#i have a fear of dentists. i go to one of those dentists that's for people with severe fears and disabilities

[territorial-utopia]

Huzzah! It's birthday time! I'm slowly accumulating more and more things I like (latest additions this vest I made and a travel typewriter! Still need to fix the latter one though)

Sure has been a year.

[castielsprostate]

hey so i felt something weird around my bottom left molar and i checked with my tongue and there's just. a hole. a gaping hole. iuhrm it hurts and im calling the dentist tomorrow but now i know why my mozarella had hard pieces in it

[werehounded]

Ughhfhghf remembered I have the dentist tomorrow and now I want 2 die

[theemporium]

and to the poll voters who i thought i cheated you out of these two idiots, here they are!!

series masterlist

.

“You know I love you, right?”

Max lifted his head when you stopped right in front of him. He raised his brows, leaning back in his seat on the couch as he took you in. You looked serious, which was only slightly unsettling, as you stood with your hands on your hips.

“Yes?” He said eventually, though it came out more like a question.

“And I only want what’s best for you. You know that, right?”

He frowned a little. “Yes. Although stressing me out with whatever you are going to say next doesn’t feel like it’s best for me…” 

“Okay, good. As long as you remember those things in a few minutes when you’re cursing me out,” you said with a nod, ignoring the discombobulated look on your husband’s face before you let out a sharp whistle. 

Max’s frown deepened. “What’s—”

However, he was promptly cut off when the door swung open and all three Leclerc brothers made their way into the flat. Max barely had a chance to acknowledge them before they were grabbing him—two on his legs and one on his arms—and carrying him out the house. 

“What the fuck?! Let me down!” 

“I’m sorry, baby!” You called out as you followed the four of them out of the house. “But this fear of the dentist can’t keep getting in the way of your health!”

Max’s struggles seemed to quicken at the mention of the dentist. “Baby—”

“Max, you know it’s for the best.”

And it was. He knew that. He knew that the second he was outside of the dental practice, there was little else he could do. But he would put on a great damn struggle until then, on the off chance he could escape and top up on the painkillers he had been having over the last week to numb the pain in his mouth.

…

“Do you think he will be mad at me?”

“He could never be mad at you,” Lorenzo assured you as he tugged you into his side. “You were doing what’s best for him. He knows that.”

“What if I broke his trust doing this and he never forgives me?” You continued, letting out a shaky breath. “He was just in so much pain and I couldn’t just sit there—”

“The man worships the ground you walk on,” Arthur pointed out. “He couldn’t even give you the silent treatment for longer than five minutes the last time he tried.”

But his words didn’t ease the tightness in your chest. “But what if—”

“He’s not going to break up with you over this,” Charles spoke up, a sincere understanding glimmering in his eyes that your other two brothers lacked. “He loves you far too much for that.” 

You nodded, opening your mouth to say something else but a voice interrupted. 

“Mrs Verstappen?”

You barely glanced back at your brothers as you followed the nurse through the dental practice. You nodded as you listened intently, taking in everything she said about how to best treat Max at home with painkillers and the healing process in general. 

You were about to ask a few more questions when you heard a familiar voice that made your stomach flip.

“WHERE’S MY WIFE? I WANT MY WIFE! BABY? WHERE ARE YOU?” 

Your cheeks burned as you shot the nurse an apologetic look before quickly rushing into the room, making your way towards Max as you tried to quieten him down. However, the second he noticed you, his face instantly lit up and he had little care in the world for anything else.

“Where have you been?” The words were muffled and slightly slurred, but the slight lisp made your smile widen. 

“Waiting for you,” you assured him as you took his hand, raising it to your lips to place a quick kiss on the back of his hand.

He stared at you blankly. “That’s not my lips.”

You snorted. “Your mouth is a bit too busy right now for me to kiss.”

Max frowned before he turned to the dentist. “Take these out right now! My wife won’t kiss me!”

Your eyes widened. “Max!” 

“No, I want kisses from my wife!” Max said, shaking his head before he tried to reach out and pull the gauze out himself.

“Looks like you’re gonna have a handful with him,” a nurse teased as she watched you grab both of his hands before he could rip his stitches open in his mouth.

You smiled. “Yeah but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Because she loves me!” Max added. 

“I do.”

“Soooooo much!”

“That is also true.”

“She loves me so much that she even lets me—”

“Okay, that’s enough talking, babe!”

.

[bratphilia]

grasp (w. afton x reader)

request: "I don’t really have a coherent story (just some thots) but i’d kill for some sort of smuttyyy ficlet that has the reader who is very short as in 4 foot 10 and has petite features (just like me 😵‍💫) being picked up and slung over Matthew Lillard!William Afton’s shoulder 🥴🥴 Include reader being scared and trying to wriggle free??? (due to her seeing or knowing something she shouldn’t have about Raglan) and some name-calling like ‘little one’, ‘good girl’ & ‘atta girl’ 🤤 - 🧸"

note: hi nonniebear!! i'm sorry if this fic is a little rushed but i tried to stay true to what you requested! hope you enjoy and feel free to keep sending in more ideas :)

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: bondage, praise kink, fingering, squirting, begging

fuck. you're really in for it now. 

this yellowish, decaying rabbit stalks towards you, and there are four, sentient and bloodthirsty animatronics behind you. 

you're stuck. 

even worse, the rabbit came from the entrance, so if you were to try to make your escape that way there was a likelihood of you running into his knife.

"please," you find yourself pleading. "please don't kill me."

the rabbit laughs menacingly and bends down to your level. "how about this? i'll give you a head start." 

without any further questions you bolt through the maze of halls and towards the office. you crouch down in front of the vent the rabbit was referring to and unscrew the bolts barricading it. thank god you're small enough to fit in the vents. this might actually work.

then you hear unmistakeable, thumping footsteps coming towards you. 

it only hurries your actions. your heart rate rapidly increases. the screws are so aged with rust that it's hard to—

the door opens with a loud thud. you scream at the noise, and again when you're being lifted off the ground. it's the yellow rabbit. 

it slings you over its shoulder with unmatched strength. you wail incoherent words and pleas as you pound the back of the suit with balled fists. 

"help me!" you scream out to no one. "somebody help!" 

the rabbit wordlessly carries you down the hall, to one of the locked doors you dared not to venture into during your shifts. it carried you down a couple stairs and then set you on a dentist-office-style chair. 

at this point tears are rolling down your face. eyes are shut in fear of looking your captor in the eyes. uncontrollable sobs escape your mouth, praying that these aren't your final moments. then the rabbit wraps both hands (paws?) around your wrists and holds them to the arm handles so that restraints can bolt around them. 

"oh, save it," he says, clearly annoyed with your crying. "i've heard it all before, you don't deserve to die, and all that."

your eyes shoot open. the rabbit's voice no longer sounds robotic and you realize you actually recognize it. 

in a very dramatic fashion, it's steve raglan. your career counsellor, a.k.a the man who got you this job in the first place. 

he almost looks ridiculous in the rabbit suit, which admittedly doesn't add much to his already sizeable frame, but you can't find the humor in the situation in which you could be seconds away from dying in. 

"why?" you find yourself asking, suddenly more curious than hysteric. "why give me this job if you were just going to kill me in the end?" 

"because you got a little too close to the truth, and for some reason, those brats up there were unable to take care of the job themselves," he snarls resentfully. he must be referencing the animatronics. it makes sense now— the kids in the drawings with the yellow rabbit on the wall. 

"it was you. you killed those kids."

steve gives you a horrible smile. one that almost makes you weak, with that dimple you recognize from many conversations in his office. "you finally figured it out."

he walks behind you, shuffling around in the suit, and you crane your neck around to see him taking it off. he's wearing a white tee and dark purple slacks. he's not particularly muscular, but not thin either. it's a build specific to middle aged men. you hate to admit it, but your face flushes when you notice how large his hands are. 

he catches you looking at him and smiles, cocking his head curiously. "see something you like, little night guard?" instantly you whip your head back around. your head is at a moral war with itself, with you being disappointed in yourself that you were actually checking out a child serial killer. 

but steve doesn't leave it alone. once he abandons the suit, he swiftly strides over you. he places both hands on your restraints, caging you in. you shrink into yourself. 

