#i should have been asleep but it be like that sometimes

[decojellyfish]

First. I love your work! Just the whole writing and stuff is so AAAAAAAA wonderful.

Second. Idk if its a gonna be a bother or something but i reread the Bonbon fanfic and thought if you could do a part 2. With the idea of because ghost is already a rescue price then brings another rescue home like gaz or soap.

I HOPE IM NOT BOTHERING YOU IM SORRYYYY

You're not a bother at all! In fact, I should be apologizing to you for taking so long with this! I hope it was worth the wait, enjoy! This is the official part 2 of Bonbon! (Go give it a read if you're interested :))

------

Boom! Boom!

Hybrid AU! TF141 (Retired) Guard Dog! Ghost x (Retired) Fight Dog! Soap x Kitten! Reader x Owner! Price Reader is only addressed as 'you' !!No Romance Towards Reader For Obvious Purposes!!

SFW ~ Fluff

Warnings: Occasional swearing? There’s barely any

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: "Cute Circus - Twintail Tsundere" 0:09 ━●────────── 2:47 ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷

───♡───────────── Beginning It had been a year since you’d been adopted by Price and a few things have changed.

First of all, you had forgotten what it felt like to be starving or what you smelled like when they’d first found you. Bubble baths were a routine part of your week, and you loved playing with your toys and scratching posts. Sometimes, when you’d be mad, you would take it out on your scratching post, or if you were feeling rebellious, you would commit the cardinal sin of doing it on the couch. But you also loved snuggling. Whether it was Price or Ghost, you loved curling up on their lap under a blanket with one of your toys. Sometimes it would be the only thing that would get you to fall asleep.

Price enjoyed the extra company and finally had someone to accompany Ghost while he was gone. Price had never really taken on a father role in his life until you came into the picture. At points, he felt like the best father figure anyone could ask for; other times, he wondered if he knew anything at all about parenting. Sometimes, he felt like he was being too mean to you, snuggling with you after a small quarrel as an act of both apologizing and forgiving.

Ghost, on the other hand, felt as if you weren’t disciplined enough. He felt like you were a little brat, getting into trouble all the time with the blame usually falling on Ghost’s shoulders. You were a little angel in Price’s eyes, only to turn around and kick Ghost out of his usual spots around the house, running it like you owned the place. But only he was allowed to be your bully. Any time you, him, and Price were out and another hybrid tried to get smart with you, a kitten, Price would have to physically hold Ghost back as he barked up a storm about how he was gonna turn them into fish food by drowning them.

But all in all, things were nice. 

Then came along the mutt from the forest.

You had been playing in the yard for about an hour, Ghost was supervising you to make sure you didn’t run off into the woods. He was bored, but still kept his ears perked for any sign of danger… which he quickly caught a whiff of. He stood up from his seated position in the grass and made his way over to where the mouth of the forest began.

There was a small forest that resided in the backyard of Price’s neighborhood. You were only ever allowed to go in there under the supervision of both Ghost and Price. So when you saw Ghost slowly venturing out into the woods, you knew something was up. Your little ears perked up, your fluffy tail swishing with childlike curiosity.

So naturally, as the little kitten you were, you did the sensible thing.

You silently followed behind Ghost, not alerting him of your presence. He was too focused on finding the danger and keeping it from coming any closer to his family.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Ghost was following a certain scent, it seemed to belong to a burly one, built similarly to him. They smelled sweaty, musky, and… scared? No, angry. No, scared? A mix of both? It was a marbled mess of both emotions.

His ears twitched in one direction, sensing a rapidly approaching figure. He quickly turned his body to face the figure head-on, ready to attack. His guard dog instincts kicked in with a small snarl as he eyed the violent dog approaching. That’s when a little thing caught his attention in the corner of his eye.

It was you!

What the hell were you doing here?! How did you follow him so silently?? Probably because you were a cat, but that’s beside the point. He looked at your tiny form with wide eyes, “What are you doing here?! Get back to the house! Now-!” He was cut off when he suddenly got tackled.

The two bulky figures collided, rolling and flying across the rough ground, causing you to yelp in alarm.

Ghost let out a growl, grabbing the figure by their shoulders and forcing them away, ready to bark their arse off before something made him stop. His eyes were wide and his mouth awkwardly hanging open. The figure, another dog-hybrid, had also stopped and was now catching his breath as he stared down at Ghost with a similar expression.

It was silent for a few moments, just the two canines panting for air with their bewildered expressions. The mysterious pup was first to break the silence.

“Ghost?”

“Soap?” Ghost replied, just as astonished as Soap was.

“Ghost!” Soap rejoiced, pulling his brother from another mother close into a hug. “Oi, where’ve ya been?? How’s retirement goin’???” He had a giant smile on his face, his tail wagging so much that it was causing his hips to move side to side as well slightly. 

“Eh, it’s been good. Eventful. Why the hell are you all roughed up? They kick you out or somethin’?” “Uhh, it’s complicated.” Soap chuckled. “Let’s jus’ say, I got roped into underground fightin’ and now I’m also retired.” He laughed a little more while Ghost looked at him slightly confusedly.

“Oh, hey! No mask!” Soap pointed out, now holding Ghost’s head and examining his face. “Aye, I knew you were a blondie!” “Yes, Soap, being retired means there’s no need to hide my identity.” Ghost sighed as he was forcefully examined by his old friend.

Soap smiled from dog-ear to dog-ear as he finally got to see the face of his good friend, looking at each scar, wrinkle, and bump his face had to offer. “You’re quite the looker, Ghost.” He smirked before he was abruptly attacked by a little thing.

You meowed and hissed as you latched onto the weird man who decided to attack the man who was like a big brother in your eyes. Your claws were tiny, but you spent a fair amount of time with your scratching posts so you knew how to hook them in. The man yowled and reached back, quickly plucking you off of him as his chipped ears pinned to the back of his head.

You kept hissing and scratching the air in his direction while he and Ghost looked at each other, Soap was obviously more confused while Ghost was trying to hold back a chuckle. “Who the hell is this??” “Uh… they’re with me, Soap.”

Soap looked at his best friend with eyes as wide and big as saucers, “...you had a kid?!” He looked at you again before looking back down, “...with a cat?!”

Ghost just had to stifle his chuckles, his head slightly shaking back and forth. He had to contain his laughter before finally telling Soap the whole story about you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Price had finally returned home after a long, tiring shift at work. With a soft thud, he set his bag down near the front door and took his coat off.

“I’m home!” He called out, his gravelly voice laced with a hint of exhaustion. His eyes perked up at the muffled sound of you playing outside, with Ghost he assumed. Your happy giggles and squeals, an occasional shriek of surprise followed by more laughter. It made him smile knowing you were getting proper time outside despite the temperatures gradually decreasing as autumn approached.

Walking to the back door, Price opened it expecting to see two hybrids playing in the backyard but was surprised when he saw three, even after trying to recount them to make sure he wasn’t losing his mind. For a moment Price thought it was a feral hybrid who had planned on attacking his family, but realized you weren’t in any danger while Ghost was still supervising.

You were playing with the feral hybrid, and he was playing with you. He would chase you, you would chase him, ride on his back while he ran around, and laugh as he put on a show for you as he chased his tail in rapid, small circles. Still, Price was your father (in a sense) so he had to step in.

“Ghost,” he shouted at the blonde pup, “What’s all this?” Ghost looked over at the old man, offering a reassuring smirk. “Just an old work buddy, or friend. Can we keep ‘im?” He chided, his tail slightly wagging. Price only sighed, already knowing there was only one correct answer.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

So now, this is your current life. Ghost watching as you and Soap play around in the living room, lazily attempting to play with you on the couch, and Price shouting from the kitchen, as he’s making dinner, to be careful and not knock anything over.

