#if the sound effects go on for a weird amount of time

[diseaseriddencube]

Attention! I have created an Akudama Drive Visual Novel

you can download it HERE (unzip it and click on the application, it is to be played on Windows and in windowed mode only, turn your audio on) (I pray everything works smoothly 🙏)

This VN is very short and based on my previously written fanfiction, which you can read here if you wish for more context (the fanfic itself isn't even 2k words, so you can already anticipate that this game is much shorter than that)

TW for blood halfway through!! also cannibalism...

[hasnomoxxie]

So, if the Smile Dip Dog swaps with Bill, did he still destroy his own dimension? A dimension full of colorful talking animals? Because I’ve gotta say, that already sounds even sadder.

Right on the money boss!

Here's how I think it'd go!

First off the zodiac, this initially was the way that the beast was split and banished to the astral plane.

Now that this is here, I can list out all the main swaps hoho!

Dipper ⇆ Stan

Mabel ⇆ Ford

Wendy ⇆ Lazy Jane

Soos ⇆ Manly Dan

Abuelita ⇆ Tyler

Pacifica ⇆ Fiddleford

Gideon ⇆ Bud and mrs Gleeful (little villain couple to rival the stan duo)

Robbie ⇆ Preston

THE BEAST ⇆ BILL CYPHER

The pups are silly and playful in nature, opting to try and make things as brightly coloured and 'fun' as possible. Though this usually results in freakish abominations that do things that really shouldn't be done. Though they're not stupid, they know exactly what they're doing and how it effects others- It's mainly just for their own enjoyment.

After destroying their universe full to the brim of brightly coloured talking animals, 'The Beast' was split into halves and banished to the astral plane. This meant their reality warping abilities was whittled down to being intense illusions and hallucinations, however they typically tend to use it to try and restore their original look when they are seen by people- though that only works for a short time.

Pretty much anyone could theoretically see the dogs, either through extreme meditation or having a suspiciously high amount of sugar in your system. Safe to say, a food company having a suspicious amount of complaints from parents saying their kids are now 'unresponsive', 'babbling gibberish and mysteriously disappearing' or were 'seeing God and He's a Dog' was enough to get the entire line of candy shut down. Mabel was unlucky enough to stumble onto some smile dip during a late night work session and met the pups. They quickly bonded and the pups were leading Mabel to the weirdness left right and centre, with the end goal of opening a 'weirdness rift'.

A portal.

Safe to say, Mabel couldn't do this on her own. She's smart but not- dimensional science smart. So she called on the smartest person she knew, her twin brother Mason. At this time, Mason wasn't really doing as well as he could have, being attracted to the extraordinary he was prone to being the laughing stock of his university- but a solid breakthrough. Money wasn't an issue, especially when Mabel's old friend Pacifica was willing to help lend a hand and be on site (despite lying about her financial security in order to help her friends). So- the three of them set to building the portal.

Due to unknown circumstances, Pacifica leaves the project. When Mabel finally realises the true intention of the portal and tries to shut it down, Mason is reluctant to do this- fearing that it may be sabotaging his last chance at being recognised for his scientific works and being slightly jealous that Mabel found all of the weirdness instead of him. Either way, a small fight happens, ending with Mabels disappearance, leaving her scrapbooks behind.

The project failed and the pups still aren't free, but it's a matter of time before someone eventually sets them free

I'm litterally figuring out the timeline as I write but some things are set in stone. I'm just figuring out how to show it all off- I did get alot of outsite help for this too ^^

How would y'all feel about comics? or animations? What particular scenes? I feel like tackling this bit by bit would be the most effective way to go about it, especially for what the world is like in this flipped version.

I dunno this is my first time doing something like this umm, if this doesn't make sense lmk and I'll revise some stuff

umm

bazzinga, thanks for yer question ^^

[unholybacon355]

Kinktober Day 29: Eunha x M! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

A/N: I know has been like a million years since my last post, and we are already on december. But I'm decided to finish my Kinktober run even if take em a whole year. After all I just need to write two more ahahahah But maybe I came out with something in between.

It was a feeling like being between clouds, or at least that's the best way you have to describe it. Eunha thighs are soft and squeezable so they are practically molding around your shaft.

Despiste that you prefer fuck her pussy or plump ass, you still had to admit that fucking wEunha’s thighs have it own charm. Also while she's giving you her back you're able to see her big ass, with her soft cheeks spilling out of her booty shorts.

You were on the couch with your legs open while Eunha was standing in front of you, with your shaft between her pressed thighs and her hands on your knees to help her to balance her own weight. You could only moan while she was pleasuring you on this way.

Is truly fascinating how she can manage to make you feel so much pleasure with this Not so usual way, but for real this is so fantastic. Her honey thighs molds around your meat and you were sure at this point there is an imprint of your dick on her skin. 

Maybe it wasn't so necessary because it was clear that her thighs are so soft, but the amount of lube that you applied on Eunha's thighs was making this experience even better. Making her skin do wet sounds with her movements.

You wish Eunha wasn't wearing anything so you could see her big ass in all of its glory, maybe squeeze her cheeks or play with her holes. But being real this already was too much, the experience of your dick being pressed between a pair of meaty thighs like those already have you spilling pre cum. That's the effect Eunha has upon you.

“Not yet Babe.” Suddenly Eunha stops her movements and parts her thighs to release your shaft. With a clean movement she takes off her shirt revealing her big tiddies, and repeating the movement she makes your wishes real and also takes off her shorts. Now she's completely naked in front of you and in some stupid way the thing that makes you harder isn't her pussy but her soft tummy. “I wanna see you.” 