"i think," he says lowly, "i might have a different use for you, little one. one that we can both enjoy." 

you swallow, not saying anything. steve reaches a hand up to slide down your face then cup your jaw. his hands are cold to the touch and it sends shivers down your spine. 

you find your voice. "don't touch me."

"don't touch you? are you sure?" he says cockily and you can only glare at him in response. 

"what if i just..." he trails off, sliding the hands on his face down your neck, your chest, abdomen, and eventually your core. he presses his hand there hard, making you jolt upwards and whimper. "so you don't want me to touch you, is what i'm hearing?"

fuck. this undeniably hot serial killer has you at his disposal and you can't help but feel turned on. if you're going to die, and your chances really aren't looking good for you, maybe you should just...

"please," you murmur, closing your legs so they trap his hand there.

"please, what?"

you swallow. "please fuck me." 

"'atta girl." he grins from ear to ear. "y'know, all that begging you did earlier really did a number on me, but i must say i love this change of heart."

steve starts to undo the buttons of your slacks and begins to pull them down, leaving you bare in your underwear. it's at this point you realize how wet you are, and you try to relieve the tension in your core by squeezing your thighs together but he grabs your legs and presses them to your stomach. you're just so malleable to him.

he tugs off your panties and discards them mindlessly. "look at that," he marvels at your bare skin, "so pretty, little one."

you squirm against the restraints a little. at this point the anticipation will kill you faster than he will. you wish he would just touch you already, but you had to admit all his praises were only adding to your arousal.

steve decides to sit a little further down the chair and wordlessly plunges a finger inside your pussy. he goes deliberately slow, clearly gaging your reaction. "fuck," you mutter, and it takes all your strength to not buck your hips into his movements.

"you need this, don't you, sweet girl?" he muses, stopping the thrusting of his fingers, but still keeping them inside. "tell me."

"please, please, please..." tears coat your lashes from all the teasing. "'need it so bad."

he gives you a kind smile, one you haven't seen since you were back in his office. "good girls get what they ask for. "

steve slides in a second finger and begins to pump faster. it's an improvement but you find yourself needing more. you buck your hips up hoping he would get the message and he simply laughs lowly as he adds a third finger into the mix.

his pace gets progressively faster over time to your delight. the noises coming from your center is absolutely obscene. you can feel your juices dripping down onto the seat.

"ah — ah!" you cry out, feeling your orgasm nearing. "i'm coming — please, slow down—"

you squeeze your eyes shut. all the sudden the chair is abnormally wetter than you would have expected and— oh.

your face burns bright red. "i-i'm sorry..."

he's shocked, mouth agape and eyes slightly widened. then a wolfish grin spreads across his face. "don't you dare apologize, little one, let's try that again."

[secretlythegodofdesire]

Fear in Whump 5

Fear of Dentists or Doctors

Dentist Whumper's pulling teeth out every time whumpee disobeys

Needles, acupunture

Those dentist chairs in a dark room

All the tools laid out, Whumper describing each one to whumpee in detail

Live surgery

Paralyzed but still consious and can feel all the pain, just can't do anything about it

Hearing worrying things as they put you out, "Good Luck Whumper! This is your first surgery isn't" "Or, I think they are out now, do you wanna start removing this essential limb or this one?"

Feeding tubes

Waking up and having 1000 machines attached to you and frantically ripping them off causing alarms to go off

Caretaker may come and comfort you, slowly putting the things back in

Or Whumper may come, with big body guards to handcuff you in place, while the nurse reattach everything with sympathizing looks.

[ziggyzolch]

Your Prettiness is Seeping Through II (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Warnings: maybe bungled the medical stuff and process of being admitted, suicidal ideation, aftermath, descriptions of self harm kind of? its not like currently happening. Bulimia and what comes with it. Those r the main things I think. Previous Chapter

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

-------the shame is manifest in my resistance------- ❅❅❅

“So they’re admitting you?”

You could feel the snow being crushed beneath your weight as you leaned back on your hands. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon and your best friend was sitting next to you on a random curb, taking the pack of cigarettes from your hand.

It was mid-winter. The city streets bustled with the cheer of festive Christmas decorations and the harmonies of carolers. It almost makes you feel better. You never cared for Christmas, or religion in general, but the joy in the little kids’ faces at the snow blanketing the streets, and the laughing of teenagers having snowball fights was cute.

It helped.

You sigh, turning towards your friend, “No, I don’t think so. Most that’ll happen is I’ll be in therapy, I guess.”

She rubs her hands together in an attempt to warm up, “I think I’d kill myself if I got caught. Kidding, you’ll be fine. Probably.”

You scoff, “Thanks,”

You snatched the pack from her hand, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

You had gotten over the fear of throat cancer a long time ago. It’s more of an expectation than a fear now. Smoking and purging at the same time kind of makes it an inevitability. The thought of death didn’t scare you. Not that you were cripplingly suicidal. You didn’t desperately want to die anymore, you just wouldn’t mind if you did. If you died from all of these habits, it was fine, great even. If not, whatever.

Passively suicidal.

Tomorrow, you’ll have your long awaited psych evaluation. You were shocked that it wasn’t the first thing they’d done. You weren’t that big of a risk anyways. A week has passed since your parents caught you, and you’d been made to take a number of medical tests to determine the severity of your bulimia, or something.

The first one was a general physical assessment, the most simple yet most uncomfortable. You had been made to wear a hospital gown, which you felt was overboard but whatever. They wouldn’t be able to admit you just based off of a BMI measurement, you were sure. You weren’t very underweight, most bulimics you knew weren’t. In fact, most of them were normal, sometimes overweight, but you just assumed it was because they were bad at it. You didn’t feel anything looking at your weight. Numbers mattered, sure, but with every binge and purge, your weight fluctuated like crazy, so you learned to just look for signs of weight loss via mirror.

She read your BMI out loud, you knew it wasn’t low enough to be a concern. You internally celebrated, until you noticed her eyes glancing down to your arm.

Shit.

Burning was your preferred method of self mutilation. Cutting was unsatisfying, messy, and a pain in the ass. Burns look disgusting when they heal though, which was the only downside. The scars are easily passable as cooking accidents and such. When they’re still healing, though, charred, blistered, and disgusting, they’re almost impossible to excuse. Your mom had caught you once, with your worst burn nonetheless. One offer of taking over the chores for the day and she was off your back, already taking her place on the sofa.

The burns weren’t fresh, not at all. Most of them were years old, but you panicked nonetheless. You’ve seen how batshit they get at any sign of self harm. You watched as she glanced towards your arm, then turned back to her clipboard, writing something down. Subtly moving your other arm behind your back, you cover up the bruises on your knuckles.

You also had to go to a dentist appointment. Last time you went, you had just gotten your braces off and permanent retainers in. You still have glue on the back of your teeth from when your top retainer broke, they had never gotten rid of it. With how often it fell off, you were glad the dentist had given up on putting in replacements.

You were more worried about this appointment than the physical assessment. You couldn’t keep food down, smiling with your eroded teeth was uncomfortable, and your breath was horrible. The dentist would definitely notice something, at the very least that you were a smoker. Your mother would hate that more than bulimia.

Honestly, despite all of these effects, you got the benefit of barely having a gag reflex. Which, now that you think about it, doesn’t really matter considering you don’t even like men.

Surprise was clear on your face when your dentist complimented you on the health of your teeth and sent you on your way.

You didn’t really know what the other tests were, something about heart arrhythmias and electrolytes. You didn’t care, you were so over it. It was all bullshit. You weren’t sad. You weren’t suicidal nor were you a danger to yourself or others. You were just bulimic, not on the brink of fucking brain collapse.

All of this was bullshit.

❅❅❅

Wanda’s senses come back one by one. Her ears pick up the soft whirring of machinery and occasional beeping of monitors. The soft footsteps of nurses and patients walking past, the opening and closing of a door as doctors enter, the scratching of their pens against their clipboard. The lingering scent of antiseptic reaches her nose, and the bitter taste in her mouth makes itself known. Her fingers pinch the stiff material of her gown, and she can feel the IV in her arm. Finally, she opens her eyes.

Waking up in the fiery depths of hell would’ve been better than where Wanda was right now. She mumbled curses under her breath as she looked around, taking in the hospital equipment around her.

