovery then it is unlikely that things will change for them and they will still be in survival mode. This is in no way your fault, and nor is there much you can do about it as we cannot choose recovery for another person, it has to be when they are ready and choose to try to commit. And even then, it’s quite normal to go back to survival mode and go back and forth between recovery and not, this does not mean they are not still trying, but rather they are just human like everyone of us are. I remember in my own recovery away from self-harm I did go in and out of trying to not self-harm depending on how strong I felt on the day and what triggers may have come up that made me want to self-harm, this didn’t mean I wasn’t trying or that, it was just that I was really struggling and the urges to self-harm were too strong to try and fight them.

So, what can you do?

To begin with try to be patient with yourself and this person and know that even when they seem to not be trying, they actually are. Try to put some space in between you and this person to enable you to look after yourself too. You can do this by practising good self-care (trying to eat healthy, doing some exercise a few times a week and trying to get a good nights sleep) and tyring to have some ‘down time’ where you can simply just think about yourself and do some things that you enjoy doing whatever that may be. I know that you may feel selfish and bad for taking some time out for yourself, but if you don’t look after yourself then it won’t be sustainable to help support others and be there for them if you choose to do so.

In regards to how it can make you feel when this person does self-harm or is struggling quite a bit, as your therapist mentioned to you, try to take a step back and allow yourself some time to grieve or feel sad and try to be kind to yourself – I know how it can feel like a loss to you as well when someone is struggling and self-harms as a result, but in reality it has nothing to do with you and how much or how little you are there for the, it is bound to happen anyway and this in no way reflects on you and how good a job you may be doing to support them through difficult times and days.

I know that you mentioned that it can cause great anxiety when they do self-harm now, and so when this happens, again, try to be kind to yourself and do try to take some time out for you. And I know, this is much easier said than done, but it will get easier though with practice and it may also be helpful to check out our page on calming anxiety and panic as well for some more ideas on different coping strategies.

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you and hope that you are going OK!

Take care,

Lauren

[futurebird]

If you are a teen and you have and ed, or you want to feel thin so badly that you don't care if you get an ed I have a few things to say. I don't know if they will make any difference or not, but this is my best shot. 1. Your feelings are real. They aren't shallow or silly. The self-hate and sadness I felt in those days were some of the most intense emotions in my life and it hurt a lot how many people just seemed to dismiss it with "there's more to life than how you look" or "don't be silly you are beautiful" or "everyone is beautiful in their own way." People would say things that made me feel like no one was listening or caring about how I felt. I didn't deserve that and you don't either. 2. The pressure to look a certain way-- to be thin in particular is real and comes from many places. Sometimes it comes from the same people who turn around and say "everyone is beautiful" (except I remember you saying I shouldn't have dessert.) These people don't really see how jarring this is, they are unconcerned and unaffected with the fear that people who have and develop EDs know. 3. It *is* possible to feel good about yourself. And not in a fake way, if you are fat, or normal, or not skin and bones. I used to think that fat people who said they liked how they looked were telling lies. (Strangely I could see that there were many beautiful fat people, that I thought were beautiful and that I even had a crush on from time to time... but the idea of like oneself didn't make any sense to me) Thing is...most of them aren't! 4. The flip side of this is: should you have and ED you will NEVER EVER NEVER EVER feel good about how you look. No matter how hard you work, no matter how little you eat, you won't be able to have a moment of "Hey, I'm OK." You might think that you don't need any moments of "Hey, I'm OK." --but, always being "less than" takes a toll. In the long run, it makes it harder to just take care of yourself at all. You do deserve to be cared for. If you can't see that something is wrong. 5. Seeing the number on the scale go down was a pin prick of joy in a sea of bleakness. It was the only thing that made me happy for a moment or two-- but then it was back to the sadness and grind. It's possible to loose weight without hating yourself. You don't need to choose between living with self-hate, or having some control over your physical health and appearance. When people talked about recovery they sometimes made it seem like it would be an abyss where I'd be happy, but only because I didn't know what horrible things I was doing to my body... what horrible fatness was overcoming me. I'd just think I was pretty, but really I'd be a failure... but... it's not like that at all. What *is* exactly like that is having and ED. You can't see just how much of your life you are wasting. You can't imagine the things you are missing. You think you are safe, but you are really in great danger. 6. I have had so many happy days since I recovered. I have lost and gained weight when I wanted to since I recovered. I still get to decide how I want my body to be-- now that I'm aging I can enjoy that too. The people in my life who love me would love me no matter how much I weigh now or might weigh later. This isn't unrealistic. This isn't only possible if you are somehow "naturally beautiful" in some inexplicable way that those of us who have EDs never think can't ever apply to us. You could look in the mirror and like what you see. (and not in a deluded way either--) I only wish I could get the time back that I wasted having an ED.

