#but that's just the typical anxiety of sharing concepts I've been working on for months I suppose ahah;;

[apprenticestanheight]

THE FIVE DAYS OF SMUTMAS QUEUE: DAY THREE

Somno - Peter Strahm x gn! reader

Allllllll right, we are on to day three of this event and despite the fact that I never really write this many fics in less than a week unless motivation has come around and hyped me to a point where I'm capable of doing it across two days, I am still chuggin on and to be honest, the concept for this fic is largely what's kept me from going down the demotivated slope.

I have had a very not great last two months of the year and so body worship with peter strahm and a touch of angst with hurt/comfort it is, because I needed to write this idea out and figured this event would be a good opportunity lol.

Last note before this fic begins, this fic is meant for audiences of 18+! Minors, do not interact.

Fic type- this is smut and hurt/comfort

Warnings- somnophilia, oral (afab recieving), there is one mention of trauma/anxiety induced insomnia, and the reader is gn for all intents and purposes, but I went with an AFAB reader as that's the anatomy I know best, and this is edited but barely bc I wanted to post oops.

Peter is all too aware of how rough the last few months have been for you.

Granted, you've not said a word of it because you'd sooner see hell than let anyone know when you're going through a rough spot, but since your relationship has begun, Peter has learned to look for the subtle tells you display whenever you feel like your life is about to start falling apart.

Peter is something of a chronic insomniac because of how the on-call schedule of his work with the Jigsaw case has impacted his sleeping capabilities, and so he's used to staying awake for hours on end in case he gets a phone call from someone at the Jersey precinct.

You, however, work a decent and consistent job as a cleaner that pays more than well. You have a set of routines—you wake up at six thirty every morning, make a steaming mug of chai from the K-Cups you adore, eat an easy breakfast and a cliff bar on your way out of the house.

You're at work from seven-thirty in the morning to six thirty most nights, come home and do whatever needs doing around the apartment that you and Peter share, and you watch TV or read until Peter comes home and the two of you order dinner.

You always go to bed sooner than Peter does, typically going to bed somewhere around eleven or midnight where the earliest Peter goes to sleep is one, and then you wake up the next morning and your cycle repeats.

However, since September, whenever Peter has come to bed, you've still been awake, even if it's three or four in the morning. The chai you made with the K-Cups you adore has turned into a steaming cup of coffee that you have to sweeten with brown sugar, honey, and sometimes maple syrup to be able to tolerate.

You're at work from seven am to nine or ten most nights now, and by the time you're home, the housework has been looked after because Peters hired a cleaning lady to come by the house and make sure the house stays clean once every four or five days.

You come home and Peter tries to get you to smile but nothing really does the trick. Peter finds that he misses you, wants to try to goad you into talking it out with him but knows from too many attempts to do so that it absolutely will not work.

But, when he comes home on the 22nd at 7:30, a rarely early time for him get home as the stuff with Jigsaw has progressed, he's completely and utterly shocked to see you sitting on the couch in your living room.

When he closes the door, your gaze snaps to his.

"I owe you an apology," you say. "I've been very terrible at being a spouse the past few months. I shouldn't've subjected you to that. I know I need to be better at communicating and I just feel awful because I've pretty much shut you out and I just—it's just not—it's not fair to you, Peter."

"It's all right, Y/N," he says. "I thought that something had happened, yeah? I figured you wanted space and I was going to give it to you until you decided you wanted closeness again. I know I get angry really quick and am frankly a little surprised I haven't snapped about it but I have worked on not snapping a lot since we started dating."

You've been married something like a decade. It took a lot of storming for Peter to reach the level of evenness, the level of calm, where he stood.

"Yeah, but I've been terrible," you laugh. Peter approaches, sits next to you on your couch. "I've not—it's not been fair, Pete. I haven't talked, I've worked myself almost to the bone, I don't eat breakfast like I used to—all of my routines have been thrown off by this, and I can't imagine how yours have been."

He wishes he could say that he was fine, completely unaffected by it, but to say that would be to lie right to your face, which is something he promised never to do in his wedding vows. He worried about you all the time, desperately wanted to ask you if you were okay and try to goad you into talking to him even though that had never, ever worked in his favor.