“Natasha?” She croaked out when she caught sight of her friend sleeping on the hospital chair in the corner of the room. Natasha jumped up, wiping the drool off her chin and rushing towards Wanda. “Oh, thank god.” She sighed, pulling Wanda into an awkward hug.

She pulls back when she realizes Wanda wasn’t hugging her back. “How do you feel?” Wanda cringes at the pity on Natasha’s face. “Peachy.” She turns away, not stopping Natasha when she reaches to grab her hand.

The widow sighs, rubbing circles into Wanda’s hand, making her fingers twitch slightly. They sit in silence, not knowing what to say to each other. Wanda was glad Natasha had found her. She didn’t want to be found at all, but at least it was Natasha.

She was so stupid, so fucking stupid. Of course it wouldn’t have worked. She should’ve just shot herself in the head, like a man. She’d read somewhere that men have higher suicide rates because they carry it out in more extreme ways. Girls usually go for lighter, prettier deaths. Overdoses, slitting their wrists in a rose petal filled bathtub, and such. More survivable, and less of a burden for whoever cleans up after them. Men don't feel the same obligation. So what if it's more work for the cleaners? A shotgun to the head is easier for them, that's what matters. They don't think about how puffy their face would get if they hung themselves, or how awkward they'd be positioned on the ground if they jumped off a building. They don't think about the possibility of surviving afterwards and dealing with the deformity.

Pietro’s lifeless body flashes in her mind.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Wanda finally notices the iron grip she had on Natasha’s hand.

She didn’t want to talk about Pietro. Never. “What’s going to happen to me?”

Her friend looks away, “You’re suspended until you get help.”

“What! No!” Wanda sits up, snatching her hand out of Natasha’s grip, “This was the first time! Bruce tried to kill himself, why isn’t he suspended?”

“That was before he even joined.”

Wanda sighs, “So, what like, therapy for a week?”

Natasha raises her eyebrows, “Wanda, you tried to kill yourself. You need to be monitored.”

“I’m not a fucking child. Jesus, Nat!”

“It’s not up to me, Fury’s orders. Either get help or you’re fired, basically.”

“Don’t I need a psychological evaluation or some shit?”

“Wanda, you swallowed a whole bottle of whatever-the-fuck pills. I can evaluate you right now. You’re fucked in the head, babe.” Natasha attempts to joke.

She sighs in relief when Wanda huffs out a laugh, “So, you’re sending me to the loony bin?”

“Yup. It’ll be great though, perks of being an Avenger.” Natasha places a comforting hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

“How long will I be there?”

Natasha grabs Wanda’s hand that’s picking at her gown, “Until you’re better.”

The sound of a girl yelling stops their conversation.

❅❅❅

“Inpatient would be the best option…”

The ringing in your ears blocks out whatever the doctor was saying. What the fuck. You were not crazy. So what if you were bulimic. You didn’t constantly starve yourself and avoid food so you were chill, but you also were not getting fat, so you were hot. It’s like a win-win.

You’re sitting with your parents, a doctor across from you. He must be a therapist, or psychologist…psychiatrist? Potato, Tomato.

A hand on your shoulder brings you back to earth. Tears are pooling in your mothers eyes, your father is sighing into his hand. “What about my classes? My life!”

“Lower your voice. You aren’t being sent away to the fucking Alcatraz.” Your father grits out.

The doctor chimes in, “I’m sure you’ll be able to do your school work, most institutions let you have books and supervised computer time.”

You push your mothers hand off your shoulder. “Why are you doing this to me?”

She scoffs, “Me? Why are you doing this to yourself!”

“You can’t make me!” Passersby can hear your voice through the closed door of the office.

It was true, they couldn’t really. You were a legal adult, they couldn’t make you do shit. Your mother pinches the bridge of her nose before turning to your father expectedly. You look back and forth between them with an eyebrow raised.

“We won’t support you anymore if you don’t do this.” He finally pushes out.

“What? As if you’ve ever supported-”

Oh. Financially. College and such. Housing and such. Food…and such.

You’re not that level of adult, yet.

“What the fuck-”

“Language!”

“No! What the actual fuck! I’m not sick!”

Your father’s face contorts in anger, “Did you not hear a single word the doctor said? Your potassium levels, electrolytes, and heart are all fucked! You could have a heart attack!” He takes a breath,

“You are killing yourself.”

“What?” You don’t know what to say. Why is your heart beating so fast?

You let out a frustrated shriek, getting up to leave. They don’t know what they’re saying. You storm out of the office, narrowly avoiding passing nurses and stretchers, trying to ignore the sense of dread building within you.

Heart attacks were a lame death. You could imagine how stupid you'd look; jaw wide open, leaning back in your desk chair, clutching at your chest. The door to your room is always locked, so your parents wouldn’t care to check for a while. They’d just assume you were isolating yourself.

Stiffening up in that position, rotting and decomposing. So lame, so ugly.

It didn’t scare you.

Your head ricocheting off a wall interrupts your spiral.

Natasha winces, peaking over the door to find you on the floor, rubbing your head. Wanda had asked her to check what was going on, and you happened to be passing by at the same time she opened the door. You push yourself off the floor before Natasha could help you up. Black spots appear in your vision and you start swaying. You must’ve stood up too fast.

Natasha holds you up as you fall into her for a second, before you regain your bearings.

“Get off me!”

She lets go immediately, raising an eyebrow when you double-take at the sight of Wanda.

‘She’s so skinny.’

Wanda looks up at you, confused when she takes you in. You could’ve been the same weight as her, if not a little more. She doesn’t read people's thoughts if she can help it, but yours were so loud. You blush when she makes eye contact with you, turning and stomping away.

Your footsteps fade as Natasha closes the door, making her way back to Wanda. The widow smiles at Wanda, poking her side, “I think she has a crush on you.” Wanda’s eyes widen, “No way; she said I was skinny.” Natasha tilts her head, “Like in a disgusted way?” The witch looks down at her hands.

She assumed it was envy at first, but you didn’t look like you weighed significantly more than her. Nor was it disgust, based off of how you looked at her.

“Not…really. I don’t know.”

Natasha sighs, “Well, it doesn't matter. We’ll fatten you up in no time.”

She winces at Wanda’s obviously forced laugh.

She didn’t like being skinny, but it was an effect of her depression. It wouldn’t be that easy to reverse. The only reason she was open to this treatment was so that she could go back to work. She’ll just pretend to get better, go back, and work until she can’t take it anymore. Next time, she’ll use a gun. Actually, would she subconsciously stop the bullet with her powers? The pills almost killed her, maybe she’d just lock her door next time. She could pick up smoking, maybe that’d be like a backup. A slow, eventual death could be happening in the background while she found short term options. Multitasker.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Wanda is taken out of her reverie as Natasha pokes at her stomach again. She smiles, shaking her head and curling up into the bed. The older redhead pats her shoulder, “The squad’s going to visit before you leave. Just thought I’d give you a heads up.”

Wanda groans, she didn’t need any more people up her ass.

She stiffens at the sound of sniffling, looking up when she feels her shoulder dampen.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

Natasha leans over her frame, hair masking her face. The brunette stammers, racking her brain for a reply. She’d never seen Natasha so emotional. It was like hearing Steve use slang.

She sighs, curling further into herself and ignoring Natasha. She wishes she could reassure her. Tell her that even the thought of trying again made her nauseous, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t live the rest of her life seeing her brother's corpse every time she blinks.

Living with the memory of Pietro’s death for the rest of her life was worse than any torture she’d ever endured.

She ignores the flashing images as her eyes drift close, falling asleep to the sound of Natasha’s sniffling.

❅❅❅

A/N: I lowk regret writing in in second person but yolo. reply to this post if u wanna get tagged in the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @mathxa @nikkinss

[inkyarcturus]

(Honestly this entire thing might be projection, but who cares!)

Hermione has such an interesting underdeveloped relationship with her parents. They’re rarely if ever mentioned, and when they are mentioned, they never seem to know the full story of what exactly is going on at Hogwarts.

At least, based on the fact that they let her keep going to Hogwarts, you wouldn’t expect them to know.

