#i was just getting back into furniture making when i got ill

[psychic-waffles]

What I would not give to be able to try this

[void-tiger]

…wHY do y’all feel the need to mention where someone’s at when they’re not around! Sure I have a crush on that idiot but I’m never going to admit to it, and actively avoid bringing them up myself ‘cause it’d feel like a freudian slip and it’s not my business anyway.

How often do I even come up in y’all’s home conversation. Is it out of pity? Or is this idiot just as insufferable as I am to my friends who are WELL AWAY from this and therefore Safe to repeatedly try spring-cleaning my demiromantic acengst with.

Are y’all pressuring them about me, too, or has that FINALLY, finally eased off.

(And what value can I possibly have, anyway. I’m unemployed and just shy of a shutin from severe anxiety/moderate depression and cptsd, adhd, and a smorgasbord of muscular-skeletal issues that just keep creeping up and staying and moving the goalpost to even TRY getting a job. The idiot has other friends when they have time to spend on them. All I am is stubborn enough to stick around and wait if I’m not actively being chased off IF the other party seems to really want that connection.)

[starkwlkr]

beautiful boy | cillian murphy

do I know anything about labor and the process? no 😭 pls remember this is fanfiction and idk anything about childbirth

barbenheimer series

The day Y/n began to feel ill, she had an idea of what was going on. Of course she did some math and realized her period was late. Cillian was still filming in the uk so she was alone in their cottage. A little family owned market was close by so she decided to walk there to buy a pregnancy test just to make sure. The owners already knew her and Cillian, they were nice people that brought great comfort to her.

While she was there, she figured she might as well get some groceries that she needed. As she browsed the aisles for spices and other items, she got a text from Cillian.

C ❤️

i should be done filming soon. i miss you.

She quickly replied.

Okay, I’ll pick you up from the airport. I love you more ❤️

After she payed for her items, Y/n walked back to her cottage. She put away her groceries rather than immediately take the test. She didn’t want to get her hopes up so she occupied her mind with something else.

It wasn’t until she thought about Cillian, that’s when she decided that it was time to take it. She grabbed the small box from the bag and walked to her bathroom. She read the instructions over and over again until she ripped open the box.

“It’s going to be fine, you’re going to be fine.” Y/n whispered to herself.

Y/n was early to the airport the day Cillian was scheduled to come back home. She couldn’t contain her excitement. It had been months since they last saw each other and she desperately wanted to feel him close to her.

She finally spotted him wearing sunglasses and a hat, his outfit reminded her of the crappy disguises superheroes wore when they were under cover.

“Well hello Tommy Shelby.” She said in a flirty voice.

“You’re hilarious.” Cillian replied. He placed his hands on her cheeks and kissed her on the lips. “Let’s go home, I’ve missed you too much.”

Cillian wanted to drive, but Y/n wouldn’t let him. After all he did come back from a long flights and months of filming, he needed the rest. Eventually Y/n and Cillian made it back home. He quickly took notice of the garden she had made while he was gone.

“You’ve been busy.” Cillian got out of the car. He opened the trunk and got his luggage out. “Are those red poppies?” He pointed out.

“Yeah. I also planted tulips and daisies.” Y/n pointed to the flowers that decorated her front porch.

Cillian then saw the light blue flowers next to the poppies. “Forget me nots, your favorite.” He smiled.

“You remember?” Y/n asked. She had told him about her favorite flower many dates ago.

“I never forgot.” Cillian replied. “Ha, forget me not, I never forgot.” He tried to joke.

“Funny.” Y/n chuckled lightly. “Come in, I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not what you think.” Y/n rolled her eyes playfully.

Cillian opened the door allowing Y/n to walk in first. He saw their home completely normal so it wasn’t something like a new furniture piece or art work that she had bought.

“Okay, wait here.” Y/n instructed. She walked to their shared bedroom and came back with something in her hands, Cillian wasn’t sure what it was. “I never told you I was feeling sick when you were away, I didn’t want you to worry and i most certainly didn’t want you to leave your work and fly back just for me. I had an idea of what was wrong with me so I went to the market and got a pregnancy test and it’s positive.” She nervously said. That’s when she showed Cillian the pregnancy test.

Cillian immediately pulled Y/n into a tight embrace, burying his face in her shoulder. “Oh, I love you so much.”

“We’re going to be parents.” Y/n whispered as her eyes filled with tears.

As they held each other, Cillian knew that his life would never be the same. But he also knew that with Y/n by his side, he was ready to embrace the journey of fatherhood.

MONTH 3

“People are starting to ask questions. What do I say to them?”

“Tell them you don’t know me.”

Her assistant, Joli, had been on the phone with her for the past hour. Y/n had finally told Joli about the pregnancy. Only a few people knew, obviously both of the parents’ families and close friends, but apart from them, no one knew that Cillian and Y/n were going to be parents and they liked it that way.

“You know I can’t do that. Listen, I love you and I’m happy for you and Cillian, but are you really going to step away for good?” Joli asked.

“Not entirely. I’ll just take a break.”

“Y/n, no one has seen you for a while.” Joli stated. “But when you decide to come back, I’ll be here. If you or Cillian ever need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Joli.” Y/n smiled. Joli was always her biggest supporter.

“You’re going to be an amazing mom.”

MONTH 7

Y/n loved her quiet life. She was living in a cottage starting her family with the love of her life. What more could she want?

Her stomach was growing everyday and it amazed her every time. The gender was going to be a surprise so all the baby clothes and furniture was gender neutral. She even wrote down some gender neutral names that her and Cillian might like.

“Here,” Cillian came back from the kitchen with a glass of cold lemonade. “Let me know if you want a refill.”

Y/n and Cillian were enjoying some time in their garden. All this time at home, Y/n picked up a new hobby and in no time, the couple had their own garden.

“Thank you, my love.” Y/n replied as she grabbed the glass from Cillian’s hands. “I’ve been thinking about the name Rowan, cute or not?”

“Rowan, Rowan . . . Rowan Murphy-L/N.” Cillian tested it out. “Not sure. Can you imagine yourself yelling the name Rowan like what if our child is running and you have to yell their name for them to stop. Rowan! Hmm, I don’t know.”

Y/n began to laugh at Cillian’s words. “That’s how you decide if the name is good or not?”

“It’s a good way, just try it.” Cillian encouraged.

Y/n hesitated a bit, but cleared her throat. “Rowan! Rowannnn!”

“See? Now what’s the verdict?”

“The verdict is . . . We have to find another name.”

JULY 21ST, 2013

Cillian was thankful that he didn’t have to work that day. It was all going good. Y/n was in the final days of pregnancy and everything was ready for the arrival of baby murphy. Around 2PM was when Cillian’s driving skills were put to the test.

“Fuck! Fuck! I hate this! I’m never having kids again!” Y/n groaned. “Hey, did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

“Not recent-” Cillian said as he kept his eyes on the road. They were only two minutes from the hospital.

“I hate you right now! But I love you so so much, but I fucking hate you!”

“Love you too, baby.”

Soon, Y/n was being taken by nurses to labor and delivery. Cillian made sure to call both of the families to let them know that in a matter of minutes, he would be a father and Y/n would be a mother.

“Are you Mr. Murphy?” A nurse asked. “Your wife is calling for you.”

Wife. He loved the sound of that.

Cillian quickly ended the call with his mother and ran to Y/n’s room. “Hey, I’m here.” He grabbed her hand, placing gentle kisses on it.

“Do our parents know?” Y/n asked.

“I just got off the phone with them. They’re so happy for us.” He smiled.

Thankfully, a C-section wasn’t needed. Baby Murphy entered the world crying. He was perfect in the eyes of his parents.

“Congratulations, it’s a beautiful boy.” The nurse announced.

“A boy.” Cillian whispered to Y/n. “Our beautiful boy.”

“Alex. His name is Alexander or Alex. I like it.” Y/n said, completely out of breath.

“Alexander Murphy-L/N. That sounds perfect.” Cillian smiled.

TAGLIST

@leclercloml @butterfly-skinnylegend @rockerchick05 @equallyshaw @agustdpeach @celesteablack @hnybitches @ietss @probablypossesedbysatan @kittyrumbl3r @electrobutterfly @knpgituloh @butlersluvbot @captainwans @bellstwd @theekileypage @marti-su @multifans-things @ceruleanrainblues @litterallnobody @jackierose902109 @sinarainbows @cosniffee @thatgirlthatreadswattpad

[phoenixblaze1412]

Can you write about female reader and Dottore got body swap?

Of course!

It was just a mishap, if Dottore were to say so himself.

But he did not expect the concoction he was making would end up like this. That headache he's feeling is not helping at all.

Right when he was about to get rid of his mask did he not find it on his face.

He could only stare at his hand and noticed how small it is than what he's usually used to see, no scars from the past. Wait since when did he paint his nails blue? He definitely remembers you having such colored nails and even showing it off to him since it's the same color as his hair.

He quickly looked around in search of a mirror but the only thing close to it was the shards of the beaker he held earlier. Looking closely at the glass, he noticed your reflection staring back at him instead.

Testing the waters, he poked and prodded at his (your) body. He memorized every curves and bumps in your body and he definitely knows he's in your body.

Maybe a final observation is needed to make it official.

He was already moving his hand down to cup himself when a large hand shot out and grabbed his wrist to stop himself from what he was about to do.

"Don't you even dare touch there!"

He stared back at his maskless self, already knowing it's you inside his body with that dark red blush on your (his) face, tilting his head innocently like he wasn't just about to touch something.

"Oh? But I was only making an observation, love. Besides, I already touched you multiple times whenever we have our love-making sessions, there's nothing to be embarrassed about when I already know how your body reacts to my every touch."

You stared at yourself- Dottore, well you had to tilt your head down a bit to look at your own self. Damn, were you that short that the doctor had to look down just to talk to you- okay not the time to worry about that. You did also poked and squeezed every muscle in Dottore's body that you're currently residing in... may or may not have checked and touched what's down there.

The doctor didn't have much to worry about when he stared at his own body, which is towering over him, when he already has his segments who are literally his own clones. You, however, are still somewhat panicking that you currently have a dick attached to you. Which is your partner's but you'retechnically in his body.

"Love, please calm down. The effects will wear off after a day. I can just send Omega to the meeting to take my place as always."

Dottore noticed you were lost in your own thoughts before grabbing your jaw and making you turn to look at him.

"Everything will be alright. I'll simply inform Pierro that you had fallen ill and is unfit to do your tasks for today. Now, do stop nibbling your.. well, my lip. Remember dear, my teeth are sharp and you're in my body."

Not that Dottore was annoyed when he always see this little habit of yours, he finds it adorable really. He just doesn't want your lips to be wounded from the habit.

A thought came across his mind as he gave you a sly grin. You stared back at your partner and raised a brow, wondering at what he's thinking. Not long after that you were suddenly being pinned to the table behind you, the edge of the furniture hitting your lower back but you were more surprised you had that kind of strength in your body to even do such a thing.

You heard the doctor let out a little laugh as he grabbed your hands and placed them on his waist, holding them in place.

"Since we are in such an 'unfortunate predicament', I suggest we do a little experiment. It is your first time in my body so you get to experience what I feel while I do the same with your body, hm?"

Oh dear..

[thecapricunt1616]

Allspice (c.b oneshot)

𝐵𝓁𝓊𝓇𝒷 (𝑀𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐵𝒯𝒞): You were so engrossed in the work, that you hadn’t even realized someone had approached your table until they cleared their throat awkwardly.  Your gaze slowly travels up, seeing a blue apron covering a white shirt, tattooed hands holding- your meal? Your eyes flicker up to his piercing blue ones. “Chilean Sea Bass” he sets it in front of you. You snort a laugh.  “Hm.” You look around before back at him “These people” you motion to the restaurant. “Other patrons. Which meals of theirs did you bring out- Chef?” You accentuate the last word, it was all too uncommon for a chef to personally bring a meal out to a table. 

♡ O.S Inspo: Forever & Always - Fearless (TV) ; "Was I out of line, did I say something way too honest, made you run and hide like a scared little boy?" ♡ Pairing : CarmyxAFAB Reader as little physical description possible | She/Her pronouns used, NO use of Y/N :) ♡ Summary: You have a very successful Culinary Review blog, the social media manager of one of your new hometown restaurants 'The Bear' has been dying to get you out to try their food. But since the EC is a bit of an overzealous competitor, you end up having to go back for round 2- you end up having a delicious dinner, and a free show.

♡ W/C: 4,381

♡ Posted Date: 03/18/24

♡ A/N: FIRST THING: I am HORRIDDDD at writing Claire- I'm much better at writing Carmy cause were alot more similar- so this Claire isn't gonna be CRAZY canon, but I think she got the job done. Anyway- EEEEEP!!! Here is my VERY FIRST ONE SHOT EVER!! Inspired by my amazing, wonderful, PRECIOUS FLOWER @daysofyellowroses that can be found here :) AAAAA!!! My precious Rose I hope you enjoy this, It could ABSOLUTELY have a part 2 if y'all like it. I ended it here cause I'm sooo wordy and I didn't want it to turn in to a multi-chap. fic by mistake...but ofc if y'all want more just tell me and ill get RIGHT TO WORK!!! I really hope this comes off how I saw it in my head. There's no smut/sexy stuff, just mutual pining and flirty teasing, I hope thats ok!! aaa here we goooo!!! Enjoy <3

♡ Warnings for BTC: Swearing, Drinking alcohol (Literally it LOL)

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Being a Food Critic wasn’t an easy gig, as much as people wanted to believe it’s simply going to famous restaurants, trying their most popular dishes- and giving your opinion, it was much more then that. 

Each and every aspect of the restaurant was under your review, from the second you walked in the door, you were judging everything. From the atmosphere, to the music, to the decor, to the comfortability of the furniture all of it, was to meet your expectations if the owner of the establishment wanted a good review.

Today was finally the day you'd review one of the restaurants that had sent 3 requests for you to feature a review of them on your blog. 

The Bear. Interesting name, you thought.

With the rugged name- you’d assumed a more millennial hipster-New American vibe. But when you’d arrived- you were quite…impressed? That instead of leaning into that all too common aesthetic, it was more of a classy, comfortable vibe. 

They’d not even had bear art, anything of the sort. It was pure comfort, mixed with subtle class. The kind that spoke to the cost of the dishes- but wasn’t in your face obnoxious. The only ‘Bear’ was the little golden bear embossed into the leather menu you’d been handed when seated at the table. 

The way you did your reviews was…a tad unusual - some chefs in the industry called it ‘unfair’ but you called it…the fairest things could be. Instead of telling them when you’d be swinging by for a review since where’s the fun in that you’d call, make a reservation under some random name, and they��d know you’d accepted their offer when the review had been posted on your blog. 