That's the biggest one: I wish I could get the time back that I wasted having an ED. I wish I could have memories of those days that aren't memories of feeling sick and lightheaded and sad. I think of the books I could have read, the math I could have studied, the dances I could have learned. But, I was too tired because I was fasting all the time. EDs eat up your youth. (and will eat up your whole life if you let them, who is the glutton now?) They slow your thinking and stunt your creativity. They don't even really make you "thiner" often enough. Or if you do get oh so very thin... you can't even see it. They are hard to fight. If you feel like you can... it's worth it to skip the ED. It's not a part of a glamorous story, it's not shaping you into a better person, it's not a secret weapon that will give you an edge. It's self harm. Self harm is hard. But if you can cultivate a desire to not have and ED that's the first step. If you don't want to get better no one in the universe can force you to. Maybe someday I'll tell my whole story. But, only if I think it can help. If you have any questions I can try to answer them. This isn't such a sensitive topic for me anymore and I'm pretty open about what I've been through and what I think about it.

[thenexusofsouls]

"Yeah, it would be wild... in all the wrong ways," Wade said. "Better that, though, I guess, than... than losin' your kid entirely..." And just like that, he had kindof a moment with himself. His head shook a little as he tried to get rid of the thought. What would his and Rose's kid been like? Would she even have let him be a part of its life? If Crenshaw had lived, would Rose have wanted to raise the kid with him instead? He'd never know... 'cause Crenshaw, Rose, and the baby were all dead because of his catastrophic failure as a leader and a friend. Wade cleared his throat awkwardly. "Anyway..." he whispered.

"I'm definitely not the ideal candidate for 'dad,' that's for sure. I guess it couldn't hurt to try at some point, but... not with my life the way it is now. I don't wanna be the reason my kid grows up angry at the world because he had a shitty childhood, you know? It's a big deal, bein' a parent. If I don't think I can do it right, then I'm not gonna do it," Wade said firmly. That it was important to him was plain to see.

Wade felt so badly for Rockland. Clearly, he was a great kid. Good head on his shoulders. Some issues, but all good kids had a sprinkling of those. To hear him say he kept messing up all the time made Wade sad, because that wasn't coming from him, it was coming from someone who kept telling him that. "Sounds like a problem with whoever's sayin' that, not you. So what if you keep messin' up? Mistakes are important in life, man. That's how people learn things. That's how we find out what not to do, and how not to conduct ourselves. Every kid makes mistakes and screws things up, they're still learnin' shit. If someone keeps harpin' on that like it's somehow unacceptable or somethin' out of the ordinary, sounds like their hang up, not yours."

He knew well, though, how powerless kids were sometimes to help themselves. They only had so much agency and then it was up to the parents, the guardians, the relatives, etc. to be the teachers and protectors. If those people dropped the ball or were abusive, kids couldn't do much about that most often. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'd say you could come stay with me, but I think that's call child abduction in most states," he said by way of a little levity, since the boy looked so downtrodden. "But hey... I'm probably gonna stick around in this city for a while. If you ever need help, you need a place to stay overnight, you need a little cash to get by... you can always ask me, okay? It won't fix everything, I know, but maybe it'll take the edge off to know you've got a safety net, right?"

Wade let Rockland look at the photo as long as he wanted before putting it back into his wallet. "Yeah, they were. They were really good people who didn't deserve to die like that," Wade said stoically. "That photo was as painful as it was somethings he could never part with.

He tried his best to answer the boy's question without getting too dark again. "Yeah, I had the most experience out of all of 'em. We uh... Sometimes when you go after bail jumpers, things get ugly. They run, they fight back, sometimes there's guns or knives or explosives involved, so we had our own weapons and tactical gear and all that. We functioned like a military unit, and I was like their officer. Ronnie and me, we were actually retired military, so we had more formal training, and we helped make sure everybody else knew how to use all the weapons and equipment, everybody understood the laws and what we were allowed to do, all that stuff. I researched the jobs, I made the plans, and out in the field, I gave the orders, and everybody had their part. Sometimes time and safety were an issue, so we had to be a well-oiled machine, you know? And we were, I thought. 'Til I went and fucked it all up. They did what I said, no questions asked. I demanded it of 'em. I ran a tight ship. And I got 'em all killed."

"Opera? Get the hell outta here, what're you talkin' about, opera..." Wade said, laughing more. "Do I look like I'd belt out an aria to you? Nah, man, I'm all about rock. Classic rock, that's where it's at. What about you, what kinda music're you into?"