Soap would always get this guilty look on his face when he was told this, knowing he was the culprit behind the murder of a few innocent standing vases and decor.

You loved playing with him, especially when he would play this game where he pretended you were a bomb that he had to drop (safely onto the couch, of course). He would do a dramatic countdown, “3…2…1!” and then plop you right onto the couch cushion then the two of you would chant, “Boom! Boom!”

Then, he would tickle you relentlessly until Ghost barked at him to stop because he didn’t like your little giggle-shriek sounds. Soap would stop, then make Ghost his next target by scratching behind his scarred ears. This caused Ghost to kick one of his legs uncontrollably, making you giggle.

There were times when you didn’t like Soap as much. Sometimes, he would take a bit of food from your plate without you noticing, making you through a small hissyfit when he finally took a noticeable amount. Other times, he would bark at you to stop scratching at the armrests of the couch before gesturing to all the other scratching posts you had.

In return, you would give him… the silent treatment.

Which lasted about 5 or 10 minutes until you asked him to play with you, which he happily agreed to with a small chuckle.

But the most enjoyable part of your days now was in the evenings after dinner. When you’d be curled up between Price and Ghost, your head in Price’s lap as he kept a hand scratching your head, and Ghost keeping a hand on your back or belly (depending on which position you were resting in) as he felt the subtle rise and fall of your lungs as you drifted off. 

Soap usually sat on the floor, his head close to yours, so your relaxed purrs went directly into his ear. This made his tail wag with a repetitive soft thumping. All of you were probably settled down for a movie of some sort or just stayed in the living room for a small chat. Not like you were paying any attention though, you were just there to fall asleep.

However, other times, Price would read you a bedtime story instead. With Ghost and Soap sitting by you for extra security as you fell asleep that way, still loudly purring and making biscuits out of your blankie.

They would all wait for your purrs to fade out and biscuits to slow to an eventual stop, signaling that you had fallen asleep, and now was the tricky part of tiptoeing away from your little cat bed without waking you up.

Once they were successful, they would close the door, leaving it open with a small crack to allow a little light to pour in. They all snuck one last peek at you before leaving with a content sigh or grunt.

They loved how you took them on all sorts of adventures with occasional mischief.

They loved their lives

And they loved you. ───♡───────────── End

I hope you enjoyed it, everypony!! Thank you all so much for your patience. Feel free to leave a request! (I make no promises they'll be finished quickly though ;0; I still need to go to college and make art lol) ------ Taglist: @venavanup @draculauraspage @tf141gloryhole @obnoxiousbag @chanel-princess-world @ssc7514

If you would like to be added to the taglist so you can read my latest fics, let me know! Thank you :)

[midnightanxietytm]

Midnight visit

Author's Notes: I wrote this in one afternoon. It's a bit shitty but oh well. I just wanted to see MC match Caleb's freak and then double it because I know that girl is equally freaky and possessive.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Possessive behavior, mutually unhealthy relationship, self-awareness, mc being a freak, mc uses 'gege' to refer to Caleb once, manipulation.

Sometimes in the dead of night, you wonder if you should feel some sort of guilt over it.

But then morning comes, and there he is; making breakfast, teasing you sweetly, kissing your cheeks tenderly and telling you there’s nothing to worry about, that you two will be together forever and he will never leave you again. 

And when night falls, you wait for him to get home on the living room couch, just to pretend to be asleep by the time he gets home and have him carry you to bed...

When you had first reunited, you commented that he was different and he refuted; “What if I told you I was always like this?” And this got to you. It made you think back to your youth under a different light…

You remember that he’d put your shoes on for you every morning, that he’d walk you to all the way to your classroom, that he wouldn’t let you go out with any boys, even Zayne, unless he was present.

You also remember casually leaving your valentines day cards on the dinner table, pretending to be too sleepy so he’d put on your shoes for you, and flaunting to your colleagues that, yes, the upperclassman who came every day with you was your best friend. 

Maybe neither of you changed that much. Maybe you were both possessive and unhealthy.

“Caleb.” You call him in a whisper that night, after he’s set your ‘sleeping’ form on your bed and was ready to leave your room, acting as if you’d just woken up. 

Immediately, his eyes are on you again, and his smile is back on his lips. You reach out a hand and softly caress his face. “You’ve been coming home so late.” You whine softly. Your fingers tracing the small crease between his eyebrows. “I miss you.” 

You can see the moment your words hit him; his pupils dilate even more, the faint light coming from the windows would no longer be a good excuse for that, his breathing shakes just for a moment. Anyone else would have missed it, but you know Caleb. You know he’s softening.

“I’m sorry, pipsqueak.” He whispers, carefully holding your hand with his gloved one and planting a kiss in your palm. “It will be over soon.” He tries reassuring you, but unfortunately for him, you are spoiled, and you don’t take it well when he denies you things.

You frown and pout up at him. “I know about the professor.” A low blow. He flinches, his eyes widening, but you hold him by the collar and force him to stay right where he was, where he belongs. “You shouldn’t hide those things from me, gege.” An even lower blow. ‘Gege’ is too soft, too meek, it doesn’t match the cold tone that seeps into your voice. ��We’ll deal with it together, allright?”

A protest begins to form in his mouth, but you cut it by sliding your hand back to his cheek, thumb softly pressing his lips. “You said we could rebuild our old house, right? We’ll do it, but you have to help me, alright? Let me help you.”

Pushing yourself into a more seated position, your other hand comes up to cradle his face. “How-” He swallows hard. You watch his adam's apple tremble with laser-focused eyes. “How much do you know?”

“Not everything, don’t worry. We’ll deal with it, and once it’s over you’ll never have to leave my side again.” A sickly sweet smile sneaks itself into your lips, your thumbs slowly caressing his lips.

Caleb’s breathing is shaky, his eyes dart across your face, clearly shocked at your sudden possessiveness and demanding attitude. You decide that it’s enough now, and slowly fall back into the comforting innocence and pliancy he’s come to expect of you. “Sleep with me tonight?” you ask.

Caleb shudders on your hands, but nods with a smile after it. “Okay.” He whispers. “I’ll change out of uniform.”

He kisses your palm again, and stands to leave the room.

A/N: Is it really a toxic relationship if they are both toxic? I thought they cancelled each other out! /s /j

[plumeria1]

Nothing's better than a break

Masterlist

Note : Caitlyn won the last poll so here it is. I wrote it faster than I thaught.

Pairing : Caitlyn Kiramman x Fem Reader

Warning : None

Content : Fluff

Summary : Caityn need a break in her studies

Caitlyn had spent the week hearing her friends tell her that she should take a break from her studies and relax.

She had finally resigned herself and decided to take the envelope containing a gift voucher out of her nightstand drawer. It had been given to her on her birthday, and she had never used it.

Caitlyn went to the exhibition site and took a look at the services that were being offered. They were diverse, and there was something for everyone's taste.

While looking at the menu, she noticed that her friends had chosen the most expensive option, which included a two-hour massage. They had said she deserved to be the most relaxed.

Caitlyn managed to get an appointment for the following week and called her friends to tell them she was finally going to use their gift. They jumped for joy to see this workaholic finally decide to relax a bit.

The day of the appointment finally arrived, and Caitlyn, after checking in at the reception, was escorted to a booth to undress. She emerged, a towel wrapped around her body, and was invited to sit on the massage table.

When the assistant left the room, Caitlyn glanced around. The light was dim, and numerous candles were lit all around the room. In the air, she could smell a floral scent, which surely came from the incense burning on the shelf next to the door.