It felt most honest and fair because you were one of the most renowned food critics in the country right now. If they knew you were coming- any EC with a brain would spend the night before your arrival, prepping the entire restaurant and staff - assuring they’d be on their best behavior to try and squeeze a higher grade out of you.

 But you were just a reader once upon a time, years ago- when you realized in culinary school that the making of the art didn’t interest you, it was the observing. Food wasn’t just about taste, but rather the whole experience. And if every famous food critic you’d taken interest in back in the day- never got a true experience due to their notability? You’d never have gotten into this field. So, you were most keen on keeping things fair. 

A woman with mousey brown hair comes up to your table, dressed in the typical waitress slacks and black button up shirt. “Hello! Welcome to The Bear. My name is Sam, have you dined with us before?” she asks. 

You sit up in your chair, peeling your eyes from the menu. You give her a small kind smile “I haven’t” you replied, urging her to continue her script. 

“Well welcome in, we're so happy you chose to spend your evening with us. So for our menu” she opens it in front of you. “Here” she points “are our wine options, fabulous selection this month. Then we have draft beers right next to it. On the following page” she points “all of our craft cocktails, then this,” she points in the bottom corner. 

“Our house cocktail - Just called The Bear. It’s wonderful, if you like old fashions you’ll love this - made with Bearface Triple Oak Whiskey.” She said and you nod. 

 “That please. That’s what I’ll start with” you said and she nodded. 

“I’ll get that right in. But quickly, just so you’re aware” she flipped the page and pointed. 

“These - are the dishes of the month. Each crafted by one of our two head chefs, they change monthly so if something calls to you I recommend you try- because it won’t be back” she said. You raised your eyebrows a bit in surprise and nod. 

“Thank you” you said and she gives a nod before heading off to the bar to put in your drink order before heading off to tend to other tables in your section. 

Having an alternating menu intrigued you, for such a high end establishment- one with a Michelin star at that- implementing such a menu would consistently have their star at risk. One dish, one app, one drink- that was not up to par and it would be revoked. You guessed the owners of this place liked living on the edge, as if being in this industry wasn’t already being constantly on edge. 

You gaze over the menu, the Chilean Seabass sounded like a fair assessment. Seafood was quite difficult to get right, especially in the springtime before peak season, and you’d be able to judge the consistency of the chopping and such because there was a fresh tomato corn salad that came with it. That was your rule when you came to judge restaurants, one main course, and one dessert.  

You’d felt like the main courses were the true stars of the show anyhow, and it would be unfair to muck up your palate with an app that was usually something easy to get right (since they were usually fried, covered in cheese, or some kind of carb). And the dessert usually showed the restaurant's creativity, which you loved to see, so 2 dishes was your max. 

The waitress returns with the cocktail, setting it down with a napkin under it. “Here you are, now- have you decided on a starter?” She questioned and you shook your head. 

“Straight to the good stuff, I’d like the Chilean Sea Bass please. And for dessert,” you flick the page and your eyes settle on the words savory cannoli - hmm, imaginative indeed. “And uh- The Michael Cannoli?” You said, shutting the menu and handing it to her. 

She nods with a smile, jotting down the order into her notepad before taking the menu and holding it to her chest. “That will be out soon as possible. Enjoy your drink” she said and headed back to the kitchen. 

You sit back sipping the cocktail and humming. She was right, much like an old fashioned, but floral notes. Almost…chamomile? Yes! That was it. Very interesting.

You slipped your iPad out of your bag, opening up your journaling app and grabbing the pencil out of the little sleeve. You quickly snapped a picture with your phone of the drink, airdropping it to yourself and adding it into the entry and writing;

‘To start; ‘The Bear’ house cocktail- initial thoughts ; not too sweet, strong (but not overpowering), chamomile? Some kind of herbal tea flower’ 

You take another sip, letting the flavors sit on your tongue a moment before swallowing. “Mmm!” You hum to yourself, finally realizing where the herby taste beneath the chamomile was coming from that gave it that oaky piney taste. 

‘Angostura bitters- will confirm!!’ You wrote just as someone approaches your table. You look up to see a man, short brown hair, stubble. He was smiling, holding a plate. 

“Hello! Here we have Arancini with our house-made pesto, courtesy of Executive Chef Carmen” he placed the dish in front of you next to your iPad. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, looking up at him, scarcel confused. 

“Wrong table” you murmured, thumbing the dish back in his direction lightly. He cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“Nope- ah, he- he said this table.” He replied. It did smell fantastic, and any other day you’d never deny delicious, deep fried balls of risotto dipped in smooth, decedent pesto- but you’re working right now and it’s not fair. 

“Well, you can tell him” you lifted the dish, offering it back. “I have a system. And I’m unsure how he realized that I’m coming here, tonight, but I dislike cheaters. And he should know if he’s read my blog- I don’t muck up my palate with grease before I try the main course.” The plate was so close to him now it was nearly digging into his chest.

He nodded quickly, taking the plate without another word and briskly walking back to the kitchen. You sat back in your seat with a slight scoff. 

He thinks he can win you over just like that? How did he even know you would be here?

You picked up your pencil once again, adding a note. 

For the chef; Arancini smelt delicious. Didn’t order it, so I didn’t taste it . Presentation wise; 7/10. Pesto looked like it was spooned in the dish a tad bit messy to me. 

You smiled to yourself, you knew he’d read the final review once it was posted. And since he wanted to be a little cheater and get a overall higher score since he was trying to weasel you into trying extra dishes- you’d kick his ego down a few extra pegs for fun. 

You sat, nursing your drink, adding extra little notes here and there, as well as editing a blog post about Ghost Kitchens you’d been working on and how they were ruining the mobile order industry on the side. You were so engrossed in the work, that you hadn’t even realized someone had approached your table until they cleared their throat awkwardly. 

Your gaze slowly travels up, seeing a blue apron covering a white shirt, tattooed hands holding- your meal? Your eyes flicker up to his piercing blue ones. “Chilean Sea Bass” he sets it in front of you. You snort a laugh. 

“Hm.” You look around before back at him “These people” you motion to the restaurant. “Other patrons. Which meals of theirs did you bring out- Chef?” You accentuate the last word, it was all too uncommon for a chef to personally bring a meal out to a table. 

You swore even in the ambient lighting, his cheeks flushed slightly. “You- uh- you declined, my Arancini. Why?” He asked, holding his hands behind his back, the position making his already toned and tattooed arms appear more muscular. It makes him all the more impressive he has all these tattoos and still made it in this industry. I can only imagine the shit he got for them. 

You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his boldness. “Because that’s Cheating. Mr.Berzatto. I’d assume you know my work well. Considering you know what I look like, so- why try to cheat? You know how I feel about appetizers. It’s a scapegoat.” You shrugged, locking your iPad when you realized he’d been peeking at the notes. 

“Messy” his eyes narrow. He scoffs a bit, alluding to the note you’d written a short while prior “Messy?” He asks again, you laugh a bit.  

“Mmhmm! Oh, was it you chef? Wow…I mean- now that I think about it” you shook your head, now just messing with him since you see how much he was dying to impress you. “I could’ve sworn- the pesto it just..was too loose. Overblended maybe? That’s why it was impossible to plate without making a mess.” You shrugged, cutting up your fish carefully and spreading the vegetables with your knife to observe the cohesivity of the cuts. 

He scoffs, “too- too loose?! W-y’know what. No. No. It- you’re gonna try it.” He demands and you look up at him, nearly laughing at the seriousness of his tone. 

“That depends. Bring me a pesto worth trying and I’ll think about it. Now” you wave him off casually “I can’t work with the chef over my shoulder. So- Shoo chef don’t bother me” you teased and he shook his head. 

“Game on.” He muttered, heading back to the kitchen.  

You smiled to yourself, the Arancini absolutely isn’t going into the review. But you’ll humor his ego by trying it.

You cut the fish thoroughly, checking the texture and the evenness of the seasonings slathered on the skin, writing little notes as you go along. The cuts of the vegetables were pristine. Nearly perfect. The only misshapen pieces were clearly cosmetic defects of the vegetable. The chef that cut these was immaculate with a knife. 

When you took your first bite, you nearly moaned. The fish was buttery, the skin was crispy, slightly spicy, tangy, the flesh melted in your mouth. The risotto was so cheesy and buttery and wonderful. You could eat this meal every night for the rest of your life and never get sick of it. It was the best Sea bass you’d ever tasted. 

You opened your iPad again, jotting down notes about the flavors, the mouth feel, all the usual points you hit in your review. 

This meal is a 9.2 out of 10. 

You write at the bottom. Very fair score, you never had rated something as a 10. Something being a 10 would be- you don’t even know what it would be. But it would be what the score says, perfection. And while this dish was wonderful, and very very good- it was not perfect. At least to your heavily trained palate. 

You finished what you wanted out of the meal, pushing the plate to the side and not soon after, Carmen was back at your table. He placed the plate in front of you, 3 perfectly circular Arancini discs were placed equal distance on the plate, and truly beautiful pesto, sat in the dish alongside it. It frankly was immaculately plated. 

“Unbroken pesto. Sorry again, about the last one.” He said, watching you carefully. You hum as you grab your fork, splitting one of the discs and digging out some of the risotto. 

“Could be firmer.” You said, eyes flicking to his. He nods, clearing his throat a bit. 

“It’s not- uh- it’s” 

“Fresh” you finished for him, raising your brows and he nods. “So- since you’re frying it. You cook it for about..a minute- maybe forty seconds less than you usually would.” You said, daintily taking the bite off your fork. 

“Heard..” he nodded, waiting for your reaction. You hummed a bit. 

“Great balance of parm and butter though. I’ll give you that. Neither overpowers the other, that’s hard to do considering the notes” you added, cutting up the crust and tasting it. 

“Mm-“ you scrunch your nose and his face visibly drops. “Mm-mm…no- not peanut oil…why would you do that? It totally overpowers the breadcrumb with this like…cheapy taste. I’d say it would be way better if you fried it in sunflower oil” you added, digging out more of the risotto and dipping it in the pesto before having a bite and humming. 

“This though” you point at the little dish of green sauce with your fork. “This is great.” You add and he nods. 

“Ok-yeah…ok…” he nods, rubbing his hand over his chin. “Thank y’for trying it.” He said and you nod. 

“I’ll be back for a fair assessment. I think I’ll pass on the cannoli tonight, and just get the bill. Thank you” you slipped your pencil in the case before putting your iPad in your bag and holding your hands on the table in front of you. 

“Y-y’re coming back” he said, sounding slightly surprised. 

You shrugged “well- you clearly want a full review based on your behavior tonight, Chef. So I’ll humor you. I won’t tell you when of course, so just pray that it’s a day like today-“ you paused, looking around. “Where things seem to be running…alright.” You sat back in your chair casually with a small smile. 

“I look forward to your review.” He gave a nod and headed back to the kitchen. 

It was 3 weeks before you’d decided to return back to The Bear spring had quickly turned to early summer, and you thought you’d given enough time for your little conversation with the head chef to slip his mind. 

It was 9:20, 40 minutes before closing. You did promise to come back at a random time, and no time is more random then a Friday night less than an hour before the kitchen closed. 

You pulled open the door, stepped in and headed up to the host stand where the same man that originally offered you the Arancini stood. “The picky critic returns.” He said, tapping his pen against the reservation book absentmindedly. 

“She does” you smiled a bit. 

“Well lucky f’you cousin said you get a table any time, right this way” he leads you to a booth near the back, where you had a perfect view of the restaurant. Much cozier then before, right next to the doors of the kitchen where you could hear the back of house crew buzzing about. 

“Same cocktail as last time?” He asked and you raised your brows in slight surprise as you sit. 

“No waitress?” You asked, getting comfortable and setting your iPad down next to the empty plate. 

“She’ll be over, just figured a friendly offer couldn’t hurt” he said with a small smirk. 

You roll your eyes playfully. “House cocktail please, and thank you. But don’t count on kindness boosting your hospitality score-“ you stop, realizing he never gave you his name. 

“Richie” he said, sticking his hand out to shake. 

“Richie.” You repeat, giving him your firm professional shake. 

“House cocktail comin’ up” he said and headed back to the bar. You mulled over the menu, lemon chicken picatta, that sounded like a perfect dish to judge this time around. 

A few minutes later, Richie returns, setting the glass down in front of you. “Waitress should be by momentarily, enjoy your meal” he said, heading back to the host stand. 

A bit after the waitress came to take your order, the restaurant had begun to die down. You were going to be the last person served tonight it looked like, since in 5 minutes they would stop seating people. 

You added additional notes to your section about the cocktail, getting a better photo of it for your blog when you hear a bit of commotion up front.

You look up, to see a woman with curled brown hair in navy blue scrubs, her hands on her hips, talking with Richie with a frustrated look. There were tears in her eyes, you couldn’t help but tune in to their conversation. 

“Richie, please let me see him- he- he hasn’t said anything and I…I just need to hear him say it to my face. Please!” She begs, tears were streaming down her face now. 

Richie looks around nervously, tugging her to the side so they weren’t standing right in front of the host stand. You lean over just a bit- not so much it would be noticeable, but enough your nosy ears could continue to pick up what was being said.

“Claire. You shouldn’t be here…I’m sorry- he told me-he said that..that you can’t come here anymore. It’s too much and he will apologize when he can find the words. But he can’t. So please before he sees you. Leave” he said softly, attempting to soothingly rub her arm and she jerks away like his touch burned her skin. 

“Fuck you, Richie. Get him. Now. I’m not working on his time anymore. This is my time now. I’ve waited around enough for him. I’m done waiting. Either get him yourself? Or I swear to god I’ll go in that kitchen and embarrass the fucking shit out of him” she hissed. 

Your eyebrows raised, shit. Whoever fucked her over should at least be warned. 

He snorts, clearly amused before stepping back and raising his arms in defeat. “Have at it ClaireBear.” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You think he’s gonna take kindly to you startin’ w’him in his house? Be my guest.” He shrugged, going back over to the host stand. 

And then it clicked. She’s here for Carmen.  

She laughed dryly, sarcastically, like a woman who’d had it. “You think I’m scared? Richie? You think I’m scared of little Carmy who couldn’t even check out a library book by himself? mm?” She goads him, arms crossed, chest heaving with rage. 

His head snaps back to look at her, brows raised in shock. “Kid- I really think you should go calm the fuck down, because Y’re not gonna like the way that this conversation ends w’him- at all.” 

And with that, she shoves open the kitchen door. You couldn’t just sit there and not watch- this was the juiciest drama you’d ever been privy to in person, and this means he’s single. You slightly curse yourself for being so giddy that this means the sexy chef would likely be on the market. 