When Rockland whipped out his own family photograph, Wade nodded. "Nice. Is that you in there?" he asked, pointing to the woman's belly. "That's nice that you carry that with you like that. It's important to remember loved ones. It keeps us grounded, right? It's not good to go around with your head stuck in the clouds." He'd meant that as a real sentiment, but then, feeling things were getting a bit heavy, he tried to lighten the mood once more. "Foggy clouds in your face... gettin' rained on... every now and then a migratin' goose flies at your head, you get hit upside the head with goose ass, it's just not good to keep your head up there."

Well that caught their attention alright. A middle finger had shot into the air, directed at a group of teens across the street who were hovering by a Duncan Donuts long closed for the night. The boy beneath the hoodie, propelling said finger, sneered. Just like that, the group of five moved towards him, the tallest, Shacks, sauntering forward with an irritating air of confidence. And to think, there'd been a time when Rockland had thought he was cool.

"You can't seriously blame us, Rocky." He looked to the others with cruel amusement, "It was a prank, get a sense of hum-" Too busy searching for the favour of his crew, he'd missed the draw of the younger teen's fist before it met his cheek.

"Prank my ass, I could've been arres-oof." Rockland was tackled by Archie, the smallest of the bunch, who was about a head shorter than he was, but kinda stalky for his age, and with the element of surprise on his side. Cane clattering out of hand, and across the sidewalk, the lanky teen scraped across the pavement, electric pain radiating up from his tailbone. He caught the breath that had been knocked out of him just in time to catch the thump of a fist to the nose in return. - For Wade

Wade didn't know what to make of this city yet. He'd only been here a couple days and was still trying to get his bearings. It wasn't a bad city, he thought, just cold. Just... really cold when you're alone, like all cities are. Nevertheless, Wade did some hunting and stocked up on other supplies, always wanting to stay on the move. That's how he got jobs, and that's how he kept sane.

Tonight had been quiet enough so far... that is until he heard sounds of a fight. But a fight... between kids? Was he hearing this right? Wade made his way toward the sounds, and sure enough, some kids whose parents were absent and whose bedtimes must be fast-approaching were going at it. Or rather, several kids were beating up on one unfortunate one.

"Hey! Come on, cut it out, what the hell're you guys doin'?!" Wade yelled, hoping to scatter the bullies. "You know better than this, get off him! Don't make me call the cops!" he said, watching as they all scattered... save for one. Wade knelt down beside the boy lying on the ground. "Hey, buddy, you okay?" he asked gently.

[chloeafrazier]

Why I Wish Caroline Would Have Shown Emotions when it Came To Laura.

Hey Everyone How are You all doing Today ? Today I will be Talking about Little House On the Prairie In season 1 Ep 8 Entitled Town

Party Country Party so During this Ep Nellie Invites Mary and Laura to her Birthday Party and the whole Time that they were there Nellie

was Very rude and Mean to Laura she even Told Laura that wished that she Never asked her to come to her party and Nellie Pushed her

and when she fell she Twisted Her Leg Pretty Badly and during the whole thing After Mary and Laura went Home Charles and Caroline

were not really Upset like at all really and if you ask Me If i was Laura Mother i would Kinda be upset at the fact that My Daughter Left My

House Just fine and then went to a Birthday Party and Came Back Home Injured i would Kinda want to know what went on and i would

want to speak the the Mother and father of the other child to find out what in the world went on Because we have to Remember that

Charles said that it would take Laura a while to heal and she would Probable have to kept home from school for 3 or 4 days and Caroline

Just kinda sat there Like she did not care Like they Made it seem as If Caroline did not care that Laura was Hurt or that Caroline did not

have Time for it and Once again i am Not saying that Caroline dose not love Laura Because i know she dose But Once again the way that

wrote it they Made it seem as if Caroline did Not have time to deal Laura when she Hurt or sad or upset about something and i Just

Never Understood that like at all Because Like i said Before if my Child Left my House to go to a birthday Party and then Came Back

Injured i would want to know what Happened and it Just seemed odd and weird how Caroline showed Little to No Emotion about

Laura Being Physically Hurt Now i am Not saying that Caroline Needed to be over the top with her Emotions but i Just wish that we

could have seen Caroline be a Bit More Motherly to Laura Like she was to Mary and i Just sometimes feel that Laura was Kinda Let

down by Caroline as far as Caroline showing Concern and Emotions about Laura i felt that the writers could have dine much better when

Laura was a Little Girl that is all well Thanks for reading have a Great day Know that You are loved and Cared By God Forever and Always .