You're on the clouds because of the pleasure and can't manage to answer so you just let her do it. Eunha puts again your dick between her juicy thighs only that this time she's facing you, so you can perfectly see her tiddies bounce while she starts trusting again. You want them in your mouth, you wanna taste those big pink nipples and tease them with your tongue, and it looks like Eunha is reading your mind because she hugs you pressing your face against her chest.

Now the pose is kinda weird and not comfortable but allows you not only to suck her tiddies, but also squeeze her but. Before the meat of Eunha's buttocks was spilling out of her shorts and now is doing it between your fingers. Her ass as well as her thighs is so soft, also molding at your wishes as if Eunha were made of some fantastic clay that came out of your most dirty dreams.

But she's real and is in front of you, pleasuring you, stroking your shaft with her honey thighs. And this new pose and her nakedness make your shaft rub against the soft and wet folds of Eunha's pussy. Now your dick is drenched on her pussy juices and with the movement her slick is covering her thighs too. Eunha's wetness makes her thighs even softer, if that is possible.

Eunha's big pink nipples are so hard inside your mouth, making a nice contrast with the soft skin of her breast. Your tongue plays with them with expertise, pleasuring one while jiggling the other.

All the feelings combined are so wonderful and since she is doing all the effort here you just have to enjoy, enjoy and let you go. You grab a handful of Eunha's soft buttocks and that's the final pleasure you need to hit the climax.

You start pouring cum out of your dick, making Eunha's thighs more shiny and slippery, mixing your sperm with her pussy juices. Her thighs are now a complete mess thanks to your combined work. And you two are panting after what was a pretty good climax. 

[ghost-proofbaby]

when you know, you know. (e.m.)

summary: air hockey has never been so romantic.

warnings: it's alluded to that reader is wearing red lipstick. not edited.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

wc: 1.8k+

a/n: a very late valentine's day gift for you all (and eddie). also, the fact i've never written proper mechanic eddie... what a shame.

“Yes!” 

If any of the nearby children flinched, you didn’t notice. You were too wrapped up in your victory, going as far as to partake in a terribly embarrassing dance on your end of the air hockey table as Eddie shakes his head slowly. 

“You definitely cheated,” he deadpans, a twitch of a smile nearly giving him away as he leans down to pick the puck out of the slot below on his end, “There’s no way you’re about to beat me in under five minutes, again.” 

You smile, lips painted red under the lowlights of the arcade as you lean over the table and taunt him, “Or maybe it’s just a skill issue. I wouldn’t keep beating you if you were actually a professional in air hockey like you’d claimed, Munson.” 

Three dates – tonight makes four – and you still hadn’t quite worked out how you’d managed to capture the attention of the boy before you. When he’d originally asked you out to coffee, you’d swallowed down all your excessive excitement just to answer him. The local mechanic that you’d been making heart eyes at every few months when you’d go in for an oil check, the one who hadn’t allowed the others at the shop to oversell you on a damn thing when you’d get your tires rotated. Who always smiled shyly as he’d bring you back your keys.

You’d figured the coffee date would last an hour if you were lucky. The two of you would spend more than five minutes in the same room together, he’d realize how overbearing you were, and that would be the end of it. Ridiculous crush effectively squashed. 

But it hadn’t. 

It had lasted hours, plural. Coffees finished and second lattes nursed until they’d gone cold, the outcome had been the exact opposite of your expectations. Your conversation had flowed effortlessly, common ground and common interests found with ease, and suddenly, Eddie was more than just some cute mechanic for your friends to tease you over. 

The first date had only ended due to his shift at the shop that afternoon. 

The subsequent sushi dinner date, and then the movie night the next week, had also lasted hours. 

“For someone who works on cars, you should be a lot better with your hands,” you poke gentle fun at him as he makes the first hit against the puck this time, far more careful than you had been when serving. 

“Or maybe I’m just determined to keep letting my pretty date win.” 

“And why would you ever do that?” 

Another hit from your mallet, the sharp tapping of your aggressive push ringing out over the sound of nearby machines. You don’t dare to glance in the direction of the ruckus, but you’re pretty sure someone has just won an exciting amount of tickets based on the squeals of glee. 

“I dunno,” Eddie pauses to shrug after he hits the puck once more, his guard dropping. You’re ruthless as you take the opportunity to shoot the puck straight into ‘goal’ on his side of the table. A straight shot, far too easy for your liking, but you still celebrate the victory with another embarrassing dance, “Maybe it’s because I’m into that ridiculous dance they keep doing whenever they score.” 

You immediately stop your little jumps, eyes widening, a rush of embarrassment heating you up from the inside out as Eddie’s eyes stay glued on you. The table powers down as he makes his way around it, feet bringing him right to you. 

You’d always thought Eddie would find you weird, or odd, or unappealing after that coffee date, but the outcome had been better than you could have possibly conceived.

He was an absolute weirdo as well. 

Fondness overtakes his features just like it had on that coffee date when you’d accidentally snorted at one of his jokes, and your heart flutters eagerly. You can’t believe there had been a time you’d only watch him from behind glass, trying to not get caught as you would blatantly stare at him as he’d work on your car. A time when you’d only see his curls up in loose buns rather than framing his face as they were now, a time when you couldn’t even shake his hand due to it being covered in oil. 

That had all only been a month ago, but you already couldn’t imagine your life without Eddie Munson in it. 

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he chuckles as he stops in front of you, smirk deepening the dimples you’d only noticed on your second date with him. He’d been too bashful the first date, ducking whenever his grin would grow too wide on you, biting his tongue on half the flirtatious remarks you wished he would have said. “You won, fair and square, so what’s your prize gonna be, valentine?” 