On top of that, nearly every summer, she stays a large portion of her time at the weasleys. she also stays at Hogwarts during breaks, despite having the option to leave.

I find it fascinating that Hermione was even capable of obliviating her parents memories in the first place. This must have caused massive amounts of grief and agony to have surfaced. Yet she still did it.

Now I know she isn’t perfect, keeping skeeter in a jar and scarring that girls face in 5th year, but still, she was more okay with her parents completely forgetting her existence then attempting to find a different solution?

The only way to make that sort of decision easier, is your parents already not knowing you.

Which leads into my idea, I wish fanfics delved a little deeper into the idea that Hermione might have been neglected, at least emotionally so.

It may just be me, but most of these signs seem to point to some form of neglect.

See the thing about neglect is that it’s a slow acting poison in a lot of ways. Unnoticeable to those around you, and easy to ignore when it comes to yourself.

I think it would be so easy for fanfic writers to draw a connection between Hermione’s drive for academic success and plausible neglect from her parents leading to a need to impress people to keep them around.

Her number one fear in third year was failure.

I can imagine a world where she grew up quiet, struggling to make friends from her slightly bossy nature and higher intelligence. She noticed that she was special in a way (magically so), but she didn’t pay too much mind to it as neither did her parents.

But as dentists, as people who have gone through higher levels of academia, they would have paid attention to her success in school.

It wasn’t a lot of course. They’re both dentists, they both have full time jobs and no other kids, so she was just alone most of the time with her books as she didn’t have friends either.

It was lonely, but it was survivable, there was food on the table, a roof over her head, a warm bed to go to sleep in, and those brief moments where her parents would surpass her expectations and actually do something that showed that they cared and noticed her beyond her academic achievements for once.

Then she gets to Hogwarts, and the weekly letters turn into monthly ones. She tries to tell herself that all of them have just gotten busier with work and school. She doesn’t quite succeed in being convincing, but she goes back during winter break anyway.

She only ever goes back again in 6th year.

It would be so easy for her not to mention her parents, as they have a good steady job (with stable income, unlike the weasleys) and they don’t exactly outwardly harm her (like the dursleys).

It would be so easy to see her parents lack of attention or care as simple freedom, or her wanting too much, or not trying hard enough.

Because after all, she’s not helping by not sending letters either, or telling them the full story of what happened that school year when she does meet up with them.

[p-artsypants]

Blurb #59- Halloween Special

I'm going to try to share 70 blurbs from my WIPs and unfinished fics to celebrate reaching 70 posted fics! To help with this endeavor, please feel free to send me a word or a fandom you know I write for, and I'll share the blurb. IDK if I'll get 70 prompts, but let's try it! Send as many as you want!

Astrid had grown up on the isle of Berk. Born and raised on its cursed soil. She knew the best trees for climbing, she knew every name in the five hundred or so people that roamed the village. She swam its waters, explored its caves. She knew not to eat the dark purple berries on the thorny vines, and she knew not to make fire from black wood. She knew it was bad luck to wander into the bonefield, and that only people with a death wish went out at night. She knew that the trade ships that came in refused to stay more than one night on their soil, and that no ‘blood of the island’ was able to leave the isle’s waters.

And she knew not to approach the Pale Rider. 

Life on Berk was not really all that different from life on any other island or village. There were a few things to get used to, but all things considered, life was fine. 

Almost idyllic. 

They had farms, they had a baker, a blacksmith/butcher/dentist, a tailor, and a medicine woman. There was a large field of wildflowers. And the cliffs that overlooked the ocean offered beautiful views.

What was odd was that they didn’t have a mayor, or chief, or any kind of ruler. And the land was cursed. Oh, extremely cursed.

The extent of the curse was not fully known. It had long been set into the island for many generations. The inciting event had wiped out a large amount of the population, that included the witnesses. 

Thus the boneyard and the forbidden, crumbling castle on the mountain. 

Besides a few stray quirks of the island, the main effect of the curse was that no one born of the descents of the original village was able to leave. The curse feasted upon the life of its inhabitants and leaving the waters a few miles out would find one drained of energy before they perished. 

That’s how her father died. 

A fisherman, out alone on his vessel, just trying to go out a little farther to look for a better spot. The medicine woman stated that he had succumbed to the curse before he could even turn around. That was of course several days after he hadn’t come back and his ship finally floated back. 

So if you weren’t the adventurous or vacationing type, it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

Oh right, there was also the Pale Rider. 

When she was a child, stories of the Rider would instill fear into the children of the village. He was responsible for the missing livestock, for the trails of blood, and piles of bones. It was only a matter of time before his hunger would turn to those who he cornered in dark alleys at night. 

Things changed a few years ago. Whereas the Rider had only ever been talked about, and stood as an urban legend of the town, he was still a mystery. Parents made up what he looked like, how he acted, what he wanted. There was occasionally a sighting. Someone would come ranting and raving in the village square that they saw the rider running across the ocean or some other flight of fancy. Others still swore they heard the whinny of his horse. Although when asked to describe it, they ended up mimicking the sound of a bear or a mountain lion. 

But one day, the village Blacksmith/butcher/dentist, an eccentric man named Gobber, gifted with a backbone made of steel, decided he had enough. He called everyone together in the village square and announced, “I have invited the Rider to come to my shop tomorrow, and he accepted.” 

Horrified murmurings fell over the crowd. 

“You did what?” 

“Aye! You heard me! I got tired of the creature snagging my chickens! Pickin’ them off one by one…terrified them out of laying eggs!” 

“…so you invited him into the village.” 

“Yes!” Gobber exclaimed. “But you’re looking at it all wrong. I invited him to come and run his errands like a normal person, instead of him stealing like a horrible raccoon!” 

“He’s no horrible raccoon! He’s worse! He’s a demon!” 

“An abomination!” 

“The curse that walks!” 

“Death incarnate!” 

“Now now,” a voice called out among the crowd. This belonged to Dagur, son of the richest man in town, Oswald. As the richest family, the Berserker clan had some power, and opinions. “I’m sure Gobber didn’t mean any harm in inviting…an eldritch monster into our sweet little village.” 

“It’s jus’ as much his village as everyone else’s. He’s been here longer than all of us. A little goodwill won’t hurt nobody.” 

“You better hope it won’t, old man.” Dagur poked him in the chest. “Or I’ll make sure you suffer.” 

Astrid remembered the day the Pale Rider came to town for the first time. She was only 13, still a child. Her father was still alive. That day was sunny with big pillowy clouds. Many folks would claim that he arrived on a gray, rainy day, but that simply wasn’t true. It was sunny, and lovely. 

The caws of ravens preceded him. A flock of five swooping in. Then a horn from the watchtower alerted an intruder. 

The black shadow appeared at the edge of town, opposite to Gobber’s forge. People screamed and ran inside, while others coward in alleyways, terrified but curious to see what would happen. 

Astrid had been pulled into her house by her father, but still peered out the door to watch. 

The Pale Rider made his way through town, the clacking of horse hoofs and the calls of the ravens the only thing to show life in the village. 

He was not what she was expecting, but much worse. His horse, if you could call it that, was a black beast with leathery wings. It had tusks and fangs and its hooves morphed into talons. Its eyes glowed an acid green and it breathed fire from its nostrils. Its shape was unnatural. The neck looked like it was made of only bone, and its joints were spindly and narrow. 

The Rider himself was tall, too tall. His neck was elongated, as were his black and blue fingers. He wore an animal skull mask over his face, but his own violent green eyes still burned through the sockets. He had antlers like an elk, and wore a long, draping black cloak that fell open just enough to reveal his chest. 

His heart was on fire inside of him, and the flame illuminated it through the skin, only obscured by the form of his rib cage. 

Astrid’s home wasn’t too far from Gobber’s shop, and she slipped out to watch the Rider arrive. 

Gobber waited for him, hands on his hips and smiling. “There you are! I wondered if ya’d show. And ah, sorry ‘bout the cold reception! I told the other folks that you were comin’ and well, maybe one day they’ll come around.” 

The Rider didn’t respond. 

“Right, so come on in…” Gobber beckoned him into the forge. 

The Rider ducked his head, entering the forge, horse and all. His antlers scraped against the doorframe. 