[bougiebutchbitch]

Oh Bougie!! ;-; I'm so sorry to hear that you've been having a rough time. For what it's worth, I'm so proud of you for taking the step to switch courses - I know it's not something you WANTED to do, I know it's like... a sad feeling, acceptance. But I'm still proud of you for knowing what you're able to handle at the moment and accommodating that (I'm sorry if I didn't phrase that very cleanly, it's uh, it's been a day) but hey I am sending you so much love. It's a very lonely feeling to not be able to do something you desperately want to do because you're limited by chronic pain or your own body just generally Not Cooperating With You, I've unfortunately had that experience as well where I had a dream career and everything lined up for me and my disabilities just, uh, held me back from advancing. I've had to consider having to rely on disability benefits and uhh idk, it's! just! not a great feeling! It's a very upsetting feeling and my heart goes out to you. I wish I had the power to snap my fingers and make everything magically better for you ;-; of course, please don't feel obligated to respond to this if you don't have the spoons, I just wanted to send some kind words your way, if I may, my liege ♡

And OH NO!!! Not your blorbo from your shows!!! 😭😭 I'm so sorry... ahhh I guess this is what fix-it fics are for, I suppose, but STILL... such a heavy feeling when we lose our blorbos. We get so invested into these characters and then they either get heavily mistreated or killed off!! What's up with that!! I'm sorry you have to mourn on top of everything else. Honestly, I get so invested into these fictional characters, I'll make a self insert and I'll have them quite literally jump INTO the universe, I'll write them saving the character before the Death Scene™ happens, and then everything is Fine :) Sometimes I even have the self insert have this uh idk, power I guess you'd call it, where they have a star in the palm of their hands, and they can push the star into the chest of the character who had died, so it like... revives their soul, or their heart, or whatever. It's so overpowered and so silly, doesn't make sense at all, but hey!! it's SO fun and it genuinely helps me feel better to think about that character walking around with a piece of the galaxy in their chest and they're Alive and Fine and Breathing and Everything Is Okay sdlfjslfd. I'm saying this just to, like, try to empathize, that losing a character can literally hurt SO badly, and I understand that sometimes it hurts *so* badly you'd really do anything to bring 'em back. I hope you will be able to either write some good fix-it fics for yourself, or find some good ones out there if you do not have the spoons to write one for yourself. Losing a character, especially during a hyperfixation, is such a painful feeling. I wish you didn't have to go through that when you're hurting right now 😭😭 again, my heart is going out to you. I love u so much. I apologize if I sound like a broken record sdflkjsdlf

Thank you for allowing me to send you little starburst messages into your inbox! Half of the time I don't even know what to say except "hi! I love you!" but I just love to interact with you. You're such a joy and I am so lucky you're a part of my life, however big or small our moments are when our paths may cross on this hellsite. You actually reblogged a few of my artworks at one point I think a year ago and I still get so overwhelmingly happy when I think about it, like "omg I've peaked!! I've made it!! I have impressed Bougie my beloved!!" 😂😂 Anyway I'm just saying this because umm idk I just, I love you and I care about you and I really wish that you didn't have to be hurting, emotionally or physically. I am sending you so so so much love Bougie, you're always in my thoughts and I'm always wishing the best for you, because you deserve the best. You deserve so much happiness!!!! I am sending you little star-shaped wishes and dreams to lift your spirits!!! ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ !!! -🌟

I wuv u so so so so much. Seriously, thank you - for the well wishes and commiserations. Health is such a blessing, and such a burden when it fails you. Having to readjust your life trajectory around your disability can truly tear you apart on a fundamental level, but I'm very lucky to have an incredibly supportive family, faculty team, and healthcare crew. I will find a direction that is suitable for my body's needs, and I will cling to it with all my teeth like a rabid dog. I hope you have found something in your life to keep you moving forwards too, no matter what it is, no matter how small!

I'm gonna spend the rest of the evening being floppy and small as I languish under the weight of oh-so-many emotions, but your messages are truly a gift and I cherish them! You are a bright and beautiful star. Shine on xxx

[suitk0via]

— Call me

Pairing: bestfriend!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.1 k

Warnings: talks about a bad date, insecurities, some major flirting, and smut ( masturbation, oral sex, sorta innocence kink... )

Synopsis: After a bad date you decide to call up your good friend Bucky, aka your shoulder to cry on. Bucky hates the reason you called, but he just loves to hear your voice.

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI !!!!!!

Sunshine:

12:05 am

Can I call you?

He sat up looking at the screen with wide eyes like he’d misread the message. He didn’t. You were asking to call him. Of course he agreed in a quick text putting his hands on his face until he felt it vibrate across the covers. The screen read Sunshine and he felt a stupid smile on his face. Unhesitating he laid back against the pillows and put the phone to his ear. “Hey.” He said softly. It was quiet but he heard a sniffle and he immediately felt terrible. “Oh honey, I'm sorry.” From what he understood, you’d gone on another bad date. “It’s not your fault.” You laughed but there was a hint of sadness in there. “What’re you cryin’ for love bug?”