Your foot catches the door before it closes, leaning against the frame. She storms in, eyes frantically darting over the kitchen. 

“Carmen.” She barks, the entire kitchen stops moving and looks at her, as if they were in shock and awe someone would ever raise their voice to him in such a way. 

He rounds the corner, holding a pan of focaccia dough that he nearly drops at the sight of her. He blinks a few times, squeezing his eyes shut as if she’d disappear when he opened them again. 

“The fuck are you-“ his eyes meet yours, his face going pale quickly, he looked white as a sheet. “Leave.” He orders her, slamming the dough down on the counter. 

“Leave?!” She laughs coldly, “you’re gonna tell me to leave?! You’re a fucking pussy Carmen. A pussy. Y’know- it was charity giving you a chance. Pity work.” She spits and you blink a few times, taken aback by such harsh words. 

Is she serious? She thinks anyone could believe dating a super hot, ripped, talented, chef prodigy - that was charity work in any sense of the word?

He scoffs, “Charity?” He chuckled dryly. “Claire- you begged me to fuckin’ be with you! You-you-y’re a fuckin gnat! Claire! You- all you do is-is fuckin’-” he runs his hand through his hair, his chest heaving in anger, “You dont know me, Claire! Alright? There- And I-I-I don’t want you i’m-i’m sorry-” 

She laughed, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. “You-” she whispered, her chest shaking with a sob. “You- fucker- I- I gave you a chance…” she whispered and gripped her wrist sadly. “I- I was there for you, Carmen- when no one else could fucking stand you.” she croaked.

“And I never asked for you too- please- just…leave me alone-” he shook his head. “Leave. Please…just-pretend we never happened, it was a mistake, Claire.” he breathed, clearly utterly defeated, and It sounded like he’d told this girl these same words multiple times. 

“M-Mikey would be sick- Carmy, he’d- he’d hate who you’ve become…” she said meekly, and with that- something behind his eyes snapped.

“Claire I’m not DOING THIS I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKIN’ RESTAURANT. WERE OVER. YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME! YOU MEAN NOTHING CLAIRE!” He roars, the veins in his neck popping out, angrily and aggressively pointing to the door. “OUT. get the fuck out. G-get out, b-before I-I-I fuckin- holy fuck” he finds his composure once more, even though his breath was still ragged from his outburst, flicking his hand next to him his entire body trembling with panic. 

She looks to her left and right, she’s not that- 

Your thoughts were quickly proven wrong, when you see she was stupid enough to grab a pan off the stove to whip at him. 

“Aht!” the spanish woman standing a few paces to the right said, quickly grabbing the arm with the pan and twisting it behind her back. “Drop it.” she hissed. 

Carmen looks between the two of them, utterly in shock. “Y-y’were gonna hit me?” He asked her, face twisting in rage. “Fuck you. Fuck you Claire.” He seethed, taking the pan from his employees grasp and tossing it in the sink with a loud clatter. 

“Get the fuck out” you told her, grabbing her from the handle of the woman who’d stopped the assault, shoving her towards the kitchen door and into the front of the restaurant. “Y’re a fuckin crazy bitch.” You laughed dryly, giving her a hard shove for good measure. 

“Oh and who are you” she straightened herself out, pushing her bag up on her shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. Glad to see that Carmy still needs someone to protect him. I’ll gladly give up that spot.” she said, causing you to laugh. 

“Oh my god- you are pathetic. He just spelt it clear as day sweetheart- you are over. O-v-e-r. He doesn’t want you babe! And no, he doesn’t need my protection- I was enjoying dinner and apparently a show until you went batshit bitch.” You snip, plopping back down at your booth. 

She scoffed “he doesn’t want anyone. The only thing he wants - is to remain miserable. Good fucking luck, whoever you are.” She said before stomping out. 

“Yo she was really gonna throw somethin?” Richie asked as he walked over. Thankfully, it was just you, him, and the bartender in the front of the restaurant.

You nod “thankfully she didn’t realize I was there- Carmen would have had a nasty burn, and a concussion.” You said, taking a large sip of your drink. 

Carmen comes out, eyes meeting yours immediately. “Fuck- I- don’t worry y’re meal is comped and don’t…don’t worry about a review, i’m sorry- I-I guess it wasn't in the cards f’r us to be featured on y’r blog... I’m really so sorry… Shes- ah..” he rubs his arm nervously, trying to find the words. 

“A woman scorned” You teased, and he snorts a laugh, nodding a bit.

“Hell hath no fury, right?” He joked, sighing a bit. “It’s uh…it’s my fault I guess…I uh- I should’ve dealt with that…I've been putting it off” he said and you nod a bit.

“You off the clock?” you looked at your phone for the time, 10:07. 

“Shit- fuck- sorry- I’m so sorry- give me like- I was making y’r food…and then-” you shook your head, stopping him.

“No- No…I was uh-Asking to see if you maybe wanted to..have a drink with me? Not-not like…professionally…” you shrugged, stirring your half full cocktail with the bar straw that floated in it. 

“Sure- uh…sure- I’d like that lemme..lemme go change, i’ll be right out” he nodded, heading back into the kitchen.

[henrioo]

If requests are still open would you been interested in writing some domestic Mihawk with his husband and their baby? Maybe reader teaches the kid their languages, and Mihawk gets the baby little sword plushies. Idk man but there's no way that man isn't secretly mushy 😭

°•*⁀➷ OUR LITTLE PEACE: MIHAWK

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "All Mihawk ever wanted was a peaceful life in his castle. But a perfect peaceful life is not complete without you, his husband, and now his little baby to fill his days with joy."

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : Male! Reader (can be cis or trans), MLM, homo relationship, homo marriage, Spoilers to the two years separation! (Zoro and Perona are in the castle and this is post Marineford), the author doesn't know anything about babies and children, almost nothing of Spanish because I couldn't think of one cute dialogue so sorry, not too many mentions of the reader gender like my others stories but still clear the reader is a men, also no mentions of the birth of the baby, no name or appearance to the baby so you can choose if is biology, adopted, imagine what you want.

꒰ WC ꒱ : 1,8k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : Another story! Another male reader! Hehehehe, I skipped one day of posting but here it's the new one, another ask because I'm really trying to finish them to give more attention to another project and maybe write other stories idk. Thanks for the ask, I love writing family stuff hehehhe, this one was not that good because I'm having some struggles with my writing style but I hope everyone likes it! Byee

You yawned as you tested the milk in your hand, warm but not enough to burn your baby's tongue, perfect. Zoro was in a bad mood in the kitchen eating something, he had been beaten by Mihawk in the last training session and you suspected it was because the pirate was always lost in the castle and opening the doors with great force, which made a huge noise and always it made your baby start crying, irritated when awakened from his sleep. Which also made the older man a little irritated that someone was disturbing his son's sleep.

You made a mental note to try talk to your husband, although to be honest you were uncomfortable too. His son was a needy little boy and when he started crying he would stay like that for hours, until his throat got tired and he went back to sleep, so having to deal with it several times because Zoro kept waking him up was really frustrating.

You walked through the hallways, now with furniture all prepared to be baby proof, no furniture with pointy ends, no sliding rugs, doors in front of the stairs and other changes. At first you thought that Mihawk would be uncomfortable with the changes, to his surprise he took responsibility for changing everything without you even talking about it first. He spent weeks moving furniture, buying or making objects to close doors or round edges, he even made himself available to remove carpets and pictures, even going overboard with the protection.

Your husband has always been a very protective person, even before he was your husband or boyfriend. When he was just flirting, or courting, he was always very concerned about your ntegrity. If you were traveling, would he always give you the best accommodations, extreme climates? He has everything prepared, clothes and even medicine for illnesses, that is if he doesn't change the entire route of the trip to prevent inconvenience.

As you progressed in your relationship, the more protective Mihawk became, he would never be possessive or controlling, he was just genuinely concerned about your comfort and safety and felt it was his obligation as a lover to provide you with the best. Of course he respected you, after all you were also a man and a fighter, you were not weak in any way, it was your strength and intelligence that made Mihawk attract and fall in love with you in the first place. But living a life as a "pirate", an ally of the navy or just someone very strong in the grand line meant that your loved ones and even you were at risk of death at all times. He would never want to lose you and that's why he never let his guard down.

It was no different with his son, he wanted to give him a safe and as normal childhood as possible, thus arriving at this extremely careful point. He was already planning his son's diet and he wasn't even eating so many solid things yet...

"Almost there dear, it's papa, mi hijo, papa" You heard through the half-open door, there was an area of the castle that was closed just for the three of you. Even Zoro and Perona knew to stay away from that part, it being your private wing.

There was the bedroom where you two slept, a common room with the fireplace where you two usually stayed, a bathroom, a library next to the balcony and of course, your son's room. It was almost a complete house, except that it was inside a huge castle with many other rooms.

You stopped watching your husband next to your son, Mihawk was now wearing casual clothes although his shirt was more open, contact with the parents' skin was good for babies, he had told you. The baby laughed in his arms, trying to touch the adult's face with his chubby little hands. He wore thicker baby clothes to protect himself from the cold on the island, as your husband insisted that just the fireplace wasn't enough. The outfit was dark red with bat symbols, Perona had given away saying that the cute baby needed to maintain one parent's vampire reputation.

"Baba!" Your son exclaimed excitedly, laughing again, your husband's affectionate look and smile made your heart melt and your stomach feel strange.

For many, Mihawk was a cruel and merciless man, who could effortlessly cut through ships and defeat thousands of swordsmen at the same time without breaking a sweat. For you? Ah... To you, he was a loving man, a man who always brought gifts from every island he visited, who always had fresh flowers to give you, a man who would kill anyone who dared to offend you for being in a relationship with another man. For you, he was your husband.

"I'll only forgive your terrible pronunciation because you're too cute," Your husband said, shaking his son again.

"I think baba suits you a lot" You smiled entering the room, your husband had been trying to teach Spanish to your little baby for some time. Although this turned out to be a much longer task than he imagined.

"Of course I do" He mocked looking at you smiling, it's not like he could contradict you.

"Papa!" Your baby said excitedly and soon his attention was all on you, his little hands stretched out trying to reach you as quickly as possible.

"Why can he get the pronunciation right with you?" Mihawk looked at you confused and envious as he passed the child to you.

"Because he likes to annoy you" You smiled, rubbing your face with the chubby and soft face of your baby who laughed at the contact.

"Well, he got it out of you then..." Mihawk teased as he adjusted the chair so you were comfortable breastfeeding.

"Of course yes" You sat in the chair and then placed your son next to the bottle, he quickly held the bottle as he began to drink the milk. His eyes soon started to get tired and he relaxed against you, after all it was close to time for him to fall asleep.

"I should order a painting of you two like this, it would be the most beautiful work of art I have ever seen..." He sighed looking at the two of you with love, for him it seemed like a dream, so much peace with the people he loved most.

"He wouldn't be able to stay still for that long" You laughed, your baby used to be quite energetic, which had created some good confusion with you guys losing him in the huge castle.

“It would be worth a try” He chuckled and walked closer to you, caressing your cheek and then placing a kiss on your forehead. "I can put him to bed today, you should take a shower and rest."

"You already did this yesterday, I don't get that tired taking care of him, you practically do everything." You sighed, your husband always wanted to take the weight off your shoulders since he used to travel a lot. However, your son really wasn't that big of a job, now with Perona and Zoro here and the instability of the world government, you doubted that Mihawk would travel anytime soon, so your job was even easier since you shared it with your husband.

"Humpf" He huffed, he always sulked when you didn't allow him to take care of everything.

"Let's put him to bed together... Then after that we'll have some time just for the two of us" You suggested smiling, your baby had now let go of the bottle and was yawning, showing that he was ready to end the day.

"You know how to convince me, don't you?" Mihawk smiled, taking the empty bottle as you stood up with your baby.

"Of course, how do you think I got you to marry me?" You played with him. Soon you were running around the baby's room to rock him, your son clung to you yawning and finishing digesting the warm milk you had provided. Luckily he didn't give much work on that part.

When he had calmed down enough to be practically asleep, Mihawk had already prepared the crib, also carrying some stuffed animals and blankets in case you decided to add something else. You walked over with your baby and gently placed him in the crib, then he stretched out completely and then curled up again in a ball, grabbing a sword plush and messing up the blanket there.

"Sword?" You said looking confused at the plushie of a sword, you didn't remember having one of those. You then asked your husband.

You only met a proud, red-faced Mihawk if you had seen your son doing the most graceful thing possible.

"We have to start familiarizing him as soon as possible," he said, smiling to disguise that he had bought the plush hidden from you.

"Oh yeah? Familiarize our baby with his father's swordsmanship legacy?" You said, crossing your arms and smiling at him, you even wanted to pretend to be angry but you couldn't, not with him being so cute like that.

"Of course, he will be a great swordsman in the future" Mihawk said proudly, you raised your eyebrow.

"Of course, then he's going to beat Roronoa and then come kick his own father's ass, it seems like something my son would do" You said proudly leaving the room, knowing that Mihawk would now be thinking about the fact that one day he would fight seriously with his son, knowing he would never be able to hurt his own child.

It didn't take long for Mihawk to come up behind you with a thoughtful face as he too got ready for bed.

"Well... He's still young, we can't say if he'll actually be a swordsman" He said coughing embarrassedly as he sat next to you on the bed.

"Of course, maybe he's something else" You said smiling knowing you had hit the nail on the head. Mihawk would never be able to seriously fight his own son.

"Of course... Another thing" Mihawk said with flushed cheeks, he also knew that you knew. It was shameful for him to know that his husband knew him so well.

"Yeah, another thing where he doesn't have to kick his dad's ass" You laughed giving him a kiss on the cheek, knowing he would sulk at the idea for a while.

“You really like teasing me…” He sighed as the two of you cuddled together on the bed, ready to spend some time together before bed. And well, you couldn't deny it, your biggest fun was seeing the merciless and cruel Dracule Mihawk, the strongest swordsman in the world, reduced to a soft-hearted, caring husband and father who would do anything for his husband and son. Sometimes love also came with provocation.