He stayed for about an hour. Then, just as he came, he left. Silent, slowly, just rode out of town, leaving everyone behind to deal with the aftermath. 

That was three years ago. Every day since then, without fail, the Pale Rider would arrive at noon. For the first year, the guard sounded the horn at his approach. But after a while, he went unannounced. 

People still halted in the streets and let their conversations go silent. They watched him go, no longer terrified, but cautious. 

No one said it, but everyone agreed one day he’d snap and kill them all. 

Not Astrid though. She had come to see the Rider as a part of village life. Just as the rooster signifies dawn, so does the Rider declare noon. 

Each day, he went to the blacksmith’s shop, taking his horse in with him. Some days he left with a paper package, and some days he left empty handed.

[colonoscopys]

yes i did mean what drink they were and i still don’t know why bc the only drink i know is a sangria. little do you know i yap enough for two friends!!! anyway new question what would everyones biggest fear be hashtga halloween

my god had a LONG drawn out conversation about this and then promptly forgot to fucking answer. forgive me forgive me forgive mee

bobby: i think (other than needles), because his son is Certified Bug Boy, bobby is a little afraid of bugs. i think buck is the little guy whos like 'bobby a PRAYING MANTIS. LOOK AT HIS LEGS' and bobby is like oh yes son... you both have the same amount of legs... lets look over there. i think he's 100% calling athena to get her gun to shoot a spider in the bathtub, clutching a towel daintily to his chest while he runs.

hen: i think its got to be like. ET. I think hen is rational at all times but one time her and chimney watch an alien movie and hen is like. what the fuck is this. and then she goes home and tells karen about it. and karen is like ms. rocket scientist like. There have been reports of the extraterrestrial. and hen just sits at the counter and waits for karen to finish cleaning the kitchen so that they can hold hands to walk up the stairs. she clings onto karen very tightly in the bed later that night like 'DONT LET THEM TAKE ME!!!!' and karen is sitting there like 'if they fucking take you theyll somehow rip out my spine the way youre fucking holding me'. denny comes in the room a little later. hen starts screaming karen says 'THAT IS OUR CHILD"

chimney: crows, obviously. but also i think its the dentist and demons. he hears a shifty noise outside and he grabs a rolling pin and stands in front of the door like 'MADDIE BABY I WILL PROTECT YOU!!!!'. maddie holding jee staring at the damn door like honey that is the mail man. please god. i also think he is 100% raising the type of kid that would go 'daddy, who's sitting in the corner of the room?" and chimney starts screaming and then maddie comes in and fist bumps jee

eddie: eddie would be vaguely uncomfortable by clowns. also with jumpscares i think he just wrinkles his noses. but i think one time him and buck go to a haunted house and theyve got one of those screens that move eerily and its like a live version of karen from spongebob and hes fucking shivering and shaking. i also think he plays up on the jumpscare thing to plaster himself to bucks biceps like a koala. he would be like "HELP ME IM SO SCARED (grabs bucks boobs) THIS IS HELPING ME!!!!!"

buck: i think he's scared of dolphins (they're Scary. and he knows so much about Them.) but also he's a huge conspiracist theories. i think he listens to a podcast and starts telling eddie about it in the drivers seat, wide eyed and blue, and he's like 'RFK JR. EVIL. EDDIE. WE NEED TO GO." and eddie just nods with his sunglasses on and says 'okay, let's go get iced coffee first'.

[c0la-queen]

I’m begging for more EDD X READERS AND TOM X READER PLSPSLPSPSL I NEED MORE EDDSWORLD CONTENT UGHHHHHHH🙏🙏

Turn the Noise Off | Eddsworld Tom x Reader

HELLO, HI OH MY GODS!!! I am BEYOND happy to provide more Eddsworld content for you!! They've been one of my longest and most present hyperfixations for years, those four boys bring me so much serotonin. Since I don't write for him as often as I should, here's some Tom content!! I hope you enjoy and please feel free to ask for more!! Waking up to your request made me feel so so nice!

Warnings: Comfort, Fluff, Astraphobia, Tom is a big softie and I'm RIGHT

Words: 2.3k

---

Fear can be irrational.

You know that. That's why children and even adults can be scared of silly things that reasonably can't hurt them.

Clowns, darkness, dentists, enclosed spaces…

…thunderstorms.

You weren't sure why exactly you were scared of thunderstorms. It had been like this since you were little. The moment you noticed the faintest flash of lightning, you'd rush out of your room and wiggle your way into your parents' bed, fearfully awaiting the booming noise that followed. Now, as an adult, you can handle it in minor doses. Light rain, faint thunder; it made you apprehensive, but you could distract yourself enough to stay calm. It was the stronger storms that set you off.

Like now.

It was probably around 6 or 7 p.m. The sun had set half an hour ago, leaving the sky outside the window an inky black. You were alone in the house - the boys had left to go shopping and pick up dinner. Knowing them, they'd probably be gone for another hour or so.

Normally, you wouldn't be so bad. You were an adult. You can handle a silly storm.

Not this time. Not tonight.

Your noise cancelling headphones were dead.

Sure, you could stick them on the charger easily. But they would take too long to charge. The storm would probably be gone by the time they finished. And in the meantime, you would have still been stuck in this same position. Besides, your brain was running off anxiety, you weren't exactly thinking clearly.

You were in the living room, since you had been watching one of your favorite shows on TV previously. The storm had interfered with the connection, so you couldn't continue watching it in the time being, even if you wanted to. Feeling antsy on the couch, and not being able to find a comfortable position on the soft cushions, you had slid yourself down to the carpeted floor instead. It was soft, but the texture was still a little rough against your skin. It kept you grounded slightly. Enough to know you were there, in your body still. Legs pulled up to your chest, you hid your face in your knees, eyes shut tight. You listened to the torrents of rain crash against the roof, the walls, the windows, battering at the house like an intruder attempting to break in. The thunder rattled the earth, shaking the ground with the power of its volume. Despite the little voice in your head telling you that the storm would pass, you couldn't help but be afraid.

You were going to die. You were going to die. You were going to-

You flinched when something touched the top of your head. With a wet gasp, your head shot up. Was it really an intruder, entrance hidden underneath the violence of the storm?

No, it was… Tom. Dressed in his normal hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. He knelt on the floor in front of you, making sure he was level with you. Even though the black hue of his eyes made it impossible to see any emotion in them, you saw that his lips were bent into a soft frown. Concern. His lips moved, going to speak, but his words were drowned out by a crash of thunder. You involuntarily whimpered, unable to hold the noise back from your throat. Burying your face back in your knees, you missed the way Tom's eyes widened as he realized what was happening.

The hand on your shoulder slid down to your bicep. You could feel the warmth of his skin seep into your bones as his fingers wrapped around it. He pulled -

-and then you were surrounded by the warmth. Your face pressed into something warm. Solid. The familiar scent of coffee and something woodsy with the faintest hint of smoke - fire or cigarettes, you could never figure out - completely filled your senses. It was Tom. He had pulled you into a hug.

You felt your muscles go slack. Pulling your face from his chest, you peeked up at him. He was already looking down at you. Still no emotions in those eyes. But you felt his hands cup your cheeks, gently, as if you were made of glass. His thumbs swiped away the tears that you hadn't even noticed were spilling. They stung your cheeks.

His voice was soft, like he was speaking to a frightened animal. That's what you felt like at that moment.

"Talk to me, sweet girl."

Something in the back of your brain slid into place at the name. An instinctual piece of you that melted into his arms, knowing you were safe right there. You fought past the thick lump of saliva in your throat to speak. Voice raw from tears and anxiety.

"It's just.. the storm."

"I gathered that much. What is it the storm itself? Or something about it?"

There was no malice or bite in his voice. Only tenderness and worry. Care.

"It's, um, the thunder? Or how- how loud it is. And how the rain is loud. It's stupid, I know…"

You sniffled and looked down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. Tom said nothing. It scared you for a moment. That fear intensified when you felt him move, beginning to slide you out of his embrace. Your fingers flew up, curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you clung to his shoulders. He did think it was stupid. He was going to leave you all alone, make you get over this by yourself-

"I'll be right back, baby. Gotta let me go get something."