You could’ve died hearing his tired voice over the phone. Where the courage to call came from, you weren’t sure. But you were thankful for it. Bucky was a friend, nothing more, nothing less. You felt like you could confide in him so easily, and he sounded so sweet it nearly sent you into another fit of tears. “Well, I went on date…It went…r-really bad” You explained, trying to maintain a little composure. There was a shifting sound and you anxiously ran your hands over your blanket. “Well…I won’t say I told you so, but…any man with a picture of himself holding any sort of hunting gear is automatically a piece of shit.” He said, clearly referring to the conversation you’d had with him a few days before.

“You don’t know that Bucky! He could be nice! He’s got a nice smile…”

“Babe…He looks like he would rather have sex with his car than a woman.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even though you know he was right. It still hurts though. This happened way too often, and sometimes it left you feeling like you were getting what you deserved. For being so naive to think anyone look at you as more than a sexual object.

“You’re right..” You sighed.

You felt like a damn teenager on the phone with your crush. It felt irredemably stupid but he was entertaining you. His voice was enough to make you forget about any shitty tinder date you ever had. “Yeah?” Something about the tone of his voice had really entertained the worst part of your mind. It was quiet for a second. “I think you should stop looking online…and look around you.” You bit your lip thinking about it for a second. The implication of what he could mean by that went straight to your head. The part of your brain that was specifically reserved for daydreaming about your friend.

“I should. I know I should…but I’m going to end up dying alone at this rate.” He laughed on the other line taking a deep breath. “Babe...Now that’s dramatic. You won’t die alone. I can promise you that. There is someone out there for you and they're just gonna look at you like you hung the stars in the sky..”

His voice sounded different when he said that. Just a little softer than usual, like he was really imagining that scenario. You felt your cheeks heating up and instinctively reached up and rubbed your neck, fighting the urge to scream into your pillow.

“You’re gonna find someone sunshine…and I can’t wait to see the smile on your face when you do.”

Every bit of him hated saying that.

As much as he wanted you to be happy, a deeply selfish part of himself never minded when you came crying to him. Of course, he always would take care of whatever idiot decided to treat you badly, but it still never changed the fact that you weren’t looking at him. Not the way he wanted you to.

Sometimes you’d act nervous around Bucky, but that was how you always were. You were sweet to him, but you were sweet to everyone. To him, you treated him like you did anyone else. He took what he could get though. These calls late at night were something he begrudgingly looked forward to. He wanted to be more than the friend you called when you weren’t feeling the best. He wanted to be the person that kissed the tears off your cheeks, and held you all night long.

“I hope so.” You sighed.

He could hear you shifting around and he smiled at the thought of you tossing and turning to get comfortable. After a moment of silence you just kept talking, saying whatever came to mind. Bucky put his phone on speaker and laid it on his pillow, closing his eyes as he listened to you ramble on. Occasionally you would giggle and there were some still distressed sniffles that would come through.

Listening to your voice made him feel something.

Closing his eyes he could just picture you laying across from him, talking about nothing while he just fought the urge to make you stop talking. Maybe it was a little presumptuous, but the way you were babbling about absolutely nothing made him think you just didn’t want to end the call.

“I’m talking too much…I’m sorry Bucky.” You laughed nervously.

“No…I like listening to your voice baby.”

Immediately you felt like all the air had been sucked out of your bedroom. The little endearments he always slipped in never failed to make your heart flutter. “Bucky…you can’t be talking to me like that.” You laugh, and try to ward off the thoughts that were creeping up on you. That sweet laughter came through the line and you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

“M’sorry love bug…can’t help it. I like making you all giggly. Every time I say anything like that, even if I can’t see you, I know you’re just smiling.”

You could hear the sly smile in his voice. In your head you could see that smile he always gave you when he was up to no good. No good being his incessant need to make you squirm. Absent-mindedly you reached across the bed and ran your fingers across the cool sheets. “You’re a good man Bucky…” You sighed, closing your eyes.

There was a little huff of laughter followed by a sigh, “I’m glad you think so.”

Listening to the faintest sounds of him breathing you closed your eyes and grabbed a pillow holding it close to you. As much as you wanted to continue this, you knew that your groggy emotions would only end up getting you in trouble. “Goodnight Bucky…Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me…I wouldn’t stay on the phone with just anyone like this.”

He forces out a yawn and sighs, “Goodnight sunshine.”

“I’ll talk to you later Buck…Don’t dream about me.”

“Oh now I definitely will.”