When she heard a knock at the door, she regained her composure.

-Come in.

She hadn’t spoken very loudly, as if afraid of breaking the peaceful atmosphere.

The door opened gently to let you in. Caitlyn looked at you. You didn’t seem much older than her—maybe one or two years at most. You wore the same uniform as the other employees, but she thought it suited you better. Her eyes paused for a second on the badge, where your name was inscribed and pinned to your chest, before finally reaching your face.

-Miss Kiramman?

One of the salon's rules was to always ask clients for their names to avoid making mistakes in the service.

-It's Caitlyn.

Caitlyn hated being called by her last name; she found it too formal, so sometimes, despite herself, she always corrected people.

-Alright, Caitlyn. I'll be taking care of you today. If the smell of the incense bothers you, I can put it out or change it.

-No, I quite like this smell; it feels like being in a garden.

Her remark made you smile. You always took great care in preparing the room before the clients arrived. Seeing the information in her file, you had tried to guess what she liked to make her feel most comfortable, and apparently, you had hit the mark.

You turned your back to her so she could lie down and get comfortable while you prepared everything you'd need. When you turned around, she was lying on her stomach, arms crossed, and her head resting on them. Her bare back was waiting for your tender care.

-Are you ready?

-Yes, we can start.

Caitlyn let out a small sigh of satisfaction when she felt the oil on her back and had to hold back another sigh when you placed your hands on her and began the massage.

Your hands were so gentle. You seemed to know exactly where to press to relax her. Your hands pressed on her shoulders, and at the same time, your thumbs pressed against her neck.

Only the sound of soft music filled the room. You had thought Caitlyn had fallen asleep, as it had happened with other clients before, but she started talking, indicating that you were mistaken.

-Have you been doing this for a while? Massages, I mean?

-I was only hired three months ago, but I’ve done several internships here. And you?

-Actually, I hadn't planned to come here. My friends forced my hand. They say I need to take a break from my studies.

You slid your hands lower along her back, just below her shoulders, and Caitlyn felt your nails dig into her hips—not enough to hurt her, but just enough to relax her even more.

-They're not wrong. When I was at massage school, I was so immersed in my books that I almost burned out.

-What did you do to relax?

-The glider.

-Wow, did it work?

-Yes, very well indeed. When you're up there, you don’t think about anything. You realize that worrying so much about studies isn't worth it because it's precisely because of stress that many people fail their exams.

Caitlyn nodded; that’s what had happened to a girl from her school last year.

She was about to speak when your hands pressed on a knot in her back.

-I'm starting to understand why your friends told you to come here. Your back is all knotted up.

Your thumbs made small circles on her back while pressing to relax her, which, judging by the little sounds she made, seemed to be relieving Caitlyn.

-You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Many people go through their session without saying a word.

-Really?

-Yes, and even though it happens rarely, some people also cry.

You saw Caitlyn’s head lift slightly and turn towards you with a curious look.

-How can people cry during such a pleasant massage?

-It’s quite easy to explain. When really tense or stressed people come for a massage, it relaxes them to the point where their emotions come out, and this often happens through tears.

-It must be strange to see.

You laughed a little as you remembered the first time it happened to you. You didn’t know where to put yourself; you felt like you had done something wrong. Fortunately, the person in charge of your internship quickly reassured you, saying that it could sometimes happen and that, even though it was rare, it proved you were doing a good job.

The rest of the session went very well. Caitlyn and you discussed several topics—your hobbies, your studies, and other things as well.

Caitlyn seemed disappointed that the massage was over. She confessed to you that she wished it could have lasted longer, but unfortunately, the two hours were up.

You offered her some tea before she left, and she thanked you with a beautiful smile, which earned her one from you. While you were tidying up the room, Caitlyn was leaving, but she couldn’t get you out of her mind. You had been so kind to her, and she still felt the impression of your hands on her back.

She finally decided to make another appointment with you. The secretary told her with a laugh that she knew Caitlyn would come back to you because you were one of the most sought-after masseuses.

Before leaving, she asked the secretary for a piece of paper, on which she quickly wrote a small message that she slipped, along with some money, into your tip jar, which was placed on the counter among those of the other employees.

As Caitlyn was leaving the salon to go to her car, she wondered if the message had been a good idea. Maybe you were just so nice because it was your job?

She was leaving the salon to go to her car, wondering if the message had been a good idea. Maybe you had been so nice because it was your job? Maybe she was just imagining things. What if you found her weird and didn’t want to see her anymore? She was about to get into her car when, as if by a twist of fate, she heard your voice calling her.

-Caitlyn, wait!

You finally stopped in front of her, slightly out of breath. You had run to catch up with her. She had been walking really fast.

-I forgot to give you this.

You handed her a small paper bag in the colors of the salon.

-What is it?

-A gift. We give one to all the customers who come for the first time.

Caitlyn glanced quickly and saw a small bottle that must have been massage oil and several tubes of cream. Then, she took out a small blue ball wrapped in plastic.

-And what is that?

-Oh, it’s for the bath. You put it in your bathwater, and it gives the water a nice color and a good smell.

-That’s very kind, thank you. You didn’t have to rush; I could have picked it up next week.

-Next week?

-Yes, I made another appointment… with you.

You gave a small smile, but inside, you were overjoyed. You had enjoyed massaging Caitlyn; she had had a real conversation with you. She hadn’t just told you about her problems, and her smile had brightened your day, which hadn’t started well.

-I can’t wait to be there then.

She finally said goodbye to you when she saw the time on her watch and reluctantly told you she had other things to do.

At the end of the day, Caitlyn finally returned home and collapsed onto the couch with the bag you had given her. She took the time to look more closely at its contents and saw that she had been right about the contents of the bottle and the tubes.

She took the bath bomb in her hand again and brought it closer to her nose, managing to smell its scent through the plastic. It was the same scent as the incense you had used during her massage. She wondered if you had chosen it yourself and if you had picked that scent on purpose.

She saw the bag next to her and noticed she had forgotten something. As she picked it up, she recognized the salon card and turned it over. Her eyes widened when she saw that you had left a note on the back of the card:

"I had a great time with you. I take my break at 1 PM and have lunch at the little restaurant across from the salon. If you’re interested, you’re welcome."

This little note from you made her smile. Maybe she had a small chance with you after all.

On your side, you had just returned home and were sitting at your kitchen table with your tip jar in front of you, the money forgotten for a few minutes already.

You were too busy rereading the little paper in your hands.

"I had a very good day, thanks again. If you’re interested, I know a place that makes very good sushi. Call me. Caitlyn."

She had left her number, and you could easily guess that the biggest tip had come from her.

You picked up your phone resting next to you on the table, saved Caitlyn’s number, and decided it was too late to send her a message but that you would do it the next day.

You finished counting your tips, and after a quick meal, went to bed.

[mxrcusflint]

secret quiet relationship hangster our beloved

The Pacific never got old. Never could. The first time Jake saw the ocean was at the mouth of San Diego on a kayak behind his older sister. He was ten and hypnotized by the way light reflected off the surface of the water, how everything looked like molten metal. 

The front door was still sticky at the hinges, opening with a creak as Jake crept in. He avoided tripping on the skewed doormat. He should place the haphazardly thrown boots into a neater line below the bench, but it was late, and the shot of whiskey to round off the night had seeped into his bloodstream. 

He took great care to close the bathroom door quietly when he was done brushing his teeth, throwing his uniform into the hamper, but Bradley had always been a light sleeper.

“Took you long enough.”

Rooster earned his reputation by getting up at the ass-crack of dawn and making it everyone’s problem. Why he never bothered with ear plugs was a mystery, but Jake liked how Bradley usually awakened when he slid into bed.