He also waited until the second date to kiss you. That had nearly killed you. 

“It’s not very fair if you let me win,” you whisper, unable to look away from his eyes. They’re a soft brown, a smooth honey, a nice sight for sore eyes. You kind of like the crinkles beside them, too. Kind of wonder what it would be like to wake up beside him, roll over, and kiss them – all before the sun ever rose. 

He reaches out and gingerly grabs your hand, calloused fingertips brushing your knuckles before he entangles your fingers with his. “Psh, who said I let you win? Maybe I just really suck at air hockey.”

“You just-”

You never get to finish your argument. He’s quick to swoop down, capturing your lips in his. The rudest of interruptions, and it still manages to weaken your knees. 

Each kiss only grows sweeter. And more confident, more sure. The first one had been timid, exchanged on your doorstep with boyish hesitation and meek desperation. But now, several kisses experienced since that night, all apprehension has melted. He lets his lips meld to yours, captures your bottom lip just tightly enough to give it a brief tug when he pulls away. Still soft, ever so sweet, and leaving you wanting for more. 

Four dates. All it took was four dates for him to make you a goner. 

“Now, that wasn’t fair,” you breathe out, betrayed by the smile that you wear. Your chest feels shaken up, impending explosion of mushiness and flowers and hearts and every single cliche the love songs on the radio could squeeze out.

“It was your prize.”

“I never said I wanted a kiss for my prize.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he puts a dramatic hand up to his chest, leaning back so dramatically that your hand instinctively reaches out to loop a finger in his jean pocket to keep him upright, “Would you like me to take it back, my fair maiden?” 

Four dates, and he makes it impossible to not imagine a future of this. Of silly banter, of gentle mornings spent kissing away crows feet, of cutting one another off with the most infuriating of methods. You’re starting to believe you’re just a hopeless romantic, and he’d spotted that from a mile away – he knew every single button to press to have you putty in his hands, and he was taking full advantage of it. 

You giggle, an honest to God giggle, as you say, “Hm, I’m not sure. I heard the return policies on those are a bit wonky.” 

If your friends thought you were insufferable when he was some stranger you just had a crush on, they would be vomiting at the sight of this. 

He leans into your space, close enough to smell his faint cologne and mint on his breath, “Are they? Well, lucky for you, I’m friends with the shop owner. Can definitely accept the return without a receipt. It won’t be a problem, ma’am. I swear it.”

He’s weird. He’s goofier than you could have imagined, snarkier than you could have dreamed, and more romantic than you had yet to uncover. He’s kind of perfect, but you wouldn’t dare say that to his face. Not yet, at least. 

You’re glad you had said yes when he’d asked days prior for you to be his Valentine. And you’re glad he hadn’t gone the boring route, showing up with just chocolates and flowers and calling it a day, but had instead dragged you out to this arcade for a night of adventures as he claimed. 

“And how would one go about returning a kiss, kind sir?” 

He answers wordlessly, bringing up a finger to tap on his lips. He goes as far as pouting them dramatically. 

He wants you to kiss him. 

Lucky for him, you want to kiss him, too. 

Your kiss is more chaste. Teasing as you lift up onto your tippy toes and only press your lips to his for a brief second before falling back. You leave him wanting more – it’s written all over his face, along with a blush that races right over the bridge of his nose. 

He’s cute. He’s cute, and he’s weird, and you really fucking like him. 

“Now that that’s over with,” you have to change the topic, move right along before your heart truly bursts from your chest, “I know what I want my prize to be.” 

He takes a moment to recover, pupils almost resembling hearts as he stares down at you. Eventually he pulls himself from your trance, shaking his head as he asks, “And what would that be?”

You’re the one taking his hand this time. If he gave you the time, you’d like to learn each callous and scar by heart. Trace over them in the middle of night, when it’s just you and him in the darkness beneath your sheets. Memorize the way they feel as he explores every curvature of your body and figure out which of the roughest patches would brush against your most sensitive bits in a way that would make you arch your back right into him. 

The two of you haven’t even discussed if that’s where the night might lead, but you’re sort of hoping the luck in the air doesn’t run out. 

“There’s an awfully pretty ring in the case up at the ticket counter,” you muse, knowing damn well the ring was the ugliest thing either of you had ever seen in your lives, “Think you’ve got the tickets to spare?” 

His hand gives you a squeeze. Something not too tight, something perfectly comfortable. It’s only the fourth date, it’s only the first month – it’s only the beginning. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he says, more earnestly than you’d expected, as he steals another kiss. 

You let him. You have this aching feeling in your chest that you’ll probably let him steal an endless amount from you for the rest of your life. 

When you know, you know. Or whatever the poets say.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

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[meanbossart]

Do you think Astarion eats, like, at all? Or is it just blood, and any food he eats he does for show and just kind of. Vomits up later? I mean alcohol works on him, and he gets boners, so there's SOME bio-processes happening in there.

The point is, that assuming he does in fact eat, I imagine DUDrow and Astarion going to town on a BBQ whole pig or cow, or some other blue rare piece of meat, and you walk in on them and you genuinely think for a second they're eating a person. But it's just a rather rare side of beef.

(Must be at least brought to a safe temperature, DUDrow can still get trichinosis)

As entertaining as the scenario is, I genuinely don't think Astarion eats!

At least within mine/ANE's lore he has no use for food. He can consume it and keep it down for a while, but it doesn't taste particularly great and he does need to regurgitate it sooner or later. Alcohol has no effect on him either, unless consumed second-hand by drinking from someone who's had it (not scientifically sound, I just think that's funny).

Obviously, it's a losing battle to try and apply biology to a DnD/mythological creature, so I'm all for people making up their own rules in that regard to make as interesting a character/life-state as they can.