[mysouleaten]

goodie love

kisaki x fem!reader

summary ... kisaki's great a delivering goodies to his girlfriend but... kisaki is awkward at cuddling..

warnings ... fluff, talking of period, period cramps, kisaki is trying his best, awkward boyfriend kisaki lol, lots and lots of fluff

an ... i knowww @amidalaspo you wanted me to try to lengthen up the one-shots a bit soo I tried, but I don't think I succeeded.. 😭 and I always wanted to write about this trope but never had the motivation lol

kisaki was coming back to his girlfriend's house bags filled with very unhealthy snacks that you have been craving..

it's day two of your menstrual cycle, the worst and best part in his opinion

the worst part was you being in lots of pain because of the cramps and having sometimes a loss of appetite.. but thankfully taking pills for the cramps brings your appetite back up--that's why he was buying you filling snacks--

and the best part of day two of your period week was that you always had your attention on him asking him dumb little questions and practically lazying around him

in general, you just wanted him to be by you for the ..first three-four days of your period

which he didn't mind he was always happy to be the center of your attention

pulling out the spare key to your house--your mother gave it to him and he would always be so smug about it..--

he stepped into the warm atmosphere of the house.. he will always admire you and your mother's taste in furniture and lighting

he always feels comfortable and inviting when he steps into your home[he'll make sure you'll be the one to decorate yours and his house when the two of you get married...]

he crouches to pet your dog who is also lazying by the front door before closing it and making sure it's locked and then turning around to walk in the direction where he hears a muffled sound of a movie being played behind his girlfriend's door

kisaki opens the door to see you huddling in your warm blankets and hallway asleep watching 'turning red' one of your favorite new disney movie

you turn your head to see kisaki standing by your open door with bags filled with the goodies you had asked him to get you

and from that sight alone you instantly woke up

"snacks! yay!" you give a gleeful smile

kisaki huffs "huh, no.. 'hello tetta' 'thank you tetta for being SUCH a good boyfriend' ? you're just going straight for the snacks?"

you roll your eyes playfully and sit up with a small wince--which kisaki frowns at--

"thank you soooo much tetta! for being such a good boyfriend and helping your girlfriend in need! your the best"

amused with your talk, he walks over to your best and sits don't next to you but places the bag between the two of you

"got you most of want you wanted, I couldn't find any dorayaki though.. someone had.. sold them all out.. for some odd reason.." kiaski mumbles

you pout at not having any dorayaki but then you smile and poke kisakis cheek "you're acting like you haven't done something like that before"

his face heats up at the gesture and moves his head away "it'll be the last time..too"

"ahh..tettaaa no! im sorry! here I'll even share some of my snacks with you" giving him a kissy face as you move over to lay your head against his shoulder and bring up a bag of gummies in front of his face and shake it gently

"hah? your snacks?" he turns his head back and recoils a bit from the closeness of your face to his--even dating for two years he's still nervous--

getting this silly love-struck smile on your face, leaning in closer to kisaki you kiss his warm cheek and lean back

"cmon I wanna keep watching my movie with you.. ill probably have to restart it now..."

kisaki was just staring off into space and then morphing his shocked expression into one of hopeless love

he then lays down next to you under the fluff blankets that smell like your perfumes and he peacefully lays there with you

his body stiffens at the impact of your head lying on his chest and he hears a faint giggling coming from you

he lets out a breath and puts a hand on your upper back and gently rubs back and forth

"you're going to kill me one day women.."

"then ill get to have aaall your money" you lightly laugh

kisaki's softly smiles and hesitantly leans his head forward and kisses the back of your head and he hears your breath hitch

"you can have all the money in the world.."

"tetta.."

"yes?"

"im cramping again..."

"you..want me to move from my comfortable position to get you pills?"

"yeah..."

"what am i going to do with you?"

not proof read and i think I somehow strayed away from the topic of period comfort?? :(( I tried my best..

this fic was also inspired by Period Comfort by @kazutora-kurokawa !

I have like four other one-shots in wip [spoilers it's about baji, kazutora, nahoya and souya!!]

[complete-clownery]

Okay I wont get to work on this any longer tonight so imma just post this

So this morning I have realised some stuff about my Macaque home hc

So first of all you can see the human disguised Macaque with Bai He,

and so Bai He wasnt there or "planed into the house" three days ago, but I decided that, that just wont do, I want her with Macaque, so im going to have to go back and alter my original ideas so it would fit the concept of Bai He also living there with Macaque (I have quit a lot of ideas for that, but ill get to them when I have the time)

But its not the main reason I wanted to talk about this even with half finished ideas under constructuion in my head

The big thing you already saw the random old lady and the antic Store/shop, so its no suprise im going to talk about that a for a bit,,, not a lot tho cuz I dont really got the energy for this

Soo--- She does not have a name, but Ill work on that, shes not fully thougt out, but nothing really when it comes to my ideas and headcanons (its kinda like eating halfbaked dough)

so shes 73 years old divorced lady running a little antic shop in the outer cirkles of Megapolis. I was thinking maybe it was her who originally selled the whole building to Macaque and rented the free space under the dojo.

She has a daughter and a grandkid (didn't decide on gender yet)

Shes kinda inspired by @/ladygreenfrisbee's oc in the fanfiction sunbreak, a snarky but sweet old lady whos not taking any shit from the brooding, shadow the hedgehog wannabe.

When she was younger she worked in a Museum in Megapolis, working with antient historical artifacts and megical weapons, but she pretty much knew everything about anything in there, with history and old stories being one of her passions,

Thus after she retired she decided to open and antic store. Even tho its an antic store, she can be one of those people that you bring an old piece of furniture or object in and they can tell you if its legit or not. She is also willing to trade and buy stuff from you if its to her likings. She's fair and not a con artist, she has just enough money for herself and thats completely fine by her, shes a simple woman when it comes to living.

She has a ton of degrees, Dr. And Phd tytels and what nots, extreamly smart and knows a lot about history and mytology and different eras of the past, making it easier for her and Macaque to connect over old stuff.

Also I was thinking, even tho she couldnt tell that Macaque was the Six Eared Macaque himself, she knew that they were wearing glamours, She studied artifects and worked with demons who were experts on the field of magics and glamours, she knows her shit

And even tho She had a decent relationshipp with Macaque I dont think Macaque would willingly let her see his true form, maybe after he was very exhausted, and injured after a fight they couldnt hold it up and were like-- fuck it who cares (maybe it was after the final fight with LBD) and she obviously knew who they were imidietly seeing his Six ears (that even tho he let her see one time hé continued to glamour like he would usually, only letting go of their human disguise)

So after that she would start asking him a whole lot of questions about the past and what was it like, carefully avoiding the questions involving the great sage equal to heaven, cuz she knew what happend from jttw

But yeah Macaque found it funny how a child and an old lady are looking at him with similar shimmer to their eyes as they interrogate him on the past

She loves a good tea and has her own little blends that calm the nerves and ease muscle pain and stuff like that. After She and Macaque became more friendly with eachother she gifted them some tea that helps him fall asleep better and relax. Macaque checked them for poison twice and couldnt find anything, but still wasnt willing to drink from them until he had a very fucked up breakdown yippeee ✌️

After Macaque lived there for some years they somewhat warmed up to eachother, they would hold little tea paties and talk about stuff (annoying husbands and divorce) after Bai He started living with Macaque these tea parties increased in numbers, sometimes the ladys grandchild joining in when Grandma was watching over them, maybe they get along well with Bai He, maybe they had a rocky begining to their friendshipp, but they warmed up to eachother and now are pretty good friends (maybe, ill think about it more)

BUT!!! this was it for now its already 2:40 am and im waking up at 6:40 so even tho I have more to say ill be going now

Bye thank you for reading ✌️☺️

[starlightkun]

little league ➠ teaser [sungchan]

➠ teaser word count: 1383 | full fic: 13.5k ➠ warnings: scenes of a child crying if you don’t want to read that (nightmares and stuff), also people are called mommy/daddy in this so if you can’t be normal abt that please skip this one ➠ genre: fluff, angst? but like around them in terms of life not within their relationship, established relationship, parents sungchan/reader, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), part of the buzzer beater series (after freezing the puck, or if you’ve only read buzzer beater & 27jsc, this should still make sense!) ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ estimated release: saturday, june 15, 2024 3:00 p.m. eastern time

“Hey, buddy,” Sungchan called for your son’s attention, his hands occupied with groceries. “Do you want me or Mommy to help you get ready for your nap? Or are you going to try to do it yourself?”

“Mm…” He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Mommy!”

“Alright, help with the groceries then I’ll help you, Binnie,” you bargained, putting a bag down on the ground in his reach.

As Woobin dutifully put the bags of chips and boxes of gummies on the lower shelves of the pantry that he could reach, you and Sungchan quickly put away the rest of the groceries. When there was just cleaning and other household supplies left, your husband grabbed those and nodded towards your son.

“Go put buddy down, I’ve got this.”

“Thanks, Channie,” you pecked his cheek before turning to your child. “Lead the way!”

Woobin was able to get into his pajamas by himself, so you were really just there to tuck him in and kiss his forehead. You never bought into the “cry themselves out” mindset from the get-go, and to this day would sit with him until he fell asleep if he asked.

Except this time, he didn’t get into bed at all, standing next to the piece of furniture with you and staring at it like you were about to cliff dive instead of nap. He looked up at you, and you already saw his bottom lip quivering.

“Mommy?”

“Yeah, Binnie, I’m right here, my sweet,” you promised, kneeling down in front of him so you were eye-to-eye. “What’s wrong?”

He threw his arms around your neck, taking quick, shallow breaths as he very bravely tried to communicate with you. “I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna…”

“Okay, I won’t make you right now,” you promised, rubbing his back. “Will you tell me what’s making you upset? Is it the nap? Going to sleep? Did you have a bad dream?”

But he had already devolved into incomprehensible sobs, and you bit your lip at the twinge in your chest. “Alright, sweet, how about we go to Mommy and Daddy’s room? Hm? And I’ll read you something. If you don’t want to nap, you don’t have to today, okay? Sound good?”

You could feel him nod into your shoulder, and that was all you needed to pick him up and settle him on your hip to carry him out of his room. As you passed by Sungchan putting away new bottles of dish soap and dishwasher pods under the sink, he gave you a concerned look. You mouthed a ‘later’ to him as you took your son across your house and into your room. As you passed by your bookshelf, you quickly selected a book, then sat down at the head of your bed, Woobin on your lap. Pulling your blanket up over you two, you let him get settled in and comfortable, still very much crying all the while.

Holding your book with one hand and resting the other on his back, you started reading. After a while, his sobs died down to hiccups, which petered out to just the occasional sniffle. But you could see that he was still awake, his eyes open and following your place as you read. Then, after a while longer, they started to slowly fall shut and his chin would tilt down, then he’d quickly open his eyes again and jerk his head up. Finally, he couldn’t fight the heaviness of his lids, and he fell asleep. You put your bookmark in where you were just before his eyes closed, but kept reading past that, just in case. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the door handle slowly turn, and your bedroom door inch open before Sungchan peered in.

Your husband pointed to the boy in your lap, then made a gesture of pretending to sleep on a pillow, lifting his eyebrows questioningly after. You nodded, still reading softly.

Sungchan slipped in the room, closing the door quietly behind him as well. Having come to a stopping place, you finally closed your book and set it aside on the one you already had on your nightstand.

“Really? You’re reading Breton lais to our child?” Sungchan’s teasing whisper was barely audible. “He’s going to start school saying stuff like nary and furthermore.”

“Says the man who knew I was reading a Breton lai,” you shot back just as quietly.

“Getting married to a lit professor, you pick up a few things.” He then looked down at Woobin. “What happened?”

You sighed and readjusted slightly to hold him tighter now that you had two free arms. “I don’t know. He couldn’t tell me. As soon as he had to get into bed for his nap he just… broke down.”

A deep frown cut across Sungchan’s face as he stroked your son’s hair, but he said nothing else. He left the room, and you heard him moving around throughout the house as you picked up the other book from your nightstand. Eventually, he meandered back in, sitting on his side of the bed and setting up his laptop to quietly work beside you as your son continued napping on your lap and you continued your book. In addition to doing research at the university and being the assistant coach for the hockey team, Sungchan had picked up teaching a couple of Intro to Biology for majors sections, and you could see him answering emails from his students out of the corner of your eye. You were rereading the material for the Direct Study you were leading next semester.

Eventually, Woobin slowly started stirring, grumbling, yawning, and rubbing at his eyes before burying his face back in your chest with a sigh. You stroked his back, attention still on your book. He turned over in your arms when he finally decided that he was awake, blinking his eyes open and staring off into the middle distance.

“Hey, Binnie, you awake?” Sungchan asked quietly.

He nodded slowly, stretching his arms up, and you had to duck your head out of the way to avoid getting smacked in the face by a stray hand.

“Sleep good?” Your husband kept talking to him.

He nodded again, letting out another adorable little yawn.

“Of course you did,” Sungchan chuckled, gently pinching the tip of his nose. “You got the best seat in the house right there, bud.”

Woobin made grabby hands at Sungchan, and he moved his laptop to the side to transfer him from your lap to his, pressing a kiss to forehead once he was settled in against his chest.

“Uncle Chenle is going to be over soon,” you reminded your son of your plans for the night. “Are you excited?”

He perked up at this. “Yeah! He said he was gonna bring me back a souvenir!”

“He does love to spoil you,” Sungchan shook his head, ruffling the boy’s hair.

As Woobin busied himself with his toys in his room, the horrors of naptime all but forgotten, you and Sungchan were having a fervent, whispered conversation in your bedroom.

“Should we even go tonight?” You asked, pulling your outfit on.

“I know, I’m worried about bedtime…” Sungchan sighed, nevertheless assisting you with your zipper.

“Chenle’s really good with him, and you know how much he dotes on Woobin.” You paused in front of the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles. You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince yourself or your husband at this point.

“I know, I don’t doubt how much he loves our kid, or how much buddy loves him,” he replied, fidgeting with his tie behind you. “I just… would hate to not be there.”

“Me too,” you replied quietly, turning around to fix his tie yourself. “I can practically feel the stress migraine coming on thinking about it.”

“Okay, well don’t do that, baby,” Sungchan insisted, resting his hands on your waist to pull you closer. “I mean, that didn’t happen at bedtime yesterday, did it?”

“No, it didn’t,” you agreed. “Or naptime yesterday…”

“Who’s to say it’ll happen at bedtime today?” He suggested. “Might’ve been a one-time thing. Or only for naps.”

“Right.” You breathed out, having finished with his tie, and now looked up at him questioningly. “So we’re going?”

“Seems like it.”

➠ series masterlist | blog masterlist

[theplottdump]

ＳＩＤＥ ＰＬＯＴＴ - Ｇ Ａ Ｍ ＥＰＬＡＹ ＳＰＡ Ｍ - 𝙶𝚎𝚗 𝟼: 𝚅𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚍 -

Dear Journal -

Things are going pretty well! I know the watcher is working on Auntie Poppy's story right now, so I don't mind giving you an update on all the goings and comings and goings again.