Jake approached the edge of the bed. “When’d you leave?”

“‘Round ten,” Bradley grunted, as he brought himself closer. 

That was how Bradley worked at a party: a flash-bang firework which left everyone on a high. He would tug in a crowd with a loping smirk and perform an Irish-exit once he grew satisfied with the attention and the fun. 

“Should I be concerned about your welcome?” Jake chuckled. “Did I make you mad somewhere, sweetheart?”

Bradley didn’t protest. He held a grudge when it befit him, and Jake had dangled a challenge in front of his nose, fully expecting the worst. Whatever it was stewing in Bradley’s brain would come out in bits and pieces, but Rooster seemed more than happy to place his forehead against the rise and fall of Jake’s stomach.

“Slow Ride was not appreciated.” Bradley’s voice was muffled. The movement of his mouth tickled. 

“Not my fault you’re a pillow princess.”

Bradley smacked his ass. 

“Gonna throw my back out because of you one day,” Jake continued, though he betrayed himself by combing his fingers through Bradley’s mess of hair. He’d showered before flopping into bed, it seemed; Jake felt the damp cling to his fingers. 

He placed his chin into Jake’s open palm and peered up with heavy-lidded eyes. Bradshaw and his Pacific sunshine – easier on the eyes than Texas sun overhead at noon, and hot where his arms wrapped around Jake's hips. He liked to sulk until Jake gave him what he wanted: a warm body to curl around, something solid between the sheets. 

“You knock out now, you’ll be up at three.”

“I’ll wake you up, too,” Bradley finally leaned back against the faded blue and white bedspread. He was already half-asleep. “You can amuse me.”

The fine faded lines of Bradley’s scars webbed over his cheek and down the strong line of his neck. The raised skin was easy to trace. Jake thought about what lay underneath often: sinew, blood vessels, and a mandible which worked itself tired whenever Jake forgot to return his calls. 

“Don’t you dare,” Jake dropped heavily onto Bradley’s stomach, earning a quiet huff from the man below. “I need my beauty sleep.”

“Plenty pretty enough.” Bradley’s stupid smooth charm caused Jake’s stomach to swoop in familiar thrill. He wished, sometimes, that he could hold onto the feeling. It was akin to doing loop-de-loops in the sky, of pointing the nose of the jet low and diving down. 

It always felt like a thing that could slip out of his fingers.

“Brought a change of clothes over for you,” Bradley mumbled; he placed a possessive palm over Jake’s hip, with a grip in the slippery material of his shorts. “So you don’t have to go home before we gotta be there.” 

Bradley had probably grabbed mismatched socks, but it was the thought that counted. He would gladly take the gesture if it awarded Jake a few more minutes of sleep.

Rooster ran hot even under the full blast of the air-conditioning. Jake unwrapped a greedy arm from his waist. “You ready for it?”

“Mhm,” Bradley fumbled for his pillow; his words were slow and slurred. “‘specially with you around.”

There would be no peace found in the next few weeks. He’d done this long enough: to be summoned back with the best of the best meant consequences. A success for him to chase with trade-offs. Jake sucked in a breath and watched the smooth blanket of sleep spread over Bradley’s face.

[avonne-writes]

²⁴⁾ the lap of someone who’s been gone for too long - kitty Gale, please!

Thank you for the ask! This is also a fill for one of my bingo prompts: touch-starved.

It's already dark outside when Bucky finally makes his way up the porch steps and slots his key in the front door. He turns it carefully, holding all the other keys on his chain tight in his palm. The door opens without a sound. Gale must have worked on the squeaky hinges while he was away. Could never stand such tinny noises for long.

The warm smells of home embrace him as he shrugs his coat off and puts his shoes next to Gale's as gingerly as if they were made of glass. He leaves his bag on the floor. Gale's present can wait until tomorrow. Padding inside on socked feet, Bucky makes his way through the labyrinth of silhouettes towards the bedroom. A light would give him away, so he doesn’t bother with it, just hopes that Gale hasn't rearranged anything that would break Bucky's toes if he kicked it. A risk he’ll have to take.

He's just about to skirt around the big, worn armchair that he and Gale fight about sometimes when he hears a soft thud to his right, then a figure pops up in front of him, seemingly out of thin air.

"Fuck!" Bucky exclaims, jumping reflexively. Then the sweet warmth of amusement blooms in his chest, bright and familiar. He got caught. He barks a laugh at the same time as Gale's snicker reaches his ears.

"Did you think you could surprise me?" Gale's voice rumbles close to Bucky's face. There’s a coy tone to it, something that weaves itself around Bucky’s body like a cat rubbing against his legs.

Blindly, Bucky leans in, a man starved. By some miracle or simply because Gale can see in the dark, the kiss lands where it should - on Gale’s plush lips, soft and curving where he can’t push down on his smile. I missed you, Bucky half hums, half mumbles, doesn’t get a single audible word out but Gale makes a quiet sound in return and loops his arms around Bucky’s waist. He presses his entire body to Bucky, as if he can’t decide if he wants a hug or another kiss or just wants to climb Bucky like a tree.

Bucky’s smile digs the crow's feet deeper around his eyes as he trails his kisses to Gale's cheek. "Thought you'd be asleep."

"I was." Gale purrs. His back rumbles with it, a restless rhythm that matches his breathing. It gives him away. His excitement, joy and relief pour out of him no matter how calm his voice is. "Did you really think I wouldn’t hear you?"

Bucky chuckles. "I'll get you one day."

"Sure, Bucky." Pitched low, Gale's voice trembles directly against Bucky's ear. Gale's stubble tickles his skin as Gale noses a path down along Bucky's neck, then starts nuzzling the tender crook of it, where Bucky's sweater is pulled askew.

"I missed you." Bucky repeats, combing through Gale’s hair because he knows Gale loves it. Oh, how long he’s been starving for this, to cradle his love in his arms. He was away too long. He never wants to leave again. "Did you miss me?"

Gale nips his neck, leaning heavily into Bucky’s embrace and taking deep, shuddering breaths. Still purring. "Missed you warming my chair."

"So spoiled." Bucky teases, grabbing at Gale’s side with one hand and feeling for said armchair with the other. "Such a princess."

He plops down on the thick cushion, pulling Gale along with him, into his lap. The old chair groans but bears their weight as it always does. Its fabric feels warm under Bucky's ass. Did Gale sleep curled up here as a cat, unwilling to spend the night alone in a large, empty bed? He can imagine it so clearly. A ball of cream-white fur tucked against the chair's arm, mournful eyes fixed on the front door until exhaustion pulled them closed.

Gale doesn’t reply to his teasing. He’s too busy trying to fit as much of himself against Bucky as he can, unsatisfied with the limits of their bodies, then he stills. Slowly, perhaps to savour it, he presses his lips to Bucky's again. The darkness hides his expression, but Bucky feels his longing all the same. It’s an echo of his own. He would climb inside Gale's skin to be closer to him if he could.

"I'm gonna shift, okay?" Gale asks quietly.

Bucky rubs their noses together. "Go ahead, doll."

For a moment, Gale lets his head drop to the crook of Bucky's neck again. Then, the arm curled around Bucky's neck pulls back, the weight on his lap changes, the brush of fabric under Bucky's palm gives way to silky fur, and in a blink, it’s not human Gale sitting on his thighs anymore, but a large cat.

"There you are." Bucky smiles at him, running his palm along his back.