Here's some aspects of vampirism as it applies to the canon I made up, and Astarion by extension:

Generally, a vampire's body is in stasis. It's in a stand-still that emulates the exact biology it had when it died.

if enacted within the appropriate amount of time, drinking blood and sleeping in caskets will regenerate most injuries, even ones that would be fatal to humans. The exceptions being: traumatic punctures to the heart, a beheading, or extended exposure to sun-light.

They are entirely immune to things like internal bleeding, infection, or organ failure. They are not immune to blood loss.

Hunger, proximity to running bodies of water, holy places, or entering homes without invitation will drain a vampire's vigor, perhaps even to the point of complete lethargy, but it won't kill them.

-And by "draining their vigor" I mean that they slowly begin to resemble rotting cadavers more and more in smell, appearance, and function.

Unless very freshly fed, a vampire will always emanate some kind of deathly, earthy scent. Said smell is specially apparent in their bodily secretions regardless of satiety.

They are very susceptible to bed-sores.

They have no means of biological reproduction. Their nut's dead.

If it's of any consolation to you, though, I've always had it in my mind that Astarion enjoys watching DU drow eat. So, we can still have the weird "walking into euphemistic cannibalism" scenario but now it's even stranger because one dude is just getting off to it in a corner instead of participating!

[brucewaynehater101]

Hello I have an idea for Tim.

What if he got those game screens pop up whenever he's doing some side missions or quests. And after that he'll get some cool and valuable stuff like: cool weapons with superpowers that are not from his world, advantages of gaining more information than the whole hero community, etc..

The Batfam probably thought that he was doing those missions because he was bored and wanted to relieve some stress, which is kinda true but whenever he does these quests he also makes a lot of allies from across the planets and helps him through it while also being part of the "Tim protector squad".

Also the screen will always congratulate him and give him some praise, plus the screen can also help Tim by upgrading his stuff or watching him from any danger and giving him a warning to be careful. Just a guy with his screen, what could go wrong? Hahah-

But. The screen can also give him some weird quest like "protect your loved one from [Redacted]" which confuses Tim but the screen doesn't have any power only providing him so who's the one controlling the screen???

Anyway these are just silly thoughts that I want to give :333

Heck yeah! I love exploring unusual/non-typical powers.

I really really want to develop this some more, so let's set up a power!

My favorite genre of games is horror. The fighting styles, gameplay, concepts, stick layouts, and all of that can be drastically different between games [at least Tim isn't stuck with game powers where he can't fight back]. Because of that, the end goal may be impossible to reach and thus changes to a new objective.

Here is an example of where this happened with Tim:

Convince Dick Grayson to become Robin Become Robin

Tim's thoughts and feelings can affect the missions he's given. He will never be given an objective he would not do (e.g. Kill Alfred). Not completing any task (side or main) can have consequences. Main ones have drastic outcomes that he can only somewhat control if he attempts them.

Upon completion, he gets points and rewards. His rewards are anything from new skills, connections, weapons, resources, etc.

His points can be used either in the "shop" or for his skill tree (Tim desperately wishes it was a "pay to play" game so he can get more points).

The shop has weapons, elixirs (one of which is Lazarus water), one use spells, maps, information/clues, outfits with effects, armor, etc.

His skill tree has three main branches: Body, Mind, and Soul.

For Body, he can enhance any of his characteristics to the upper limits of humans: eye sight, health, stamina, strength, sense of smell, etc. His points can also lower the difficulty or time needed to learn a very specific skill (ex. spending 5 points to decrease time needed to learn how to wield a pistol).

For Mind, he can hasten his thinking speed, create defenses against multiple mental attacks (including emotional manipulation and telepathy), decrease the mental energy required per tasks, decrease time spent learning languages/information, etc.

For Soul, this includes abilities to protect himself from magical/whatever interference, increase charm, increase ability to understand/read others' emotions, etc.

If he sounds OP, worry not! Tim suffers from never having enough points (he learned the hard way that he also needs to keep an amount saved up in case he suddenly needs to buy a tool or skill to save his or someone else's life.). There's so much he can buy, but there are only so many hours to complete side missions

Tim's least favorite quest was when he was chilling alone with his Zesti and suddenly got the notification:

Run

Jason's a jerk for scaring the shit out of Tim like that at TT

[faiell]

yapping about fics and commenting

sorry to yap but work is boring today and tumblr isn't blocked on my work computer LOL

ok it's abt that post where the writer friend stopped writing because they weren't getting the comments/kudos they wanted.

i'm like. an overeager fandom person. like i cannot get into a fandom without wanting to meet new people and make friends. i love yapping about whatever silly gay idiots i'm hyperfixating over. i'm all about community, and sharing the joy of fandom, and all that fun positive stuff.

i don't post my art for stats but like. that means nothing coming from me tbh. i get stats. i can't accurately predict what would happen if i stopped getting notes on my art, but i would probably keep drawing and keep posting, just maybe less confidently, and less often. i recognize that stats make it much easier and while it’s not my primary motivation, it definitely motivates me to keep posting.

and yet. for years, i never commented on fic. i think i left kudos? and i saw posts like this all the time about how writers were so sad they didn't get comments. and i would feel super guilty about it all the time. but i still wouldn't do it! it sounds stupid, but i would feel pressured. if i liked a fic a lot, it felt even more difficult to comment, because i thought i would have to somehow give back to the author everything that fic gave to me. i wanted to craft the perfect comment that could perfectly encapsulate everything a fic made me feel. and that was way too much pressure so i would just not say anything.

