#idk idk there's no such thing as too self indulgent this is my blog after all

[karlachismylife]

Wrote the intro the day I started this work and decided to leave it since it reflects the shitstorm in my head quite well, eh.

Okay Idk what it is with me today (I actually do know, I'm having a bad fucking night as a consequence of my own actions but I prefer not to think about it), but I just thought about task force 141 and reader that has such a bad withdrawal after their orgasm that they actually cry and not in a fun way (cue my lack of understanding how crying in bed can ever be fun, but i'm not here to kinkshame)

CW: NSFW (so minors and ageless blogs DNI, I'll block you), but there's barely any sex, hurt/comfort, body image issues, low self-esteem, chubby/fat!reader, written with afab!reader in mind (but most parts can be read as gn), potential mental health issues (?), thoughts of selfloathing and selfharm, smoking mentioned once at the end. Very self-indulgent and I'm definitely unwell, so yeah. It's also more focused on reader's inner shitstorm than the guys in many places so idk if this even really is enjoyable...

Starts as a single piece, then splits into individual blurbs/drabbles/oneshots + some polyamory cuz I'm spoiling myself today having done nothing to deserve it, lol.

They vary in size and tone since I've been writing them through several ups and downs in my own mental state, so please don't take this as a sign of which characher/combo is my favourite. I'm greedy, I like everything.

This is unfair.

Like, you just had wonderful sex, probably came more than once in a short period of time, ears stuffed with cotton, limbs weak, head spinning... and it keeps spinning, sweet tingling on the skin turning into nasty rushes of cold, muscles too tense, but it's not a cramp.

You feel like shit, every possible hormonal and neuromediator crash downing on you, a hollow, depressing weight in your chest instead of a sweet afterglow. Sweat and cum feel disgusting on you skin, your skin feels disgusting, strangling, your whole body seems revolting, too heavy, too sluggish. A sticky, suffocating heatwave on your nape, but your chest is cold and covered in goosebumps, a feverish feeling clogging every pore. Nausea wrenches into your stomach and stops just before you can relievingly barf and get rid of this parasite inside.

You simply want to dig your nails into your own shoulders instead of his and rip the skin and meat off, free yourself from this burden (you're the burden). Each second as he stays blissfully unaware, holding you tightly with his big hands and panting into the crook of your neck, drags on like a hundred hours of pure torture - the torture of being yourself.

Throwing up feels like an appropriate reaction to how unappealing and ugly you feel.

You're spiraling. You couldn't fucking keep your own messed up emotional outburst - completely unreasonable and unprovoked, by the way - to yourself, and now it's going to be noticed. You'll ruin someone else's fun. Make it all about yourself when you've already been nothing but doted on, cared and provided for. Fucked so good that your body is still clenching around that magnificent cock deep inside you.

And you're fucking crying, like an ungrateful, egotistical brat. Never having enough, unable to provide something as simple as a hole to make someone else happy without fucking it up.

Ghost notices immediately. There's nothing that can escape this man, and definitely not his love's distress. He's not reacting immediately for a sole reason: he's frozen in fear, horrified that he made you cry. How - he's not sure, he always takes great care to stay within limits, never allows himself to push you further than you both agree on. But what if he slipped up? What if he got carried away? Did he cause pain? Did he say something hurtful in the heat of the moment?

"Fuck. Hey, hey, lovie... look at me... wha's wrong? Did I... did I hurt ya?" Good thing you're hiding your face and your red eyes so desperately that you can't see how distressed and downright terrified Simon looks, lost at the sight of your tears. When you shake your head and attempt to push him away to hide your pathetic sobbing, he somewhat calms down and brings his big calloused hands to cradle your face, gently prying your own palms away and holding your puffy cheeks tenderly. His thumbs brush your tears away as he holds you, holds you through the growing rage fit of touch aversion, through the shudders and actual wailing. At some point he moves his palm to cover your eyes, a dry, dark blinder to keep the world around you shut out, help you concentrate on his voice.

He's not talking, just humming, a familiar, deep, grumbling noise that soothes all the flashes of anger, hate and disgust in your brain. You're tired now, like you're always are after such an intense outburst, and as you go limp, he finally pulls away, only to pick you up - barely a strain, a direct spit in the face of your own insecurity - and bring you to the bathroom. A warm shower evens your distorted body temperature out, his hands running over your body and cleaning all the stickiness away bring back peace with your own skin. After a quick rinse Simon holds you, your head cradled against his chest, until you make a weak attempt to help him wash too - he lets you trace his body, that perfection you adore with all its old wounds, sores and scars, for a bit, and then finishes himelf.

Gives you fresh cotton underwear and his hige T-shirt, still holding you around your shoulders and keeping the comfortable pressure even while he changes the bedsheets, kissing your temple as you find it in yourself to help.

It's only after you settle on top of him, nice, clean comforter protecting your back against the world, head on his chest right next to his heart beating in a steady rythm, he finally breaks silence.

"Need anything else, lovie?" Just like that. No prying, no occusations, nothing that would put you on the spot. You can ask him to bring you the moon soaked in unicorn's milk, and he'll just nod, kiss your hand and start dressing up, already calling Johnny to ask where the fuck did Scots hide their last horned horse and if he happens to know where they enlist astronauts.

"Just you."

His grip on the small of your back tightens and you feel his uneven, scarred lips graze the top of your head.

"Ya've got me. Always."

Soap is running hot like a furnace, still shivering and panting after what he considers the best sex he has ever had (every time with you is). He lifts his face, buried into the crease of your neck previously, and starts peppering you with slightly sloppy, grateful kisses - your neck, your jaw, your lips, your...

When he tastes your tears and opens his unbelievably blue eyes to see your expression contorted in disgust, he panics. Pulls away immediately, hands both itching to grab you and shake a reason for that look on your face out of you and too scared to touch you in case this hatred is directed at him.

"Whit's wrong, leannan? Are ye a'right? Ye didnae lik' it? Shite, lass, Ah'm so sorry, Ah didnae mean tae-" He stops yapping only when he notices the way your lips tremble as you try to plead with him, sobbing that it's not his fault.

"'M sorry, I ruined it... I'm so sorry, sushine, I just... fuck I wish I wasn't so bloody sick in the head and ugly..." Speaking out loud only worsens your anger, directed solely at yourself, and you try to wipe your eyes furiously. As the tears keep rolling, your frustration only grows - maybe if you yanked your own hair really good or slapped the disgusting pudgy cheek you've despised ever since chidhood as everyone kept pointing out how big they were...

"Ye didnae just call the love of mah fucking life ugly." Johnny's voice is a mix of a harsh order to cut your bullshit and pure disbelief. His huge paws wrap themselves around your wrists, stopping you both from harming yourself and covering your face. You're forced to look at him, and as you do, you see his handsome face flushed with a passionate anger at the intrusive thoughts in your head, heavy frown in his thick eyebrows and the sea in his eyes dark and deep enough to drown a whole fleet. You'd be scared if it wasn't obvious how hurt he is underneath it all - like a kid whose favourite plushie just got mocked by his classmates.

"It's just a toy," adults would say, and they would be bloody wrong.

"Tis not a toy, tis mah friend."

You're his friend. His love. His heart, his soul, his everything - he whispers that frantically, kissing you over and over, hot palms running over your body, wiping the cold, the stickiness, the goosebumps away. You don't have time to think, to spiral again, you're drowning in that exact sea that's spilling from his eyes, staring at you with pure devotion - a sea of affection, admiration, love, love, love.

Johnny nuzzles up to you like an animal seeking comfort, hides into your chest, right after he kisses your sweaty double chin, breathes in deeply, lets go of your soft shoulders only to grab two handfuls of your tummy, kneading it, warming up the stale blood, squeezing your big thighs between his and getting lost in the frenzy - he honestly doesn't even remember already that he was comforting you, he's fully in the worshipping mode, leaving you no chance to dip even a single toe into the self-conscious thoughts again.

You'll just have to stay there, every single tear lapped up from your face, and accept every greedy touch and word of a man utterly in love with you. Even the messed up parts.

Gaz keeps his cool despite how distraught even the thought of your sadness makes him. First of all he moves aside to give you space, makes sure you're not hurt, asking in his usual kind - unbelievably kind, so much that you burst into tears again, feeling undeserving of such unapologetically soft treatement, tone.

"Shh, shush, gorgeous, you're not hurt, are you? It's okay, c'mere, jus-st like tha', very good, love," praises keep spilling from his tender lips as he carefully helps you sit up, simply dragging you away from the damp from sweat and everything else spot on the sheets. He ends up balancing half his bare ass off the edge of the bed, but it doesn't bother him in the slightest as he feels you already coming back from that hopeless place as soon as your body gets stuck between clean, dry and a bit cool sheet and Kyle's firm lean body of a litearal god - or a prince, at least.

His deft fingers are already at work, massaging your scalp, chasing the tension away, but the second he feels you grow uncomfortable with the repetitive movement, he stops and retreats to simply holding you in a steady, reliant embrace. You know he's good with his words, that's how he got you, swept off your feet completely and made you swoon with sweet compliments, hilarious snark and smart talk.

You just don't expect him to do it all over again in the face of your burdened mind crumbling in the paradise.

"Talk to me, angel. Let me inside that pretty head, hm?"

It takes this sweettalker just a couple of words to coax whatever that ugly, slimy knot in your throat is, out. You sob, retelling Kyle every single thought that has been stuck in that coagulated mess in your head, spill the bile that has been burning your retching throat, out in the open, for him to see the disgusting ugliness of your insides - matching your outside.

Somehow throughout your choking trade his soft, careful hand never leaves your back, rubbing circles of different radius and intensity into your skin to keep the aggression at monotonous touch at bay.

"Must've been some terrible person to overbear your spirit and plant all those lies in your mind, angel." You don't catch the meaning of his words at first, glancing at him confused and whoozy after you exploded with self-deprication. Those dark, calm eyes look at you no different than before: quiet, calm reverence and determination. A thread of spider's silk, thin as a hair, but stronger than steel, his love does not waver. Were you in the right state to actually pay attention, you would've seen it only grow.

"Well, beautiful, this isn't how I planned to start writing poetry, but since you insisted... maybe I can think of a diss track about you."

"A diss track?.." Poor you, so upset that you can't catch onto the mischievous glint in his eyes and that silly smooth sarcasm slipping into his words. You're actually half a step away from believing he would diss you, destroying that already non-existent self-esteem once and for all.

"Yup. Gotta diss-tract you from all that bullshit in your head for good. Unless you'd rather me fuck it out of you instead?"

You cannot not smile at that, even if it's a weak, timid smile. Kyle's face still lights up as if he sees an actual angel, bringing the good grace or whatever.

"There ya go. First step of the mission? Success. Permission to continue? I repeat, permission to continue?"

"You spend too much time with Simon. Permission granted..."

Price undrstands what's going on before he even hears your first sob, the tension in your body and the change in your breath telling him all he needs to know. There's enough experience in this man for the both of you, he has learnt to read people and immediately accomodate them in a way that serves a common goal so long ago that it's a secong nature already.

Your comfort is that common goal.

With a grunt, he rolls you over, planting you firmly on top of his warm, burly body. Untucking your head from his hairy chest, he holds your face and does not let you concentrate on anything but his stern, focued gaze under those bushy eyebrows - but there's still that undeniable tenderness in his eyes that's always there whenever John looks at you.

His voice sounds usual too: a calm, commanding, but not harsh tone, not a loud bark any of his subordinates would hear, yet still an order. "Look at me, darling. Tha's right, look at me, look at your John. You shut whatever's going through that troubled mind of yours out and let me take care of the rest, a'right? Can you do that for me, darling? I know you can. I'll do all the thinking for ya, eh?"

Giving control over to him feels natural at any other moment, but right now you're too deep in the trenches of the war with your own mind, hissing at you with pure disgust for being so selfish. Really, now? Had to use this sweet, caring man for your own needs, and now you're dumping all your perverted, fucked up baggage on him too?

"Nuh-huh, ya're still thinking. Told ya to cut if off. You know that's not you thinking right now, dontcha? You're a smart one, love, ya know shit like this happens. And when shit happens, who are you going to to deal with it, huh?" His deep voice rumbles in his chest, seeps into your clogged ears, fills your skull with the unyielding determination and leaves no room for your own dark thoughts.

When you hesitate to answer, John slides his rough palms over your back, tracing your soft rolls and landing onto the pudge of your hips, squeezing lightly to remind you who's in charge and what your task is. "Who is there for ya to deal with shit that happens, hm, darling? Need ya to tell me."

You want to hide, escape his demand for an answer, but he keeps you firmly in his embrace, a gaze of steel unmoving from you. It almost makes you tear up again, almost feels mean of him to put you on the spot, when all you want to do is curl up in a dark corner and stay there for all eternity. But the love you have for this man overpowers even the seething hatred you bear for yourself, so you give up and murmur meekly: "You..."

"Tha's right, darling, it's your John. I'm here to deal with everything that bothers ya. Everything, ya hear? Tha's me job. Your job is to stay wit' me 'n' not overthink, eh? Especially not when it's just hormons making ya feel bad." You have nothing else left to do, other than sniffle into his chest and melt under a warm kiss he plants on your crown. "How about a cuppa, eh, darling? And something just as sweet as ya for a bite. Ya'll feel better in no time, I promise."

Ghost and Soap cancel each other's panicking out. As soon as both you and Simon slip out of the sweet afterglow, falling backwards each into your own pit of self-doubt and spiraling, Johnny starts babbling, terrified at the thought of both his beloved people feeling worse after being with him. His slurred, panting words and frantic kisses help Simon shake of his own horror - in return, he squeezes Johnny's shoulder to slow the worried mutt down and redirect his energy into helping you. Soap tenses up under the firm touch of his Lieutenant, then relaxes again, leaning into him for a moment to collect himself - they charge from each other, mere seconds of feeding off each other's energies in the middle of a time-limited mission with the highest stakes: your well-being.