A few days ago was TV season Premiere Day, Daddy was working so he missed it. Dad said we could tape it so he could watch it later. He also got a really silly GTW illness that went away before the show was even over. The best way to get better when you're sick- waiting for the buff to expire.

Good Dad got back after I fell asleep, must have been kinda boring for evil dad watching the same show over again.

The next day Auntie Poppy invited Daddy to Tomarang for lunch. (that's in EP 15 btdubs)

He asked her if she ever wanted kids as a joke just to see the face she made- I get it, there's a lot of sciencey stuff and tubes involved.

But since the night market didn't open til - y'know night, the watcher got bored waiting and we got to have a family dinner! Leanne made Samosa Soup 😋

The Day After was like SO RAINY- I hate rainy days. Outdoors is where all the good stuff is. Dad and Leanne had to fly all the way to Mt. Komorebi for a League of Evil Meeting. He told me they're working on wiping all the CAS nose shadows from existence.

Daddy knows how much I hate rainy days- but he always seems to find a way to make things better.

We ended up building this massive blanket fort in the lounge!!! It was really cool actually- we played my sims racers together!

Daddy's really bad at video games 🤣 he says it's cause he grew up unplayed, but it's totally a skill issue cause I'm amazing at them 😎

Then Dad and Leanne got home- I thought they'd be SOOPER MAD- Dad hates it when we move around the furniture in the lounge. But we all ended up watching Lost Dog's Way Home 4 together.

I guess rainy days aren't so bad sometimes. That's all for now journal!! See you later!

Sunny Plott 🌻

[seungminnie-meong]

roommate ateez reacting to you dealing with mental illness

Your roommate Ateez finding out/reacting to you having a mental illness. GN reader for all, Feminine clothing in Wooyoungs, makeup in sans.  CW for mental illness including depression, bipolar/mania, self-harm (if you're sensitive skip San and Mingi) , and eating disorders/body dysmorphia (if you're sensitive skip Wooyoung and Jongho)

Hongjoong was never one to pry. He usually minded his own business, and you minded yours. That was how the two of you worked so well as roommates. But one day, he couldn’t shake the notion that something was wrong. It was nearly 7 pm and he hadn’t seen you the entire day. He decided to go out and pick up some ingredients to make dinner for the both of you, as he hadn’t seen you eat at all so far today. When he came back, you were still holed up in your room, so he decided against his non-prying nature, and gently knocked on your door. He heard some quiet shuffling, and after a few moments, a tired looking you opened the door. He smiled, glad to know you were okay.

“I bought us some stuff to make dinner, I know you haven’t eaten all day. Do you want to help me?” He offered gently, and you nodded. You were slightly embarrassed to still be in your pajamas at 7 at night, but Hongjoong understood. He never asked any questions, he just quietly sat beside you and made sure you always knew you didn’t have to be alone through this. He knew you didn’t always feel like talking about it, and that was okay. The two of you stood quietly in the kitchen while you chopped vegetables and Joongie cooked up some meat. He stopped to play some music over the speaker he kept in the kitchen. As Billie Jean played through the speaker he began to sway and dance to the beat and you just giggled at him. He grabbed both of your hands to get you to dance along and you just laughed. He may have been a professional dancer but the way he was dancing now was definitely intended only to make you laugh. You began to dance along with him as best as you could, abandoning your chopped vegetables. Hongjoong started jumping around, singing into his wooden spoon as a mic, putting on a complete kitchen concert. Before you know it, you forget what you were even sad about to begin with. 

Seonghwa was caring by nature, and he was the first to notice when you started to have a depression spell. He knew he couldn’t stop the depression from coming on, but he could help you by making sure you were well taken care of. The first day he noticed you sleeping in until noon, he was doing your laundry for you and reminding you to brush your teeth. The day he noticed you hadn’t bothered with eating any real food, he was filling up your water bottle and placing it on your nightstand and cooking ramyeon for the two of you for dinner. But, the day he heard you sniffling and crying behind the closed door of your room, he was at a loss. He felt helpless. He knew how to take care of your needs, but when it came to helping you with the actual depression, he was stuck. He sat in the living room, conflicted. He had never dealt with depression before. He had his bouts with anxiety occasionally, but this was a different kind of beast. He thought back on what helped him when he felt sad. He walked back to his room and pulled all the blankets and stuffies off of his bed and marched back to your door, knocking twice before pushing the door open. “Hwa? What are you doing?” you said through teary eyes. “We're gonna build a fort.” “Why?” You choked out a sob, and Seonghwa fought the urge to not cry himself. He was a pretty emotional guy, and you were important to him. Seeing you cry made him sad. To distract himself, he got busy pulling blankets over your furniture, slowly making the fort come together. After a minute, you stopped sniffling, getting up from your bed to help him. It was so absurd that you really had no other choice but to help him, I mean he was in your room after all. As the two of you worked together to put your pillows and plushies in the final places and admire your work, Seonghwa pulled you into the fort and into his chest to hold you tightly. “I know I don’t always know how to help you feel better or what to say, but I want you to know I’m always here for you no matter what, okay?”

Yunho was an early riser. He liked waking up early to get a run in before he started his day. So imagine his surprise when he woke up to find you still awake from the day before. He leaned against your doorframe in his workout clothes, looking at you confused. “What are you still doing up? It’s seven in the morning.” You just put your phone down and shrugged, a yawn escaping your lips. You knew exactly what it was, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Yunho. The pharmacy hadn’t been able to fill your meds yet this week and you could feel a hypomanic episode coming on. Yunho was somewhat aware that you had bipolar type II because he knew you took medication every day, but he didn’t really understand what it was like if you were off your medication. Your thoughts had been racing since early that day, and you’d been going nonstop since you got home from work, cleaning your whole bedroom from top to bottom. Yunho looked at you quizzically, not convinced. “I just can’t sleep,” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either. He looked worried for you. Ever since you moved in together, Yunho was like a big brother to you, he was always concerned about your mental health and making sure you were taking care of yourself. “Alright, if you’re not gonna sleep, at least keep me company on this run.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you up out of your warm comfy bed with many a complaint from you. But you couldn’t deny that the idea of a run sounded nice to get some of your energy out. You pushed him out and shut the door behind him so you could pull on some shorts and a hoodie with some sneakers, and he met you at the door with two full water bottles. The two of you kept an easy jogging pace and got to watch the sun come over the horizon, which was really beautiful. By the time you got back, you could finally feel tiredness seeping into the back of your mind. When you woke up from your couple hour nap on you and yunho’s shared couch, he was freshly showered with wet hair in a hoodie and sweats playing on his playstation. You sat behind him and leaned on his back; cheek squished against his shoulder. “Feeling well rested?” you felt the reverberations of his chuckle through his back. “A little bit.” you yawned. “Thanks for making me go running with you, I couldn’t sleep because the stupid pharmacy hasn’t been able to refill my meds this week and I've been feeling so manic.” You explained. He reached around and placed a hand on your knee. “You could’ve just told me, you know I’m always here to help you. I know I don’t always know what to do but I’m always here for you bubs.” 

Yeosang is insanely empathetic, so there’s no hiding from him. The moment the two of you moved in together you realized he was always going to notice every little moodswing. It took some time before he became good at dealing with them, because at first he was far too shy to approach you about it, so he just sat idly by and worried about you whenever you got sad. After some time, he got braver, sometimes knocking gently on your door with a warm cup of tea and your favorite chocolate. After a while, you guys finally became friends, and Yeosang decided he wasn’t going to let you just suffer in silence, so he would invite you out with your other mutual friends and try to get you out of the house, even against his own introverted nature, just to get you to have some fun. But sometimes, there were really hard days, where you could hardly drag yourself out of bed. Even still Yeosang was right there beside you with a cold glass of water and some funny videos on his laptop to watch with you until he could get you out of bed. He knew everything was a matter of baby steps on your depressive days. And on manic days, like today, he was always there to listen to every racing thought, there to help pull you back to reality when you got too excited, and remind you to eat, shower, and take your meds. Yeosang even put a big calendar on the fridge with all of your therapy dates and medication refill times so you wouldn’t forget. He was your rock. Today, he was away at work, so you were trying your best to stay stable while you were alone. You were so ecstatic when you finally heard the front door open, you ran down the front hallway, sliding on the hardwood floor in your socks into Yeosang’s arms, giggling all the while. He gave you a big hug, patting your hair. You were so grateful for him.

You and your roommate San had made a little trip to Ikea to get a new vanity for your bedroom, and he had agreed that he would help you put it together. You had been slowly redecorating your room for the past few months now, and you were quite happy with the way it was coming along. The new vanity was just one final piece that you needed, along with a new bed frame and a couple of posters you had already ordered. You and San were dumping out the contents of your old vanity one drawer at a time, making piles of what you did and didn’t need to keep, as you hadn’t cleaned it out in as long as you should’ve. It had been probably 6 months or longer since you had cleaned out the vanity, and some of the makeup in it had probably expired by now, so San was checking the expiration dates on each product and making piles of what was still good and what was bad. You were going through other junk drawers including perfumes and skincare and doing the same. Suddenly you heard a gasp from San. You looked up to find a small bag in his hands, a bag you unfortunately recognized. “Y/n… What is this?” San muttered, a waver in his voice. It was a bag you used to keep razor blades in, and you hadn’t used them in a very long time, but you had never gotten around to disposing of them either since you had honestly forgotten about them. “Sannie, it’s not what it looks like, I promise i’ve been clean for a long time.” He met your eyes, and you swear you saw his eyes watering just slightly. “You promise?” “I swear. I’ll throw them away right now.” He wipes his eyes and stands, marching over to your bathroom. You follow behind him, and he dumps the contents of the bag into the toilet. He gives the blades a little wave before flushing them down. “Fuck those guys.” “Agreed.” “Promise me you’re okay, though?” “I promise, Sannie. “ He pulls you into a big hug.

Your roommate Mingi had brought you along to a party to get you out of the house. You didn’t mind it, you enjoyed parties, but since you had agreed to be the designated driver, you were holding back from drinking tonight. That didn’t stop you from dancing and having fun with Mingi and the rest of his friends. As the night continued on, you found yourself in a little group with Mingi and some of his other guy friends. Mingi was a little buzzed, and he was getting loud. Some of his friends were joking about Mingi being emo, and he loved that. “I love emo. I wanna be emo.” He slurred just a little bit, and you smiled at him. One of his friends looked over to you and sneered. “Your friend here is already emo, though.” The guy said. You were confused, there wasn’t anything inherently “emo” about your appearance, you were wearing a black sweater, but that was the extent of it. The guy and his other friend snicker, before the other guy lets out a joke. “Wrist check, am I right?” You were appalled. You had no idea how they knew about that, unless one of them saw your scars by accident when you hadn’t noticed. You were pissed. Mingi was just confused. You stormed off without a retaliation. You went out into the front yard to get some fresh air, and Mingi stumbled after you. “What happened? What does that mean?” He slurred. “Don’t worry about it Mingi. They were just being mean,” you explained. “I’m confused.” He whined. You turned to him and just looked at him with a pained expression. He really had no idea. “Look, Mingi, they were making fun of me for having self-harm scars.” You explained. His jaw dropped; he was shocked. He grabbed your hand. “I'm so sorry, Y/n, I had no idea. Those guys are assholes. I should go in there and-” “Mingi, no. It’s over now. Let’s just not hang out with those guys anymore.” “Deal. Are you okay? You don’t- you don’t do that anymore, do you?” He sounded concerned, like he had suddenly sobered up in the last few seconds. “I’m okay. It’s been a long time, but I'm doing better now. I just have old scars now, so now all I have to deal with is stupid people.” You told him. “That's good. I’m proud of you. And next time I’ll beat anyone’s ass that mentions them.” He grabs your hands in both of his and leads you back into the party. 

It was nearly two weeks before halloween, and you and wooyoung were in a rush to find the perfect costumes for a party you were both attending. Wooyoung, as your best friend and perfect roommate, was trying to convince you to wear something sexy and revealing to impress this guy you knew would be attending the party. He had helped you pick out a somewhat skimpy angel costume, a cat costume with more leather than you knew what to do with, and a cop with a quite short skirt. Honestly you felt a little ridiculous. Wooyoung was trying on all sorts of scary masks and hyping you up about your costumes, but you were worried about how you’d look in them. You found your way to the dressing room while Wooyo looked through various prop weapons. You breathed in deep and let it out, looking over the costumes Wooyoung picked out for you. You know he just wanted to help you look hot, but you of all people definitely weren’t going to look like the models on the packages. Your body just didn’t look like that. As you pulled on the first costume, a short white dress with cute little angel wings and a little angel halo headband, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. It looked alright, but the dress didn’t fit quite right. It didn’t lay the way it was supposed to and it rode up in certain places and it just didn’t look the way it was meant to. With a huff, you pulled the dress back over your head and moved on to option two. It was a leather catsuit with some cat themed accessories. You pulled on the catsuit, but it was the same thing as the dress. It just didn’t look right. Something about your body looked off. Something was wrong, but you couldn’t place your finger on it. You felt tears prick at your eyes as you pulled the catsuit off, getting ready to pull on the third costume. It was a short cop dress, and you just couldn’t stand the way your legs looked in it. At this point, you were really upset, and you hiccuped out a sob. You covered your mouth with your hands, hoping Wooyoung wouldn’t hear, but to no avail. In seconds, he was knocking on the dressing room door, worried. “Y/n?” Are you okay?” He called out for you. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m almost done.” You told him, but your voice was thick with tears. “Are you crying? Let me in.” You sighed but you opened the door for him anyway. He caught a look of the cop costume you were wearing and gave you a once over. “Woah. You look hot. Why are you crying, babe?” He enveloped you in a hug. “I don’t feel hot.” You hiccuped into his shoulder. He hummed in understanding. “I get it.” He placed his chin atop your head. “Your brain is telling you one thing, but I just want you to know you look so incredibly beautiful and this costume would totally kill any man who saw you in it, including me.” “Thanks, Wooyo. I just don’t think I’m confident enough to wear this kind of costume yet. They’re cute and all, but not for me.” “Then does that mean we can wear one of those stupid cheesy couples' costumes?!” He grinned at you. “Fine, Wooyoung.”  