when i got into drarry, i started reading a shit ton of fic. and i still wouldn't comment. i left maybe... 2 or 3 comments, maybe, i think. i can't remember. but i had a lot to say and i WANTED the writers to hear that i had read it and liked it. i just... didn't comment! u know what i did instead? i just fucking straight up DM'd writers on discord and started gushing to them that i liked their fic. somehow i was confident enough to do that, but writing a comment still felt like too much pressure. ?? i don't understand it either, but in my head it felt like a writing assignment, but when I was in DMs it felt more like a conversation and so there wasn't any pressure to make it "good"? idk!! it's very weird.

then i wrote and posted my first complete fic. just a oneshot, nothing special, and i was like. UNREASONABLY nervous about posting it. like. i am a confident person, okay? i was going to make a burner AO3 account and post it under a different name so nobody would know it was me, and then never mention it to anyone except MAYBE super close friends. i got talked out of doing that (thanks i feel a bit silly about considering that now). and then i received my first comment on it, which was basically a two-liner where someone said they liked it and thanked me for writing it.

and i was like. ??...?????? ???????? ...??!!! because i felt like... uncontainable glee? i was freakishly happy. the amount of serotonin those two sentences gave me was definitely unnatural.

is that healthy? idk. will it continue? idk. LOL. i hope so? but idk, some people said it wears off if you write/post for a while. but whatever, the fact that one little comment like that could make my entire day blew my mind. tbh i thought writers were just exaggerating when they said stuff like that.

ever since then i started leaving comments! that shit's easy! like what was i overthinking for? i'm such a fucking tryhard! all i gotta say is that i liked it, and even the bare minimum can bring lots of joy to someone.

so basically what im trying to say is that negative reinforcement doesn't do shit!! it just makes people feel bad about themselves. that post is nasty for guilt-tripping readers like that, and i bet you it's going to have the opposite effect (or no effect tbh).

YAPPING FINISHED. for now.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Late night surprise

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 12

Prompt: Only one bed

Rated: G

CW: Aftermath of trauma

Tags: Fuff; Humor; Post Vecna; Established relationship; Platonic Stobin supremacy; There may be several beds, but only one of them has Steve in it

Notes: Another collab with the incredible @house-of-the-moving-image, the art is here! They're all so cute and scrungly and eepy, look at them!!!

The neon letters of the alarm clock read 01:57 when Eddie is startled by the sound of frustrated tossing and turning.

���Grmph?” he makes and sluggishly turns over. 

“Hey,” Steve interrupts his wrestling match with the pillow and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“‘s okay,” Eddie mutters, scooting closer into Steve’s warmth, linking their fingers. Steve lets him in willingly, sighs when Eddie kisses his knuckles. “Have you slept at all?” 

Steve shrugs, even though it ends up as more of a weird, one-shouldered twitch, all mushed together under the covers as they are. Eddie frowns, squeezes his fingers a little tighter. 

“Bad night?” 

“Not really,” Steve smiles. “Just … y’know when you’re real tired, but your brain won’t shut the fuck up?” 

Eddie huffs. “Sure do.” 

They just lie for a while, exploring the shape of each other’s hands, the rise and fall of each other’s chests. 

“You ever tried warm milk with honey?” Eddie asks. In the dim glow of the alarm clock, Steve’s brow furrows. “Wayne used to make it for me when I was a kid. Call it the placebo effect, but it always knocked me right out. I can fix you one?” 

Even in the dark, he can see how Steve’s eyes light up. “You would?” 

Eddie softly kisses the tip of his nose before peeling himself from the sheets. “Sure thing, sweetheart. Anything for you.” 

*

Nothing will ever quite make up for your home being cleft in half by an interdimensional rift, but Eddie must admit that the house that came with the government hush money has its perks. One of them being two bedrooms, so he doesn’t have to worry about waking up Wayne as he bustles around in the kitchen. 

He stirs the milk in its pot to keep it from burning and watches the little bubbles rising to the top. 

Nights used to be terrifying, right after … everything. For the longest time, he thought he'd never be able to sleep without nightmares again. It was only after weeks, when he passed out against Steve's shoulder during a movie, that Steve told him it was the same for him. For Buckley and Wheeler and most of the others, too. That he didn’t have to suffer through this alone. (“You’re one of us now, Eds. And we take care of each other.”) 

This is how it started. Late night calls after nightmares. Eddie sneaking into Steve’s house in the dark to crawl into bed with him - more often than not to find Robin or one of the kids already there. Steve coming over to Eddie’s if he was too shaken to drive. Holding the memories and the monsters at bay through shared warmth and touch, the feeling of a familiar body close by, the rise and fall of another chest. 

At some point, they stopped going to their separate houses to sleep. At some point, the touches became intentional rather than fleeting, turned into entwined fingers, into hands carding softly through hair, into lingering kisses and whispered confessions. Even the nightmares are slowly starting to fade.

They've come a long way, he guesses. 

He hums to himself while he stirs a generous amount of honey into the mug of warm milk, then pops the spoon into his mouth while he shuffles back to his room. 

“Voilà, ‘ere iz your order, monsieur,” he announces, pushing the door open and slipping into the silly French chef persona that always makes Steve roll his eyes and giggle adorably. “One cup of our finest ‘omemade- what the fuck?” 

The room is still dark. 

Steve is still in bed. 

Only now he's fast asleep. 

He also isn't alone.

There's another person sprawled half on top of him in a heap of gangly limbs. A person with a bird's nest of dirty blonde hair, wearing a checkered pair of boxers and Steve's faded swim team shirt.

“What the hell, Buckley?” Eddie mutters. 

Robin snores. 