Gale pushes into the touch for a moment, then paws at Bucky’s sweater. It’s not something that surprises Bucky. Not anymore. He pulls the hem of the garment away from his belly, and Gale doesn’t waste any time playing coy now, he tucks himself right inside. Hot and cozy against Bucky's stomach, purring away. Bucky sticks his hand inside his sweater and lays it on Gale’s back to hold him close.

He's home.

[bippityboppitybabe]

The Sleepover

Summary: Sometimes, good things do come to those who wait.

Pairing: Andrew Byrne-Hozier x reader

Warnings: fluff, friend-to-lovers, cursing, CONSENTING ADULTS DOING THE DEED - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: 3266

Author’s Note: I've always felt a little weird writing/reading about a real person. However, I've been in a writing slump for literal years and Hozier's music has always been inspiring. So morals be damned, right?

Disclaimer: Ya'll, I don't know this man. This is just the musings of a perpetually single lady and this should not be taken seriously whatsoever. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone (#noproofreading), and to be totally honest I just found this gif on the internet.

(Also, Mr. Hozier, I do apologize if you somehow find this on some dark corner of the internet. Please keep on scrolling.)

You hadn’t meant to stay the night— no really, you hadn’t. But there you were, tucked underneath a blanket as the day’s morning sun rays streaked across the hardwood floors. You could hear Andrew still snoring just behind you, he was probably asleep in the reclining chair you teased him senselessly about (“What are you, a seventy year old man?” / “Hey, once you fall asleep in one of these you’ll never say a bad word about them again”). 

And maybe he was on to something. An achiness had already begun to settle in your lower back, and your right arm seemed to have permanently lost feeling from where you’d slept on it apparently all night.

Blearily, you groped around with your left (and thankfully still operational) hand for a phone. Nearly jumping out of your skin when you saw the time.

“Andy. Andy!” You hissed, (regrettably) throwing the warm quilt off your body as you scrambled to an upright position. “Andrew, wake up! We overslept!”

The plan had been for a casual movie night. You showed up at a respectable six o’clock with both your favorite candies, and he’d prepared the popcorn and drinks. There wasn’t much of a chance to do this sort of thing anymore— you had your boring 9-5 big girl job, and Andrew was more often out of the city than in it. However, whenever your paths crossed you both made the effort to spend at least a little time together.

But when Andrew had texted you last week, revealing he had an actual free Saturday night, you’d practically burst from excitement. Andrew Byrne-Hozier was your favorite person in the world— he was funny, and kind, and considerate. And while, sure, you were a little in love with him and every moment in his present made your heart feel more like molten honey than an actual organ, his friendship was too important to risk.

So, for the last four years, you’d watched as he shuffled through a couple of relationships (it was worse when you actually liked his partner) and went on tour and recorded songs. You were always there with a funny meme or thoughtful advice or listening ear, and sometimes you were just there for him when it became a little too much.

And sure, you’d also dated a few people (nothing ever serious) and you’d adopted a cat (whom Andy had nicknamed ‘Jammy’ because one time he got his head stuck in a jam jar) and you’d switched jobs and moved into a new flat— so you wouldn’t say you were pining for your best friend. It was just a crush. (A crush that made your head spin and your heart stop but who cared?)

But back to last night. You were supposed to leave right after the movie ended because Andrew had some important interview via Zoom in the morning— and while you had been in the background of plenty of interviews, you’d both decided the risk of you being spotted or heard was too high with all the relationship rumors swirling. Andy had wanted the focus to be on his music and the charity a portion of the proceeds of his latest single went to— not add fodder to the fire of him dating someone (and that someone was, well, you. You get caught one time by the paparazzi leaving his house and all of a sudden the internet was desperate to know who you were).

But that interview was scheduled for fifteen minutes from now, and the man of the hour was still sleeping off the sugar crash you’d both apparently succumbed to last night.

Pulling on your socks that you’d somehow kicked off during the night, you spared a moment to throw one of the decorative pillows littering the floor at Andrew. “Andy, wake up!”

He just groaned and covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. “Leave me alone, it’s too early for that.”

“No it’s not! You whisper-yelled, finally launching yourself up to properly shake him awake. “It’s 8:45 in the morning, you’ve got that meeting in fifteen!”

At that, his eyes shot open, and he looked at the leather watch he’d left on overnight. “Shit.”

You nodded, giving his pant leg another tug. “Shit is right. What do you need?”

“I need to brush my teeth and get dressed.” He started, taking your hands as you helped him up. “I need a glass of water and my notes.”

You nodded, already mentally searching his apartment for the things you could gather for him. “I’ve got the water and notes, you get dressed. Whoever’s finished first can set up your laptop.”

So quickly you barely felt it, your best friend kissed you in the corner of your mouth (definitely by accident, he’d obviously missed your cheek). “Thanks babe— thank god you ended up staying the night. I’d’ve slept right through till the afternoon.”

Ignoring the butterflies that suddenly erupted in your stomach (he’d called you babe a few other times and it always got the chrysalis’ hatching), you nodded and gave him a little shove towards his bedroom. “Of course, now get going!”

You remembered seeing his interview notebook on the kitchen table, probably from where Andrew had been working on it the afternoon before. Moving with efficiency, you gathered it up, tucking in any loose papers into the pages tightly as you could, before flipping to the last page so it would be open for him.

But there, in the corner, he’d written your name. Not super unusual, he’d probably been thinking about your plans for the evening as he wrote down any points he wanted to discuss, but right next to it was a tiny heart. 

And sure, Andy doodled all the time— on napkins and music sheets and even sometimes your hand, but nonetheless the sight of that little heart warmed your own. 

Shaking your head, you picked up an empty glass from the table and filled it from the tap. Beggars couldn’t be choosers and Andrew was lucky he was getting anything hydrating right now. You glanced at the oven clock.

“Seven minutes!” You yelled, rushing into the living room and setting down the notebook and water glass. Without overthinking it, you grabbed as much as you could off his de facto interview table (usually it served as his entryway table, but it was in front of the only blank wall in his home and was the best backdrop for any business conducted over his computer).

You dumped the junk that had been littering the surface onto the couch you’d just been sleeping on (giving the quilt you’d just been shrouded in a few minutes ago a longing glance), before scooting out the table just enough to fit a chair behind it. Andrew, finally exiting his bedroom and only looking a modicum more put together than when he entered it, snagged one of his kitchen table chairs before beelining for you.

“Andrew, your hair looks awful.” You stated as you looked for a pen in the pile on the couch. You tossed it to him, and he caught it with a well practiced ease.

He laughed, plugging in his laptop before scooching into the chair he’d just placed and powering on the computer. “There’s not much I can do about it now, but you always know just what to say to make me feel good about myself.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled out your own hair tie and motioned for him to scoot. “I’ll braid it while you pull up the link.”

Andy complied, turning himself sideways in the chair and starting to log in. As gently as you could, you brushed your fingers through the wild curls to get out any major knots— then deftly sectioned it off into three parts and started braiding.

You would never admit this, but you loved braiding Andrew’s hair. Men always had the best hair (you were pretty sure it was scientifically proven) and he was certainly no exception. His hair was thick with so much body to it— some of your favorite pictures of him on tour were the ones where his hair grew wild from humidity. It never got quite so unruly in your hometown, but there was still something untamed about his hair you couldn’t get over.

But it was over before you knew it. Deftly tying off the end, you pulled the braid a little looser— picking out a few strands to artfully fall in Andrew’s face. You tugged the finished hairstyle before glancing at the clock. Finished with two minutes to spare.

Andrew adjusted himself in the chair, pulling up the Zoom chatroom and taking a sip of the lukewarm water you’d set out.

“Thank you,” he mouthed, before turning his attention to the screen.