They exchange glances, no words needed after the way their work together almost makes them mindreaders to each other, and turn back to you as you lay there, face painfully contorted in an attempt to keep the black foamy bile you feel rising in your throat from spilling. Slow, sticky, angry tears run down your flabby cheeks, and with each millimetre they go, your scalding wish to gouge your eyes out with your bare hands grows, just to punish yourself for being ungrateful after two perfect men spent so much of their time making you feel good.

"Dinnae cry, bonnie. Ye're a'right, ye're 'ere, wit' us. Right, LT? We're nae gonnae let ye marinate in whitevur got ye so upset." The pressure from inside your body that threatened to burst you open into a messy explosion of bile and rot, gets evened out from outside by Johnny's tight hug. He squeezes you up to the painful point, cradling against his broad chest, holding the fort while Simon leaves the bed, but not without kissing both your palms and holding them against his lips until he feels the cold leave your fingertips.

"Oi, Johnny. Help lovie get in 'ere," he calls out several minutes later out of the bathroom. Soap, who has been holding you and allowing you to sob against his heart this whole time, stroking your sweaty hair and murmuring every word of love he knows, scoops you up immediately. He pads over with you in his arms to where a warm bath is already filled thanks to Simon, and when you react to the temperature with another wave of tears, they both reach out to the tap simultaneously.

"Is tha' a'right, bonnie?" You make a strangled noise as Johnny finally sets you down into much cooler now water. It soothes you, makes you feel instantly cleaner, smaller, lighter. Breathing gets easier, that swollen blob of anger and disgust shrinking down in your chest and allowing you to inhale bathroom's damp air normally. You open your mouth to apologize and get cut off before even a single syllable leaves your mouth.

"Don't," Simon's voice sounds gruff, but even his murky reflection in the rippling water looks genuinely soft towards you. They're both perched on the cold bath edge, naked and seemingly not caring about that at all. "Jus' let us take care of you, yeah, love? Tha's what we're here for. Tha's what we want to do."

"Well, actually, there's one more thing," Johnny interjects, causing you to finally lift your sullenly lowered head and look at him, Simon's big palm using this moment of distraction to press onto your back in silent support. "Can Ah make ye a foam beard? Please, bonnie? Ye jus' 'ave the prettiest sweetest cheeks fur tha'."

Soap and Gaz feel like their world is sinking into a whirlwind of stormy clouds, the kind that sucks all light out of sky in mere seconds and can't be cut through even by blinding flashes of lightnings. There is no sun in their skies if you're not smiling, and the sound of your muffled sniffles hits their eardrums harder than thunder or explosions. The frowns distorting their faces only make you more self-aware of the fact that you ruined things between you - the initial hysteria starts rapidly flowing into complete shutdown, threatening to turn you into an emotionless shell for unknown period of time, when several warm, big hands intervene and cut the depressing trajectory down at its root.

"Damn, we did a shit job fucking all your thoughts out, didn't we, angel?" Kyle's joke sounds soft, teasing, but empathetic, ready to be met with sobs or silence instead of the usual laughter that flashes your teeth at him and makes his own smile grow brighter.

"Aye, we did. If anythin', Ah think we put more thoughts intae 'er instead," Johnny scratches his head dramatically, and then you feel his big, hot palm on you sweaty forehead, as if he's trying to get a feel of the thoughts inside your skull. It doesn't linger there for long, though, rough fidgety fingers digging into your hair and tugging at the roots. This makes the hot-and-cold collar around your nape unclench, uncouth and chaotic massage confidently pulling every ounce of anger out of your brain. From time to time his calloused palm slips lower, squeezing your scruff, wiping the cool sweat away and taking control over what seems to have escaped your own.

"How does it feel to be the first person to get knocked up mentally, love? Having any cravings yet? Feeling your brainworms kick yet?" Dry cotton comforter suddenly covers your exposed to be looked at with disdain body, and before you can choke out a protest and something about you being sweaty and sticky and disgusting, Kyle grips your shoulders firmly, rubbing up and down as he slowly helps you sit up a bit.

"Ye eejit, how dae ye think thay can kick? They're brainworms, thay dinnae hae any legs!" The sheer passion in Johnny's heated counterarguement does the impossible - makes the corners of your deeply upset mouth twitch against all the weight the sadness put on them. Your knights in shining (from all the sweat your lovemaking covered them with) armor of their own warm skin seem to not notice the slightest twitch of your lips - there's no excessive attention drawn to you, none of them puts you on the spot. Their touch isn't going anywhere, but it almost seems mindless, simply their need to have something soft and pleasant to squeeze in their restless hands. "'N' wasnae Mary th' first lassie tae get up th' duff through th' heid?"

"That wasn't mentally, that was spiritually, read your books, Soap," scoffs Kyle, as if it was the most obvious thing, and ducks just in time to avoid a pillow thrown at him with sniper's precision.

"Oi, ye sayin' Ah cannae read now?!" Whatever snarky retort Kyle was ready to shoot, gets wiped out as Johnny tackles him, barely avoiding pushing all three of you off the bed. Their scuffle consists of chokeholds and sneaky kisses, legs getting caught in the sheets and somehow tangling you into the mess too.

Until you laugh, finding yourself squished into Johnny's hairy chest with Kyle in a gently headlock somewhere under your arm.

"Hey, hey, careful, mate, our lovie's expecting, we can't just throw 'her 'em around!" However obvious that deflection is, Johnny reacts as if you were actually with child and grabs your face, boring his eyes into yours, slowly widening his two blue lochs in pretend horror.

"Och naw! Ah think we lost 'em, Ah cannae see nothin' there now!" Flushed after the playfight, you avert your gaze, still a trace of self-consciousness about yout outburst somewhere deep inside, but none of the "brainworms" that clogged your insides in sight indeed. Johnny's little drama earns him a soft nip on his thumb from you, and he smiles at you, clearly satisfied with the effect their little scheme had.

"Aw, damn, and here I was, ready to hear the pitter-patter of 'em little feet," Kyle's warm lips somehow find their way to kiss your temple, eliciting another shy giggle.

A pillow crashes onto both of you with the force of a small bombshell.

"THAY DINNAE HAE FEET, GARRICK, THAY'RE WORMS!"

Price and Gaz fall into their usual ways seamlessly, responsibilities and tasks split between the two seemingly without even any verbal communication. Clearing out the space around you with the same quick efficiency they clear out enemies with, they prop you up on some pillows, assess your condition in case they got carried away and hurt you, and finally settle on both sides of you, warm hands on your knees squeezing softly.

"Are ya gonna talk to us now, lovie? Or will we have to use interrogation tactics to learn what made our love so upset?" John's voice bears no trace of threat, but it still makes you cower and try to take up even less space that your curled up body already has, which earns you a sigh from the Captain. "I see. Take over from here, Sergeant. I expect results once I return."

The matress sighs with relief a Price's weight leaves it, bare feet padding a few steps before he reaches his slippers and leaves the room. The pit that the sound of your bedroom's door closing opens in your chest is crushing your ribcage with the iron fist of vacum. You can't blame John for not willing to deal with your bullshit, but the hearbreak only reenforces the choking smog in your head that's rasping in a hundred different voices that the only thing you deserve is pure repulsion.

Kyle's soft thumb pads wipe the tears teetering on the arrows of your lashes, and in a smooth movement you find your face cupped and pulled close to his shoulder. His smooth skin sticks to your wet cheek and you find yourself crying like a little kid, the unbearable pain of the revolting dark knots inside somehow replaced with surprisingly more bearable grief over what you consider an ending reltionship. Perhaps John leaving our bed finally shattered your heart, letting the ungodly pressure out and allowing it to beat - and bleed - again.

"We'd really like if ya talked to us, angel. Don't think Captain can stand there bare-ass naked much longer, might catch rheumatism at this point, he's not getting younger, you know..."

"I hope you know I can hear you perfecrly clear, Garrick." You stop mid-sniffle, eyes snapping to the closed door. You can finally see the shadow of a man standing just outside, and the air slowly feels with some flavour you can't distinguish through all the snot yet, but seem to like a lot...

"Good, so your hearing's still intact, sir. You're in good shape," Kyle's cheeky remark must've broken John's famous patience and restraint, because the bedroom door finally opens, and you see him there. With a tray with a whole bunch of tea mugs and little plates of treats balanced in his hands.

"Still not talking? Well, we'll try another method then, lovie. Sandwich for your thoughts, eh?"

His cheeks are round with a kind smile, confusing your tortured mind even further - Kyle uses your stupor to fetch John's big, slightly scratchy bathrobe, successfully wrapping you into a cocoon of grounding stimulation all over your feverish skin. With a huff and a grumble about staying butt-naked a bit longer, John puts a pleasantly warm mug into your hands and looks at you, arms crossed and tucked into his armpits now that he got rid of the tray.

Expecting an answer.

"'M sorry..." seems appropriate right up to the moment when a little finger-sandwich gets shoved into your mouth. The bread is soft, nice, salty ham and crunchy cucumber filling your senses and cracking a bit fat line of light right in the middle of the dense cloud in your thoughts.

"Try again, love," Kyle gives a hint and wipes a crumb off your lips, licking it off his thumb. "We don't need an apology, we just want to know what's troubling ya. John, tell 'em."

"Already did," grumbles Price in response and clears his throat, sitting back down on the creaking bed. "Food's working though. Eat up, darling, get your energy. Then we'll talk properly, a'right?"

You chew slowly, still stiff in your own body, but regaining control gradually. Yes. Then you'll talk.

Ghost and Price exchange a single glance over your from, choking on the self-destructive rage, and John shakes his head so slightly that one can barely notice, but it's clear enough to stop Simon from tumbling down the traumatic spiral staircase of his own. Grounded by his Captain's presence, he shrugs his broad shoulders, shaking off the creeping up feeling of his own monsterous nature, and rolls onto his back, pulling you out of the miserable wet ball of wrinkled sheets and onto his firm lap, sideways, his big palms resting comfortably around your hips; he's not squeezing or digging his fingers into the fat like he usually does, but it's a secure hug you can't really escape.

Exposed held too far away from his chest you could hide on, you shrink, rising your shoulders protectively and trying to cover up your soft belly, spilling over your pelvis in a shapless manner - that's when John's arms come from behind, catching yours and instead of pulling away forcefully, simply repeating your own safety cocoon, hiding your body from your distorted sight and keeping you warm.

"You're not thinking straight right now, darling," every phrase he murmurs gently, calmly, convincingly into your ear is accompanied by a little kiss, beard tickling and burning your already irritated by tears skin. "So good for us, so kind. Can you spare some of that kindness for yourself?"

Even though it doesn't sound like a rhethorical question, Simon cups your cheek and shushes you tenderly, pressing his thumb to your lips, allowing John to continue with his little speech aimed to dispel the storm coagulated in your chest.

"'Cos if not, it's a'right, love. We know it's hard, and ya're doing good already. Ya 'ave us, eh? To love ya, to cherish ya. No need to overthink, jus' let us hold you, a'right?"

He finally pushes you onto Simon's chest, his big heart stuttering with worry as you seek shelter among his many scars that paint a horrifying picture once you put all the fragments together.

"How'd you do that, sir?" Simon's voice sounds vulnerable - so much that it strikes through all the layers of your egocentric self-hatred and shifts you almost immeditely into a completely different mindset; one where you throw your whole self into loving your scarred and battle-worn men in such abundance that it's ought to compensate for all the unfairness they've gone through.

There's no need for it now, you realize a little too late: Price is there, keeping Simon away from the darkness. They're fine. Better than ever. It's a distraction, a trick, a play to make your bleeding heart stop the internal self-destruction and turn to healing.

A sly little switch you're not sure they were planning to flip, but it worked.

"Hm?" As if emerging from the depths of his thoughts in response to Simon's question, John caresses your cheek as gently as his rough thumb can and then smiles, maybe catching onto the change in your mood or simply remembering all the times he pulled Ghost out of the same gloom and darkness. "Jus' taking care of me own, Simon. Tha's what a Captain does, no? Now, love, how about a shower? I reckon we can squeeze in all together and papmer you really good, what do ya say, eh?"

Ghost and Gaz manage to keep their cool. Kyle's confident and gentle presence serves to reassure any doubts Simon has about hurting you, he shoots a single glance at his sergeant and recieves support immediately. Two pair of hands cradle you with all the tenderness two soldiers are capable of, which is always enough to drown you in fully. It's a tight hug, a hot mess of limbs, too much skin on skin contact that makes your brain flare with undirected rage, but as seconds trickle by and you're still trapped between two firm bodies, you have no choice but to slip into the exhaustion phase of your outburst.

It's not pleasant, nor could you say you feel calm; if anything, you just petrify, a permanent frown on your face and blindly staring forward glass eyes. You're tired, you'd still rather be anywhere but inside your own body that still feels like a useless deformed bag that should be gutted and emptied to lighten up, inner layer of your skin scrubbed with a knife to peel off the suffocating thickness of fat trapping this heated rage inside...

Instead, you get a kiss.

It's Kyle, soft, full lips touching your wet with tears cheekbone, then again - your temple, your cheek, the overheated spot behind your ear. They're light, soft kisses, too gentle to be playful or arousing. Calming. They do not demand anything in return - he allows you to stay in your inner world where you feel secure, even pauses to kiss Simon the same way right in front of your eyes. A silent demonstrationg of the love and reverence these pecks carry, Simon's hooded eyes fluttering shut as if his own compartmentalized demons get exorcised by Garrick's touch.

"Wanna talk about it, angel?" Kyle's voice rumbles at a nice, grounding, smooth timbre, and your still-too-slow mind struggles to grasp how is it possible that he's talking and you're still getting kisses - until you recognize the uneven texture of Simon's scarred lips, trailing along your skin tenderly. "Whenever you're ready, love. But we would love to know what's going through your head right now."