“Aw, c'mon,” Eddie grouses. He sets the mug down on the nightstand and crouches down so that he can poke her. “I was gone for what? Five minutes? When did you even- ow, son of a …” 

Because Robin has thrown out a flailing arm, and he just caught an elbow to the face. Eddie cradles his stinging nose and watches how she snuggles closer to Steve with a satisfied huff. Steve sighs and smiles in his sleep. 

“Seriously now,” Eddie grunts, tries to wiggle into what little space is still unoccupied on the mattress. “That's my boyfriend, Bucks. Not to mention my bed. At least lemme- woah!” 

A bony knee hits him in the stomach. He slips and lands square on his ass on the cold floor, taking the comforter with him.

“Eds,” Steve grumbles. “Don't steal the covers.” 

Eddie flies to his feet, snarky remark ready on his tongue-

-and stops.

Because Steve and Robin look … well, they look funking adorable, okay? What kind of guy would he be to wake them? It would be like frightening a cuddle pile of cute little puppies, and contrary to what the general public may think, Eddie isn't the type who harms puppies. Or tears pretty boys who have finally fallen asleep apart from their platonic soulmates. 

Eddie sighs and drapes the comforter back over the pair, leaning over Robin's limp form so that he can drop an awkwardly angled kiss to Steve’s temple. 

“Sleep well, you dumbasses. See ya tomorrow.” 

He grabs an afghan from the desk chair, makes for the door, then turns back and takes the mug of warm milk with him. If he's gonna sleep on the couch, he might as well get cozy. 

He may have to invest in a larger bed.

All my holiday drabbles

[corkinavoid]

By the way, when ghosts and Ancients appear, should there be any visual effects and sensations? Like Frostbite? A drop in temperature? Surfaces becoming crusted with ice?

For example, a headcanon on Danny who is a cosmic Ancient, an eldritch, a cryptid, a ghostly entity. How would all of this affect him showing up next to a human?

Ooooh, that is a good question, I like it!

To start, yeah, I think there would be plenty of visual and sensory effects when Ancients appear in the living world. I actually think it goes for all the ghosts - you know, the eerie feelings and static and all that - but it's more noticeable with Ancients.

So, in my head, Frostbite makes the space around him colder, and he is always standing on a thin layer of snow. Like, it doesn't start snowing when he appears, but there's always this snow under his feet, so when he walks, you can hear his steps creaking over it. Imagine how that would feel on a silent summer night when you just feel the temperature drop and the steps coming from somewhere.

Next, Clockwork is pretty self-explanatory, he has time either stop or slow down around him. Pandora would have this weird feeling of thousands of eyes looking at you - like you are standing in a gladiator arena, and everyone's waiting for your next move. I feel like she could also bring sand with her in the same way Frostbite brings snow.

Vortex has winds blowing, little hurricanes forming and stuff just wildly flying around, and Dora has the temperature around her go up, actually. Standing next to her is like standing next to an open fire, and when she walks, she leaves burning footprints on the floor, only they are not human, they are dragon.

Nocturn brings night. Like, wherever you are, even if you summoned him at noon, when he appears, it's suddenly night, and everything is dark around you. He can also make people fall asleep if he is too close.

As for Danny, Ancient of Space, I feel like when he is present, everything becomes silent. Not eerily quiet, but kind of like the feeling you get in the absence of all sounds, like in space. Maybe there's also this weird, low hum of cosmos present. It also gets cold, like with Frostbite, but it's a different kind of cold. Comparatively, standing next to Frostbite is like standing in a walk-in freezer, when standing next to Danny feels cold on the brink of hot, like you're already experiencing hypothermia but there's no source where it's coming from. Also, with Frostbite, you can wear a coat and be fine. With Danny, you're going to feel the cold no matter the amount of clothes.

Also, his voice is getting distorted differently to other Ancients, but, errr, I think all the Ancients have different voices. Nocturn's voice is a lullaby, Clockwork's is a whisper, Pandora's is thousands voices in one. Danny, then, speaks like he has a very good radio overlay on his voice - it's perfectly clear, but you can still hear it's not a normal human voice.

I'm not sure if I mentioned all the Ancients, but that's as far as I got, so if you want me to add anyone, comment it <3

[gentlenotes-moved]

how to get rid of nausea (or at least reduce it)

ok y'all so it's almost 1 in the morning and i can't sleep so i figured i might as well make use of my time. these tips are from what have personally worked well for me as a person who's been dealing with ibs and gerd since basically birth. of course these might not work for everyone, this is just what has helped me the most :)

first, make sure you've taken your meds!

sip on some cold water. preferably with ice.

get some cool air. whether that's through a window or just a fan.

drip some cold water onto the veins of your wrist. i know this sounds kinda weird, but my dad said it's a trick he learned in the military to help nausea. it's worked pretty well for me, personally. though the effect is temporary.

sip on some cola or another fizzy pop. carbonation helps you burp, and you honestly might just have some trapped gas. you'd be shocked how just one good, trapped burp makes you feel like you need to projectile vomit. drink in small, frequent amounts, not large gulps(for the love of god don't take large gulps. please). this is honestly one of the best tricks for nausea for me, it helps within minutes or sometimes a bit longer.

sniff some rubbing alcohol. again, kinda weird, but it works pretty well for some reason.

drink some pepto bismol. a life saver honestly.

take some tums. i highly recommend the peppermint flavored ones. tums are usually for acid reflux/gerd, but the peppermint really helps the nausea part for me. that's why i usually get these bc i'm killing two birds w/ one stone lol

sleep at a high elevation. this helps stomach contents from coming back up. there's been many times where i've had to sleep at a 90° angle. get out your pillows and stuffed animals to make one giant mountain if you have to (that's what i do at least).