Peter grins at you. "I'm just glad you're okay, Y/N," he says. "Had me worried for a stretch, if I'm honest."

"I'm sorry to have worried you," you say. "I've just—work has been driving me mental. I took more hours to get a bit of a Christmas bonus on top of the bonus I get tomorrow to try to ease the mental stuff I've been dealing with and yeah, the cushy paycheck is great but fuck if I don't hate dealing with people during the holiday season. I have been yelled at about how spotless houses need to be more times than I can count."

Peter laughs. "You're the one who decided to go into the cleaning business," he says. You laugh a bit yourself, press your forehead against his shoulder.

"I know," you mumble sadly, a laugh trailing through your words. "But when I started, I'd really hoped I would spend less time talking to people, more time deep cleaning carpets while I had decent music playing through a Walkman. I do get to listen to music but the people are becoming more and more of an issue lately."

Peter presses a kiss to the top of your head. "You're gonna take a bit of time off, mm? You definitely seem like you could use it."

"I booked it last night," you nod. "Tomorrow through til valentines day. I need the time to settle back into routines and I've been drinking coffee religiously—it's more than the one I drink here. I drink at least three cups a day just in the name of keeping myself upright and that needs to stop. I am beyond caffeine overdose. I can drink 600 miligrams a day and not feel a thing."

"That is definitely cause for concern," Peter laughs. "But I'm glad you're okay and that you're trying to get better. I've booked up until the New Year off so that I could catch up on sleep, too, but if we're both home, it means a lot of us time after Christmas. Still goin' up to New York?"

"My mother will put us to death if we don't," you laugh. Peter laughs.

For a solid few minutes, things really do feel like they'll be okay.

-

For what is probably the first time since before he was so much as a cop, Peter Strahm is asleep, you also asleep next to him in the bed that you share, at nine o'clock. He wakes up at six thirty from an unfortunately kinky dream and all he wants to do is part your legs and eat you out until he can't breathe.

Granted—you've spoken extensively about it before, and you've given him the okay to do it several times just as he has you, but still. The part of Peter that's turned on by the idea is equally matched by the part that kind of feels gross about it.

But then, approximately five minutes into unbearably loud thoughts about pulling down the sweatpants you'd stolen from him and parting your legs and devouring you, and five minutes away from just running to the bathroom and rubbing one out to the idea, he watches you press your face against the pillow and moan loud enough for him to hear it.

"Peter," you moan. "Fuck, feels so good."

Peters eyes nearly roll to the back of his head and he bites down on his tongue to keep himself from floating.

He tries to shake out his hands, tries to think of anything else while your quiet, desperate moans fill the air.

He thrums through the Jigsaw victims that've popped up in recent weeks, tries to think about something like the weather or the baseball scores or something to focus on anything but the fact that you're in the midst of a sex dream, one involving him, and the fact that you're moaning your way through it in a way that makes Peter want to lose his mind.

And then, you moan Peters name in a way that you know in your lucid moments drives him crazy, and Peter can't stop himself.

You've discussed it before, and Peters done it before, and every single time he's woken you up with his tongue rubbing wildly against your clit, you've moaned out and started rutting against his face and made a comment about how much you liked waking up to Peter bringing you to orgasm.

Peter is careful to remove the sweatpants you've taken from his drawer, lifting up the shirt you also stole and exposing some of your waist.

He licks a stripe through your folds, not at all surprised to find you're wet if the way that you're moaning from the dream is of any indication, and almost moans against your cunt right then and there.

He starts off slowly, licking stripes against your folds and drinking your wetness down his throat like it's water. Every single time you moan something within him flutters, and he knows it's been too long since he's taken his time with eating you out.

And then, as his tongue attaches to your clit, he feels one of your hands move to his hair.

"Best way to wake up ever," you whisper. "Oh, Peter. Thank you."

You sound half-asleep, but Peter moans against you and you tug on his hair encouragingly, so he keeps going.