You laughed and pressed the red button. Now it was all quiet, and you were left to your own devices. Squeezing the pillow a little harder you couldn’t help but smile. Bucky never failed to leave you feeling better than you were before. Cuddling into the blankets you let your mind wander, and eventually you lulled yourself.

Unfortunately it wasn’t that easy for Bucky. His mind was wide awake and racing. Instead of putting his phone down he mindlessly flipped through some things, and somehow he settled on you. Scrolling through your instagram aimlessly and watching the little videos you had posted. He was thinking about how sweet your sleepy voice was, and how cute you must’ve looked. Turning his phone over he stared at the ceiling feeling the familiar pull of lust in the pit of his stomach.

Do not even think about it James. Touching yourself like a teenager? All because you heard a girl’s voice over the phone? Control.

He scolded himself internally until a familiar idea came to mind. One way or another his mind drifted to seeing you the other evening at Steve’s house. That black dress that really left no room for anything other than the imagination of a man who hadn’t really looked at a woman in a very long time.

Technically he had a fling here and there but that was just momentary pleasure, he was looking at you like you were a permanent solution to his ever present loneliness. Groaning in frustration he sat up looking at his door – it was locked. Like it was a chore he grabbed his phone and opened up the browser.

This was a slippery slope, and he knew it, but he needed to let it out. The tightness of his boxer’s was becoming annoying and he carelessly slipped his hand beneath the fabric barely touching himself but reacting harshly. He had to remind himself that it had been awhile and to take it easy or he’d last maybe a minute.

Over the years he’d refined his interests. He liked rough things, control, and sweet words. It seemed easy enough, but finding that perfect mixture without doing it himself was impossible to find online. When he found the perfect thing he kept the link in a locked note on his phone. It was tedious and made him feel slightly stupid, but the momentary pleasure it granted him was not comparable.

He also felt that he was old enough that if for some reason some critiqued his habits then he could easily tell them to fuck off and move on with life. Now he found that one video that never failed to do the trick.

Sure, it was obscene really, but whoever this woman was being egregiously fucked in the mouth didn’t seem to mind.

He didn’t have to look very long, because his mind took that played up scenario and ran with it. Throwing his head back against the pillows he thought about you. As wrong as it felt, he did. Fantasizing about you sinking to your knees with that all too innocent look on your face.

“Bucky, I don’t know…”

He could hear it so clearly and he stroked himself in an odd pattern that felt way too good. He would lean down and kiss you softly savoring the taste of your lips. Those plush lips that always had some kind of gloss on. Holding your face in his hands he’d run his fingers over your skin as if to put you at ease.

“Oh baby, I can show you. You look so pretty down here.”

Groaning at the thought of a sweet smile on your lips as you put your trust in him. You’d blush at the praise and he’d grab your hair tie and pull your hair back. He’d unzip his pants and free himself from the boxer’s that became far too tight. Changing his pace he pumped himself harder – desperately – and he felt his leg twitching hopelessly. You’d give him a shy look and he’d guide your hand to his cock.

“Bucky… you’re too big.”

Your eyes would be almost as big as his ego.

Nearly letting himself go he took a shaky breath feeling the pre-cum leaking from his almost painful erection. Grabbing your face he’d slip his fingers past your lips feeling how warm it was, feeling your tongue press against his fingers. You wouldn’t cough, You wouldn’t even look uncomfortable.

“Little bit at a time, hm?”

Hesitantly you would nod then put the most gentle on the underside of his cock. “Holy shit.” He groaned upset with how he was torturing himself with this imagery.

Metal gripped at the sheets while flesh gripped at flesh.

You’d wrap your lips around him and he’d hold onto your hair whispering profanities. Pulling you until you took him all the way, and he’d revel in the warm feeling of your mouth. Pulling back he’d smile at the thin string of saliva that connected the two of you.

“Good?”

You’d say in a breathless voice. His sweet little sunshine looked for praise he’d so willingly give.

“Baby, you’re so good. Amazing. Perfect. My girl.”

He’d say, just possessive as he could be shoving his cock down your throat rather aggressively. He’d go until he couldn’t anymore, and you wouldn’t so much as whine in complaint. Finishing in your mouth watching you take it so well. He’d straighten himself up then grabbing you up grinning at the way your makeup had run down your face.

“Did you?”

He would ask curiously, encouraging you to open your mouth. You’d wiggle in his lap sticking Your tongue out, and he’d see no trace of his spend.

“Hm. What a good girl.”

Gripping the sheets he groaned and tried catching his breath.

Bucky blinked a few times bringing himself back to reality.

Then a crushing realization dawned on him.

He’d have to look you in the eyes again, and pretend he didn’t think about the most heinous shit ever. Pretend like he didn’t just make an absolute mess of himself in the late hours of night thinking about fucking your mouth. Looking down he was quietly disappointed in himself, but at the same time the monster in his mind was slightly appeased.