sleep on your left side. if you really want to sleep on your side, sleeping on the left keeps the stomach contents down the best.

distract yourself. either watching your favorite show, playing a game, or, hell, even working. this might be a bit tricky if the nausea is overwhelming, though.

avoid strong smells. rubbing alcohol is the exception here, but strong smelling things (esp food) has always made my nausea much worse.

avoid spicy/punch-to-the-face type food. eat simple foods like toast, saltine crackers, or applesauce. my personal favorite is dried seaweed (salted)!

sit upright; try not to slouch. sitting upright helps you digest food properly and gets rid of any trapped gas as well.

don't move around a ton. of course, some simple stretching is beneficial, but i'm just suggesting you don't go run for a few miles when you're feeling like shit <3

[baronessvonglitter]

Eating Out for Christmas

Max Phillips x f!Reader

Word count: 1.7K

Summary: your period comes early, ruining your fun for the office Christmas party. Luckily, your workplace enemy offers his assistance..

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, blood kink, menstrual sex, oral (f receiving), office sex, Christmas smut, hate sex, no romance, shameless smut, reader doesn't know Max is a vampire, reader wears a skirt, mentions of period cramps, brief mention of giving a bj, no use of y/n

Author's note: my Christmas in July offering, written during a particularly AWFUL first day of my period. This was also inspired by a certain scene from "The Tale of the Body Thief", one of my favorite of the Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice.

FULL MASTERLIST

“Shit!” you mutter, checking your panties in the restroom stall. “Fuck fuck fuck!”

You period is here early, and now your brand new white satin panties are ruined. You’d bought them specifically for tonight, your office Christmas party, when you’d planned to finally hook up with Jordan, the guy in Marketing you've been flirting with for weeks. Now that's down the drain.

The toilet paper is out, so creating a makeshift pad is out of the question. You have to slip your panties back on in order to retrieve the spare pair you keep in your desk drawer for times such as these. You make a sound of disgust as you put your panties back on and quickly wash your hands. It'll be just a moment and you'll get a fresh set of underwear and a tampon from your emergency stash.

Leaving the restroom you can already hear the Christmas party in full swing. So your night isn't going to go as planned, that doesn't mean you can't have a little fun in the meantime. Jordan isn't going anywhere, and at the very least you can give him some head in the supply closet.

A cramp stops you in your tracks and you nearly double over in pain. Leaning against the wall you breathe through it. Until you get some Midol in your system, nothing's going to happen between you and Jordan.

"What have we here? A wallflower?"

You hear that voice and automatically cringe. You can't stand your new boss, the sales manager Max Phillips, aka HR Nightmare. You ignore his little comment as he nears you in the hallway. He's wearing a Santa hat and a shit-eating grin. You inwardly groan.

He says your name in a singsong voice and it curdles your blood. "I know you heard me. What are you doing out here?"

"On my way to the party," you try to make your voice light even as another cramp overwhelms you. Max puts his hands on the wall on either side of you, effectively trapping you. His dark eyes take on a predatory look, like a shark who's just scented--

"Blood," he says in fascination. "You're on your period, aren't you?"

Weirded out while at the same time a little intrigued, you answer, "That's none of your damn business, is it?"

He chuckles and you hate how charming he's trying to be. "You are. I can smell it on you. I've been able to smell it on you all week, your body conserving just the right amount of blood, doing its job, just waiting.. and when the magic doesn't happen, all that blood just trickles out of you. It's messy work being a woman, isn't it?"

You take a moment to absorb everything he's said, your face frozen in a look of confusion. "Max, I'm just gonna go get a tampon if that's okay with you." You move his arm away so you can leave.

"No need." He easily traps you again, and for a split second you marvel at his speed. "I can take care of that for you," he whispers seductively into your ear.

Maybe it's the fact that you were expecting sex tonight, or that your hormones are wildly out of control, but something deep inside you is awakened when his breath tickles your ear. "What do you mean?" your voice is soft, yielding.

His eyes bore into yours. "Come with me."

He brings you to his office, traversing the party, but in the festive atmosphere you two are overlooked. Plenty of people are either too drunk or too engrossed in other activities to notice you.

In his office he cuts the light, leaving only a small lamp lit on his desk. He locks the door but leaves the blinds open, giving you a little smirk and a wink.

"What are you doing? Why am I here?" you ask him.

"I'm offering my help," he says easily, leading you behind his desk and letting you perch on the edge of it. "You're bleeding, you're cramping.. that's no way to enjoy tonight's party."

"So what exactly are you offering?" You have some idea, now sitting on his desk.

He gently lifts the hem of your skirt and your scent, mixed with the scent of blood, wafts up to him. There's that predatory look again. "May I?" But without waiting for you answer, he reaches under your skirt and caresses you through your panties. Your gasp is enough to encourage him. He moves the satin material to the side and then his fingers are inside you. You gasp again, louder, and put your hands on his shoulders.

"Jesus, you're soaked," he says, pumping his fingers inside you as you open your thighs wider. "So fucking wet and warm.."

You're so into it you don't even question his obvious predilection for your menstrual blood. It's a turn-off for most guys but Max seems to need it.

"I always.. thought.. you hated me," you said, panting as he switched up the pace: going rough and fast then slowly, curving his fingers so he could stimulate the secret spot inside of you. "You made fun of my presentation in front of our new clients last week.. we lost the account."

"I did do that," his face is buried in your neck, taking in the scent of your perfume, of your shampoo. "I had to. That client was flirting with you, he would have been all over you if I hadn't intervened."

"Why? Why would you do that?" Still you cling to him, still you allow this pleasure he gives.