As quietly as you could, you backed into his bedroom and closed the door behind you. Unsure of what to do with yourself or how long you’d be trapped, you crawled into Andrew’s bed and snuggled down into the sheets (surely it wasn’t crossing a line to take a deep sniff of his pillow, right?) Pulling out your phone, you plugged it into his charger and started scrolling on social media to pass the time…

… “Hey, wake up sleepy head.” A voice softly whispered, a warm hand brushing some hair out of your face. “My interview’s over and I got us some breakfast.”

You blinked your eyes open, struggling to focus on Andrew’s face in the dim lighting of his well-darkened bedroom. Your phone, which you must’ve fallen asleep on, was lost in the abyss of the crack between bed and nightstand so you had no way of knowing what time it was.

“How’d it go?” You slurred, burrowing a little deeper into the warm bed.

He smiled, “The interview went well thanks to you and your internal alarm clock.”

“Can I have just a little bit longer in bed?”

Andy sighed dramatically, “Only if I can join. I’m still half asleep.”

You laughed, but raised the sheets as he crossed over to the other side and got in. You two had shared a bed before, you reasoned as you turned to face him, once, a couple of years ago when he’d gotten too drunk for you to leave alone after a night out. And while intoxication was markedly missing in the scenario, you and Andrew were adults and could nap together.

“Thanks again for waking me up,” He whispered into the darked, turning to face you. “My agent would have been really pissed if I’d missed that. And I would have felt awful for wasting everyone’s time, of course.”

Gently, you pressed a finger to his mouth, “Shhhh, I’m sleeping.”

Andrew chuckled, but then took your hand in his and kissed your finger across his lips gently. Surprised by the tenderness, you opened your eyes to look at your best friend.

“I’m serious, thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you most days.” Andy said, his voice, while still quiet, had a gruffness to it you didn’t quite recognize. 

“Well, good thing you’ll never have to find out what life is like without me,” you whispered back, softly smiling. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I think, sometimes, the thing I’m scared of most is losing you.”

The confession took your breath away for a moment. Of course, Andy was the most important person in your life, but neither of you had ever said anything so… vulnerable to the other before. It had always struck you as funny— while it was no secret Hozier regularly barred his soul in his songs, the Andy you knew was fairly reserved and quiet. You knew where he stood not by his words, but by his actions.

You bit your lip, wanting to word your response carefully. Slowly, you moved your hand to his cheek, cupping his face. “I’m not sure there’s anything you could do to lose me.”

Your eyes locked for a moment, and you could tell he was looking for something in your face. You stayed still, like he was a deer you were scared of frightening away, and then the smallest smile on his face broke the trance.

“What about this?” He breathed, turning his face so he could kiss the inside of your wrist. Your face broke out in a hot flush, the feel of his lips against your skin causing the butterflies you’d been fighting with to begin anew.

You shook your head the tiniest bit, “We’re still friends.”

He leaned forward, and it was only then you realized how close the two of you were in this bed. The warmth of his body and the feel of his hand moving to rest on your hip nearly sent you overboard. Slowly, as if he was now the one afraid of frightening you, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss right on the crook of your neck. “And this?”

Your toes curled and you almost gasped involuntarily, but you just managed to catch yourself. “We’re— we’re still okay.”

Andrew moved again, this time pulling you towards him so suddenly, his body was all you could feel. You looked up, his warm eyes searching your face again before gently, oh so gently, he brushed his lips against yours. “What about this? Are you okay with that?”

Words were lost to you as your eyes fluttered closed. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing yourself against him and somehow, even closer.

When your lips met again, there was no longer a question between the two of you. Suddenly, you were nothing more than the feeling of his fingers digging into your soft flesh, the scratch of your nails against his back, the heat that seemed to blossom in the space between your bodies. He groaned as your hips (involuntarily, of course) rocked into his, and you moaned at the feeling of his hard member against you.

“Andy,” You gasped, breathing hard but unable to even open your eyes— lost in the feeling of his lips trailing down your neck. “Andy please.”

Finally, you were able to crack your eyes just the tiniest bit, and almost gasped again at the sight of your best friend. He looked up at you, his beautiful hair already escaping your neat braid and his pupils blown wide as he seemed to drink you in. “Please what, darling?”

“Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. Gentle fingers eased your shirt over your head, and you didn’t even have time to feel an iota of self-consciousness before your sports bra gave way next. Bare to him, Andrew gently turned you on to your back so he hovered over you, one of his legs cutting between your own.

Slowly, almost tortuously slow, he lowered himself and placed his mouth over one of your nipples— teasing the sensitive skin before moving onto the other side. Your hands, desperate to do something, wove into his hair as you held him against your body.

His hand skated across your stomach, moving lower and lower until it slipped past the loose elastic of your sweats and underwear— those long fingers you loved watching play music parting you and dipping inside for a brief moment.

You arched against him, gasping at the sudden feeling of him. Part of you still didn’t believe this was real, that surely you still had to be sleeping, even as he deftly pulled your remaining clothes down your legs.

Kicking them off and into the room, your own hands pulled at his shirt while raking your fingernails across the pale skin of his back. Now chest to chest, you couldn’t help but grind down onto the sweatpant clad thigh between your legs, desperate for any friction to try and relieve the growing pressure. 

Hot kisses trailed down the side of your neck as you felt him laugh against your skin, “Someone’s a little impatient.”

You groaned again, your chest heaving against his as a hand reached to slowly knead a breast. “You have no idea how long I’ve been patient for,” your voice was breathier than you’d ever heard it. “How much I’ve been wanting you.”

A cry filled the dimly lit room as those long, tortuous fingers found you again— Andrew expertly rubbing your clit with a thumb as he shifted his weight to start taking off his remaining clothes. Your hands reached behind you, searching for something (anything) to steady yourself against as the sweet, familiar pressure started to grow.

He bent your right knee down with his free hand and spread you even wider. “Say that again,” he whispered as he laid down at your side, his voice barely audible over the rushing in your ears. 

You gasped as the crescendo started, two fingers now inside you— their movements exquisite and maddening. “I want you—” you paused for a moment, your eyes squeezing closed against the incoming tide. “Only you.”

Shuddering, you barely had a moment to catch your breath in the seconds after your first orgasm before Andrew was reaching around you, fumbling for a moment before finding a familiar foil and ripping it open. Planting a kiss on your temple, the two of you locked eyes for a moment. You smiled, tenderly stroking a finger down the side of his face.

Andy shifted his weight so he was hovering over you again, his eyes searching your face with a question. Barely coherent (and dazed from how quickly you’d just orgasmed), you leaned over to answer with a lingering kiss— resting your forehead against his to pause for a moment.

“Please, Andy.”

In response, those tortuous fingers curled around your hips, your best friend kissing your neck as he positioned himself right at your entrance. “Tell me,” he whispered against your sweaty skin. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Your hips jutted upwards, and you groaned at the feeling of him brushing against you for just the briefest of moments. “I’ll never want you to stop,” You breathed, reaching up to stroke his face with your thumb. “I’ll never stop wanting you.”

The feeling of him, all of him, was more than you had ever created in your daydreams; you couldn’t have imagined how his hair would tickle your face as he leaned down to kiss you, you didn’t take into account the visual of his long, lean body as he thrust into you again and again and again, and never in a million years could you have conceived how beautiful of a sound he would make as he climaxed inside you.

Afterwards, glowing in the aftermath of your orgasm and the feeling of Andrew lingering on your skin, you turned over to face him. His hair, now completely fallen out of the braid you’d hastily pulled in it, spread out over the pillow like a halo. His cheeks were flushed (as were yours, you felt sure), the high spots a delicate pink as he breathed heavily and stared up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, almost afraid to break the spell of the moment.