-

Reblogs are appreciated! 💗

[luveline]

hiii <3 if you're still taking requests what do you think of tasm!peter with a touch starved reader who's maybe been feeling a lil extra lonely <3

thanks for requesting :D

"You will never guess what I got at the store," Peter says, having let himself into your apartment, arms laden with grocery bags.

"What did you get?" you ask. You pat yourself on the back for that one. You aren’t sure how you'd even managed to open your mouth, let alone answer coherently. A numbness pervades your whole body.

"I got…" he sets the bags down on the kitchen counter and pulls out his esteemed purchase. "Toilet paper with puppies!"

Sure enough, the paper is embossed with little puppies. You stare at the roll in his hands for a moment before your eyes move to his hands, his long fingers. You trace the length of them, their knuckles, his fingernails. You want to hold his hand so badly the thought startles you, like a static shock.

Your cheap bar stool creaks underneath you. Peter notices your movement and squints at you, putting the puppy paper down gently on your countertop. “What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You shake it off and jump down from the stool to peer into his bag of tricks. “Nothing. Watcha making?”

He hesitates before answering. “It’s just frozen pizzas. And cherry coke.”

“And puppy toilet paper,” you say, giving him your most award-winning smile. “Thanks, Peter.”

“Yeah, you're welcome, bub.” He sounds confused at your quizzical behaviour. You don’t blame him; you’re being very temperamental.

He messes with your old stove until it works — he’s always been better at masterminding its inner working than you have — and you both decide to play it safe and sit for the 12 minutes it takes to cook on the rickety bar stools bordering the opposite counter. You swivel on your chair, catching flashes of the kitchen, Peter, the living room, the kitchen, Peter, so on and so forth.

He reaches out to catch the lip of your spinning chair and your whole body yanks. When he steadies you, hand on the curve of your hip, you balk. He notices your expression and moves his hand up, in line with your navel. There’s a layer of fabric between his hand and your skin, and yet you swear you can feel the lines of his skin on your skin, brushing over. It’s a very raw feeling.

“What, do you have a bruise?” he asks, pulling his hand away.

“No, I’m fine.”

“You looked like I just hurt you.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry?” he asks probingly.

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“You winced.”

You look down at your thighs pressed together and frown. He’s so perceptive, more perceptive than you give him credit for, and it’s been a week since you last saw him, and nobody else ever touches you. It’s only him, only Peter that ever wants to hug you and hold your hand and throw his legs over yours. When he’s busy, you miss him, your body misses his touch.

“Do you ever want something so badly it kind of hurts you?” you ask him.

He sucks on his bottom lip, a sad frown taking up residence on his pretty face. It’s almost like he’s concentrating, working out one of his equations.

“You want a hug?” he asks eventually.

You stare resolutely at your knees, embarrassed at being read for filth so quickly.

“Hey, come here,” he says, tugging at your wrist. “Come on, first ones free.”

You reluctantly climb down from your chair to stand in front of him. He takes your hands into his lap and looks you over. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since the last time I saw you,” he says quietly, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of your hands. They burn under his touch.

“That’s okay,” you say, everything sounding like it’s underwater.

“But you’re lonely,” he says plainly. No soft touch but no cruel spin. He says the truth as it is.

“Sometimes,” you admit, voice taking on a pitiful wobbly quality that has you cringing. His hands move to your wrists, pressing into your pulse.

“Alright, dolly, bring it in. My arms yearn for you,” he says dramatically, and there’s the Peter you’re more familiar with.

He works his hands under your arms, touch slow and gently as he folds you into his embrace, pulling you between his open thighs. Your head and arms fit over his shoulders, crossing at the wrists so your hands fit in the space between his broad shoulders.

The oven heaves. Your washing machine in the bathroom whirs quietly, its vibrations rivering out through the floor. There’s a rustling sound as the breeze from the open window kicks aside the parched leaves of your potted plant. None of this seems as loud or as distracting as the sound of Peter’s hands running over your shirt, the soft shushing of cotton under his touch. You readjust your arms to press your face into his neck, breathing in his smell and his sounds, all the small things about him that you miss when he’s not around. Already, your body is relaxing, decompressing, like the loneliness is being eased out of you with each inhale, each passing motion of his big, warm hands.

“You know you don’t have to wait for me to offer?” he asks. “If you want to touch me, you can.”

“It feels like my skin goes numb,” you confess. Your words are muffled in his neck, your cheek pressed into his shirt's neckline.

He brings a hand up to the back of your head, almost cradling. It makes you want to cry. “We’ve talked about this, haven’t we? You need touch. You need contact. I’m more than happy to be your dealer, bub.”