He runs his tongue in circles over your clit, sliding a digit into your wet hole without a thought in the world, fighting a smirk when you moan and tug on his hair again.

He starts thrusting, sets a pace that has you writhing within minutes, and takes his fingers out in the last split second before you release, replacing his fingers with his tongue and lapping up your cum without thought, care, or merit. You thrust against his face in the aftershocks, moan as he gets up from his position.

He pulls you in for a kiss while you use one arm to amble through your nightstand for a condom, feeling Marks half-hard, clothed-but-only-by-flannel-pajama-pants length against your bare thigh.

You pull away only so that he can take his pants off, and you slide the condom on with care for how hard his cock is. He peppers your neck and jawline with kisses as he slowly thrusts into your sensitive folds, moaning as he bottoms out.

"I love you," he says to fill the silence while he waits for you to adjust.

"Thank you for dealing with me when I'm at my worst," you press a kiss to his cheekbone. "And for waking me up in the best way ever. Love it when you eat me out, Pete. You're so fucking good at it."

Your legs are wrapped around his waist and you squeeze his hips to tell him to start moving, and when he does, he sets a slow pace. Despite his fervency when it came to oral, he did intend to actually make it known that he did love you and wasn't always in it just to get you or himself to orgasm as quickly as possible.

His pace is slow indeed, but not slow enough that you're pretty much begging him to pick it up a little, and his thrusts are languid in a way that's perfect.

Both of you start moaning after a bit, and Peter, the guy who never moans and usually just likes hearing how you sound when you do, is moaning lewdly and loudly into the nape of your neck while you moan quietly near his ear.

"Peter," you moan. "Peter, fuck. You're so fucking good at this, yeah? You're treating me so well, baby. You're amazing."

Peter moans, clearly enjoying the praise, and you rut your hips against him.

"Fuck," he moans, picking up the pace just a little. "Fuck, Y/N. I love getting you so slick. You were dreaming about me, yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Yeah. We were fucking at the precinct, in one of the storage closets."

Peter moves a hand to rub your clit, loving the moan that it brings out of you.

Minutes pass by of the same, and your release triggers Peters. You moan each others names as you come, and while you go pee to make sure you don't end up with a UTI, Peter pulls the condom off and trashes it, gets a bath going for the two of you.

In the bath, you talk of plans for the day, which will consist entirely of going to the shops together, reading books and doing last-minute christmas shopping.

All in all, you're happy that Peter woke you up with oral and Peter is happy that you're feeling okay enough to want to be woken up that way again.

[wheel-of-hyperfixation]

Every couple of months this concept for a fic (a whole damn series tbh) pops back into my mind

I really want to make myself write it. Reasons I should give it a shot (this list is kind of just for me, lemme convince myself)

I used to start writing stories as a kid (many a few pages that I started but never continued) and even though I never finished them, it made me so happy. I think I'd like to explore the storyteller in me from a new place; not as a dancer.

All the writing that I end up doing now is for school. I'm typically not one to boast but I will say that my written responses and essays are reallll fucking good. And even with fighting my own brain trying to write for those assignments (anxiety, depression, adhd yall do NOT make it easy) I still Love writing those essays. I have Fun writing those essays

I say I don't have free time but I do manage to find time to rest. Usually though resting just ends up being laying in bed all day watching some show on my laptop. And then I feel shitty (physically and mentally) that I haven't done something more productive. Not productive like "you should've deep cleaned the entire apartment on your first day off in three in a half weeks" but like "hey girl could you just maybe do something that involves some healthy brain stimulation? pls??" I think this would be a good outlet yk healthy for my brain and my body

I'd really like to be able to share something of mine with the folks here I admire

Going off of #4, I have such a hard time sharing my art online but sadly my career path kind of depends on my ability to do that. I have yet to a really clean, simple answer of how to overcome that--at least they haven't been routes I've felt I could make myself do (I'm very stubborn). This however might be a good way for me to practice and build this skill, in a place where my career, My Dream isn't at stake.

_______________________________________

so the plot..