It feels strange to say it out lound when you're held and caressed like this, but their kisses and solid embrace cleared your windpipe enough of the mental gunk for you to be able to speak.

"I hate myself... 'M disgusting, and-" A displeased grumbling kiss from Simon interrupts you, and even Kyle pushes his huge shoulder to reprimand his own Lieutenant for the interference. Kisses his temple immediately to make amends, though, and turns back to you, prompting you to continue.

"Wot? Don't like when someone talks shit 'bout mine," grumbles Simon like a dog that got flicked on the nose for growling at welcome guests.

"Let 'em talk, mate, it's good to get things off your chest." At least their little bickering coaxes a tiniest hint of smile out of you, and Simon, noticing it immediately, stares back at Kyle with such pride, as if he just did something great.

The thing is, in the way his arms squeeze you a tad bit tighter, pressing into his firm body, you can read that for him - your smile is the greatest achievement.

"Don't tell me you prefer his silent treatement, angel, I'm trying to be the attentive boyfriend here, and for what?" Your smile grows a little braver. A little brighter. You would've kept talking if you could remember what it was that hurt so fucking much in your chest.

"Shower. Then a cuppa. Then we have the talk." No one dares to argue with the Ghost and his gruff commands. You feel the sheet sticking to your skin as he lifts you up, Kyle already sneaking off to prepare towels and clean clothes for you three. He'll stay with you and help you wash the remaints of the mind attack off. Simon will make fresh tea.

You're going to be alright.

Price and Soap take quite an intense approach the second they notice your distress. You feel Johnny's weight disappear from you after the first strangled sob that escapes you, and if you could open your eyes glued shut by the hot, messy tears, you would see John practically dragging the poor Sergeant away by his scruff. It's easy to suspect that Johnny couldn't contain himself and went too hard, too rough on you - with no malice, but pure passion that's spilling from his big, hot heart every time he gets to be close to you.

But it's not Johnny's fault, neither is it John's. It's all you, a useless, pathetic thing, good for nothing and holding two gorgeous men to yourself like a greedy glutton hoarding delicious food.

"Ah'm sorry, bonnie- ow, Ah got it, Ah got it, Ah'm not touchin'!"

"Did we hurt ya, love? Was Johnny boy too rough wit' ya? Wha's wrong?"

You feel big warm hands gliding over your skin, quick assessment of your state in search of potential harm caused. This immediate care only makes you feel worse, every cold sweaty patch of your disgusting hide shivering and twitching under Captain's careful touch. You struggle against your own spiraling anger, fight it with what's left of your exhausted resilience - and lose, curling up with another burst of tears, shoving the loving hands away and dusting the lingering warmth off your body.

After all, you do not deserve to be treated with such kindness after the fit you just threw.

"No, no, no, it's not his fault, it's not Johnny's... it's me, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I ruin everything, I'm- I'm disgusting!"

The silence that follows you blowing up on them is heavy. Just as bad as the knot in your chest.

"Johnny."

When you open your eyes to find a way out, run away, scatter and hide in the furthest corner of the apartment until everyone who tried caring for you leaves again, you're met with Johnny's bright blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

It's a shocking sight, pushing you out of the muffled misery into an alerted worry - his face is red with unexplainable pained anger, fists clenched as John holds him tightly by hunched shouders, seemingly trying to prevent a violent outburst.

"Ah wanntae ken names of th' bastarts who made ye feelin' tis wa'. Ah swear Ah will mak' thaim fuckin' choke oan thair ain tongues, Ah'll rip thair spines oot 'n' shove thaim up thair-" - "Enough, Johnny. Stand down. This won't solve anythin'. Ya calm down and help our lovie feel better, a'right?"

Still a bit shells-hocked, you stir on the bedsheets and push yourself up to sit upright, stretching your arms hesitantly to the men in a weak attempt to remedy whatever shitstorm you caused in their minds.

"Don't get mad, please," you whisper sheepishly, and the shy sound of your still choked voice seems to wash Johnny's explosive anger away better than the firm grip of his handler's (Price's) hands. With a look of a beaten dog, Johnny huffs loudly, cuddlng up to you and hiding his face in your lap. His heavy jaw sinks in the plush of your thighs, accomodated nicely with the softness of your body.

"'M nae mad at ye, leannan. Jus' dinnae say tha' again, a'right, bonnie? If ye need me tae prove ye-"

"No..." your hand finds it place in his damp mohawk and brushes through, while you glance at John. His eyes are shimmering with love and love only as he looks at you and Johnny, and you feel a wave of shyness - the good, giddy, warm kind - replacing the paralyzing shame. "I'm fine already. With you."

"Maybe we should 'ave a little chat 'bout it, love," John's hand meets yours on the sad mutt's head in your lap, intertwinig fingers with you through Johnny's soft hair. "When ya feel better. Jus' so we know what we're dealing with, eh?"

"Yeah. A bit later. Thank you."

All four of your men get frozen witnessing your reaction, struck with a horrifying sense of helplessness - it feels like the biggest failure among many unsuccessful missions, operations where lives were lost and enemies missed, to have you curling up and crying in misery between all the love they've been pouring onto you just mere seconds ago. As if everything they touch is bound to go up in flames, drown in blood and rot, be it on the outside or from the inside.

They're lost, and as always, they turn to the Captain, giving themselves up for him to direct, trusting that he knows better what use they can be of.

And, frankly, he does.

They're barely talking, but the commotion around you is decipherable even through the red mind fog and closed eyes - it honestly only makes you feel worse, unsafe, exposed, despite that simply being Soap, sent off to fill a bath ("Ye want it hot or a tad bit cool, bonnie?" - Silence. Your nails dig into your scalp, the soud of someone simply breathing, even more so talking to you, sending you into a new fit of rage. "Make it warm, Johnny, we'll adjust later."), and Simon, leaving for tea duty - silently, your favourite way to have it attentively observed in the first two weeks you've been together and memorized ever since.

It's Kyle whose voice, murmuring into your ear sweet, reassuring nothings as he keeps you caged in a tight embrace, your back pressed against his warm chest, forces you out of the highly irritable state. You have no choice between his short, chaste kisses on the crown of your overloaded head, and John's calloused hands massaging your calves, soft flesh dipping under the firm pressure.

"Ya jus' focus on fighting tha' storm off, a'right, darling? We'll take care of th' rest. It happens, we know it does, 's not your fault. Jus' a funny lil' thing your mind does, eh? Yeah, love, we know wha' it's like when your mind does funny things. Don't we, Kyle?"

"That we do." Maybe it's just your own depressive state rubbing off on them or distorting your perception, but Kyle's voice sounds almost solemn. You would turn to look into the smoky quartz of his eyes, but either he holds you too tight, or you have barely any strength left in your upset body - you simply can't.

Maybe it's alright. Maybe tonight they don't need you ripping your heart out to tend to their restless minds, and you can just allow them to take care of you.

Allow Kyle to carry you to the bathroom.

Allow John to stay there and help you wash yourself with a nice, scrubby loofah.

Allow Johnny to bring in his huge, baggy loungewear that doesn't hug your curves too snugly and allows you to simply forget what you were so angry about for a while.

Allow Simon to serve you perfect temperature tea in your favourite mug and keep you quiet company on the balcony, night air cooling your wet and clean now skin and hair further and blowing all thoughts out of your troubled head away.

As you share a cigarette with rich clove aftertaste, breathing ironically becomes easier. Behind your back the bedsheets are being changed, proper meal is being cooked, a good movie you won't be upset falling asleep to is being chosen.

"Simon." - "Hm." - "You sure you're okay with me being like that?" - "Standin' in the wind with your hair wet, tryin' to catch a cold?"

You grunt, not appreciating him taking the piss while you're tryig to be vulnerable, but allow him to pull the hood of Johnny's hoodie onto your head.

"No. I mean, fucked up in the head?"

You don't actually know what answer you expect. With an unreadable expression, Simon turns his head, looking through the glass door at the men crowded in the living room and waiting for you, and then stares back at you with a smirk, a permanent scowl carved into it by someone's cruel hand.

"Nah. Tha's how I like 'em."

He throws the cigarette butt away and chuckles, cupping the back of your head and pulling you inside, into the warmth of home.

"Oi, bonnie! C'mere, As saved ye a spot." There is no spot as you look at the two-story cuddle pile on the sofa and the blanket nest in front of it, unless of course... ah, yes, Johnny's patting his lap. "Ah promise Ah'll behave. Mostly."

And as his warmth envelops you through a big hug, his hands clenched humbly on your belly and behaving indeed, you feel stupidly happy.

Because you're enjoying touch again.

[husbandohunter]

YOOO hello!! first of all, I hope you are doing well Nya ^^ remember to take care of yourself, stay healthy, and drink lots of water, mkay? good good :) (ur writing is astounding btw i love it sm)

second, may i request a childe angsty (not much tho, just missing him- does that count as angst lmao) + fluffy scenario (or the uh dot hcs thing?? with lil scenario after it?? idk how to call it 💀 but yeah you can choose :D) with a timid, reserved s/o? like... you're feeling a bit down and miss him, waiting for him to return- and when he does, you just- dash into his arms, while he sits there paralyzed, since you don't generally initiate the affection. too shy to do so- however when u do he softens at ur cuteness,, (regretting your decision afterwards cause he makes you blush while praising you- way too easily- and he admires you more while u bashfully avoid his gaze-)

and while cuddling he asks as to why you did that, if something occurred... noticing you were sniffling instead of talking, he halted to take a look at your face, freezing once he saw your profile, crystal clear tears painting it. wiping them away, he cupped your cheeks with his greater hands and before he could utter another word, you answered him, his worried expression transforming into a surprised one unimaginably fast.

"I just... love you so much Ajax. I love you..."

repeating that over and over while delicately holding his hands close to you, a soft smile decorating your lips as you leaned into his palms. and he just. smiles too completely melting-

aand that's all i can think of-- i hope that gave you enough fuel to think of the scene hh- obv take your time with it pls don't feel rushed okay? ik you're busy and have many requests already hh ^^ take a break if you must! farewell!!

Sweetness [Childe x Reader]

Synopsis: Childe can expect all kinds of ambushes but not the one that attacks him in the heart!

Genre: gender neutral reader, mild angst to fluffy fluff

(A/n): First off you’re so sweet anon. I don’t mean to take this long but I do think about the blog and you guys every once in a while. I hope this was to your liking, though got self-indulgent with the last part xD Childe is either badass or an absolute clown🤡 there’s no in between

============================

• Childe had been sent away on a mission in Snezhnaya two months ago. He wrote letters to you in his absence. Until the weekly letters became nonexistent. It was due to the fact been busy over the course.

• But you didn't know that. Demands of being the 11th Harbinger had made things difficult for him to even sit down and relax.

• And when he finally got the chance to pick up his inkset, the man falters yet again over another crumpled sheet tossed into the waste basket.

• How on Teyvat should he begin after weeks going cold? Since when was the last time the two of you properly talked? Were you so furious that you didn't write back?

He felt as if he was being physically beaten by these incessant questions, plagued by scenarios that don't exist.

Childe blankly stares at the ceiling of his hotel suite. It was deathly quiet. The candle burns alight, confined in the glassjar designed by Snezhnayan antiques, and he swore he could even hear wax dripping down the sides.

The Harbinger slaps a hand over his face and groans, "Haaaa, I can't believe I'm actually losing my mind over this."

Hopefully no one sees him in his current state. Their Fatui leader fussing with love letters akin to a teenage boy's first crush. Earlier the evening Childe announced to his assistant that no one shall disturb him while he is issuing an important message to overseas, otherwise they meet a harsh punishment under his command. That was an excuse. A very silly excuse. There was no diplomacy to be made overseas, just one man missing his lover.

The picture of your most recent expression shows up and Childe meticulously carves it out of his imagination. While you were not the type to be vocal about your affections, reserved and somewhat aloof, somehow that itself was a charm of yours. Perhaps he likes a good challenge, perhaps the spark between you two ignited when he kissed you on a fluke. And when you couldn't form the words to your clouded thoughts, actions alone were more than enough for the man to be satisfied.

"Let's see where this goes, yeah?"

Then one meeting turns to another, three dates turn to four, and before he knew it, Childe has been looking forward to spending time with you ever since. A part of him waiting for answers yet to be said. Do you like him the way he likes you? Even though everything he does appears to be whimsical and reckless? This long distance makes him think they were almost not real drives him mad.

What if you were seeing someone else?

A pause, the information too great for him to process. Childe spasms in his seat and slaps both palms flat on the surface table, sounds resonating through the room, enough for his assistant outside to hear.

Nah, who am I kidding? The man waves off the idea like an impractical joke. There's just no way. Sure you were attractive and alluring with mystique, Childe is certain that he had no competition. After all he was a Fatui Harbinger for Archon's sake. Crafty, handsome, strong with a good sense of humor, he's your ideal man. No one's got a shot at this other than him.

Except all those statements existed only in his head.

How the hell should he know what you're thinking about?! The man rests his face on a propped up palm, tapping the desk with the other as he thought deeply. No, a love letter won't work anymore. He needs a new way, preferably something enough to encapsulate his charms as he sweeps you off your feet and makes your heart race at the idea of him. He needs a strategy.

Should I invite them for a fancy dinner?

Childe has already done that a few times, something fresh would be more preferable. Oh, he could pull off the classy tactic of buying a bouquet of flowers and surprising you with it. But that's so cliche. Ugh, he cringes, what if you think he's lame?!

The assistant guarding outside knocks on the door, "Sir, is everything alright?"

"Yes," Childe replies back, rather annoyed, "I thought I told you not to bother me."

"M-My apologies," he hears the assistant scurry away in quick steps.

Finally, some peace. The Harbinger checks the time. It was half past sunset. All the soldiers should be assigned to their pre-booked rooms since was going to be their last departure.