You wake up with a splitting headache. You immediately regret drinking as much as you did last night. It was fun while it lasted, but it had horrible consequences this morning. There was a cold bottle of water and ibuprofen on your nightstand, probably courtesy of your angel of a roommate and designated driver from last night, Jongho. You down half the bottle with the ibuprofen and try to sit up out of bed while the room spins. Suddenly, you feel the urge to vomit, so you rush to the bathroom. You lose all the water you just drank, but your stomach was empty otherwise, so it's just water and bile. You feel tears prick at your eyes. You hate throwing up. You’ve been doing so well in bulimia recovery for so long and this feels like a setback, you know you can’t help it because you're hungover, but it makes you want to cry. You throw up one more time and let out a sob. The headache only pounds harder against your skull with every heave, until you hear a knock at the door. Jongho shouldn’t have to see you in this state. You try to bite back another sob, but he pushes the door open just a bit. “Are you alright? I thought I heard crying?” He questions. “I’m okay. Just hungover.” You sniffle. He pushes the door the rest of the way open and hands you another cold water bottle. “Why are you crying, angel?” He squats down in front of you and gently caresses your face. His hand is cool against your warm face. “I just don’t feel good, Jongie.” You hiccup. You don’t know how to tell him you’re terrified of throwing up. “Why don’t we get some food in you and maybe that’ll make you feel better? Hmm?” He gently grabs your hand and pulls you up from the bathroom floor. He pulls your arms over his shoulder and leads you into the kitchen, setting you in one of the chairs. He even brings the trashcan over to you just in case. He pulls out all the ingredients to make your favorite waffles. “I’m just scared of throwing up. I’ve been doing so well for so long and I’m so scared this is gonna set me back.” You explain once the room stops spinning. Jongho sets down the spatula he’s holding. “I get that. I just want you to know I see how well you’re doing and I’m here for you. We can get through this together. You can do this; I know you can.” He sets down a plate of warm chocolate chip waffles in front of you and you feel the nausea leaving you. “Thanks, Jongie.”

[wambsgansshoelaces]

omg a headcanon like the one you did for tom but for roman snd stewy? the period one i mean !! also gender neutral pls :>

thank you for requesting anon, i love u!!! enjoy xx

really craving pizza bianca rn

on your period (roman + stewy)

Roman

ᝰ has no idea what he’s doing

ᝰ he calls your period a full stop because ‘they’re synonyms lol’ (as his text said)

ᝰ just wants you happy

ᝰ so whenever you’re on your period he just

ᝰ does things for you??

ᝰ makes you breakfast in bed, attempts to pack you a lunch, botches dinner

ᝰ he’s trying at least

ᝰ he usually just settles for buying you whatever you’re craving and letting you lay your head in his lap

ᝰ he strokes your hair, your face, your neck, your back

ᝰ he makes sure you’re feeling good

ᝰ lots of chocolate all the time

ᝰ just so that he can eat it with you

ᝰ if you ever ruin any pants or clothing or even furniture, he replaces it without you knowing

ᝰ “didn’t i throw this pair of pants out last week?” you ask him one time

ᝰ “i got you a new one, don’t worry about it.”

ᝰ if you suffer with cramps or any sort of chronic illness regarding your reproductive health, he’s always quietly concerned

ᝰ “you sure it doesn’t hurt? you should tell me if it hurts.”

ᝰ keeps track of how long in between painkillers your pain returns

ᝰ makes you try a bunch of homemade remedies he googled

ᝰ the first time you go on your period while you’re living together, he goes out and buys you a heating pad, a weighted blanket, and a heated blanking thing all at once

ᝰ if you use pads or tampons, he gets really confused when out trying to buy some for you

ᝰ but he’s too embarrassed to ask

ᝰ so when you’re taking a nap he scuttles into the bathroom and takes a picture that he keeps on his phone

ᝰ and then gets the exact ones when he notices you’re running out or you ask him

ᝰ this man bullies the doctors that don’t listen to you

ᝰ like he is well known with the endocrinologists and gynecologists in the are as a nusiance

ᝰ and lowkey an asshole

ᝰ but it’s all ‘in your honor’ as he says

ᝰ “if they say they’re cramping, they’re cramping. aren’t you supposed to be helpful? how the fuck do you have a medical license?”

ᝰ has gotten kicked out of the appointment many a time

ᝰ but he always waits patiently for you outside

ᝰ and calls corporate like the diva he is

ᝰ has the means to get you the best care

ᝰ and he does get you it

ᝰ “you literally deserve so much more than i can give you. you’re my everything, remember?”

ᝰ “i love you, ro.”

ᝰ “fuck off with that sappy shit…. i love you more.”

Stewy

ᝰ knows enough about periods to be able to help you

ᝰ like he’s knowledgeable enough to cook things he knows your body is in need of during your period of ovulation

ᝰ urges you to work out specifically on your period

ᝰ “it helps clear your head,” he says

ᝰ but if you’re not up to it, he won’t make you

ᝰ maybe just a small walk around outside and he’ll let you just nap

ᝰ but if you even don’t even want to walk, he thinks you’re dying

ᝰ and showers you in affection

ᝰ which he does anyway even if he thinks you’re fine??

ᝰ he’s just dramatic

ᝰ he’s an awfully good cook

ᝰ he loves cooking

ᝰ especially for you

ᝰ he specifically makes you pho for dinner every first day of your period

ᝰ “it clears your sinuses, babe,” he says every single time

ᝰ it does, really

ᝰ he’s really big about the two of you sitting down at the table for meals

ᝰ but if you’re unable because of your period, it’s fine with him

ᝰ he bought one of those breakfast in bed trays just for those moments

ᝰ if you struggle with bad cramps or reproductive illness, he’s with you at every single appointment

ᝰ sometimes he even sits next to you on the patient bed

ᝰ he just likes swinging his legs over the side

ᝰ he scrambles off whenever the doctor comes in

ᝰ he’s so subtly evil with bad doctors

ᝰ “oh, i understand it’s your professional opinion, but i also understand this clinic operates solely on donations? huh, and i think those guys whose names are on plaques all over the place are my buddies! you know jeff? i know jeff!”

ᝰ holds your hand through everything

ᝰ pain, ultrasounds, examinations

ᝰ you’re both walking back to the car from a normal check up and he’s swinging your hands back and forth with his

ᝰ “you know, i’ll help you with anything you ask me to.”

ᝰ “thank you, stew. you’re sweet.”

ᝰ “i love you.”

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

If you look at the trademark application for American Riviera Orchard, you’ll see that she’s trademarking it through a newly registered in Delaware company called Mama Knows Best, LLC.

Infact when you dig into the domain names etc, it seems this was thrown together last minute aka 2months ago after KC3/ PssoW C’s illnesses were announced. They are using PR to pretend they were working on it for an entire year, but even Scobie said they had nothing or whatever they had was all over the shop and he had no idea what it would be.

His comments don’t speak to a focused vision that is researched into whatever this is.

And what’s glaring about this launch is the lack of anything to sell. Not videos or actual products which speaks to the theory that this wax thrown together very quickly.

Russell Myers from the Mirror says if you sign up to the website, you get a respinse telling you that you’ll be notified of products when they are created/ available……if this was a year in the making and with proper marketing/ PR people, they’d have products ready to go. What it is right now is a landing/ holding page ( comments turned off on IG) until it produces products. 

It’s also interesting that the video is showcasing cooking which Markle tried to manifest for years while dating Corey. She auditioned and or popped up on varioys cooking shows/ fashion segments hoping to be hired. Acvording to people magazine, this launch of a lifestyle brand will have a companion show on Netflix. If Network tv won’t hire her for dream job then she’ll use her distribution deal to make it happen aka pay herself to make it happen!!!

However, one thing she revealed which tells me she has no clue about aspirational lifestyles/ branding. Her home kitchen hasn’t been updated from the dated 2000s/ early 2010s decor. It’s tye same kitchen from the sales brochure. 

Infact, glimpses of their home show a distinct lack of updating from the sales brochure. The onpy room thry updated is the one with the dining table as desk and their two side by side chairs. They removed all furniture and painted it white and addedva jute rug and that california bear poster over the fireplace. 

The current trend in kitchens for the wealthy is marble counter-tops and sleek designs meanwhile she’s displaying faux country/ italianate kitchen from the 90s. 

The women she is cosplaying eg GOOP, Martha and Ina Garten have upgraded to the current trend in kitchens. GOOP showed off her new kitchedn in AD. Heck, JLO is showing off her sleek kitchen. 

*****************

That they haven’t updated their house to their taste is what I laugh about the most. Are they really that cash-poor? Do they really have that much debt that they can’t afford to redo anything? Surely Markus and Soho House can cough up a few million to keep her happy, and when the Sussexes default on the loans, they can make Soho Olive Garden, a Californian spinoff of Soho Farmhouse. Win-win, if you ask me.

meanwhile she’s displaying faux country/ italianate kitchen from the 90s. ➡️ Remember, Meghan’s whole aesthetic is 90s. Of course she wants the Italian Country kitchen.

And thanks, anon. You’ve just reminded me of a house I looked at when I was moving back in 2022. The homeowners were so into that Italian Country Kitchen theme that they PAINTED the entire kitchen like it was a rustic Italian restaurant. You know you go into a family-owned Italian mom-and-pop place (not a chain like Olive Garden or Maggianos, but something like your neighborhood Italian pizza place) and it’s got that orangey-beige sponge paint that’s supposed to mimic sandstone and there’s a huge wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling mural of Italy and dusty fake vines hanging from decorative columns? Yeah, that was how this kitchen was painted. Even the cabinets. And that was not even the weirdest house I looked at by a mile.)

[rip-headphones-users]

pls tell me abt your personal scenelights headcanon/storyline

(Rubs my hands together with evil intent) This is gonna be a long post, everything will be under the cut. I’m still early into my Regretevator mental illness arc so a good chunk of this will more than probably change.

So Kasper and Lampert have been friends since elementary school age (I’d give 8/10 years old).

Their friendship started with Kasper crying over something (he gives strong “i hate my stepdad/stepmom” vibes), and Lampert, who is not really great at soothing emotions through words, distracts him by turning into various objects. Kasper is like YOOOO THIS IS THE GREATEST THING IVE EVER SEEN and from then on out they’re inseparable. Kasper always pushes Lampert to do things he’s scared of, and Lampert will always do his best to calm and ground Kasper when he’s unstable. (I hc Kas as being impulsive, esp when angry/sad) Also, Lamp is just happy to have someone who genuinely enjoys his company beyond the use of a light source for the first time in his life.

Kas did online school, with and lamp being like??? An a young entity of the elevator??? And having like no obligations or responsibilities beyond being anthro furniture, the two of them spend most of their time either exploring/chilling in the infinite rokea, or playing games in Kaspers house.

(Oh boy group angst begins now)

Lampert has almost always had a crush on Kasper, (He cant help it, cute scene boy) and it only got worse into their teens. Boy was pining HARD, and was always pretty sure that Kas never liked him back, or that he was closer with other people.

Kasper? Not so much. He likes Lampert too, sure, but is in the biggest state of denial over it. His search history is full of “is it gay to want to kiss your best friend???” Lmao. He is also terrified that he could ruin his friendship, again- he tends to be impulsive so he’s scared of hurting lamp in any way. He just. Keeps that portion of emotions stuck in there. Tight under lock and key.

Lampert asks Kasper out. Kasper rejects him. They remain close, but something seems… off about Kas sometimes.

The infection takes Kasper slowly after he agrees to let the parasite in. (A whole other set of headcannon I have in mind haha) and things are normal for about a year or so. As the parasite begins taking more resources from him, Kasper begins to drop weight, sleep for 12+ hours in a day, mumble to himself about insane things, and become more forgetful. And Lampert is TERRIFIED. In an attempt to elevate his spirits, he asks Kasper out on a date. Saying that it didn’t have to be something romantic, but just to get Kasper out of his house. He’s practically locked himself in his room for days at a time now.

Infected agrees, having completely forgotten why he was so scared of being with Lampert in the first place. He remembers the emotions of being with lampert, the joy he brings him- but doesn’t know how to place them into memories. He sees lampert as a kind new friend, who he sees and is immediately filled with hard to place unbridled joy- and so happens to know everything about him, how to make him laugh, how to calm him down, his favorite foods and games and places to go… (AND HE’S CUTE??? SCORE.)

LAMPERT. IS. TERRIFIED. He is so, so scared. His best friend, the guy he sees as the love of his life finally reciprocates those feelings with him, but only because he isn’t in the right state of mind to deliver those feelings properly. Lampert is the first to notice infected has taken place of Kasper, and is the first to attempt to being him to a hospital. Infected just kinda discharges himself, he’s an adult now and not necessarily a danger to himself or others (yet). And doctors can’t place what is wrong with him.

So, lampert is holding off on whatever romance he feels towards Kas until he can figure out what’s going on with infected. (Also in tandem with his own germaphobia) he has become extra wary of illness and the spread of germs within the floors of the elevator because he fears the other residents potentially catching what Infected has, or his illness mutating or something.

He also realizes eventually that Kasper and Infected are sorta two things inhabiting the same body. When Kas is more lucid/the parasite has less control, they can be addressed separately. Usually the parasite has more control though, shambling around and using the body as a clumsy vessel.

Lampert absolutely hates the parasite, and will only ever address Kasper as Infected when speaking directly to the parasite (screaming at it for taking his friend from him while it laughs in his face) he is of course, disgusted, but will do anything to save Kas.

Kasper is hardly there mentally. He disassociates whenever he feels infected is essentially piloting him. He hears lamperts voice, but ever only answers when he has the energy anymore. It’s sorta okay though, he did let this happen after all.

Infected is still getting used to existing in a human(?) form. It shambles about like a zombie. The thing can hardly keep its own brain from melting out of his nose. Ofc when it speaks it sounds like a bad mic. Its only recently learned it needs the vessel to eat so that they both live! It likes Lampert though, though he only ever insults it (it finds him funny). Maybe if it learns to act more like Kasper, whatever that means, Lampert might like it too.

So anyway Lampert is in this Queer-platonic relationship with his crush and by extension the parasite pretending to be his crush, because he doesn’t know if the real Kas would truly want to be in that deep of a relationship if he were fully lucid.

(Thanks for coming to my ted talk i hope this makes some sense, I’m way better at explaining things via 100+ pages of fancomic.)

((This took like an hour to write lmao))

Btw this song is them. To me.

[spectrerie]

Ok I have no idea if your requests are on or not because I literally never request but I love your writing so here I am! Anyways I can’t stop thinking about ghost x hacker reader who works with 141 and they have to go with the guys on a mission to like hack through security systems or something (idk) but ghost absolutely refuses to let them go like he is so against it. And maybe while they’re on the mission the reader gets hurt or something idrk I haven’t thought that far ahead but I thought you would do so good with this idea!!! Thank you!!

Hello!!!!!!! This request is so good! I got a bit carried away and wrote 3.5k words on it lmaoo, but I'm happy with it now, so I'll post it as an answer to this ask

If you die, I swear I'll kill you.

Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader

Please enjoy this anon, and anyone else who reads it.