Eddie Munson x (lemme be self-indulgent and also add to our minimal representation on here) BlackFem!Reader

Will the upside down be a thing that happened? I'm guessing no. But if it is then ofc this man survives -as he should as he should-

Eddie has finally graduated ('86 baby <3). He has another 6 months-a year afterwards working every moment he can and saving every penny. He finally leaves Hawkins (would need to write some sad shit with leaving Wayne ofc but yk maybe in a later chapter as a little flashback) for [SOME BIG CITY - i have some choices but it depends on details about Reader i haven't given thought to yet]. He's trying to get into the music scene-- make friends, find some footing, get a consistent gig somewhere if he can. There's a rock night at a local bar he sees a flyer for and there he meets this percussionist who's drumming with a band playing that night. BAM! They're instant friends. IMPORTANT: i headcanon that Eddie also managed to learn to play drums sometime in late middle school/early high school, he doesn't have formal training but can work his way around a drum set. Plot things plot things plot things -> New best friend percussionist has a job with this proffesional dance company as an accompanist; they play for classes and rehearsals and has recently been in talks with the director about their upcoming season because of a new work one of the choreographers will be building. It'll be a lot of workshopping but just conceptually it seems great. The other two accompanists who usually work with the company don't drum though and the choreographer really wants a musical focus on percussion. BestFriend calls Eddie while he's still at the studio speaking with the director and choreographer :)

WELCOME READER!! I'm not sure who exactly she'll be yet but currently mulling over some possibilities: a friend of this choreographer from a previous job who they've asked to help with the choreography? a brand new company member? someone who's danced a couple seasons with the company (corps dancer) and is getting her first larger role? Lots of possibilties but the point is that she's part of the new work too.

And they meet when Eddie comes for his first day-- it's company class in the morning and rehearsal begins later after their lunch break (again it's lots of workshopping, collaborative space, freestyle amongst the dancers as they just get to play around with the music). Eddie is a little entranced by Reader the whole time, and Reader tries to not get flustered and distracted in the middle of learning these movement phrases when she catches him watching her specifically.

Pretty, lovely, dream-like things ensue for them <3

_________________________

That "quick rough summary" turned into a word-vomit brainstorm with a lot more detail than I anticipated. Cool.

[missholoska]

At long last, it’s the goats’ time to shine ✨🐐

(For anyone unfamiliar with my Swap content, see the character sheets for Papyrus & Sans, Undyne & Alphys, and more about Underswap MH here!)

Before the usual further rambles under the cut I want to properly explain one little detail in Asgore’s info box: Asriel being his nephew. I didn’t change this just for the sake of it! It has to do with everyone's roles and actions making sense to me and keeping certain details intact, and I'll talk about it more in Asriel's character sheet but here's the shortest way I can explain it:

Basically Asriel being alive in Underswap and still being Toriel and Asgore's son without any of them aging doesn't really make sense to me, and physical distance doesn't seem enough reason for none of them to have aged a day in 100 years, as Boss Monsters should. I've also seen (and liked) some Swap takes where Asriel instead has only a distant relation to the Dreemurrs or even none at all, but speaking purely for my Underswap it just feels kinda sad for him to have nothing to do with them.

So my middle ground for both of these points is Swap MH Asriel is their nephew instead, allowing him to have a close family bond with both Dandelion and Orchid without any of them aging, and lets him be separate enough to live his own life in Snowdin in UT Monster Kid's role. His parents are dead and about as relevant as MK’s biological parents, which is uh. not at all, but that’s just how it's gotta be.

As I've often said with Underswap MH, I don't mind if this doesn't appeal to everyone! I know it might be odd even with thought-out reasons for it, but in the end I'm still just doing what I want with my version.

anyway on with the enormous amount of extra info for these two:

Because they have no biological children (and to be clear, it's not that they can't have kids, they just didn't), Dandelion and Orchid are physically younger than their UT counterparts. Personally I don't think they were that old when they gained their Boss Monster immortality and I headcanon UT Asriel as 10 when he died, so I see UT Toriel and Asgore as being physically around their late 30s and early 40s respectively.