"Fuck...." Childe breathly mutters. This is taking longer than it should. He already had you guessing over his actions, for a month in fact. At this rate, he'd have to show up without a pre-warning explanation of why he wasn't answering your calls.

The snowstorm outside ceases to relent like a reflection of his own. What he feels right now, what he's doing, the Harbinger knows well enough this wasn't some fluke. Childe sinks into his arms and looks at the flickering candle, focusing on it's small flame, wondering, if you're thinking of him the same way.

• Sitting by the windowsill, watching the view that leads to your front yard, visualizing a cheerful man with ginger hair and waving from the trees.

• Ajax. You missed him but wasn't sure how to say it. Papers and envelopes were tucked away in a corner where you could easily reach, savored and impatient for his return.

• They were mostly filled with stories about his homeland, places that he wanted to take you, and sometimes mentioning how his work got the better of him. You figured his silence must be the fact he was busy. At least, that's what you convinced yourself to believe.

• What could he be doing right now?

Ajax's name hasn't appeared in your mailbox for quite a while.

The splash of water runs when you release the tap, absentmindedly scrubbing away remains of leftovers and takeout from last night's dish. Two months ago he appeared at your doorstep in his usual brazen entrance. And it was the same day he had to announce his departure.

"Borsche," you said with a smile. Ajax mentioned how he'd personally bring ingredients from Snezhnaya, bringing as in sneaking, so you could be his first ever foreign taste tester. Of course you'd like anything he'd cook regardless, but he was joyful talking about his family from home that you wanted to explore a little more of this new side of his.

You thought you wouldn't mind the long distance communication, however, it seems you've severely overestimated yourself. After the final meal at your house, Ajax walks towards the exit, the both of you knowing how agonizingly slow it was. You recall looking at him in that deep ocean gaze, trying to say what wanted to be said. Him waiting with anticipation.

"Good luck with your mission!"

• What a mistake, that was the perfect chance and you just couldn't muster up the courage to tell him. You know he was expecting something, you know he's been patient with you, and you're tired of guessing.

• There were days where a part of you doubts if he still feels the same. Days when you felt that all of this might be one sided and you were just another fling in his eyes. Days when you think he actually wouldn't return.

• Eventually, you couldn't help but truly believe he left you for someone else, finally fed up with you beating around the bush.

Despite all the obvious signs from Ajax's lack of communication, you wanted to try one last time.

Yesterday was the day he said he would be coming back to Liyue. The sky looked as if it were about to rain any moment. People crowded under the nearest roof they could find. Their bustling noise drowned out to mere background noise as you stayed, keeping an eye out for that cheerful man of yours all the way till the last ship parked beside the Harbor. 

It was empty. By the time the other families went home with their loved ones, you stood there alone, holding a single umbrella.

"Excuse me!"

No news or a forewarning. You had no idea what must have happened. Regardless, you wanted to try again.

Running across the pavement, you tried to catch up with the sailor keeping watch of the seas, "I want to ask if you've seen a tall man with orange hair leave just now?"

He takes out the cigarette chewed between his teeth and takes his time to answer, "Ah you're the person from yesterday," the sailor comments, "Sorry kiddo, but the merchant shipments will be the only ones dropping by this hour."

Your stomach makes an uncomfortable churn as your heart denies what must be accepted, "Ah, I guess that makes sense."

There was no point in being optimistic about it anymore. The seldom appearance of letters, the disappointment evident on his face when you didn't tell him what he wanted to hear, the chilliness of the rain when it hits your skin, hand trembling by the obvious cold. Everything was so much clearer.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you quickly added while wiping your eyes, unable to contain your sadness, "I'm just missing someone. That's all."

The sailor spares you a look of pity, assuming what story it went on with the clues you gave him. He mutters words of consolation but it felt deaf to your ears.

Why couldn't you just say it? Why did you have to be such a coward in the end when all he was trying to do was making this relationship work? Biting your lip, you kept your eyes casted down to not be blinded by the sun, otherwise you might actually cry. You should've known better to not hold back. And now, he's gone forever.

"Hey."

• Childe watches you turn over your shoulder, hesitant as ever and time seems to have halted in the small pocket of this instance.

• Damn.

• You were as beautiful as the day he last saw you. Though of course nothing about your appearance changed at all. Only his feelings, they grew and more apparent during the days he wasn't by your side.

• Yeah, I'm way over the crush phase, aren't I? He could only imagine what kind of expression he was making.

Tension fills the gap between the two of you as neither made an initiative to close it. Childe examines you, unreadable and without his default grin. Your eyes blown wide under the deep furrow of your eyebrows, mouth turned downward.

Welp he deserved the silent treatment. What nerve does the guy have when he shows up to his lover empty handed and a day behind his promised schedule? Minus all the Fatui fiasco he had to deal back in Snezhnaya and no explanation whatsoever.

"So uuuhhh," Childe glances at you tentatively. Ah shit they're mad probably. He was unsure how te begin. It was almost as if you were strangers and that pained him a little, "So how have you been?"

Slap. He mentally facepalms. That was so stupid.

Well fix it you idiot! A million suggestions run simultaneously that reduces his brain into a pile of mush. He had it all planned out earlier, the flowers, the dinner, the play to sweap you off your feet and make you fall for him again. Seems that his reliable swagger had betrayed him entirely. No fancy entrance. No funny remarks to distract the awkwardness. Right now he was just Childe the lovesick man.

"Look, I know I haven't replied to you," Childe rubs the back of his neck and avoids eye contact, "And I understand if you're pissed about it. We went through a lot back in Snezhnaya which is why don't have any ingredients I promised," he pinches the bridge of his nose, "Ah, I guess I should probably apologize for that too."

This isn't going well. He knew he was trying way too hard to play it cool and most likely makes him look as if here were creating excuses. Screw it, just go straight for the heart, "What I'm trying to say is-"

You threw yourself around him in an instant and buried your face in his chest. Childe nearly stumbles backward, completely off guard for once. He can instinctively expect and attack but not this kind of attack.

Almost gave him a heart attack.

"[Name]...?" He finally whispers out, his sleeve covered arms crawling to return your embrace. The man was trying to feel, to make sure if this was real. Did you just...hug him?

"Ajax."

Then it occured to him that your voice was breaking. The tightening of your hold and the point of your nose against him, he could sense the faint quivering of your shoulders. Childe surrenders all intentions to fulfill his previous agenda as the matters in front of him were much more important.

"Hey, what's on your mind?" he gently hushes, cradling your head with one hand and the other on your back, "I'm listening."

Yes, that's what you needed right now and he'll gladly give it to you, as much as you want. If you allow him that is. Childe knows he can be a bit selfish sometimes and maybe he's jumping to conclusions, but holding you like this is a moment he wants to indulge in. Just cherishing you like he should have.

"I just..." you began, breathly, "love you so much, Ajax. I love you..."

Damn.

Childe is sure he just felt what it's like to float on cloud nine. As cheesy as it sounded. He's somewhat glad your face is buried in his coat right now so you wouldn't be able to witness the goofy smile he's shamelessly wearing. Looks like he had nothing to worry about. Man, did it feel good to know you felt the same way all this time.

He releases you, though not enough to be fully apart because why would he? Your nose was tinged with red and eyes watery, the man swore his heart must have been hit with a pyro reaction. What a cutie pie.

"I've got you, don't worry," he reassures while cupping your face. He leans down to peck the corner of your lips before properly placing a chaste one. The action was so sudden that you weren't mentally prepared for it. He laughs, the same boyish charming manner, "Sorry, couldn't help it. You're too irresistable."

"Y-You're," shades of crimson layers across your cheeks that he's glad he has the privilege for a closeup, "Irresistable..."

Hooooooolddd up.

Childe pulls to a mental stop for a double take. Was that a compliment just now? No, it was a confession. He wasn't used to being praised like this. You may not be the type to vocally speak your true feelings but you were also the type to wear them on your sleeves. A smug smile makes it's way to his face and he tilts his body ever so slightly so you were dipped backwards in a mid-tango pose.

Childe's mouth was mere inches away from yours as he drinks up the image of your vulnerable look, underneath him and no one else to intrude.

"Ajax?!" You stuttered.

"I don't think I heard you clearly. Mind saying that again?" Yes he was being indulgent right now but the opportunity was hard to come by. Also those two months made it so agonizing to bear he needs a remedy to soothe all that drama.

You're pouting now and Childe tips down to kiss you on the cheek, "Don't tease me. Not here in public," you whisper-yelled well trying to push him away similar to a smothering puppy.

"Oh? Now you're going to reject me? I thought you said I was irresistable?" Childe's words muffles against your skin and the vibration spreads across like wildfire.

"Ajax!"

"Fine, fine," he chuckles heartedly, not letting you go. Instead, he repositions his arm until it was swung around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side, "By the way I wanted to say that I shouldn't have left you hanging. The mission got real messy last minute and I didn't wanna half-ass a letter to you."

You shook your head, "It's not your fault. I know you were busy. Just that..." you breathed out, somewhat relieved and anxious at the same time, "I thought you were angry that I wasn't being honest with you. I was afraid for some reason. But now, it's a lot easier than I thought."

"Huh? What do you mean?" He asks.

"I thought you left me for someone else."

A moment where his brain short circuits and Childe lets out a howling laugh. You looked at him with awe. What was so funny all of a sudden?

"Gotta say that I'm being tossed left and right with these surprises," he mused, "Guess that even if we're apart, we're still that close, eh?"

You quirked an eyebrow at him, "What do you mean?"

Childe slides his hand up your shoulder bone to pinch your cheek, "Nothing, sweetness."

• You chased after him demanding for answers but Childe doesn't budge. The only thing you could tell that he was in an extremely good mood after that.

• Oh well, all is well, ends well does it?

"Since I don't have anything to cook the Borsche I mentioned to you before, we'll have to settle for something else I'm afraid," Childe shrugs, "Anything in mind you wanna do?"

You sighed, fondly at least, "I already said I don't mind as long as you're cooking."

"S'that so? Well then," Childe moves renewed with energy, extending his hold in a beckoning manner and you laughed at his antics, "Shall we go, my snowflake?"

You take it and squeezed it, "I'd love to."

[ingravinoveritas]

Have you seen AL's latest insta story? sure, it would even be cute... if she didn't set a trend of subtly (not so subtly) commenting on his looks.

also idk if you hadn't seen this one from November 16th:

(yes it looks like his handwriting) random thoughts:

"I think he likes me" tee-hee? Much need for validation?

gurl, going without a phone for a week? seriously? how? why?

... How did you even post, if you're phoneless? or did you wait to have one, to stage this pic?

maybe it's me, but sharing such an intimate note seems *just a bit* in bad taste.

Am I being too petty? Maybe. Whatever.

(Finally getting around to answering more Asks, so thank you all for being so patient!) @artificial-indulgence No, I don't think you are being petty at all. I'm really very tired of Anna's posts as of late, and all of the above is certainly no exception.

I think it's worth noting that she posted that picture with Bernard (and all of the pictures from her Insta story) in a separate post, because apparently she didn't get enough attention, and the picture of Michael and David was dead last in the post. Which seems fitting, given that the caption on the post was a "A weekend of vanity and insanity" and the first few pictures were of her, suggesting that she was using the picture of Michael and David to get more traction for her own pictures.

This ties into your comment, @longingtolinger-blog, because she did indeed post that story calling herself a "vain twat" just earlier in the same day as the story with the pic of Michael and David:

And I had the same thought, that it seemed as if she was trying to be self-deprecating, but it just...didn't land? It came across as awkward, mostly because vanity/being vain isn't really something to brag about. Do we all have moments of being vain? Of course. But Anna seems to be making it part of her personality, and it's just...not cute. Also, in the same way as Michael calling David his lover, you generally don't refer to yourself as a "vain twat" if you don't want people to think that you're a vain twat.

That said, I did see AL's Insta story from the 16th, and nearly three weeks later, it still doesn't make sense. As you said, how did she post this without a phone? Or, as we could infer, does this mean she got that note sometime earlier in the week, and waited at least several days just to stage this picture? Also, with two little kids around, how does it make sense for her to not even have a backup phone? We could certainly assume that she did, but the story above would suggest otherwise, since Michael had to email her (which is, for the record, about the least romantic correspondence imaginable). Let's also remember that on the 16th, Michael was still in the middle of being virulently attacked on Twitter after the events of October 30th, and Anna had plenty of opportunities to defend him. To say something like, "Michael's a great guy, he does a lot of charity work, he doesn't deserve to be attacked like this." Instead, it was all about her and what she gets from him. In fact, the week prior to the 16th, she posted another Insta story of flowers that he supposedly sent her, with that song "My Love Mine All Mine" in the story, thereby doubling down on bragging about him getting her things while saying nothing about him as an actual person.

Going back to the first story above, we know that Michael has previously been affectionately compared to the Tennants' dog Bernard (and David to their other dog, Myrtle). But as you said, given AL's history of making snarky comments about Michael's appearance, it feels a lot less affectionate and a lot more unkind coming from her. What surprised me about her Insta story the most, however, was how not surprising it was, as that story is actually not the first time Anna has "joked" about leaving Michael. And given that that seems to be an enjoyed pastime of hers, it almost seems like they would both be happier and better off if she actually did leave him.

It somehow becomes worse when we see this exchange, which took place on Twitter yesterday:

(Maybe she should get a refund, since she seems pretty unsatisfied with what she's got...)

Again, I would have no problem saying that this was just teasing or ribbing or whatever if it weren't for literally everything else in this post, plus what I've also talked about on my blog previously. But complaining about Michael like this publicly makes her come across as so damn rude and ungrateful. Contrast this with David "complaining" about Michael and it only makes the difference even more stark: That with David, there's a mutual respect and affection and reciprocation, which we do not at all ever see Michael do with her. And I can't help but think that if their relationship is as great as she would like everyone to believe, she wouldn't be on Twitter going back and forth with fans just to get that validation, as you mentioned.