Finally, you relented. He set you back on the carpet, standing up. You stared at the floor, listening to his socked footsteps fade away. You silently counted the seconds until his footsteps returned, his legs coming into your field of vision. Something fell onto your head before you could look up at him. It was fabric, and carried that woodsy scent of his. Your hand curled into the fabric, pulling it off your head and into your lap. Even in the limited light, you could identify the blue color. It was his hoodie.

Eagerly, you slipped it on over your t-shirt. He wasn't too much taller than you compared to the others, but the material still swallowed you in a way that you loved. It was like a safety net for your brain. When your head finally emerged through the hood, he was already sitting back down in front of you. The smile on his face made your heart skip a beat. It wasn't often you got to see him being so soft.

Tom reached forward, slipping something slightly heavier onto your head. When it was over your ears, you felt all the noise in the room disappear. You looked up at him in awe, making his smile stretch further. He had brought you his own noise cancelling headphones.

With the sounds of the storm cut away, you focused in on his appearance more closely. Since you were wearing his hoodie, he was left in a t-shirt. His hair was mussed, strands of it out of place. You figured he had recently gotten out of bed. When Edd had announced to you that they were going out, you assumed he meant all four of them. Tom must have chosen to stay behind. You weren't sure if it was because of a simple lack of desire to leave the house, or if he didn't want to leave you in the house by yourself. The idea of the latter option made your heart speed up, even if it wasn't true.

You noticed he was looking at you expectantly. When your head tilted in confusion, his shoulders shook. He was laughing at you. While the rare sight warmed your cheeks, you pouted at him in embarrassment. Why was he laughing at you?

Your eyes followed his when he motioned down. His phone was in his hand, screen towards you as it sat open to Spotify. Your gaze raked down the playlists on display. The Best Ska, Quiet Rainy Days, Shut the Fuck Up, Tord-

This were his playlists. You looked up at him in shock. To some, this may have seemed mundane. Unimportant. But you knew better.

In a house with boys who had never known conventional forms of affection, you had learned to spot the little things. To read between the lines of their words and actions.

Music was one of Tom's love languages. It was no secret to anyone that the man loved music, playing bass was his joy and passion during the moments that he didn't have a camera in his hands. For him, sharing his music with others was a show of affection, a glimpse into his brain through lyrics and instrumentals. And right now, he was letting you look through his Spotify playlists and choose one to listen to. Sure, you had listened to his music before in the car, when he had control of the aux. But during those times, he picked the playlists. Now, he was giving you control. It felt… vulnerable, in a way.

Carefully, hands trembling lightly, you took the phone from his hands. You could swear that from your peripheral vision, you caught him grinning. Almost like he was amused with how reverently you treated this act.

Then, you focused your attention on the playlists. There were a lot of them, you realized as you scrolled. Some of the names made you laugh softly. But then, one playlist caught your attention.

She's Standing Outside the Bar with Me while I Smoke

That was way too specific to not be something important. The playlist cover was a picture of a blurry figure standing outside of a building, looking up at the stars. Smoke from somewhere off camera gave the picture a hazy filter. With a jolt, you realized it was a picture of you. You recognized the building, it was the bar in town that Tom liked. The memory hit you suddenly.

It was Tord's birthday, and the boys wanted to go out drinking to celebrate it. Not wanting to miss out on the celebration, you had tagged along. None of them minded.

The bar was nice. You saw why Tom favored it. The décor was all dark wood and dark accents. It was crowded that night. Judging by the big group at the corner of the place, it was likely some kind of party. Maybe a bachelorette, or someone else's birthday. At some point, it had gotten too loud. Even from your little booth on the other side of the room, the music pulsed loud enough that you felt it throb in your head. To try and lessen the inevitable headache coming your way, you followed Tom when you noticed him slip out of the booth and through the front door. The night air had been a comfort to your senses. Tom had seemed surprised to see you, but didn't complain about the company. The two of you stood on the little wood ramp in a peaceful silence. At some point, you had gotten distracted by the night sky, spotting Orion's belt. He must have taken a picture of you during that time, between puffs of his cigarette.

Your cheeks heated up. That meant… this playlist.. was made for that memory. For you. You clicked on that playlist.

Tom must have noticed your blush, because he raised an eyebrow questioningly at you. Shyly, you showed him the playlist he selected. It was his turn to look away, flustered. But, you spotted a smile on his lips.

You set the phone on the ground between the two of you, focusing on the song that was playing. It was slow, calm, and so very Tom. The lyrics made something tight press against your chest. This was how Tom felt about you. This was a hint of how he saw you. You could feel his eyes on you, trying to decipher your reaction.

Taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes. He looked more antsy than you had ever seen him. It was important to him that you liked it. You made sure that your eyes held all the adoration you felt for him. It must have worked, because you noticed the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks. His chest moved in what you recognized as a huff, then he reached an arm out, pulling you into his arms once again. All over again, your body melted into his hold. You closed your eyes.

No storm could reach you here.

You were safe.

--

Edd huffed as he opened the front door, shuffling in to try and escape the rain. Tord and Matt followed behind him, holding the grocery bags while Edd carried the takeout they had gotten everyone for dinner.

Just as Edd was about to call out, announcing their presence, Tord's elbow jabbed into his side. He grunted softly, then glared at him. Before he could snap, ask what the hell that was for, Tord pointed off to the side. Edd's gaze followed that direction.

Sitting on the living room floor was Tom, his back pressed against the couch. You were in his arms, face buried in his chest, wearing his hoodie. Edd recognized the black and white checker pattern on the headphones you were wearing - they were also Tom's. Both of you were fast asleep, chests rising and falling evenly.

Edd felt all his annoyance with Tord bleed away into tenderness at the sight. Joy filled his chest. He just couldn't help it as he shuffled the takeout bags onto one arm and pulled out his phone, snapping a silent picture of the two.

Muffling little giggles, Matt quickly ushered Tord and Edd into the kitchen, leaving you and Tom to sleep undisturbed.

[todorokis-girl]

I saw you were wanting requests so I thought I'd stop by with an idea. A little back story for the idea, I had to have one of my molars pulled recently because it was broken and infected. So I was wondering how Sugawara would act in helping taking care of you after having a tooth pulled? Or maybe him comforting you over the anxieties of going to the dentist and having teeth pulled.

I hope this gives you ideas. No pressure to write it by any means. Feel free to ignore it if you want to. Anyways I hope you have a lovely day and remember to stay hydrated.

Hello! Thank you for the request, it took me a while because I had no idea how to approach it. There are so many ways to comfort someone during a scary situation; but at the end, I am just a fan of the mundane, making to much of a focus of things makes it harder to deal with.

I hope you enjoy this, Do let me know what you think!

masterlist

A Moment of Gentle Care

In the quiet embrace of evening, you found yourself ensnared by the throbbing pain of a broken molar. Shadows of anxiety loomed large, whispering fears of the impending dentist's chair and the extraction to come. Sugawara, with his warm, steady presence, became your beacon amidst the storm. His eyes, a gentle silver, reflected understanding and concern.

As you lay on the couch, Sugawara knelt beside you, his hands tenderly cradling your own. The soft glow of the lamp cast a golden halo around him, making him appear almost ethereal. He spoke in soothing tones, each word a balm to your frayed nerves. "Hey," he murmured, his voice as comforting as a lullaby. "I know it's scary, but you're strong. You've faced so much already." His thumb traced reassuring circles on the back of your hand. "Remember when you cheered us on during our toughest matches? You were my strength. Let me be yours now."

The night wore on, with Sugawara sharing stories, his laughter a light breeze easing the tension from your shoulders. He brought you a cup of chamomile tea, its steam swirling like whispered promises of relief. As you sipped, he gently brushed a stray hair from your forehead, his touch feather-light yet grounding. His presence was a soothing balm, his every action a testament to his deep care for you.

Sugawara’s eyes sparkled with playful mischief as he recounted tales from their volleyball matches, drawing you into a world where the pain and fear seemed to melt away. "Do you remember the time Nishinoya tried to teach everyone how to do a rolling thunder? He ended up crashing into Asahi!" His laughter was infectious, a warm melody that wrapped around your heart, easing the ache within.