It took a while to figure out why Orchid would ever kill the six humans because it always felt out of character for a Swap Toriel who retains some of UT Toriel's personality. I can't see her killing anyone voluntarily at first, but UT Toriel is able to kill UT Frisk accidentally, so likewise killing the first human to fall after Swap Frisk was not intentional. She still tried to reason with every human who faced her, but being unable to convince them to stay in the Underground in peace and already having blood on her hands, was resigned to her duty.

On Dandelion's side of events, he still has UT Asgore's traits of being prone to anger in grief and somewhat cowardly about his duty, hence him still calling the declaration of war on humanity but then backing out on it. Feeling like he'd betrayed the memory of their children and knowing he'd hurt Orchid emotionally, he exiled himself to Ruins, assuming that in his absence she would call the war off again.

Orchid's reason for not using a human soul to cross the barrier (i.e. exactly what UT Toriel calls Asgore out on) is that taking the first child's life traumatised her on top of her grief in not wanting to follow the doomed footsteps of her adoptive children. As she's still Toriel she still considered doing exactly that, but wasn't emotionally capable of it and is very aware of her hypocrisy.

...basically if you think the eternal fandom slapfights over whether Toriel is just as bad as Asgore or either of them did nothing wrong are a mess, it's definitely even more complicated in Underswap MH. They both made wrong decisions in grief, but in the end both deserve mercy too.

Orchid's throne room, rather than being covered by a bed of golden flowers, features the same black tree seen in front of UT Toriel's home, with red leaves covering the floor (meanwhile the Ruins has no red leaves). Her throne sits directly in front of the tree and the room is darker, and the original game's room of coffins in New Home is nonexistent as Orchid buried the fallen humans in the throne room to show them what respect she could.

Instead of trying to destroy the Ruins' exit like UT Toriel, Dandelion leads Chara there when they ask to leave and tells them the monsters on the other side will try to kill them. He apologises and says it is his fault for that, and the least he can do is give them the choice to stay with him in safety or prove that they can survive out there, and as mentioned above they can always change their mind and come back.

Dandelion could hypothetically still do the orange/blue eye-flashing attack UT Asgore does, but doesn't because he's the tutorial boss. In Orchid's battle, the orb of her sceptre flashes orange or blue before she attacks with flames of the same colours (she'd also destroy the mercy button with a column of fire).

I spent too much time thinking about whether Orchid should still speak without contractions like UT Toriel, because speech styles are mostly swapped but it's such a Toriel thing, so... I decided her natural thoughts/spoken words still lack contractions, but she forces herself to use them fairly often to try and keep up with modern speech. Meanwhile Dandelion mostly speaks without contractions, but occasionally some slip out.

Given that I'm a Bigtime Soriel Shipper™ it's probably worth mentioning that the role equivalent of UT Sans and Toriel's friendship between Noodle and Dandelion remains platonic, primarily due to Noodle being aromantic. But Dandelion is panromantic and Noodle would definitely be his wingman if anyone took his fancy, and their bond is incredibly important to them both! They basically have one of those friendships where sometimes you just make small talk and chat about mutual interests, and sometimes you both unload your entire life's emotional baggage and support each other's mental health.

and yes because I have to give a mention to my beloved Swap Soriel: Neptune initially has no intention of telling Orchid about his feelings for her because he doesn't want to make their friendship awkward, but he ends up blurting out how much she means to him when she's feeling especially bad some time in post-pacifist. As mentioned above she doesn't feel the same at first and their friendship continues (no man has ever been as genuinely happy to be friendzoned as Neptune), but she begins to return his feelings before too long. There's actually so much more depth to their friendship I'd love to share immediately, but trust me it'll be much better in comic form ;v;

I've forgotten the flower meanings of dandelions I read while I was looking up yellow/gold flowers to name Asgore after, but most of the reason I chose that for him is because I see Asgore as part lion and he is very fine and dandy. As for Toriel, apparently purple orchids represent things like royalty, respect and dignity which sounded fitting!

I swear I absolutely will not let my current pattern of procrastinating on the next character sheets for a whole entire year continue, I want to get the last three done much quicker!! Chara and Asriel will be next :D