Those are pretty much my thoughts on AL's posts/stories from the last month. It's interesting to me that more people seem to be noticing the weirdness of all this, and I appreciate both of you writing in. And as always, glad to hear from my followers about what you all think...

[immaculatesnz]

Way too many Bai//zhu hcs because... well... just look at my blog

not that loud but definitely desperate + forceful

like, gripping the nearest surface, knocking off his glasses forceful

would probably be spelled with italics iykwim

5/10 volume, 6/10 pitch, 5/10 wetness

breathy buildups that stutter (?) before the release sometimes (I suck at spelling but I hope you know what I mean)

fairly good at holding back but cannot stifle to save his life (but tries anyways, to varying degrees of success ranging from half-stifling to just sounding more repressed)

usually covers with his elbow, but will use the back of his hand if it catches him off guard

fits of 2-3 but can be (read: definitely) more if sick/particularly irritated (which, unfortunately, happens a lot)

longer fits can leave him winded and having to sit down afterwards, and just overall a disheveled mess

always always always excuses himself and blesses others

sneezed in front of a patient once, they blessed him and asked if he was feeling okay, and he got all flustered and was like "It's my job to worry about your health, not the other way around..."

somewhat sensitive to pollen and strong scents, meaning he has to be careful when working with certain herbs

used to be a lot worse, but managed to build tolerance after years of exposure (part of the reason why he's so good at holding back)

idk why but I also feel like he would be sensitive to cold weather

doesn't have the kink but would indulge his partner's if they asked, and would prefer to be the one doing the inducing

hear me out, he'd be really good at it too due to his knowledge of the human body and stuff (also something something him having a den//dro vision means the possibilities are endless)

should go without saying but catches colds easily (and catches them HARD)

(more general sickfic hcs under cut)

the most stubborn patient ever; everyone who cares about him literally has to beg him to rest (I mean come on he's literally the "puts everyone before themselves to the point of self sacrifice" trope)

aside from that, actually isn't that demanding, doesn't really ask for anything (unless it's reassurance that he isn't useless/weak/whatever self-deprecating thing he believes being vulnerable makes him)

so you know the quote about people trying so hard not to be a burden to others that they become one anyways?

that pretty much sums it up

can't decide whether he'd be clingy or just want to be left alone bc both are fun to think about

actually scratch that he would try to get his caretaker to leave and be all "you shouldn't have to see me like this" but would just go with it if they were to hug him

(and would stay hugging them for longer than either of them expect because he's deeply touch starved and doesn't even know it)

at some point would just pass out for the rest of the day and sleep off the whole thing

I just need to see someone care about him the way he cares about others is that too much to ask?

as you can see I totally got carried away but yeah I hope this was a good enough first contribution to the fandom

[19calicos]

fic authors self rec! ♡ when you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. let’s spread the self-love ♡

hi wyr & @mollyrolls !! you both sent me this so i’ll answer u both here :-) thank you for the ask btw !!!

so technically i dont have 5 fics out LFMAOO so i’ll plug everything i’ve published so far + my favorite ikwtl chapters!

when the sun sets, it rises again (osamu oneshot)

this is the most self indulgent thing i’ve ever published ….. i wrote this when i was barely starting to come out of a really bad headspace, and it ended up kind of helping me out of it more. i really love osamu and i’ve been wanting to write more for him but im glad i put him in this one :-) and i think that all of the things i’ve written, i genuinely don’t care how many notes this one gets LOL idk how to describe it but it’s just so close to my heart

street style (oikawa smau)

HELP im gonna have so much fun writing this ITS SO EASY TO BE FUNNY FOR THIS FIC 😭😭 oikawa fuckass bermuda shorts pic u do Not know how iconic u are to me !!!!! i think i’ll also post a style guide for this one since fashion is a part of it !

tea for two (kiyoko smau)

a fic that im very very excited to write ‼️ plus kiyoko deserves more love and the more i plan for this/look at my notes the more im like Wait….. Theres literally no way i actually considered a man for this fic 😭😭 im very excited to do my best in characterizing kiyoko and the support this fic has alr garnered just from the masterlist blows me away <33 i really love the image of crescent teahouse that im creating and how it and yn march to their own beat :-)

i know where to look (kuroo smau)

definitely my pride and joy and very self indulgent 🙂‍↕️ im proud of how far i went with it and i will be finishing it soon one way or another! it still blows my mind that this was my first fic and it kind of blew up very soon after i started publishing chapters. i appreciate all the love it’s received and i think about some of the tags in the reblogs very often, esp when all i want to do is abandon this blog 😭😭

ikwtl chapter 6: clocked and chapter 12: who wont slime

6 & 12 are the funniest chapters i’ve written out of the entire series 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ i rmbr reading peoples’ reactions and laughing my ass off when i was writing the tweets 😭 like bokuto choking bc he was too drunk to remember to chew & noya selling slime to akaashi i rlly make myself laugh ! i am very glad my very dumb humor has also made other ppl laugh too !!

[girlreblogger]

honestly i don’t understand how ppl get mad because others don’t wanna read no traumatic, struggle love, lowkey violent, cheating, smut galore toxic shit. the amount of thug, plug/drugdealer, bum!, straight up scary, PRISONER (which is crazy yall romanticizing mfs getting outta/being in jail??) black reader fics (from all kinds of fandoms btw) is actually concerning.. like frfr let’s be honest with ourselves cause the things i’ve seen on here has truly been interesting. (thanks to the ppl who’ll put warning tags tho ig) and ofc ima eat up some of them fics cause they be good sometimes but also that’s all i be seeing. i truly wanna read sumn cute and sweet that don’t leave a bad taste in my mouth like i don’t wanna read the fic and then be pissed off after. obvi we all can just scroll and not read what we don’t want which (if you harassing ppl for what they write it’s never that deep… be fucking fr. write something in your notes to fulfill you or sumn until you find something. don’t use that as a reason to spread negativity) and ik a lot of ppl get at blk writers abt how yn talk which (???) idc cause i talk the same so we’re not talking abt that. also i gotta say sometimes the drug dealer fics be treating yn like a princess (which 🫶🏽) but that’s every now and then when it’s not toxic or drugs, extremely excessive smut and cheating isn’t involved. ofc ofc write what you want but pls bffr and don’t act like them characters don’t be putting yn through some bullshit. yeah tension and stuff is cute cause yk you don’t want it to be boringg but toxicity and attractive tension isn’t the same. there’s sooo many ways of going abt getting that tension. and so many other blk girls say the same and it’s just can we get something positive please. and that legit can just be maybe possibly no aggressive smut.. or a annoying situationship, or all the other lowkey scary shit i be seeing. it’s disheartening to wanna read something abt blk girls and your fav that’ll have your feet kicking up and stuff and then getting pissed off cause your fav character just manipyadipped and cheated on yn or sumn. i’ll keep writing self indulgent fluff in my notes app tho until then. (and if you want to read something positive write something for yourself then too if youn wanna post it or be a writer but PLEASE reblog ppls stuff when you not at least) and not to mentionnnnnn all the fluff on here that is for black readers we barelyy find like you can type “x black reader fluff” and barely any will pop up honestly. which some ppl don’t want certain ppl interacting with their stuff and some ppl don’t gaf abt fluff at all so that writer gets no interactions (or half as much of what they would get on something with smut or etc) and it discourages them from writing it more and it’s also harder for ppl to find what they did write. so even if you don’t care for it at least reblog or sumn pleasee to support the writers. i really appreciate all the blk writers or their works that don’t get enough attention. that’s why i post fluff or just more positive fics for the blk girls who are tryna find them. i’ll def make a list of writers that i like as well. if you want sweet rainbow glitter blk reader fics you gotta do sumn in return too dont just read and do a lil scroll nawl you can make a lil side blog and reblog stuff. mfs have lives tho ian reblogging every sec in general tho i feel like blk writers don’t get enough attention and exposure sometimes but that’s… another thing .. anyway dont stop writing what you want but idk dont act funny or be rude when someone don’t want to consume the same shit as you alllllll the time. i just felt like saying this cause i legit can’t go on here no more and find something that’s not toxic. when i heard ppl saying this i thought they was just talking to talk but nawll. anyways i wanted to say that bye.

[queeriboh]

"lacie" is a song oswald composed (tho jack named it) which is why it just seemed to just come to leo one day, and humpty dumpty is a chain that is literally the body of levi, glen baskerville before oswald, and thus is actually intrinsically connected to the song "lacie" and humpty dumpty's memory altering abilities are indeed the reason elliot's memories were incorrect regarding the origin of the song. never been entirely sure why humpty dumpty caused that memory to be altered specifically since it isnt something that should have distressed elliot. theres a strong theme of memories in the series obv so maybe it has something to do w lingering complicated feelings toward oswald and lacie on levi's end since humpty dumpty used to be his body. they definitely atleast have a connection to eachother. it might even be that humpty dumpty was ironically trying to protect leo in some way from some memory since he is glen and the chains formed by the bodies of previous glens are bound to protect glen baskerville. that train of thought would require me to think about it longer though lol

yeah yeah yeah, no, I know about all that. it's just specifically the fact that Humpty Dumpty altered that memory that has never made sense to me and I still can't quite figure out. it's supposed to change his most distressing memories to protect him but like.

unlike the kids at the orphanage, he didn't totally forget that half his family is dead, just who killed them. we still see him get plenty distressed over them, and over his nightmares, without Dumpty interfering. Vanessa said that he told her in a letter that he was struggling to write a song for his mother's birthday, and like, I get that writer's block fucking sucks but it seems like a goofy thing for Humpty Dumpty to overwrite, but then still leave him practically crying after his nightmare lol

it's probably not this deep, but I'm doing a self indulgent canon-divergence thing w my rp blog and trying to set things up to maybe save him, and I feel like explaining that inconsistency in his memory is going to have to come up IC eventually lol

I thought maybe it has something to w like, Dumpty just altering anything that has to do with Glen specifically, but then I started thinking that would be odd since it's drawn to him to protect, it wouldn't see Glen as inherently distressing. then I played around with an idea that it altered Elliot's memories to force Leo to admit how the song came to him innately from Glen's memories instead of his own consciousness and make him accept he's Glen so it can be closer to him, but that's giving Humpty Dumpty too much like, sentience I think.

idk idk idk man there are a lot of things in PH that go over my head but this one specifically drives me bonkers

[noys-boise]

literally every single question for fuckin zombie saga and/or &j idk if it's meant to be specific to a fandom but whatever

for &j

list 3 positive things about your current fandom(s)

clever writing, great characters, banger music

a headcanon you weren't sure about at first but have come to like!

yeah trans Romeo as well

a character that fandom has helped you appreciate

Romeo, i liked him before too but i mean i think we really made him more better

say something nice about a ship you don't ship (it can be another ship in your fandom, a mutual's OTP, etc)

hmm tough. i guess Anne and Angelique could work. like in another universe. love gay people.

something you see in fics a lot and love

i mostly read your fics and you write maycois dialogue so arorably

something you see in art a lot and love

shapes. &j fanart always has fun shapes somehow

your favorite tropes to read/write/draw

this is going into zombie saga territory but if focused specifically on &j uhh i love to write Frankie being soscared because i mean he always is

you hope more people will come to appreciate ___ (a ship, a trope, an episode, etc)

hmm idk. just like the show in general. if i were to say something specific i guess Anne, she's kind of the hidden main character to me this has nothing to do with my Betsy bias /hj

a ship that isn't your OTP but that you enjoy

langelique. I'm very casual about them

a blog (mutual or one you follow) that has made your fandom experience brighter

well. yours. also just like the rp blogs

if you're a writer or artist, what fic or piece of art are you proud of making?

all of it, duh. for non saga because I'll get to saga after these, the one where i drew Juliet and May in those them coded clothes

compliment someone else in your fandom

you! you're the amperstan ever

the ship that always makes you smile

maycois and jumeo, they cute

the character that always makes you smile

like all of them? but i guess I'll day Frankie rn

a tiny detail in canon that you want more people to appreciate

okay not to be negative in the positivity asks but i want more people to do the opposite of appreciate for the ue ue ue ue you KNOW what I'm talking about. no one else talks about it.

the thing in canon that everyone loves and that you also love

the "it's super dope" quote let's be real we all say it all the time now

the fandom friend you've known the longest

of &j definitely you

how has fandom positively impacted your life?

honestly it's seeing it live that did most. it was lifechanging

and now for saga in general:

list 3 positive things about your current fandom(s)

it keeps my creative thinking active at all times, it's deliciously angsty and it's so self indulgent

a headcanon you weren't sure about at first but have come to like!

like saga related? i guess in brighter timeline Del's whole arc. I'm glad we did that now because the character exploration of it is very fun. also lesbitaly (it really grew on me)

a character that fandom has helped you appreciate

i feel like all of these characters grew so much more on me than ever before. special shoutout to Fletcher for being lifted higher on my list of characters i care about

say something nice about a ship you don't ship (it can be another ship in your fandom, a mutual's OTP, etc)

is there any valid saga ship i don't personally ship? i doubt it

something you see in fics a lot and love

well these are our fics. Caroline's continuous agonies though. love torturing my fave

something you see in art a lot and love

there's barely any saga fanart so the mere existence of it

your favorite tropes to read/write/draw

i love writing conflicts that are not even zombie related it's just people being mad at each other it's fun

you hope more people will come to appreciate ___ (a ship, a trope, an episode, etc)

maroline!! I'm spreading so much maroline propaganda all of you are obligated to like it now

a ship that isn't your OTP but that you enjoy

delbed and lesbitaly. I'm casual about both (still love them)

if you're a writer or artist, what fic or piece of art are you proud of making?