When the day of the extraction arrived, Sugawara was there, his presence a comforting constant. He held your hand as you entered the clinic, his grip firm and unwavering. "I’ll be right here," he promised, his eyes locking onto yours, a steadfast anchor in the sea of your anxiety. His voice was a soft murmur in your ear, weaving a cocoon of safety around you. "You're doing great," he whispered, "just breathe."

Through the procedure, you felt his support, a silent vigil beside you. When it was over, and the molar was gone, replaced by a tender ache, Sugawara was there to guide you home. He prepared a cozy nest of blankets and soft pillows, ensuring your comfort. He read to you from your favorite book, his voice a melodic rhythm that lulled you into restful slumber. His hand never left yours, a constant reminder of his unwavering presence.

In those moments of vulnerability and healing, Sugawara's care enveloped you, turning a painful experience into a testament of his unwavering love and support. The pain seemed distant, a mere echo in the presence of his comforting words and gentle touches. He stayed by your side, his warmth a steady flame against the chill of discomfort.

Sugawara’s dedication was unyielding. He monitored your needs, bringing you cool compresses for your swollen jaw and preparing soft, nourishing meals. His hands were gentle as he helped you sip water, his eyes never leaving your face. "You're doing so well," he would say, his voice full of pride and encouragement.

As you drifted in and out of sleep, you felt the weight of his care surrounding you. Sugawara’s love was a soft whisper in the darkness, a guiding star that led you through the haze of pain. His presence was a soothing melody, a symphony of support and tenderness that carried you through each moment.

In the days that followed, Sugawara's care never wavered. He was your rock, your safe harbor. The anxiety and pain that had once loomed so large now seemed small in the light of his unwavering devotion. His love was a gentle tide, washing over you, easing your fears and bringing you peace.

Through his actions, Sugawara showed you the depths of his heart. He was more than just a friend or a caretaker; he was a beacon of light in your darkest moments, a reminder that you were never alone. His love was a steady presence, a quiet strength that carried you through the storm and into the calm beyond.

[angelbaby-fics]

You got an ask awhile back about Ransom taking reader to the dentist and paying for it. I’d love to see that fic or blurb!

Word Count: 900

A/N: Oh darling I’m so so sorry this took so long!! I think Ireally psyched myself out with wanting it to be perfect and not knowing how to write accurately write dentistry 😅 But I hope you enjoy what I came up with because I think it turned out really sweet! 💕💕💕

Ransom had the means to get you anything your heart desired, and since he’d never been told “no” his entire life, what right did he have to ever say it to you? And of course, that included late night treats, and when you fell asleep after those extravagant sweets, Ransom would carry you to your giant bedroom, teeth going unbrushed as he didn’t have the heart to wake you. Even though he thought he was doing what was best for you by never allowing you to feel even a hint of discomfort, that plan backfired, because you now found yourself with a mouthful of pain.

You didn’t want to tell him. You knew Ransom’s greatest fear was for you to be in any sort of harm, so you were afraid he’d be angry if he found out you were hurt. Even more so, since the thing hurting you was your own mouth, you were afraid that he’d direct his anger at you. Your plan only worked for approximately five minutes, however, as Ransom was such a doting caregiver, he knew you were feeling off in an instant.

“What’s wrong, bubba?” He asked from across the breakfast table as you winced your way through a fluffy waffle drenched in syrup.

“Nothin’,” you tried to respond, but a pointed look from Ransom had you spilling the truth in no time. “Teef hurt.”

Ransom stood up and circled the table to crouch in front of you.

“Can I see, angel?” He asked, gently holding your head as you nodded.

You opened your mouth to him, and he took a short look inside, hiding his reaction well. He knew immediately that you’d need to see a professional, and he also knew that the second you caught wind of that, you’d be inconsolable, so he pretended to think as he stood up.

“That does look pretty painful, huh, baby?” You nodded. “Well then I think someone deserves a treat for being so brave about it.”

You furrowed your brows. Not only was Ransom not upset, he was rewarding you? But before you knew it, you were being buckled into your carseat and being driven off to who knows where. You were looking out the window, bopping your head along to the music playing in the car, when you pulled up to a fancy little building in town that you’d never been to before. Ransom parked the car and unbuckled you from your carseat, carrying you up the steps to the door of the building. There was writing on the door, you couldn’t see it very well, but you did recognize one word.

Dentist.

Ransom could feel you tense up in his arms, your breath quickening as you looked around for an escape, someone to save you from whatever horrors awaited. Usually that would be Ransom, but now you stared at him with such betrayal in your eyes. He'd tricked you; you should have known. But just as soon as you'd started to fret, Ransom was already calming you down.

"Shh babydoll don't worry. This isn't a mean dentist, this is one of daddy's friends, alright?" He kissed each of your cheeks and then your nose before looking you right in the eyes. "I promise you're going to be safe."

Ransom carried you into the building, where a kind looking woman in a white coat guided the two of you towards the big chair.

"Do you wanna sit down and hold daddy's hand?" Ransom asked. "Or do you wanna sit in daddy's lap?"

"Daddy lap pwease," you whispered.

Ransom sat down in the dentist's chair with you on his lap, one arm around your middle and the other across your chest like a seatbelt. He lifted his arm only briefly to allow the woman to pin a cloth to your shirt, during which he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Your eyes lit up despite your current situation; you weren't allowed much screentime during the say, let alone on daddy's phone. Ransom put his arm back over your chest, holding the phone so you could see the screen. In the delight of getting to watch Bluey in your daddy's arms, you hardly had time to worry about the woman as she examined and cleaned your teeth. Every now and then you'd feel a pain, or taste one of the pastes the spread across your teeth, but every time, Ransom would kiss your temple and remind you how safe you were in his arms. The next thing you knew, Ransom was turning off his phone and unwrapping his arms from your torso.

"No daddy!" You looked up with fear, but the dentist woman just smiled as she unclipped your bib.

"You did it, baby! You're all finished!" Ransom cheered for you, rubbing up and down your arms.

"I did?"

You'd barely even noticed it was happening. Your daddy was so lovingly protective of you that all your fears were whisked away. Ransom stood up with you still in his arms and carried you our of the room and back towards the door, thanking the dentist on the way. The whole ordeal was taken care of in what felt like no time at all and very little effort. You found most things in life went like that with Ransom around; you never had to worry about a thing.

[oboetemasuka]

the "milgram's turn to die" WIP sounds interesting

I'm picking a Danganrompa vibe from the name

Ooh! I like this one! I previously posted a snippet here, along with various other WIPs at the time.

Danganronpa vibe, indeed. This WIP is actually based on a game called "Your Turn To Die" ("Kimi ga shine"), which gets compared to Danganronpa quite a bit.

"Milgram's Turn To Die" is an ongoing series I have on AO3, written out of order. The "first" installment was "You Thwarted Their Destiny", which jumps straight to the end of the second act. Amane is going to die unless you sacrifice the entire cast for her! Would you save her? (You can see where that came from.)

The next installment was "Hide and Seek", in which Fuuta and Mahiru teamed up to complete a minigame but got their canon injuries in the process.

This one takes us all the way back to where it began. The snippet below alludes to the first minigame, which is in the first half hour of gameplay or so. But this is just the beginning of this work. The end product will bring up information from later in the game.

Aaaaah, I had to improvise with Mahiru's segment given how vague everything is. First of all, what is her boyfriend's name??? Milgram, please tell us!

(571 words. As typical for Amane and Mahiru's stories, cw for implied child abuse and attempted suicide)

-

Muu woke up to a brightly lit lamp in her face. What…? Why was she lying on her back? Where was she? The last thing she remembered was chasing after Rei with a boxcutter in hand. Boxcutter… hand… There was something in her right hand, and it wasn’t a boxcutter. She brought it up to her face, quickly finding that she could only move the one hand. Her other hand was strapped down. For that matter, she couldn’t lift her head or her legs.

Back to the object in her hand… It was a phone, and it wasn’t hers.

“What… is this…” she muttered.

At the same time, a familiar voice said the same thing.

“Who’s there?” Muu called out. “What’s going on? Why can’t I move?”

And the other person echoed her fears. Wait, she recognized that voice. It was the last voice she remembered hearing.

“Rei-chan? Is that-”

“Oh. It’s you.”