He pulls your head back, encouraging you to look him in the eyes. You’re so close you can see flecks of dark, dark brown that decorate his irises. “Don’t let it get this bad.”

“I won’t,” you say.

“You do, though.”

He slides his hand from the back of your head to the front, thumb pressing into your soft cheek, fingers hooked behind your ears.

“There’s nothing wrong with needing things. Especially needing things from me. Understand?”

You nod, a little dazed by his proximity, by his attention and by his voice, warm and smooth and sweet like a spoonful of honey dissolving into a hot cup of tea. It soothes much the same.

He rubs semi circles into your cheek and you lean into his touch indulgently. When he finally pulls away, the hand on the small of your back leaves a brand that you feel all night.

[225s]

for jude i think it would be cute if you could write something based off one of his recent matches where he went off on a teammate and just consoling him and understanding that he’s young and carries a lot of the weight so the pressure gets to be a lot

bad patch (jude bellingham)

For the first time since you started going to Jude's games, you find yourself counting down the minutes until the final whistle blows - even wishing the game would somehow be finished earlier, praying for a sudden snowstorm that'll make the field unplayable. You feel bad for thinking this way, but the scenes playing out in front of you are simply unbearable to watch, and you're clearly not the only one who's had enough of it. A handful of home fans around you makes their way up the stairs, walking away from the disaster on the field while the opponents celebrate their fifth goal of the evening, as if the first four weren't enough yet.

Your eyes wander from the cringy, badly choreographed celebrations to your tired boyfriend who's yelling at his teammates, frustration written all over his face and posture. It's become a familiar sight in the last couple of weeks, every loss only adding to the sour mood. You can't say you're looking forward to the rest of the evening, knowing Jude won't be a sunshine and will probably barely even say anything, and even after all this time of dating, you haven't fully mastered the art of comforting him yet.

When they finally leave the pitch, heads hanging low, you decide to wait for Jude in your car, feeling a bit awkward about seeing the other players' girlfriends as your boyfriend spent the last thirty minutes yelling at their lovers.

It doesn't take long till you're joined by Jude, the car door slamming shut behind him a good indication of his current mood. He doesn't even acknowledge you, eyes fluttering closed as he sighs, head falling back against the chair. You both just sit there for a while, trying to collect your thoughts and looking for words to say. Jude's the first one to succeed at this, tiredness evident in his voice as he speaks. "I'm sorry you had to see that disaster of a game, I know you've got better things to do than watching us lose every damn time."

"Hey now, you don't need to apologize." You reach out to cup his cheek, trying to get him to meet your eyes when you talk. "You know I'll always come to your games, even when you play in the worst sunday league team that gets relegated every single year, I'll still be on the sideline screaming your name. There's no better thing to do than watch you do something you love."

You feel a little sense of achievement when you see his frown subside just the tiniest bit, but there's still a sadness in his eyes that makes your heart hurt. "You do still love it, right? Football?"

"Yeah, of course." He nods decisively, his body melting into the passenger seat. "Just wonder whether the rest of our team does, too. Sure doesn't seem like it sometimes."

"You guys are just going through a bad patch, it'll get better, I swear." You just hope it'll be sooner rather than later - you can't stand seeing your boyfriend like this, so defeated and exhausted. You miss his smile after a win, lighting up the stadium and warming the heart of every supporter, you miss dancing in the living room to celebrate his goal, you miss him.

"I really wanted to score for you," he mumbles softly, his words barely audible, "Hate disappointing you. And the fans."

"Hold up." Your other hand moves to his cheeks as well, holding his face so that he stops staring through the window and looks at you instead. "You're not disappointing anyone, okay? Not me, not the fans, no one. Every time you step onto that pitch, you give it your all and that's everything we ask for and more. You're so young, you shouldn't feel like you've got to fix all of this shit. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Your thumbs are quick to wipe away the tears slipping from his eyes, lips following suit, placing tender kisses all over his damp cheeks until a small smile breaks through on his face.

"Thank you," he whispers and lets his forehead rest against yours, "I really needed to hear that. You might have to repeat it a couple of times though."

"I'll make it a part of my morning routine," you smile and place another kiss on his lips. "Speaking of routines, I was thinking of a pamper night? You know, ice cream, face masks, bubble baths and stuff, to destress?"

"I can think of something else to destress." Jude wiggles his eyebrows at you, a cheeky grin on his face that soon turns into a pout when you softly slack his arm, murmuring a 'perv' under your breath. "I meant a massage! You're the pervert here, babe. Gee, seriously, get your mind out of the gutter."

"I swear to God, next time you lose I'll just make fun of you."