weirdly it's all my most fucked up chapters. the one where zombie Richard killed Frankie. the one where Caroline killed Frank. the latest opposite deaths I wrote

compliment someone else in your fandom

i have to say you, this whole series wouldn't exist if it wasn't for you

the ship that always makes you smile

at the end of the day it'll always come back to richaline in brighter timeline. as much as i love these other ships for them

the character that always makes you smile

Caroline, Mary, Richard, italiAnnie in the timelines they're in. at the end of the day you can always tell I'm biased towards them

a tiny detail in canon that you want more people to appreciate

the fact that I've referenced a Betsy Wolfe character in my last chapter for every timeline. also that I've been putting Harmony references all over the place especially in brighter timeline. you could miss some of them

the thing in canon that everyone loves and that you also love

just. all the angst

how has fandom positively impacted your life?

i feel like I've explored my favorite pieces of media in a unique new way through the saga and it keeps productive and creative which is important to me

[kneelingshadowsalome]

lmao im sorry for making your blog a space for arguments, but, as the autistic engel anon, i am autistic 😭😭

i genuinely only sent that ask because that's how i myself am perceived by people and how i often end up feeling. the sarcastic "self-indulgent" was the thing that i thought would make it clear where im coming from.

i dont know if this is a language barrier sort of thing but i dont know why That would make people assume that i am not autistic, or why me making that kind of ask to comfort myself is suddenly turned into this kind of conversation lol

especially since i hear the term "loser" towards myself a lot (as well as its synonyms) from other people who don't understand me and don't believe that i could be autistic (because of being a woman, being able to mask well, living in a country that isn't educated on the topic well enough yet)

so like. idk! im sorry for saying something that anon found hurtful, but i think that across most communities that are jokes/sayings/etc that are okay for some people and aren't okay for others. so im sorry if what i said was indeed as hurtful as the other anon described it. i genuinely didn't intend to hurt anyone especially since i sent that ask after being mistreated by someone close to me and wouldn't want to someone else to feel hurt by it

and if that was the case for most people then maybe it would really be better to delete it? im not sure, but thank you as a writer for creating something so beautiful in response to my ask 🫶🩷

Look! 🩷 My darling autistic engel anon. I loved your ask and the first thing I did in the morning was write a little something for it because I thought it was adorable, relatable and delightful. The fact that you came to me of all ppl with that prompt, then came to thank me and say that it’s beautiful?! means the world to me! I don’t want to delete it 🩷 Of course if the majority of people came to me with torches and pitchforks I might reconsider but it sure doesn't look like it, and I trust that those who didn't like it just scrolled past, unfollowed, blocked, you know, the usual. At the end of the day, this is just a silly little cock blog curated by an autistic dumbo :D

I’m here to provide myself and other people a romantic escape, I'm here to address all kinds of funny crazy thirsty tropes, issues, kinks, whatever through writing because it's a much more controlled and safe environment compared to real life. But I can’t please everyone and it’s a bit futile to even try, I'm not perfect. Someone might find my blurbs and fics too fluffy, for someone else they're too angsty, too kinky, too vanilla, too this, too that, insensitive, problematic, boring, evil, I dunno. What other people perceive as cute, beautiful and self-indulgent might be something completely different to others. We're all different and for me your ask happened to bring joy 💌

[spellshite]

BG3 Masterlist because yes

Since I'm brainrotting too much about BG3 I thought it'd be a good idea to make a masterlist to find stuff because I either tag messily or Tumblr search function would just not work.

Tags I use:

#bg3 shitpost <- gaming tag? kinda? i use it for all my runs-related things and commentary

#tav: kylech <- things about Kylech

#durge: hrodak <- things about Hrodak

#durge: xarann <- things about Xarann

#tav: uruz <- things about Uruz

#durge: jaws <- things about Jaws

#tav: zenith <- things about Zenith

#tav: lukyen <- things about Lukyen

#tav: tav'keth <- things about Tav'keth

#tav: n'kosana <- things about N'kosana

#my bg3 screenshots <- as it says on the tin (sometimes I put "screenshot")

#my gif edit <- pretty clear

some older posts might be missing the tav/durge tag :( I'll fix it one day, I swear!

(some of) Art I made and shared on my art side blog (@demondepresso)

Sceleritas Fel screenshot redraw [x]

The locket "for papa" [x]

Uruz and (fake) Cherise screenshot redraw [x]

Kiss in the Sharran Temple [x]

Woe! Tadpole be upon ye! [x]

The Spider's Queen Embrace [x]

But isn't it nice? Not to know? [x] (not me giving it a good title after ages rip)

Xarann and Barcus meeting the first time [x]

Hrodak, cover them up slut! [x]

Stop eating the suspicious meat [x]

Astarion and Hrodak first meeting: how it really went [x]

Wizard Stuff [x]

Dror Ragzlin (my very first BG3 Fanart lmao) [x]

PLAYLISTS!!! (bad people only, sorry not sorry)

BLOOD SINGS TO MY SINUSES (Orin the Red) [x]

The Devil You Know (Raphael) [x]

Death is Not the End (Ketheric Thorm) [x]

Bane of my existence (Enver Gortash) [x]

Vampire Lord's Ascension (Cazador Szarr) [x]

Gifs I made: (reverse chronological order bc I messed up when I made the list and I didn't want to redo it again)

I procrastinated and ended up with 1 gif of N'kosana [x]

Gortash (and a bit of Durgetash) for y'all [x]

Jaws Chosen of Bhaal [x]

Jaws (sort of intro gifs? idk) [x]

Bad (Bhaal) Ending Xarann [x]

Bad (Bhaal) Ending Hrodak [x]

Xarann x Gale kisses [x]

Kylech x Wyll kisses [x]

Looked fun [x]

Oh no, not again. [x]

Wandering hand [x]

Stop licking the damn thing! [x]

Like a kitten roaring at a tiger [x]

May I kiss you? (self-indulgent OCxOrigin gifs) [x]

You little scoundrel, you. [x]

Xarann telling Gronag to fetch the bone [x]

Not with you, to be clear [x]

Disciple Z'rell [x]

I won't bite [x]

Mixed gifs (Xarann, Disciple Z'rell, Gale saying "I love you") [x]

Gif mix (Xarann petting Owlbear cub, Shadowheart, Gale, Xarann playing the Spider's Lyre, Xarann and Kar'niss, Kar'niss, Flaming Fist Marcus Landing) [x]

Gale wants to wake up from this nightmare [x]

Xarann pets the Owlbear Cub [x]

If you're expecting me to drop to my knees before you, forget it. [x]

My Tav/Durge infodumping and answers to ask games:

Tavs/Durges Character Sheets (NEW!!) [x]

What is the first thing people notice about their appearance? [x]

About Guardian's appearance [x]

Tav/Durge introduction like the Origin characters [x]

Tav/Durge character sheets [x]

5 Songs 4 Outfits tag game - Xarann [x]

Is your Tav responsible with money? [x]

Ramble about Dream Visitor's appearances and Uruz [x]

Get to Know: Uruz [x]

Get to Know: Xarann [x]

Get to Know: Hrodak [x]

Get to Know: Kylech [x]

Act 1/2/3 looks? idk how to call this [x]

Thoughts on a similarity between Xarann and Araj [x]

Uruz and the locket [x]

DnD Uruz becoming BG3 Uruz [x]

Tav Question(s) Act One [x]

Cooking headcanons [x]

How much does your Tav change over the course of the story? [x]

Tav Asks (6, 11, 19) Kylech, Hrodak, Xarann [x]

Hrodak, answer 4 Baldur's Gate 3 Development Game [x]

Tav as companion game (1, 6, 15) Kylech, Hrodak, Xarann [x]

Random:

If Evil Why Hot??? [x]

Jaws the Durge screenshot [x]

LET ME SOLO HER [x]

Mizora Flesh-to-Stone'd [x]

My Tavs&Durges romance moodboards [x]

My Tavs and Durges as text posts [x]

Uruz and Dream Visitor screenshots [x]

Post fireworks factory shenanigans [x]

Two flavours of Bhaalspawn [x]

"I'm a Bhaalspawn" (Hrodak, Xarann) [x]

vibe chart? [x]

watch me pepe-silviaing about the rats in the Gauntlet [x]

"You bleat well enough as it is" [x]

Xarann & friends hate Sceleritas [x]

Fetch the bone, but as screenshots instead [x]

Ask Games I reblogged:

Get to know your Tav [x]

Baldur's Gate 3 Character Development Questions [x]

26 Questions for your Tav as a Companion [x]

20 Tav QOTDs [x]

[outoutdamnspark]

Lost and Found

Some purely self-indulgent stuff this time; I randomly wrote out the “Reina gets drunk and confesses” scene for my Emmet x OC... Not Fic??? called Watching the Earth Rise.

Not completely relevant to the scene, but this one’s set in the AU version of their story, briefly described here, (though the text doesn’t seem to show up on my blog unless I’m on mobile? 😕 Idk why.)

Tl;dr - Ingo's been missing a decade, Emmet is 39, Reina is 29 and works at Grear Station. They are both Very Fucking Tired™️; emotional hijinks ensue. (Inspiration heavily by leggerefiore's SilverFox!Emmet au.)

So yeah, uh. Enjoy~

CW: depression, grief, alcohol, allusions to past tragedy.

(Sort of hurt/comfort; mutual pining, love confessions, pre-romance.) 

===

It’s well after midnight by the time her last bottle runs dry, but she’s still sober enough to feel the crushing weight of the silence in her empty, unfurnished closet of an apartment. Stupid, cheap, watery vodka; it had tasted like nail polish remover, the smell strong enough to make her sinuses burn, but she’s now two bottles in and it still it hasn’t been enough to get her so drunk she can forget. It’s not even tomorrow yet, not properly, because even though it’s not technically today anymore, there’s still enough of it left, spilling over despite the clock turning the hours from night into morning, that it doesn’t feel like tomorrow - and that’s the part that really matters. All she’s left with now is the aching quiet and the chemical taste of regret lingering on her tongue.

She needs something - a movie, a song, a voice, anything, because the booze isn’t doing its job, the night isn’t passing like it needs to, the 12th won’t end - but right now there’s nothing. She can’t rewatch The Kids on the Bridge for the hundredth time, she knows, because the music and the story, (usually things that keep her sane, keep her going, keep her alive,) will wreck her. Even the musical's 'darkest before the dawn' message won't be enough to help; the 12th isn’t the day for things she keeps close, it’s not the day for the pieces of herself that manage to stay afloat, taking in water but still hanging on for dear life. It’s the worst sort of irony, to have something she can turn to but only on any day that she doesn’t desperately need it. 

Anastasia is out, too, for the exact same reason, though amplified because of its deeper tether to her past - too much of a reminder of the too-few happy childhood memories when people now gone were still here. 

She doesn’t trust herself in her drunk-but-still-too-sober state to go digging through her music, either; the heavier stuff will just fuck with her head right now, too much all at once, and the rest, well. She made the mistake once of trying to put her playlists on shuffle so she didn’t have to choose a song. The resulting mental rabbit hole had almost been worse than the hollowness she’d been trying to drown out in the first place. 

She doesn’t want to wake her pokemon up, despite how much she desperately wants Cloak to wrap her up in her wings. Reina could use the cuddles - alarmingly so - but her team worry enough over her as it is, and they’re all probably asleep by now. She can’t burden them with this. Not again. Not for the tenth year in a row. They deserve to move forward in the way she can’t - or to properly mourn without having to babysit her, too.

Near to tears at the feeling of utter desolation slowly creeping in from the back of her skull, Reina reaches for her phone. She could call someone, maybe? Surely she knows someone still awake at this hour? 

Reina pauses, her tipsy mind defogging for a second, reminding her that she does not, in fact, know anyone. Other than her one friend back in Galar, (who is most assuredly either dead asleep or just barely waking up for work right now) her contacts list consists of the PokeCenter, two numbers that are no longer in service and never will be again, and name that never had a number to begin with, and her boss. Her workaholic, insomniac boss. 

Whom she has the stupidest fucking crush on. 

(Let it be said that poor states of mind, coupled with desperation, mixed with alcohol and budding affection, will dampen even the shrudest of impulse control. It is a formula to be feared.)

Reina’s holding her phone against her ear before she even fully processes she’s hit ‘call’. It vibrates the side of her head, the dull ringing on the line making her feel dizzy as the tipsiness rolls back in. She can’t tell if she likes it or not. 

The phone rings twice, three times, then picks up with a muted ‘click.’ 

“Miss Kageyama?”

Reina sucks in a deep, sharp breath at the sound of his voice. It’s like ice being pressed over a patch of scalded flesh, a soothing balm in auditory form, and for a moment she feels the horrible jitters subside just a little. 

But then she realizes what he’s said and her mouth pulls into a frown. 

“...Helllllllo?”

“Yoooooooooou,” she slurs accusingly, “are still at work.” She huffs. “Why are you still at work?”

There is a moment of silence, wherein her boss is likely blinking at his phone screen in confusion. He chuckles, just once. It’s a tense, unsure sound that doesn’t seem to hold much humor, just exhaustion. It still sends a tingle through Reina’s core to hear it so close to her ear, and she unconsciously presses her thighs together for the span of a heartbeat. 

“You don’t know that,” he says, and it might be either a deflection or an attempt at teasing, but Reina is too far into the bottle to be able to tell right now. 

Instead of picking one, she settles for responding with a, (perfectly mature) “Yuh-huh. Do, too.” 

She hears him take a breath on the other end of the line, readying a reply, so she cuts him off before he can make it. “You said ‘Kageyama.’ Kageyama is what you call me at work. Off the clock is Reina.” Another huff, this one morphing into a faint whine at the tail end. There is a small, quiet pout to her voice as she adds, much softer, “...I like it when you call me Reina…” 

More silence follows; then, finally, there comes the muted crackle of a shallow exhale. “...Reina…”

But she cuts him off a second time with a hum that, again, is more of a whine. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” Reina sits back against the bare wall she’s been cuddled up to this whole time, defiant despite him not being able to see her. “You can’t call me that yet because you’re still at work.” She pouts, harder this time, petulant like a child and just as stubborn. “Go home. You need to sleep.” Her tone shifts, some old protective instinct half-remembered drifting up and out from its dank little corner and coloring her words like a scold. “And… and probably eat something, too. And water. You need to…” She pauses to get a better grip on her words as they get heavier on her tongue, thick with alcohol. She ‘hnn’s through her teeth in frustration. “Mm. Don’t… You’re gonna say you already did, and you’re a bad liar, so I’m gonna know.” A third huff - something that has evidently become a good part of her vocabulary tonight. “You need to clock out and… I care about you, you fucking… you dumbass. Okay? Take better care of yourself.”