TW: injury, slight workplace bullying, enemies(?) to friends

“With all due respect, sir, no. I don’t need to babysit some egg-head while I’m in the field.” Ghost sat with his arms crossed, knees apart, filling his chair and the room with his presence. 

You glanced at Price, you’d both expected this reaction, but it still hurt to hear him say it so easily.  For nearly two years you’d put your best foot forward. Did everything to get him to like you until it became clear that he never would. You were ready to settle for respect, for a crumb of acknowledgement. Though soon that too was clearly out of your reach. Now you were just happy to keep out of his way. You weren’t part of the 141, no matter how much information you’d stolen for them, no matter how much data you mined for them, no matter how many sleepless nights you’d given them. You weren’t a soldier. Ghost made sure to remind you of that at every chance he got. 

At every debrief he treated you like you were just a piece of the furniture. He ignored you with ease, asking questions to everyone but you. Making plans and strategising with everyone’s strengths in mind but yours. Any information he needed about what you could do he’d obtained through Captain Price. Often with you in the same room, going over your head like you were some machinery he’d be crazy to speak to. 

You typed and looked through files. You were a glorified intern as far as he was concerned. 

“Well Lieutenant, it’s not up to you, is it? Owl is going with you, and that’s final.” 

A part of you cringed at the nickname despite the joy it normally filled you with. You’d felt honoured when Soap had coined it. The night owl of the 141, playing with mice and bringing veritable feasts of information back to the nest. But hearing it used in front of Ghost felt wrong. You could feel his eyes roll without even looking at him. 

You didn’t need a call sign. 

You didn’t need to be closer to the 141.  

You didn’t even need a name, because they didn’t need you. 

“Yes, sir.” He said as he stood to attention, mumbling his acknowledgement to the Captain            as he prepared for his dismissal. 

“Final brief at 0400. Wheels up at 0500, understood?” Price barked out at the two of you. You both gave your acknowledgement and he nodded, satisfied for now. 

“Alright, dismissed.” 

Ghost made a quick exit, as though being in your presence was more than enough to make him ill. You sighed and began to move, but a hand at your shoulder stopped you. 

“Owl, don’t let him get to you. You’re a part of this team, and you’re needed on this mission. I wouldn’t send you out if I didn’t believe you needed to be there.” 

You nodded, dropping you head to pull back the tears that threatened to fall. 

“Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.” 

“I know you won’t. Your intel has always been good. We don’t have the time to wait for the boys to bring the drives back, if they even knew what to look for, time isn’t on our side.” 

You knew that better than anyone. If only Lieutenant Riley would admit that you weren’t an incompetent civilian, maybe things would go along quicker. 

 — — — 

“Alright boys, this one should be simple, yeah? We go in, subdue any hostiles, grab the tech and get the fuck out. I don’t want any mistakes, I don’t want any problems,” Ghost’s eyes stopped at you as he said the last word, “I don’t want any bad news, understood?” He said as his voice boomed over the sound of the plane's engine. 

“Yes sir!” The group called out as one. This would be easy, as he said. You didn’t have to do too much, just follow the group and live long enough to break through the encrypted drives. From their you could relay the information back to Price and Laswell. Simple. 

Your eyes drew closed as you took in a breath, trying to centre yourself. Get in, get the drives, get out. Job done. You repeated your mantra until you fell into a fitful sleep.

You woke with a start as your name was barked out. 

Lieutenant Riley stood over you, arms crossed. An obvious scowl beneath his mask. 

“Gotten enough beauty sleep, sunshine?” 

The plane was empty, your teammates stood out on the makeshift runway, watching your change out of earshot. The late evening sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows into the plane.

“I’m sorry sir, I just wanted to be rested for the mission.” 

“Well, aren’t you considerate, thank you so much, Pigeon.” His voice dripped with a saccharine sarcasm that cut you to your core. You hate that he’d made a mockery of the callsign you were so fond of. You were sure other people had slept on the flight over. Why was he singling you out so cruelly? 

“Are you still on your bloody arse?” He barked out, loud enough too draw the attention of your teammates. “Sorry, sir!” you replied as you jumped up. Your body was yanked back with a start, bucking against the fastening that had kept you in your seat. Your head knocked back against the body of the plane, tilting your helmet over your eyes. 

“Oh fucking hell, Pigeon. If you get yourself killed on this bloody mission, I’ll murder you.” His hand made quick work of your seatbelt, snatching it off you in one sharp motion, sending you lurching forward.

If only you’d had the confidence to tell him off. 

If only you had the kind of easy relationship with him that he had with everyone else, one that transcended rank enough to quip back at him. 

If only he didn’t hate you. 

If only he could see you. Not just look at you scornfully, but see you. See your efforts, see your strength. 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” You said with your eyes focused on the floor. Your gaze could have cut two pinholes in the undercarriage of the plane. You grabbed your gear and rushed down the gangway, thankful Ghost hadn’t pointed out all the things he found wrong with your apology. With your posture, with your face, with your breathing, with your existence. 

“Alright. It’s 30 klicks to their base, but we’ll have to trek the last 5k. Johnny, you get us in, Gaz and I will clear a path while you watch our six. You,” Lieutenant Riley said with derision, “don’t die and find the drives after we’ve swept the place, understood?” You nodded sharply. 

“Alright lads, this one’s easy. Any hostiles will be eliminated on sight, in and out, home in time for Eastenders.” Soap and Gaz laughed easily at Simon’s joke. You weren’t sure if you were allowed to show any crumb of happiness in front of him. Maybe he’d yank your tongue out if you so much  as chuckled and bring it home for his dog. 

As you made your way to the jeep Soap fell into step with you. 

“Ye alright?” He asked, a gentle smile playing on his face. How could you be alright? He was always so kind to you, and Kyle always treated you with respect. Even the KorTac boys said ‘hello’, or ‘thanks for the intel’ once in a while whenever you ran into them. Ghost seemed pissed that he had to breathe the same air as you. 

A short sigh escaped before you could regain your composure, “yeah, I’m okay. It’s just… I don’t want to mess up. It’s my first time really out in the field and—” and Lieutenant Riley, your best friend and our commanding officer hates my guts and doesn’t care to hide it. “And I just want to do well.” Soap nodded, though he couldn’t really understand. He’d been a soldier since he was 18. He’d proven himself time and time again even before he ever saw active duty. His abilities were undeniable. 

You, as Ghost loved to remind you and everyone around you, were a desk jockey egg-head recruited after you’d been caught ransoming credit card companies and running stings on pedophiles with your ‘internet pals’. Caught or betrayed, the thought still plagued you, though the end result had been a job offer from the British Army in lieu of prison time. Soap and Gaz thought you were a genius, some sort of cyber Robin Hood fighting the good fight from smokey internet cafes or 6 monitor supercomputers. Captain Price saw you as a clever kid with good intentions but questionable methods. 

Ghost… well Ghost made no secret of the fact he thought you were an egg-head. An energy  drink guzzling college drop-out with a lot of free time and no common sense. A basement dweller with more waifu body pillows than real life friends. A useless kid with no place in battle, regardless of the fact that your intel was what told him where to go more times than not. 

“He doesn’t hate you, he’s just… well he’s just Ghost. He’s never worked with you, I’m sure things will change after this.” You nodded, thankful for the reassurance though you didn’t really buy much of it. As you opened the jeep door and slid into one of the back seats you noticed Ghost’s eyes were trained on you through the rearview mirror. Watching for something to pick on you for, of course. 

You held his gaze as you closed the door and dropped your gear bag between your feet. ‘That’s right Lt, I can sit down without strangling myself on the seatbelt’ you longed to say to him. You settled for holding his gaze and raising your eyebrows at him. As the jeep rumbled to life you could have sworn you heard a laugh. 

— — — 

Ghost glanced at the pistol holstered on you thigh, as well as the knife sheathed at your hip. The urge to ramble about your right to protect yourself and defend your teammates bubbled up in your chest, the citric need to bite back at him almost won. Thankfully he spoke before you did. 

“You do know how to use that, right?” He whispered to you, crouched to your right, Gaz to your left. You’d gone through basic gun training and safety as well as first aid at Captain Price’s insistence once you’d begun working more and more with the 141. A fact you were sure Ghost knew. He’d never let you carry a weapon without a direct order from Price. A direct order not to snatch it on sight and send you to sit in a corner and think about how stupid you were. 

“Of course, sir,” you quipped back. Your sarcasm was cut with anxiety. This was real. You didn’t have to kill anyone, you just had to keep up and not die. But this was so real. A gun range was nothing in comparison. The slide of the gravel beneath your boots, the heat of your comrades beside you, the dull green of the night vision. This was real. 

“Ghost, do you copy? 30 seconds to detonation.” Soap’s voice was tinny through the comm on Ghost’s shoulder. 

30 seconds? 

Seconds?!

Your heart pumped a punishing beat as the reality of it all sunk deeper and deeper. 

A hand on your knee brought you back to the moment. “Look at me,” the last voice you’d ever expect to comfort you was all that filled your ears. The surprise washed away the fear for a moment as you looked into Ghost’s eyes. 

“The second you hear the blast, stay low and follow us, okay? You’ll want to jump up, don’t.”

“Okay.” 

His dark eyes stared into you as he spoke. “Keep your weapon in your hands, keep your eyes on me, keep up, and keep calm. This is the fun part.” A low chuckled from Gaz calmed you further. 

“I’ve got your six, just focus on moving with the group, okay?” Gaz whispered beside you. 

“Okay.”

All you could do was agree, any eloquence you’d had before had long since dissipated. 

A deafening boom rang out and the urge to run flooded every nerve in your body. You watched Ghost. 

Keep your eyes on me

You focused on Ghost’s broad back as you moved with him. Focused on keeping close. On surviving. 

The next minutes were a blur of gun fire and barked out commands. The muzzle flash of the weapons around you was enough to make the night vision useless and so with shaky hands and shallow breaths you pushed the goggles up as you moved through a maze of rooms with Ghost as your guide. 

A heavy hand against your chest stopped you before you had a chance to run into your Lieutenant. 

“Gaz, now.” He barked quickly as a heavy boot made contact with the door, pushing it from the frame. Garrick fired as he moved deftly into the room, sweeping the corner as Ghost fired at a figure hunched over a laptop. 

Everything was happening too quickly. You were pushed into the room, or pulled, you couldn’t know. As your body entered your mind stayed back and watched as a figure rose from a position under the desk. Before you could even see their eyes they hit the floor with a thud. 

A wave of nausea spread through you as you moved to where they’d been, pushing the bodies away from the computer as you grabbed it and began to type a series of commands into the terminal. Your hands shook as you pushed a thumb-drive into a port and watched as your code froze the deletion process. You left that to work as you pulled open desk drawers and riffled through their contents, shovelling everything in sight into your pack. 

“Hurry up!” 

You obeyed, moving quicker as you grabbed files and thick plastic drives with greedy, shaking hands. The final drawer was locked tight. You wanted to call out for a key but shame held you tongue. You pulled at it and it held firm. Ghost could have yanked it open with one hand, you were sure. His presence in the room motivated you to think like a soldier. Think like him. 

‘I’m not useless. I’m not useless. I’m not useless.’ You chanted to yourself as you reached to you side and gripped your knife. Jamming it into a gap in the drawer you pushed your whole weight onto it and heard a click. 

Yes. You weren’t useless after all. 

“Owl! Wait!” 

With unbridled euphoria you yanked the drawer open and felt your body and mind reconnect with a violent snap. Like a spark to gas you ignited with something you couldn’t recognise. Warmth spread through your middle as you glanced down into the drawer. It was empty. 

“Oh shit.”

“Soap call in a medevac, now!” 

Why was it empty? Were they all shouting because it was empty?

Your hand dug into the wooden cube, patting around until you felt something give. You pushed up into it and heard something drop. Another hard drive. 

“Owl, Owl you need to move, now.” 

A firm hand grasped you by the shoulder and you shook it off. You bent down to pick up the drive and a white hot pain seared your abdomen. You ignored it, and with a sharp wince you grabbed the final drive. 

Why were your hands shaking so much? Was it the excitement of war?

You turned to collect the laptop but it was already in Gaz’s hands. He was shoving it into your pack as Ghost grabbed the drive in your hand and tossed it to him. 

“No! No, I have to decrypt the—”

“You have to move. Now.” Ghost retorted sharply as he angled himself to block your view of Gaz. 

When had they stripped you of your pack? 

Why was Lieutenant Riley suddenly pushing you out the door you’d all just come through?

How were you able to see your group moving through the halls? Watching the retreat from an unnatural vantage point, making note of the thick trail of something syrupy behind you. 

Was that blood? Did your sloppiness get one of them injured?

— — — 

The jeep you’d left 5 kilometres away speed into view in front of the compound you’d just sacked. 

Was it moving or were you? 

Hands pushed you into it and began pulling off the kevlar and fabric of covering your torso. 

‘Is it bad?” Soap’s voice came from the front of the vehicle. 

“No, its not too bad,” Ghost said to you rather than Soap. You craned your head down to look at the wound, but a strong hand tilted your chin away. 

“I thought I told you to keep your eyes on me, Pigeon” he said lowly as you searched his face for some clue of what was happening. His derisive diminutive sounded odd now, it was laced with something tender. 

“Sorry lieutenant, I just wanted to—” you didn’t know how to finish. 

I just wanted to see for myself? 

I just wanted to be a part of the team?

“— I just wanted to impress you. I’m sorry, sir.” You mumbled as your lids grew heavy. 

The pressure on your stomach increased as Ghost spoke to you in low whispers. “Impress me? How? By falling asleep? We’ve already talked about that, soldier. I told you to keep your eyes on me. That’s an order.” 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” 

— — — 

Your eyes fluttered open, catching a glimpse of a white stucco ceiling. 

Shit. 

Ghost would kill you for falling asleep again. As you tried to sit up your body barked out in protest. A dull ache blanketed your left side and pulsed through you. 

A hand pushed you back down gently. Resting for a beat on your shoulder before pulling away.

“Slow down, kid. You’ll rip your stitches out.” You knew that voice. You turned your head to look at the Lieutenant. You’d already known it was him, all that surprised you was the lack of contempt in his voice. 

You couldn’t speak. You just looked around, taking in the small makeshift clinic you’d found yourself in. 

“The hospital was too far,” Ghost said, answering the question you mind was already forming, “so they set this up in a safe house nearby.” You nodded, laying back against the pillows. “Sir? What happened?” 

You heard Lieutenant Riley sigh as you stared up at the ceiling above you. Too timid to look at him as he recounted your failures on the mission. 

“The drawer was rigged. If you’d been taller, or wider, the shrapnel that hit you would have been fatal, Owl.” 

The name drew your eyes to him before you could stop yourself. 