-

When Amane arrived home, with her improvised weapon poised for the kill, she did not expect to find her mother already passed out on the floor.

And she did not expect to be knocked unconscious for the second day in a row.

She wasn’t sure what to make of this scene. Was it like those dentist offices she read about in books? Did they really strap down the patients like this?

Wait, she could move her right hand. A weight rested on it, but it was no big effort to lift it so she could see. A smartphone… She had seen people carrying these things around, but nobody in her community was allowed to have one.

Was this some sort of test? She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. Turn it on? She could get in trouble for using forbidden devices. Cry out for help? She could get in trouble for speaking out of turn. Just sit there and wait? That was all she was ever allowed to do.

“Amane? Is that you?”

That was undoubtedly her mother’s voice. She ought to respond, but she didn’t want to.

-

When Mahiru saw the note her boyfriend left behind, she knew she had to act quickly. She ran to the car. She slammed the gas pedal. She ran into the forest, calling his name.

It was dark. It was all dark. 

And then it was blindingly bright.

She couldn’t move.

What happened? Did she get into an accident? Did someone find her passed out in the woods? Was she too late to find her boyfriend?

She tried moving again. Her right hand was perfectly mobile, but only that hand. She brought it up to her temple and felt a thick strap wrapped around it.

“Hello? What’s going on?” She felt around some more and found that the rest of her limbs were strapped down as well. “Hello? Is somebody-”

“Mahiru?” 

She knew that voice. “Ren! Is that you? Are you really-”

“Mahiru, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know! I was just running after you when all of a sudden-”

“You what?”

She slammed her hand on the surface. “Did you think I wouldn’t after you left such a- Huh?” There was a blocky object under her hand. She picked it up and held it above her face. A phone.

“Mahiru, I never asked you to-”

“Wait, I think I found something important.” She tapped the wake button, and it began playing a message.

“The First Trial will now begin.”

[thestalwartheart]

Heeeeey ciao I was honestly starting to wonder if you were alright last night and was planning to ask in your DM but I feared to result creepy. Sorry about your teeth, dentist is one of my biggest fears!!!

Eventually, my question is: smut fics. What to absolutely avoid to be credible? You gave us very good advice already but repetita iuvant!

Ciao Elle! That’s really sweet of you to want to reach out.

I know I’ve talked about this on my blog before, but I’m not sure there is a set list of things to avoid. Every reader reacts to smut differently. For example, I know some readers who need the realism of prep and protection to buy into the smut and others who are happy for the author to handwave those things away.

I think the most important thing for me is making sure the sex is centred around the characters and not the other way around.

One of my personal pet peeves as a reader is seeing two characters who never use pet names suddenly becoming effusive with their use of “baby” or “darling” or “sweetheart.”* But that’s symptomatic of a bigger problem in erotic writing where some authors approach smut as a replicable formula for every pairing they write.

Your characters are still themselves when they have sex. Arguably moreso! If they’re awkward during their daily lives, they’ll be 10x more awkward during sex. If they fancy themselves a comedian, they’re probably going to make their partner laugh. That’s true even of sex that “subverts” their character. i.e: James Bond isn’t likely to beg and whimper when he’s subbing. He’s much more likely to be stoic and stubborn and cheeky. When he does finally loses it, it’ll be with all the force and speed of a bullet.

There are some great resources out there about the mechanics of writing sex (esp sex between two men), but I’ll have to go digging to find them - I’ll reblog and link them later if I get a chance.

*not that this can’t be employed as a fun way to add a bit of humour or vulnerability to a scene!

[monfixity]

Advice - Yoo Kihyun

Summary: You had a tooth inflammation and went to the dentist. She told you the one thing that you feared the most. Now you had to decide and you were scared about the outcome, no matter what path you chose.

For the second time this year, your wisdom teeth were inflamed. It happened so often that you somehow got used to it over the past ten years. Over the weekend you had been using painkillers to ease the pain, ate soup and nothing more. It was clear that you had to go to the doctor as an emergency soon. Which you did.  

But after this dentist visit, your mood was completely down. After so many times your dentist helped you ease the inflammation, she had to tell you that it was best to get them removed. There was only one problem. It was your biggest fear. Not only because you had no idea what to expect from the pain after surgery, but also the fear of your teeth getting back to how they used to be.

It wasn’t like your teeth were in the worst shape before your wisdom teeth came out, but you had one gap between your teeth. Usually, it shouldn’t be bothering because many people have that, but for you it was hell.

During school, the whole class bullied you for your teeth. No matter how often you had changed the school, they always talked about your teeth. For them, it was just a joke, and you were laughing it off. But as soon as you came home and looked in the mirror you had cried. You wondered why you had been born with it. Why couldn’t you be blessed with straight teeth? It was your daily life. Listening to words like ‘your teeth are like the stars in the night sky. Yellow and far away from each other.’ It was hell. You were glad when finally, your wisdom teeth came, and your tooth gap disappeared.

You learned how to laugh again without hiding your mouth behind your hand. You were openly showing your smile, which your friends loved. Your boyfriend Kihyun also loved your smile, he always told you. But would he also love it when your teeth will change?

It was an awful situation. No matter what you decide, there will be consequences to it. Will you not do it, you will have an infection more often, and it will be painful all the time, will you remove it, you might have a different tooth shape again, and have to live with being insecure again.

As you came home Kihyun already saw in your expression that you were not happy with the visit. He put the towel to the side and walked out of the kitchen, where he had been drying the dishes, and gently cupped your face. “What did she say, my love?”

You looked up at your boyfriend and pouted. “She says it’s better to get them removed, but…” you looked away.

Kihyun tilted his head and looked at you. He didn’t say anything, waiting for you to be ready to continue. “But I am scared. Not only because of the pain afterwards but also about the movement of my teeth.” you started.

Kihyun took your hand and guided you to the sofa. As you sat down, he didn’t let go of your hand but stroked it with his thumb. Kihyun already knew that there was more to the story of the movement of your teeth. You had never told him about it, you wanted to let that you be in your past. But he had a right to know the truth now.

“When I was younger, I had a tooth gap. And I got bullied for it. I am immensely scared to go back to that.” you admitted. Kihyun’s face softened to the loving soft expression you loved so much. “Love, you know that those idiots were not right, no matter what they said. I am sure you were extremely cute. Plus, a tooth gap is a unique tooth formation. Not many people on earth have it. Pretty sure they all were just jealous because you had something they couldn’t have.”

You looked at Kihyun and smiled lightly. “Still their words hurt. And now I am insecure. I really don’t know what to do.”

“Love. Usually, teeth don’t move backwards. So even if you remove them, your teeth stay the way they are now.”

“Usually, but it is possible.” you sighed, and buried your face in your hands.

Kihyun kissed your head and put his arm around you. “The chance is very low. Maybe 1% of 99% of people had experienced it.” Kihyun stroked your head.

“I am just scared I will be the 1%. I know it may sound so dramatic.”

Kihyun cupped your face as you looked at him. “Nothing of your worries here are dramatic, alright? No one can ever know how someone felt like, going through bullying. I am sure they said more awful things which makes you react this way.”

You gave him a small kiss and smiled lightly. “Thank you, Hyunnie.”

“Any idea what you plan to do, now?” Kihyun stroked your cheek.

“I think I will let them be removed. It is the healthiest option, even though it is also the scariest one.” you looked down.

“I will be here with you even during the procedure I will be there,” Kihyun said.

“But then you will see me in the worst condition possible.” your eyes widened as you looked back at your boyfriend.

“(Y/N), I love you. And I plan to see you in the worst conditions possible. Having surgery? I will be there. You being nauseous and vomiting? I will be there. No matter what condition you are in. I want to experience all of it. The bad ones and the good ones. I love you, the way you are. Good things and bad things.” Kihyun confessed.

You smiled. “Sounds like you are proposing.” you joked.

“One day I will,” Kihyun said, with a serious expression, which made you blush.

“Thank you Kihyun. For everything” you smile, lightly.

“I love you, (Y/N). And nothing will ever change that, okay?” he stroked your cheek again. “I will always be here for you.” and then he gave you another kiss. And your worries were not entirely gone, but it wasn’t as bad as it was in the beginning.

Monsta X Masterlist | @kbookshelf