As much as she would (and inevitable will) be appalled at herself without the haze of shitty vodka, any and all thoughts of her own plight - of the 12th - have been successfully, albeit temporarily, pushed from her mind as her bottled-up affection and concern for one of the only living contacts in her phone begins to pour out in ernest. She frowns, almost scowls, and feels hot tears prickle behind her eyes. She grimaces; they do not fall. 

“...Reina,” Emmet says softly. It’s patient, ever-so-slightly frosty, like his guard is up, professional mask crooked but in place - but it’s still kind, still that same quiet sort of comforting that’s been wrapping Reina’s heart tighter and tighter around his little finger for months. “Are you drunk?”

She barks a bitter laugh. “Not drunk enough.”

“Oooooookaaaay…” He sounds… worried? Reina isn’t entirely certain since she can’t see him, but from the way he draws out the word, she can picture the little furrow of his brows that Emmet does when he’s out of his depth. 

He pauses. Reina waits.

“I am Emmet. You sound… Not. Alright.”

She can’t think of a lie, and it doesn’t register as important to do so, so she simply tells him, “I’m not.”

She hears him exhale. Not a sigh, just an exhale. (There’s a difference, she’s noticed.)

“Can I help?” he asks her, voice quiet. 

Reina wants to sob. He’s so kind! Even now, at quarter-to-one in the morning, when she’s most likely breached half a dozen boundaries - both professional and personal - by calling him while drunk, and calling him names. She can’t even fathom it, can’t comprehend it; there is no way this man is real, and certainly no way she deserves to be anywhere near him. (Her chest aches as she reminds herself that her love for him has been doomed from the very start, that she’ll never be worthy, will never have anything to offer him besides the tattered remnants of a person long broken past repair.) A tear finally falls, and Reina is suddenly choking. She shakes her head, both forgetting and grateful for the fact that he can’t see her through the phone. 

“N-no,” she hiccups. Her whole body shudders. “No you can’t. It’s… today is bad.”

“Bad?” he repeats. 

She nods again, sucking in a watery breath. “Uh-huh. The day is bad. The… the 12th. It’s bad.” Another hiccup catches in her throat as she reaches up to scrub her sleeve against her eyes. 

Emmet stays quiet as she sucks in another breath that doesn’t fill her lungs. Suddenly she remembers what today is, why she’d called in the first place, why she’d needed to hear his voice. She coughs on an exhale; it becomes a low, pained whine. 

He calls her name softly, gently, Emmet the Subway Boss now replaced entirely by Emmet her friend, Emmet the man she’s fallen head over heels for so hard that she’s surprised she didn’t break something. 

She coughs again, giving him an, “Uh?” to show she’s heard him. 

“Why is the 12th bad?”

Reina makes a sound low in the back of her throat. She doesn’t know what it is, exactly, but it rattles at her chest, leaving her feeling scratchy and raw. Her back bows and her neck bends until she’s folded so far forward that her forehead nearly touches the boring carpet. “I… I can’t,” she chokes, “I can’t. It’s just. It’s bad. Today is bad.” She emphasizes the word again and again, as if that alone will tell him what he wants to hear, what she can’t bring herself to say lest it break her down more than a single night’s sleep will be able to fix. Or at least, tape her back together. 

But she keeps going. 

Reina takes another wobbly, tearful breath. “But you’re not. You’re not, and that’s why I needed…” She sniffs. “You’re so nice it hurts.”

Emmet gives an airy, vaguely nervous giggle, unsure. “Uh. Thank you?”

Reina shakes her head until she’s dizzy. “Nooooo, you don’t - don’t get it. I have to tell you I love you. I have to. That’s what… I have to tell you today because… because…” She can’t get it out. No matter how she tries, she can’t tell him why it has to be today. She can’t tell him that today is the day she needs to cling to the memory of the people she loves and can no longer tell. She can’t give him the words to say that she needs to cling to him now, as well, because he’s the one person she can tell, and it feels like she’ll die if she doesn’t tell him before it’s too late to say it to him, too. 

And yet. 

“...Because today is bad?” he asks. And it’s so, so gentle, like he knows anyway - or if nothing else, he can guess. He knows there’s something important, something painful, even if he doesn’t know what it is. 

“Yeah,” she whispers. And it’s enough. 

Neither one of them says anything for a while after that. Emmet simply stays on the line as she cries openly into her hand. She can hear him breathing faintly, and it’s comforting to know he’s still there despite it all. Eventually, eventually, her sobbing slows, and Reina hears his voice once more softly calling her name. 

“Reina? Still with me?”

She takes a deep breath and lets it back out. It only quavers a little bit this time. 

“...Yeah.”

Emmet hums. “Good.” There’s a pause, like he’s thinking. “You should go to bed,” he says, and though it’s kind, there’s a slight edge to it, the barest hint of an authoritative tone. “Drink water first; you’re going to be verrrry dehydrated after this. Can you do that for me?”

She’s too wrung out to argue anymore. Besides, it’s… nice. To hear him say that; it stirs the same echoes that her own scolding had before - all that remains of a time long past. “Yes, Sir,” she breathes, already feeling the exhaustion settling in. 

“Good,” he says again. Then, gentler, “Do you need tomorrow off?”

Reina feels her stomach sink. “N-no. Please no, I don’t want–”

“Okay,” he shushes (kind, so goddamn kind.) “No tomorrow off. No leaving you alone. It’s okay.” 

She settles back against the wall, relief flooding her veins to drive out the panic. “Thank you.”

He just hums. 

A moment passes before he speaks again. “Reina?”

“...Yeah?”

“Go to bed now.”

She swallows the sticky, scratchy lump in her throat and wipes at the tear tracks on her face. She can do that, she thinks. She can do that now. “...Okay.” 

“Okay?”

“Okay,” she agrees. “But… Only if you do, too.” 

That earns her a quiet chuckle, this one much more like an actual laugh. It’s tired, breathy, but real. 

“I am Emmet. It’s a deal.”

Reina giggles faintly in return. “Cute,” she whispers. 

“I… mmm.” 

Reina giggles again at his obvious attempt to stifle the familiar verbal tic - it’s a sign he’s flustered, and it makes her body feel warm to hear it. “Hee. Cute.”

There is an exasperated (flustered) sigh. “Good NIGHT, Miss Kageyama," he huffs, but it’s a bit less stern than it’s likely meant to be. 

“Reina,” she corrects.

“I am Emmet. Go. To. Bed.”

She snorts. “Going.” 

Her smile fades then, slowly melting into something… not quite peaceful, but calmer than she’s felt in a long time. It’s better, even if it’s not completely better. It gives her the strength to whisper one last thing before she heeds her boss’s orders and passes out on the carpet, wrapped up in her travel blanket. 

“...I love you.”

(And if, right before she hangs up, there’s a too-quiet whisper in return, she just chalks it up to her imagination, not so far gone in the last dregs of her intoxication to believe she’s heard him say it back.)

[mrs-steve-harrington]

Thank you for tagging me @elder-flower! Not sure what this is going to look like by the time I reach the end of it, but I'm gonna try and have fun along the way :D

Rules: post the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular), your top 4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year, your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year, your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year, and your number 1 favorite line you’ve written this year! 

TOP 5 WORKS - not in any particular order

Sleeves - A very self-indulgent Antwan/Keys ficlet I wrote towards the beginning of the year. I remember that, at the time, I thought I was already pretty much done writing Free Guy fic. Writing it at all had been more about getting a different fic to no longer show up under Recent Works on my ao3 dash. Then the idea for this struck me one day while rolling up the sleeves on a button down shirt I don't often wear. It was a lot of fun to write (who knew wrist touching could be so sexy??) and I'm still really proud of it, tbh.

as long as you'll have me - This Steve/Nancy ficlet was written for my pre-July Flash Bingo card. It didn't get much attention, but before season 4 aired, Stancy fic got basically none anyway (and even less when using the Dead by Daylight stuff), so that was expected. I still like it, though. It's not very long, but it has some of my favorite angst in it with Steve being sure Nancy is only kissing him because he's familiar in this strange, dangerous dimension they've ended up in. idk, I just dig it!

Don't Hurt Me - This is a Steve/Nancy ficlet that I wrote for 2021's fandomtrees, but of course it wasn't revealed until January of this year (and I think I probably actually only finished it right before reveals anyway haha). I'd been wanting to write a stancy soulmate au for @stevethehousewife and came across the idea of soulmates being unable to physically harm each other while trying to come up with ideas. I wondered how that might change the alley scene in s1 and started going from there. Again it's Stancy so it didn't get much in the way of attention, but I'm really happy with how it turned out! Plus, there can literally never be too many soulmate fics for any of my ships.

The Craziest Things Happen in Hawkins - A general (no ships), Steve-centered ficlet written for the July Break Bingo that I just really like! It doesn't really have an ending because I couldn't get to one in the time limit (and I was determined to get a BINGO before the month ended). But I don't really care about that. It has exactly what I wanted in it: protective Steve sacrificing himself so that Joyce doesn't get hurt (and so that Jonathan and Will and El don't lose someone important to them so soon after Hopper's death). I'm especially fond of Steve acting like his dad will totally pay a ransom for him when he knows it's a lie, and also knows he probably won't make it back from this. I just don't get to write protective Steve enough because I have too much fun with angsty Steve, but this was great!

Answering Your Call - My first written and published ABO fic! Of course it would be for Stranger Things and Jonathan/Steve/Nancy. I'd have it no other way. This was originally written for an event in the 30+ Fic Writers discord server I'm in (though I never added it to that collection because the people there are lovely and tend to comment on event fics even in fandoms they don't know and I didn't want anyone to feel pressured into reading it if they wouldn't have normally gravitated towards it). I've always been too intimidated by ABO stuff because there's so much of the au that squicks me, and I still have trouble articulating what I want from it myself. But I loved getting to write protective alpha Nancy and Super Growly and Protective Jonathan refusing to let omega Steve get hurt. There's that touch of angst that I love (and would make even angstier if I ever continued with it), but also some comfort and idk, it's just good stuff imo.

TOP 4 CURRENT WIPS - also in no particular order

Steve presents as an omega late (Stoncy) - A fic where Steve always secretly hoped he would present as an omega because he liked the idea that he might be wanted, might be taken care of, might be able to have children and a big family after feeling very alone in his own family. And he does eventually present as an omega, but it happens post-S4 and rather than cause any problems for everyone, he keeps it a secret. That way none of the kids feel bad about moving on after high school, and the adults won't worry about someone needing to stick around either because he's keeping an eye on things. (People do not see omegas as weak, just important and they wouldn't want him stuck with the weight alone).

The real meat of the fic won't start until after all of this, when he goes into crisis after his body starts rejecting his suppressants and Nancy and Jonathan are brought in to help him, resulting in the three of them forming a bond while he's in heat (but without the non/dub-con sex that accompanies this sort of thing usually) and him angsting about forcing them into something they couldn't have wanted (but of course the three of them having been pining for each other for YEARS).

soulmate au (Stoncy) - Siiiiiigh. The very same soulmate au I've been working on since, idk, 2019 or 2020 or something. A long ass time. But while unsuccessfully trying to get it finished for Fandom Trumps Hate this year, I ended up figuring out how to get to the ending. It's just a matter of actually writing the damn thing. There's only gonna be 3 Stoncy readers left by then, but whatever. This is still the most self-indulgent fic I've ever worked on and I love it so much. I want other people to be able to read it!!

anything (anything) for you part 2 (Stoncy) - Another wip that has been in the works for a long, long time. Two more chapters are written, but I've been stuck on Chapter 4 for over a year or something. But I've brainstormed with a couple of friends and I think I have a solid idea for where it should go. I dug myself into a bit of a hole with their relationship and it took a while to figure out how Nancy and Jonathan could possibly find out that Steve was faking his feelings for Jonathan in desperation to keep being allowed to date Nancy, without them ending things. But it should be good. Just another thing that I have to actually try to write, which is unfortunately the hardest part.

Deal with Vecna (Vecna/Steve) - A fic where, in the aftermath of hearing some harsh things about himself, Steve decides to try and trade his life for Max's because then at least he'll have done something to help. Only Vecna decides he'd rather have Steve's body than take his life. I've gotten the whole first part done, but I'm still struggling with where I want it to go and whether or not Steve should be saved.

3 BIGGEST IMPROVEMENTS

None! I may have actually gotten worse at both writing AND finishing things!! But it was a really hard year of writing for me. It's whatever!

TOP 2 RESOLUTIONS

Post at least 1 fic per month next year. This year I went through a stretch where I didn't post anything for a whole month (maybe two?) and it fucked with my mentally and emotionally. I hate it. So I would like to try and keep that from happening again!!

Be even MORE self-indulgent. If only a handful of people are gonna enjoy my stuff anyway, I might as well put everything I like into a fic without taking other people into consideration (I say knowing full well this will not happen but I can dream).

NUMBER 1 FAVORITE LINE

You don't even want to know how many fics I skimmed through to try and find any lines that worked well on their own. Not even sure how much this one does. But it stood out to me and I don't think it's too shabby.

— Every step of the way, some part of him is touching Keys' arm—the ends of his fingers as he holds him in place, the knuckles of his thumbs when he tugs the material taut.