He turned to you, and his liquid brown eyes caught yours as a huge smile spread across his beautiful face. “Hey yourself.”

“You still have me, you know. If you want, I mean. I’m still not going anywhere.”

Andrew reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple. The actions, so sweet and tender, made your heart squeeze with affection and hope. “Good, because I still don’t know what I would do without you.”

[straightouttherosebush]

Genshin Men in a Relationship III

CHARACTERS: Itto, Gorou, Kazuha, Albedo

CONTENT WARNING: AFAB/Female! Reader (though it's generally kind of gender neutral? this is just my intended audience ig,) other than that everything should be pretty fluffy! :D

ARATAKI ITTO

Love Language: Quality Time

He/Him, Bisexual (male lean)

Will always try to find opportunities to annoy spend time with you! He will "accidentally" run into you and play it off as a coincidence.

Also makes a habit of sneaking up on and scare his partner.

Will annoy the ever loving fuck out of you when you don't show him attention or will try to distract you when you're focused.

He either needs to be with someone super serious or someone who matches his freak on catastrophic levels. Bonus if either one is shorter than him.

Favorite ways to spend time with you are... him sitting around while watching you do things (and being bored and/or enamored with you the whole time,) beetle fights, hunting for said beetles, and committing petty crimes and running away.

With a short s/o, he would LOVE carrying them on his shoulders.

GENERAL GOROU

Love Language: Physical Touch

He/Him, Questioning (female lean, if not straight)

He is such a cutie patootie, but people speak down to him in a patronizing way or tease him pretty often. That said, having someone finally treat him like an equal is something he attaches himself.

He is a soldier (technically general, but hear me out,) and he needs someone who is a leader. Someone sure of themselves and someone that he can easily collaborate with.

Tall, dominant (bonus if muscular) people are his type.

His literal job is to develop strategic plans and give orders, so not only does the strategizing transfer into him planning outings and household happenings, but he also likes to sometimes not have to plan things. That said, he's a rather submissive partner.

At first, he's really scared to let you touch his ears/tail, but as soon as he's comfortable? Having his head pet is one of his favorite things ever.

He can also be really cuddly and would attempt to big spoon his partner with his short ass

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

Love Language: Quality Time

He/Him, Pansexual (no real lean, if he vibes with someone he vibes with someone.)

It's giving... "let's sit under a tree and admire the swaying and floating of the leaves, while the brisk autumn air brushes against our faces and our worries float off into the horizon."

Would also love travelling with his partner, "going where the wind takes [you both]," so to speak.

He is everyone whose love language is "words of affirmations"'s dream man, because the poems he would both write and make up on the spot for you.

He is and always has been a hopeless romantic.

He especially cherishes quality time because he learned to value peoples' presences and be grateful for what time he does have. He wants to make the most of every second. Not in a rambunctious, over-the-top way like our Oni friend, but in a calm way with meaning in every action.

Has the potential to be a househusband. Idk just a thought.

ALBEDO

Love Language: Acts of Service

He/They/It, Asexual

Generally really receptive to being taken care of, even if he insists it isn't necessary.

Especially loves when his partner makes their way all the way out to Dragonspine to bring him supplies he needs or long-lasting foods/ingredients to use during his long stays.

He also appreciates his partner keeping things organized around his alchemical lab and any help they give in his research.

He will give back to you too by giving you little trinkets or harmless samples from his escapades in the mountains and elsewhere.

Rarely comes home, but feels unspeakable joy when he is able to. Seeing you, late at night, bundled up and asleep, makes him feel warm and fuzzy, in contrast to his usual environment. You do so much for everyone around you, you deserve rest.

Alright, everyone. Soooo here's the thing with this series. I started it years ago (literally finished the first part while waiting for work to start one day,) and I'm giving all of it a rewrite, new look, and hopefully completion! I hope you guys liked this because I know I enjoyed writing fluff for a change.

So long Windblumes, ROSEY ♡

♡MASTERLIST HERE♡

Ⓒ Written by Rosey, please do not copy/repost/translate.♡

[littlemissshifter]

hi!! i recently found your blog and i love how you approach shifting in general. after joining tumblr a few months ago, I've made so much more progress since 2020 than ever before. (*^^*)

shifting is basically just becoming aware of the reality you wanna experience and being indifferent to anything else. naturally, you embody the person you are in whatever reality you wanna wake up in, right? right. and according to one of the posts you've reblogged, shifting is what you make of it, so for me, i just decided that in order to wake up in my dr i just have to daydream a bit, talk to myself etc. because that's fun and easy.

but here is something I've been struggling with.

1. my mind will not. shut. up. when i want to shift before falling asleep. i embody my dr self for a few minutes, but then my mind starts to wander to thoughts about my outer reality (e.g. thoughts like "ugh, i don't wanna do xyz in the morning", thinking about the day ahead and other issues) and it keeps happening no matter how much i try to refocus on who i am in my dr. it just keeps reverting back and in the end i completely stop thinking about my dr self because my thoughts get distracted so easily. i know, assuming that something is holding you back from shifting will make it so, but i really feel like this is one of the main things that is stunting my progress. what can i do about this? falling asleep and waking up in my dr is the way i want to shift and i think complicated methods and whatnot are counterproductive.

2. speaking of embodying your dr self, do i have to do that all day? by that i mean, do i have to watch each and every single one of my 3d thoughts like "i don't wanna do this assignment," etc. and replace it with a thought my dr self would have? because if we apply neville and loa to shifting, wouldn't any thought (and by that i also mean habitual and automatic ones like in the example) i have about the 3d, imply that I'm not in my dr and would therefore be a contradiction of my desire? but that seems so tiring and like so much effort. I've already asked a couple of my favorite bloggers about this, but i haven't received an answer, so i would really appreciate one! ( ・∇・)

3. this is a really small question, but how do i absolutely 100% trust myself that I'll wake up in my dr? i know the 4d is the only real reality, but sometimes i assume i wake up there with absolute certainty, and then the 3d still hasn't caught up yet when i wake up in the morning. i usually am like "it's fine, idc about the 3d because I'm there in imagination" when that happens and i get that this (aka using the 3d as a measure for success) is literally the main reason for failure when applying loa, but it's becoming harder to keep assuming the same thing over and over with no progress. (again, typing this, i realize how stupid i sound because this is LITERALLY a "how to not shift/manifest 101" 😭).

thanks a lot, i know this was a long read!! (p.s. can i be 🫧 anon?)

Hiii!! Thank you sm!!

1. It's okay if the mind doesn't shut up. The few minutes you were able to embody your dr self is more than enough. People shift without not even intending to. Let your mind wander after, it helps you relax!! Holding on to those thoughts thinking you shouldn't have them will frustrate you so let's not give them so much importance. Let them be. It's okay feel that way!! But it's not holding you back. Nothing can hold you back from shifting. Just do what you do because you're gonna be waking up in your dr anyways.

2. NO!!! That is not how it's supposed to be. The only thoughts you should be ignoring are the ones when you think you're not in your dr. Doing work in your 3D is not related to them. Importantly, subconscious thoughts related to physical work in the 3D do not hold you back. The subconscious is connected to every reality, it doesn't need to have filtered thoughts. Thoughts aren't the only way to embody your dr self. You can do things that your dr self likes. For example: watching a certain show, eating ice cream, listening to a song or even sleeping. Honestly you don't have to embody your dr self at all to shift, just being aware of your existence in that reality is enough.