“I’ve graduated from Pigeon?” You asked, trying to cut the tension in the small room. He laughed,  and the sound was enough to make the pain in your abdomen dissipate. 

You’d made him laugh.

You had made Ghost laugh. 

“You got injured, and didn’t give up. That was a tough thing you did, Owl. I’m proud of you.” 

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, it took everything you had not to let them fall. A warm  on hand your head was what completely undid you. Hot tears slipped out of your closed eyes as Lieutenant Riley stroked your hair more gently than you’d ever thought a man of his size was capable of. 

“You did well, don’t worry.” 

You gathered yourself, remembering the objective of the mission. “How long was I out, sir? Has the  operation window passed?” 

He pulled his hand back slowly before he spoke. “Intel over here took a look at some of the materials before sending them back with Soap and Gaz. The boys back home will decrypt as much as they can while you’re healing up here. Doc said you’d be okay to fly within 48 hours.” 

You nodded, trying to keep your disappointment in check. You wouldn’t even get a chance to do what you were good at. 

“But,” Ghost said slowly, drawing your attention away from the pity party you’d already began throwing for yourself. “No one could make heads or tails of what was on the laptop.” 

“So its useless then?” You asked, trying to push the hurt out of your voice. 

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” Ghost let out a low chuckle. God, you’d become addicted to that sound already. “Whatever you plugged into it before you got hurt completely stumped everyone, they said only you’d be able to retrieve anything from it.” 

A warm pride filled your chest. No one could do what you could. You weren’t useless. 

“So… unfortunately for you, Pigeon. I’ve brought you some homework while I babysit you. Are you up for it?” 

Ghost dropped the laptop onto your lap. Your thumb-drive was still plugged into it, filled with malware and viruses you’d cooked up over the years. 

You smiled at him, beaming with pride as you opened the device. “Of course, just keep your eyes on me, sir. I’ll be done in no time.” 

[sol-consort]

Regarding the human kink thing when it comes to turians, some people actually do be nesting, omega-verse style. Imagine being a human assigned to a turian ship, and you just over here in your bunk, innocently arranging the pillows and stuffies, while these guys are just standing there, slack-jawed and harmonizing their subvocals lol

[updated post]

A/B/O is not for me, but I dig the concept of aliens being intrigued by plushies. They are weird when you think about it.

The weird part isn't the plushies–it makes sense for warm-blooded mammals who value skinship to enjoy cuddling soft things, hugs are fundamental for your health—No, The weird part is how the most popular plushies aren't human shaped.

You could argue dolls, but dolls aren't used as plushies. They're more hard and sturdy, something that can withstand being played with. they have joints and brushable hair. Dolls are puppets to tell a story with, a psychological form of play through creativity.

I want you for a moment to imagine an advanced civilisation of bears with me.

With metropolises and bustling economy, they haven't mastered space travel yet but they've been eyeing the planet closest to them, bringing back rocks from the moon, etc.

In one apartment complex, there lives a bear family. The furniture is more accommodating to their larger build, clothes are more of an accessory to them considering their luxurious fur coats keeping them warm.

It's nighttime, tomorrow's a Sunday and mom bear has to leave to work early, she's currently washing the dishes leftover from the wonderful dinner the family just had. Her wife, however, is putting their son to bed. it's his second week in elementary bear school! he's unhappy with his seating arrangement in class however, the teacher placed him too far from his best friend.

His mother promises to have a chat with the teacher about it when she drops him off tomorrow, the son bear is very delighted and roars happily. A big yawn escapes him as his eyelids get heavy.

In his arms, there lies a cotton friend. His most beloved treasure, the most precious inanimate object to his heart. His plushie!

He adores it. It makes him so happy. It helped make him feel safe when he first started sleeping alone after his moms got him his own bed.

Now, I need you to tell me what does the plushie look like?

For me, these are the options that instinctively came to my mind when attempting to imagine what sentient bear cubs living in a 21st century would gravitate towards in a plushie.

A) a teddybear, more fluffy, abstract, and cartoonish looking

B) a plushie in the shape of a honeyjar

C) a plushie in the shape of a fish–more specifically, salmon or trout

D) fuck idk man leave me alone

When compressed down to their core, in the most simplfied form, the choices are:

A) Identity

B) Food

C) Food

D) How did you get into my house?

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With that long analogy out of the way, when you compare that limited selection to the actual things humans have already turned into plushies, it just doesn't make sense.

Food, yes we have plushies of food but also of animals we do not eat. rabbits, cats, dogs, dolphins, bugs. We have plushies of predetors even, things that once hunted us down, beings that still could very well kill us if we meet face to face, tigers, sharks, bears themselves even.

Animal cartoons are much more popular amongst kids. Fables about talking animals have been a stable genre ever since humans invented writing. Animal plushies are popular amongst adults too.

Plushies of inanimate objects, of plants, of fictional characters and fantasy creatures.

I'm willing to bet that humans already made plushies of verans since the first year they came into space, that they sold out on earth immediately. Hell, I'm sure there are plushies of reapers, of protheons and even of turians and other species.

Not even abstract ideas were spared from being into marketable plushies! isn't there a series designed to raise awareness for mental illness?

The whole meme of "turns your fav into a marketable plushie" spread so much because it is true. If there is one thing humans love, is making plushies of anything not human.

And that's the weird part to aliens, the big boy of human anomalies. "Why do they want to cuddle literally everything in this universe? and how come plushies of other humans is the last thing on that list"

You try to explain it to a salarian once but they just look at you in confusion. What do you mean you sleeping with plushes resembling your species is "weird"?? Don't you humans like hugging each other so much? Yet cuddling the soft imitation of a reaper each night isn't weird to you????

That's not even mentioning how the bear society analogy is flawed because we are biased by nature. We projected the bear society onto our human agriculture and based it upon our own popculture.

When in reality they would hold very different values, a different emotional range. They'd be as diverse as the other alien species in mass effect, sharing more resemblance to them than to humans.

We see someone sad, and we have this need to touch them, pat their shoulder, rub their back, hold their hands, and give a hug. Bears let their children walk on their own while we carry our young more, much like aquatic birds in more ways than we'd think.

A/B/O nesting isn't my cup of tea, but with turians, it's easier to digest. Yeah, they are birds. It would be literal nesting. That's kinda cute.

We like caves, it's also cute. Would turians prefer the top bunkbed? Anyway.

Birds usually throw clutter away from their nests, anything that's not a straw or building material is disposed off to make space for their eggs.

While we like the opposite, clutter fucking rocks! at least for humans.

We have a mattress, then a mattress cover, then a sheet.

Then we have pillows, stuffing, then pillow covers, decorative pillows.

After it, multiple blankets! a soft one, a heavy one, an airy one. Sometimes, blankets come with blanket covers.

Finally, the plushies arrive. Multiple of course, some for decorations, others well worn with cuddles. Sometimes a gaint big one to fully wrap all of our limbs around.

Sometimes our beds have crumbs from food we eat in it, othertimes it has a stray sock we took off while in bed and forgot.

Most of the time it has our phone in it, a pet joins us there, book we're reading, laundry we were supposed to fold but forgot, a bag, or several outfits as we get ready to go out.

That's a cave, much like bears leave the skeletal remains of their prey, we have crumbs from the cookie we suddenly craved at 3am.

Nests are neat and clutter-free, at least the bird ones, always getting cleaned from waste. Eggshells are thrown out as they hatch, baby birds waste are immediately disposed of.

Lizard nests aren't that different.

Because the equivalent to a nest foundation isn't the blankets, plushies, or pillows. it's the house foundation itself!

The concrete walls and the sturdy floorboards. The whole bedroom is already a well-built nest. The bed is just an extra cushion. The fluffy material and loose feathers birds leave at the very top, so the twigs don't scratch the fragile eggs.

So, in conclusion. Turians and Salarians would get VERY overwhelmed in a human bedroom, let alone a human bed with plushies, stuffies, and blankets.

They're like, "Are you expecting a baby???" When they notice what their brain consider is extra protective fluffing for eggs.

Turians even more because of their lack of skin nerves, hard plating, and all. Their outershell makes it hard to appreciate soft things, let alone hugging them, when they can barely feel it.

Salarains? They're softer, more squishy, and they might enjoy the way it feels against their skin. Most reptiles do, and they're the closest thing for reference.

They're warm-blooded, but they do originate from a fully tropical planet + they're amphibians and might have used to be semi-aquatic? Meaning that while they still produce their own bodyheat, it wouldn't be that much to begin with. Space is definitely much colder to them than to a human.

That's why hugging a human is so nice to them! They can leech off of your body heat as their very own sun–or at least a substitute for a heatlamp.

But plushies and blankets are a different story. With blankets, they might make them cold or freeze since they blocked whatever light or heatlamp the salarians must need for sleep when they're not wearing their temperature adjustment suits.

And if you sleep next to them under the blanket, your trapped body heat will cause the temperature to rise above what's comfortable for them and risk overheating them. Same with the fluffy sheets, pillows or plushies.

there's the risk of overheating them with your body as the blanket traps in the heat. it will happen slowly, but that just makes it more dangerous. A slow simmer of rising body temperature as they realise what a death trap a human bed actually is.

Plus, salarians only need one hour of sleep per cycle, it seems very excessive to them that you'd build a whole room and make the biggest piece of furniture in it solely for the purpose of sleep. All of those plushies just to hug to sleep?

Drell, who breathe through their skin, would view blankets as a total nightmare. Their clothes already need a lot of adjustment to accommodate their conditions, only certain material is airy enough to allow them to get a lungfull, and you want to suffocate them with cotton or polyester?

They know you only breathe through your nose, but it still...makes them feel uneasy. Seeing you covered completely in stuffies and thick blankets, only your head poking out. Much like what it would feel for us to see someone go to sleep underwater with a flimsy mask connected to an oxygen tank. Now, this is truly a death trap–the salarians were right.

As long as you forgo the blanket and...allow them to fully strip down, they will give this whole human bed thing a try. Silk or satin sheets and pillow covers feel the best against their skin, smooth surfaces that seamlessly glide, air particles passing through it with little trouble.

Anything fluffy, feathery, or with fur will irritate their skin. It's like something brushing against your nose. They sacrifice a lot of comfort when it comes to indulging the human need to cuddle, but most drell rarely complain as they accommodate to your need, even if it meant you'd be slightly cutting off their air circulation.

Maybe their society is exceptionally polite? Maybe devotion and sacrifice for the ones you love are just ingrained in their biology? It would explain their endless royalty to the hanar despite how staying on that planet is literally killing them.

Oh yeah, owning a humidifier in your room will cause them a lot of pain and discomfort. Turn it off, or if you really want to woo a drell, get a dehumidifier.

Krogans would fucking love our beds tho. Might make fun of it at first, but they secretly also want a soft mattress and plushies to cuddle with.

Get close enough with a Krogan, and they'll start crashing in your room and taking naps on your own bed whenever the chance presents itself.

Don't the asari sleep in pods? I'm thinking of that sex scene in ME, she fucks you in a pod. That's something. At least...Liara gets used to human beds?

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Anway! having established all of that definitely vital and necessary world building, I can finally talk smut about the turians! the original context of this request!

One look at a human's bed and their minds are definitely going south. First of all, human, you're in desperate need of a mate because your nest is a mess! Why do you have so many different fabrics? Aren't you worried you'll suffocate yourself with a plushie or too while sleeping?

Second of all...they didn't know humans were this soft. You mean, most humans sleep like this? In very comfortable beds? Even like...the army tough ones? Oh, that's why they get so excited for shore leave? so they can return to their actual comfortable nests–sorry yes "beds" and have some decent sleep?

huh.

And none of you are expecting children, correct? This is just how the average adult human goes to sleep?

Turians don't have the heart to tell you that they associate soft beds–ones like yours—to the human equivalent of a heart-shaped bed with rose petals scattered around, candles illuminating the room and a very deliberate lack of condoms.

They try not to...think about it whenever they come into the room. A bluish hue adorning their cheeks, trying to avoid eye-contact as they explain that uh...fuck, they accidentally glanced towards your bed and forgot what they came here to say.

I talked before how jarring it's to them that humans easily allow others on their bed, be it human or not. You just casually invite your friends to sit on it? The same sheets you sleep on each night? the one so heavy with your delicious scent they can practically smell it the second they stepped foot into this room?

And now you're telling them to take a seat, even handing them one of your plushies to keep in their lap. What's a friendly gesture and a show of trust is being very very badly misinterpreted by their brain chemistry, their biology going haywire at what they consider the declaration of "Get me pregnant" Whether you're actually capable of it or not.

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Sidenote, the angara might be the only ones to share our bed preferences, not only that but show enthusiasm at the mention of plushies.

The only difference is that their society values plushies that resemble people more, angara like them. The dolls and plushie lineup are very intertwined.

Cuddling very intimately with someone isn't sexualised either, nor presented under a romantic light necessarily. Their society prides itself on love and affection; they're direct with expressing their emotions.

A single angara family can have many mothers and fathers, tens of sisters and brothers. Cuddling and sharing a bed is very normalised even far into adulthood.

They might be the ones giving humans the wrong idea by immediately inviting them back to cuddle on their bed after only the second meeting. Just because they decided they like you :) It's the equivalent of going out for coffee.

Protheoans, meanwhile, fall on the opposite spectrum. Javik doesn't have a bed, does he? He never asks for one either. They're a society of warriors, they value strength and abhor tenderness. Brutal honesty is their forte.

But...they also read each other's emotions through touch.

While beds are a foreign concept, plushies are not. Javik can sense the history of a room just by directly touching its floorboards. Plushies and other sentimental objects must be valued very greatly in their society, doesn't he hold onto the disk of memories from his time back before being frozen?

He understands why his own species came to value plushies, but why the hell does yours do it? You lack his abilities, all humans do.

You try to explain it to him, but it just sounds like you're describing vague and badly done emotion reading with extra steps.

He concludes that humans must hold traces of these abilities. It just translates into safety and the need to cuddle others. Also, it is clearly inferior to the protheon's advanced ability, so yeah.

Javik dislikes your bed but likes your plushies and actually welcomes cuddling. He remains stoic throughout it but you can feel him poking through your memories.

Same with your plushies, he asks that he may keep one as a relic. A piece of your soul, your history is encased in it like an artifact in amber.

Touching it almost feels exactly like travelling in time to meet your old self, getting to part the curtians of space itself and get a front row view on the person you used to be.

Plushies immortalise you to protheans, who would've thought.

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I had so much fun with this an analysis it <333 I know it isn't exactly what you had in mind anon, I'm sorry, A/B/O is listed as a "no" in my requesting list. But the concept was so good I had to approach it in a different direction.

I hope you still enjoyed it!