Tagging: @stevethehousewife @urisarang @readythefanons @tkwritesdumbassassins

[eldritch-spouse]

Hey, just followed your blog!!! I think you're super talented BTW!

Um...with that being said (and I do genuinely mean it), how would Bregg treat a kind, short, overly-apologetic s/o who doesn't treat themself very nicely? Like, doesn't take pride in anything they do, doesn't say anything nice about themself unless it's in the form of a self-deprecating joke, etc??

And uh...yeah, this is completely self-indulgent lol I have no idea if you've even done something like this before, my apologies if you have!

- 🐶 Anon

(Idk if you do the "Anon" thing on here but if you do and that hasn't been claimed, I would like to claim it lol) (sorry if this is a bother at all BTW)

[I do tag users, but I've never really tagged anons to be honest.Maybe one day I'll go back and try to tag every anon, but I'm not sure if it's worth the hassle. I'll remember you though, even without the tag!]

Breg with a self-deprecating s/o

As usual, it takes a good while before Breg realizes how mean you are to yourself. Really, he can't help but see you in such a positive, bright light that he sort of assumes you share this view, projects it even. He thinks the way you apologize all the time is just you being polite, he does it all the time too!;

The state of your self-confidence only starts slowly sinking into his thick skull when you simply refuse to take any of his compliments at face value. Breg says you're skilled at something and you immediately downplay it. He calls you smart and you say you're below average. He whispers about how you're gorgeous and you call yourself ugly right after;

It just doesn't sit well with him;

You're doing a much better job than him at merely existing. You're everything in Breg's little world, you've anchored him to reality and you've given him a goal in his confusing life ever since the facility. He doesn't know much about the human way of life, but you make him want to learn. Just so Breg can be more like you. Because he thinks you're that perfect;

Now obviously, he can't put this into words very well because he's an egghead;

So you've essentially acquired an eight foot tall, massive cheerleader of a monster boyfriend. This dude will embarass you the moment you start talking shit about yourself. Breg has the capacity to be loud and grab people's attention, so you're in for real trouble;

Did you just say you're boring? Everyone look at my awesome mate, they do the coolest things I've ever seen, I love them so much- *starts kissing you everywhere*;

And even at home, if you start talking yourself down out of nowhere Breg is just going to manually shut your mouth and reaffirm what he knows is tue-;

You're his favorite person in the entire world and he won't allow you to ever slander yourself in his presence.

[dirtangeldean]

about me!

"first of all, through cas all things are possible, so jot that down" - me

hi! i'm ren. 30. queer/bi. trans (tme). Black. pronouns: he/they. femme (ish). outside of tumblr, i write on ao3 + vocal! feel free to tip!

fics: but i’m singin’ like a bird ‘bout it now. aka my self-indulgent hoziernatural communicationnatural 15x18 fix-it fic [ complete! ] + floorboards creak... [ch. 6/10!] aka my nycnatural brownstone!au with beekeeper/cat cafe employee!cas, mechanic/aspiring photographer!dean wip fic!

poems: long distanced kiss + what makes them fit to be king? + the hem of his garment

casual projects:

#dirtangel500 - 500 follower celebration!

#dirtangelrewatch - my thoughts/ramblings on my next go around

#dirtangelastro - gonna expand on this later when i have spoons but basically figuring out chart activation. what in each person's chart facilitated actions, not justifications (i dislike justifications)

#d.constructed - curated thoughts about dean

i’m tracking tag #da.tags & my url @dirtangeldean, feel free to tag me in anything! no need to ask. ✨

i'll also trigger warning or tag whatever is necessary for you to have a great time, feel free to message/dm/ask whatever you feel most comfortable with!!

--

i missed spn fandom so i remade and came back, i heard there was a wedding?

but seriously, i'm not too huge on multilevel fandom labels bc i'm a deancoded cas gay with billie flair and jack sensibilities but i do ship destiel & deancassie plus deanbenny and i think samwena, saileen, casmick and drowley are all variably interesting. really i like most ships i just want people to be happy but no winstuff or kline stuff pls i cant no angels either for the love of all things pls they’re siblings

uhm, idk what else to share so i'm gonna end this by saying i may start writing poetry and fics. spn was my first ever fandom experience. and i've liked spn since the start of the live premiere so after my rewatch it'll be personally interesting to me to see what i create and share after folks have shared so much. idk! i'm excited ✨

--

ongoing project: currently in the middle of cataloguing random heritage posts from/about spn tumblr. check it out! it's 2k13,2k12, & 2k11 respective from jail and here. various/misc/post 2013 lore will be here!

--

i have a postlimit space which is a side blog aka @dirtangeldeanjail

currently jailed: yes [_] or no [x]

idk how to end this so bye

xoxo - dirtangeldean

[kenmaskitten10]

Dilf Deku Headcanons

Midoriya Izuku x GN!Reader

warnings: swearing, NSFW themes (nothing graphic just briefly mentioned),brief mention of bullying/scars, idk this is pretty tame nothing is really described... if u don't like dilfs then don't read this :)

a/n: okay! this is my first time writing/publishing anything on Tumblr so please go easy on me haha... I've had ridiculous Deku brain rot lately and I decided I had to jot a few thoughts down. I'm playing with the idea of turning this into a writing blog, but I am undecided! If anyone wants to thirst for one Izuku Midoriya please come talk to me please anyway without further ado here are some Dilf!Deku hcs.... I'm playing around with doing a NSFW version after this so if you would like to see that let me know!

w/c: 1,498

Okay everyone today I want to talk about Dilf!Izuku

This may be controversial but I personally believe that he has the most Dilf potential out of any of the class 1A boys and no I will not be taking criticism at this time

Sorry but even when he’s younger he has Dilf energy - he’s caring, considerate, takes your feelings into account like a dad he just wants to take care of his baby

oh fuck this man no no no

And listen, here me out on this one….. he has more dilf potential than Bakugo and allow me to tell you why

We can all agree that Bakugo has been confident his entire life, so of course he’s going to be confident when he’s older?? duh

But IZUKU is a different story altogether, he’s never felt confident in his life

His whole childhood he was looked down on for being quirkless, and bullied by someone he thought was his friend kachaan

THEN he got a quirk but oh every time he uses it it breaks all his fucking bones and leaves him with all these scars, and he appreciates them because of what they represent but also he’s young when he gets them, he’s already prone to insecurity and when he’s younger ESPECIALLY i think they just remind him of previous failures

He only started to gain a little bit of confidence in his UA days, but it takes time to rebuild yourself after you’ve been torn down for so long, so I honestly imagine he doesn’t even feel an inkling of confidence until his third year or later and even then, it’s new, it’s unfamiliar, he doesn’t totally know how to act

Because yes, by his third year, he’s starting to realize, oh wow okay, I have an incredible quirk and all these new abilities that I can control better, and wow people are paying attention for good reasons , because he’s tall and attractive, probably cuts his hair undercut Izuku supremacy and he’s made some solid friends who help boost his confidence too

But despite all this, deep down he still feels like that quirkless little kid who has to work three times as hard as anyone else and still doesn’t get the recognition he deserves

But OH BOY

DILF IZUKU??? This man is dripping with confidence

he’s older now. he’s overcome a lot. he’s gone to therapy, and worked his way through the pro hero ranks until he earned his number one spot fair and square, that’s something no one can take away from him

He’s loaded now (see below because I go on a whole tangent), he has nice tasteful style that can only come with age and experience

He knows he’s hot now, because its simply no longer something that can be denied, anyone with eyes can see how attractive he is

If he catches you staring at him, he doesn’t shy away. His cheeks might tint slightly, but he stares right back with the biggest smirk on his face. “See something you like, angel?”

Probably finds reasons to show off slightly but he’s Dilf!Izuku so it’s subtle, it’s meant just for you and god does it drive you crazy

The way he’ll reach for and grab at things when he’s around you because he knows you like his hands (he wants to hold your bags and please let him he just wants to feel needed)

They way he stands behind you while you cook, or work, or read…. He sees you sitting or standing so peacefully and he’ll come up behind you to check out what it is you’re doing. He’ll lean down slowly, quietly, stopping when his breath is on your neck and your nose is filled with his scent, and take a quick peek at whatever it is you’re working on. It takes you a moment to turn around, your heart starting to beat faster in your chest due to his looming presence behind you (I DON’T KNOW WHY THIS IS HOT TO ME IT JUST IS OKAY). When you finally turn to face him, his face breaks into a small smile of victory as his strong hand catches your jaw in a gentle grip and he places an achingly soft kiss to your lips before saying “You look so cute when you’re concentrating,”. As you’re about to go in for another, he lets you go and stands up again, his eyes twinkling. “No no, you’re working so hard baby, don’t let me distract you,” WHEN ALL HE WANTED WAS TO DISTRACT YOU and he succeeded and now you’re all hot and bothered, with no hope of resuming what you were doing

Dilf Deku is a tease I know he is but it’s okay he’ll make it up to you later ;)

He’s got shorter, slightly more cropped hair with grey mixed in with the green, his face more lean and angular… not to mention years of pro hero work have toned his body into an absolute work of art I’m gonna pass out just thinking about it

Freckles splashed across his skin like hundreds of little constellations, accented by scars and marks from old wounds (which he’s come to appreciate - they show how hard he’s worked, how much he’s sacrificed to get to where he is now) he’s muscular but I don’t think he’s quite as big as All Might (his fighting style is a lot different so of course he would build muscle in different places) so this means LEGS LEGS LEGS

LEG MUSCLES FOR DAYS

THICK FUCKING THIGHS oh my god

And holy shit his back muscles too WHEW sometimes in the morning when he gets up before you, you watch him sit on the edge of the bed and flex his shoulders and arms to stretch out in the hazy morning light and Jesus Christ

Dilf Deku is older now, he’s spent his entire life working himself too hard and he missed out on a lot of the fun, impulsive, chaotic things young people do, so I think he wants to let loose a little in his older age, have some fun for once

And what’s more perfect than sweet, youthful, tantalizing little you to indulge in ?

He’s so doting, just wants to make you feel special and cared for

And on that note, if you will indulge me for a moment

he’s fucking RICH like

He’s the number one pro hero, he has brand deals on brand deals on brand deals

And I don’t mean to slander All Might and Endeavor, but in terms of a hot, fuckable number one pro hero, Deku has them beat by a landslide so I imagine he has a wider range of brand deals too, because he can sell the sex appeal angle

I mean can you imagine him in interviews? Interacting with fans? Confident yes, but still soft spoken and kind, almost gentle but anyone can tell he’s completely in control, of himself, of the interview, of the audience, this man has the entire country world wrapped around his little finger

All this to say he’s DRIPPING WITH MONEY

he’s like the guy that overtips an OBSCENE amount like if the waiter is really nice he’ll tip like $300 dollars and won’t even blink (I know they don’t tip at restaurants in Japan but this is more for vibes yk)

sugar daddy deku isn’t a stretch it’s a REALITY

Y’all can be officially together or not, either way Deku loves to spoil his precious little y/n

All you have to do is smile sweetly and ask, and he’s absolute putty in your hands

Complies with even the most egregious of your demands, because hey, he has the money to spare, and how could he say no when you look so cute asking so politely?

GOOD TASTE too like he has a lot of money but he knows how to spend it 😏

Additionally he’s, ya know, him, so he’s insanely charitable and donates to charities, go fund me, personal Venmo accounts of fans that need it

if a fan has like a go fund me for some reason that catches his eye, he’s going to donate and he’s going to donate a lot (A LOT)

he doesn’t even do it for the press, he does it bc he’s a good person but my GOD the press eats it up and so do the fans

These hc’s are so self indulgent but all this to say

Dilf!Deku gets what he wants when he wants it and no one is standing in his way

So when he decides it’s you he wants? Well then it’s you he’s going to get!

[xoxo-teddybear]

Okay Yall, ima openly rant here and this is about BODY IMAGE specifically MY BODY IMAGE

Tell me ur thoughts <3

OK! I hope this doesn’t come off as ungrateful or blindsided or conceited or shit but I am unable to openly love my body.

YALL, I FUCKING LOVE MY BODY! Especially because I have worked so hard for the body I wanted. I worked hard for my small waist, flat tummy, PHAT ass and THICC thighs. I got extremely lucky to have nice titts and unnoticeable hip dips. AND I LOVE MY BODY. My body makes me feel happy especially after reaching my goal with all my exercise, dieting, and hard work.

(It’s not over exaggerated like Kylie Jenner or some shit but it’s nice and hour-glassy, you know?)

But the thing is..

I am not openly allowed to love my body for some reason. Because when I do I get told my body is fake or ppl only want me because of my body or I am nothing without my body. Whenever I say I love my body, I am sent hate for..liking myself????

Yes ppl think my body is nice but they are negatively saying “yeah, your body is nice but that’s all you got. Don’t think you’re the shit bc you got a body.”

And it’s just like..damn :(

After all that work and I can’t even be openly proud of myself for it?

Not only that but there be times where I want to write for my body type but then here comes the people going “UGH! That body type is so fake! Nobody has that body type! Stop promoting fake body and unhealthy body standards!”

But like…I have that body type. So would it be selfish of me to self indulge and write for my body type..on my own blog???

Idk, what I want to say is I JUST WANNA BE ABLE TO OPENLY LOVE MY BODY! And don’t even hit me with the “ummm chubby people have it way worse.”

Yes guys. I am well aware of that being an issue too! BODY IMAGE IN GENERAL IS AN ISSUE BC EVERYBODY ALWAYS GOT A PROBLEM! Literally! Nobody’s ever satisfied! You got a body society claims as ugly and you get shit for it. You got a body society claims as pretty and you get shit for it. EVEN THE KAR-JENNER CLAN WHO STARTED THESE BODY STANDARDS GET SHIT FOR THEIR BODIES! AND THEY CREATED SOCIETY STANDARDS!

Also! If I wrote a quick fic about a reader with my body type..would y’all be mad at me for it?