3. 3D is real. It's very much real. The only reason we say 4D is the 'real' reality because we choose the things we will experience in the 3D in the 4D. Both are real in different planes of existence. Shifting is a mental decision. You shift internally first. Physical manifestation of your assumption is not the main goal because you have it already. I mean, you chose it didn't you? Keep choosing it over and over. It's your truth. Assumption is basically smth you believe in without seeing the proof. So keep assuming you're doing everything right!!

AND YES YOU CAN BE 🫧 ANON OMG YOU'RE THE FIRST ONE EHHSHS.

Anyways, I hope this helped you!! I've been tying for like 20 minutes lololol.

[bstandsforbabydaddy]

*peter bends down to kiss Wade, which he's suddenly remembered how much he likes doing.*

I don't have your floorplan memorized, dingus, but we'll find it, I guess.

*he wanders through the house with a half-asleep Merc daddy drooling on him till he finds the right door and gets it open with his foot. He's gotta turn to get Wade down the stairs because he's not a small little princess. The couch is already pulled into a bed, and yeah, he wouldn't shine a blacklight down here. Peter's been in torture basements and this gives some of them a run for their money. It's kinda hot, maybe they should have some different kinds of fun down here sometime...*

*but he sets Wade down gently and starts pulling off his clothes.*

*peter knocks on Wade's window. He can see him in there and it rarely occurs to him to use the door anyway.*

@bstandsforbabydaddy

*ww pulls open the window, he's got this exhausted expression on like he wanted to be asleep hours ago. it's understandable. it's late.*

gotta be quiet, *he tells him in a low voice.* just about everybody's down for the night.

[freuleinanna]

Masriel + injured (for 3 sentence fic) could be either one of them being hurt with the the other one being overly concerned

three-sentence fics: reqs are welcome!

be honest did you expect a post-canon fix-it happy-ending au when you submitted this? ME NEITHER

Mercy; in some language, this must be what the name means, the name of a bene elim who was brave enough to plunge into oblivion before finally closing the abyss, and reach two souls, forever falling there in darkness, and touch them with a blessing hand, bestowing death upon them as a precious, long-awaited gift;

it must have been the same bene elim who carried them on his merciful wings and told them stories along the way, stories of a prophecy and a child, of death defeated and love victorious, and even the harpies fell silent, listening to those stories.

Blindness—they forgot the light; they almost forgot the faces; they have been falling for so long, the only thing they didn't forget was: they were falling together – and now they recognize:

'You're injured,' she whispers, and though her heart is there no more, it still breaks over dried blood on the man's forehead, 'Oh, Asriel, you're hurt, and bleeding-'

'Only I'm not, Marisa – not anymore.'

Silence falls, but moments later - simple like that - a laugh escapes her, an unsure one at first, then a quiet, happy one: there is no injury in death, no pain, no suffering, no death itself; he laughs as well, and looks at her face like it's the light he is, only just now, remembering – a gush of wind, some of their atoms float away swirling, and where their spirits meet, whispers follow without voices:

I'll find you I lov- I know, I know, no need now, we know that Will we forget? I carried you in me through oblivion, I will carry you some more;

they cannot truly touch, cannot kiss, only look at each other slowly losing their atoms;

still, what's left of Asriel holds what's left of Marisa: a weightless embrace remains as long as the wind blows, and when it stops to perfect stillness, not trying to pull them apart anymore, they let go – of their forms, but never of each other.

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Expect clip posting to slow down due to irl nonsense.

Also from the 11th to the 18th I won’t have any computer access and very little internet access but I’ll schedule a couple clips beforehand for that week 🫡

[loderlied]

mmm essay about sally and kid gort in the tags (cw for child abuse, mentions of suicide, animal cruelty and a murder attempt. i always hope i don’t have to say this but just in case: i don’t excuse or condone any of her or gort’s behaviour at all.) this is literally not even touching upon everything i have to say because i hit the fucking tag limit lmao. NOBODY READ IT’S BAD BRAINSTORMING I JUST NEEDED TO GET IT OUT SOMEHOW

[remnantglow]

hey so theoretically.

[fingertipsmp3]

Ughhhhhhh I hate writing and I hate not writing and I hate myself

[skitskatdacat63]

Back in my monthly depression era ig but. Thinking about social media and art, and how their relationship has fucked with me. I'm glad I started drawing fanart and I don't regret it. And I think I've really improved my skill this past half year plus. But man it gives me such a terrible complex. That paranoia of "who even would give a shit about this" and "when will people be done with me."

I think any artist always craves some recognition and praise no matter how much you say you draw for yourself. You can draw for yourself but it's still extremely gratifying and inspiring to have people's approval or thoughts on it.I used to draw for myself more and draw so much random art, but I discussed it a lot with friends and it made it more gratifying, to have that interest. And I lost that kinda, a lot. I feel like for a bit btwn losing that and drawing fanart, I can't really remember, I didn't draw as much bcs it just felt a bit unrewarded and it felt bleh.

And then I started drawing fanart. Which felt very rewarding. I'm happy I've not ever really felt the desire to make widely "appealing" art. If you look at even the first things I posted, it's extremely niche, and that's been a lot of fun! But it's also just made me so paranoid and self conscious. What if people get tired of this. What if people find it strange. What if people find it annoying. What if I'm being repetitive. Etc. It's really irritating bcs I KNOW people have told me they find my stuff interesting and that they like it. But my brain can't help but think, what is the expiration date on this, when will it become boring. I discuss my art with people and it's fun, but that self consciousness clings to me like a parasite. Like ah I better hurry this up and enjoy it while I can before they get annoyed and tired of it.

I guess this is all to say, I don't always like my relationship with art, and I hate the way social media messes with your brain. I remember for a bit I would post my art on Instagram and do the whole hashtag game. And then realized it was messing with my relationship with art so I dropped it. And then did the same thing with Twitter, than dropped it, etc. I just hate how I can't let myself enjoy anything. Idk maybe I'm just burnt out or something, but whenever I think of drawing lately, there's just this voice being like "what's the point of even drawing this, why would anyone care." I hate you evil voice in my brain!!!! It's not even a thing about notes, and I feel greedy even simply admitting any of this. I think it's more of a craving of a deeper connection and discussion. Which is what I always seek when I create art. But social media makes you think about numbers and attention and makes it unhealthy and makes you feel guilty for wanting something that's pretty reasonable.

Blah blah blah anyways don't reply to this like, oh you need to fix your relationship w art by taking a break from socmed! It's just this continual cycle and maybe one day I'll break it. But sometimes it just hits harder some days. I just want to stop feeling cringe. I hate it cause internally I'm like "I am cringe but I am free" but that only has to do with actually creating the stuff. Posting about it is the trap I think. Again though, it's natural to crave discussion and approval, but putting myself out there makes me want to curl up in a ball. I miss the days when I was younger and creating all kinds of random art and forcing it upon people with absolutely no shame. But now it's like. I toss my art into the room and shut the door and hide behind it with bated breath. And it often feels like any conversation I have just sates me for a tiny bit and then I go back to feeling empty. Is it ungrateful? Or is it just natural to want to keep having and partaking in a good thing?

Someone sent me advice on this feeling at some point, about how its better to talk to people individually rather than just on main. And I agree! I had a lot of fun the last third of last year. And for some reason it's just felt different ever since the new year began. I just don't know how to recover, and to start having fun like that again. I've drawn a lot of things I've immensely enjoyed since the year began, but for some reason, which I can't really parse, have had way worse self loathing and insecurity about it all. I just wanna recover my joy back :( is that too much to ask

Tldr; yay art improvement! Complex ideas! Much discussion! However: nay! Makes me feel cringe! Makes me feel like I'm running on limited time! Makes me crave too much!

[mooodyblue]

rambling in the tags 😵‍💫