"So I could eventually have the chance to do this," he says, and as he fingers you he swipes the pad of his thumb over your clit and you see stars.

But he's a tease, and deep down you know it. He pulls his fingers out, slimy with your blood, and licks them slowly, savoring your taste. Even you have to admit it's pretty hot, even if it's a little weird.

"On the desk," he commands you, his voice husky. In your delirium you obey, and he pushes your skirt up to your midsection. He's delicate about removing your panties, and runs his tongue along the bloodstain, catching what's left of its essence.

He's fucking crazy, you think to yourself, but at the same time you're excited for what he's about to do. He moves you a little closer to the edge of his desk and takes a seat in his chair, pulling up to you like you're his dinner. Opening your thighs his breath hitches and then he dives in.

You gasp in surprise at the feel of his mouth on your pussy, the way he licks along the edges, cleaning up the blood that somehow always gets to the crease between your cunt and your thigh. He's ubiquitous, licking everywhere, tasting you. Your mind races. Part of you wonders why you're even letting him do this if you don't even like him all that much, and the baser part of you unabashedly grinds your pelvis up, demanding more from him.

With a barely-contained growl he lifts your hips and tongue-fucks you, moaning at the taste of your blood and juices on his tongue. You try to stifle a scream, and Max stuffs his Santa hat into your mouth. You remove it, too worked up to try to be quiet, and throw the hat on the floor.

The blinds are open, and colored disco lights spin around the room. You two could so easily be caught, but the noises you both make are muffled by the sound of "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree".

Max is relentless, sopping you up no matter how much you have to give. He drives you crazy when he laves his tongue over your folds, adding more pressure at your clit, and sucking hard until you've come and you beg him to stop. The bastard only starts up again once you've recovered, switching it up between tonguing your cunt and lapping at your so-sensitive clit. Your body trembles, thighs quaking as his fingers dig into your flesh. You lose count of how many times he sends you to heaven. All you know is a cycle of pleasure, seemingly endless, turning your brain to mush.

There's a knock at Max's office and the doorknob jiggles. "Hey, Max? You in there? The party's already started." It's Jordan's voice! Your eyes pop open but Max keeps at it as if he hasn't heard. You tap him on the shoulder with force.

"Go away Jordan, I'm in the middle of dinner!" Max only gives himself enough time to shout before diving back in. You close your eyes as the pleasure rises once more, a wave engulfing you and you can't help but cry out.

Max slows down, uncharacteristically placing a kiss on your clit before moving away from you. In the lamplight you see your blood smeared on his mouth, nose, and chin. He licks most of it off and uses his handkerchief to wipe the rest away. "Orgasm is a natural pain remedy, and if I counted correctly you came at least seven times.."

"Shut up." Even though your legs are weak you manage to scoot off his desk, looking for your panties.

"I'll keep them, if that's okay with you," he says. "And don't worry, I got all of it."

"Got all of.. what?"

"Your blood. Your period's over. You're welcome." He looks so self-satisfied.

"How..?" you begin to ask, but a part of you really doesn't want to know.

"I'm just very good with my tongue," he shrugs. "But next month, if you want to do this again, I'd be more than happy to oblige." The way he smiles at you is just evil, but damn if it doesn't make your pussy throb again. "For a favor, of course."

"What favor?"

"Stop seeing Jordan. He already knows about us, he was watching through the open blinds." You're speechless, angry even, but Max continues. "And you might have to put up with a little more of my teasing you at the sales meetings. I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

"You're an asshole," you grumble, and arrange your clothing before heading for the door.

"So. My office, 8 pm, about 28 days from now?" He's wearing a smarmy grin as he waits for you to respond.

You hate Max, but you hate your fucking heavy flow even more. The man knows how to make you come, and it's not like you'd have to date him. Sighing, you pretend to look indifferent. "Sure. I'll be there."

dividers by @firefly-graphics 👑

[justafewsmallsteps]

omg omg it’s @inuvember day 19: Inuyasha & Kagome

I didn’t have anything planned so I threw this together quickly. Here’s some super rushed and rough art and a drabble from an AU I’d like to call “What If (we made out all over Feudal Japan)?” where… well…… I think you get it.

What If?

Kagome sucked in her lips, biting down on them from inside with nervous uncertainty. He wasn’t doing well. 

If a quick kiss worked to heal him, just a little bit, then… What would a longer kiss do? Work the same? Work better? 

“C-can I try… the thing?” she asked. 

“Kiss me?” He asked, barely able to focus on her. 

“You lost so much blood, and the poison is–”

“I’m human, I dunno if it’ll work.” 

“I know, but I have to try something.” She was blinking back her tears.

Even blinking felt like work. “Yeah… okay.” 

Kagome bent down and turned his face gently to hold it with a trembling hand. 

Please let this work, she thought desperately as her lips settled over his chapped ones. Instead of pulling away quickly as she did the times before, she lingered, pressing a little harder too. Please work, please work, please work. 

Tears fully glossing her eyes, Kagome finally pulled back just a little. She clung painfully onto the bit of hope in her heart. 

“Anything?” She whispered as a heavy drop fell. 

“I dunno… but that was… nice,” he sighed. 

She pouted, voice thickened by a stuffy nose from crying. “You said it was gross to kiss me.” 

Inuyasha furrowed his brow, like he was trying to remember. “Sorry. That… was a lie…” 

A blush erupted onto her face. Was that…? Was he being sweet? “Oh god, you’re delirious aren’t you? You’re–” 

“Kagome,” he interrupted. “I think…” 

She heard a light scratch at the floor and saw his hand shift. “You can move?” she gasped, the hope suddenly bursting. 

“Yeah, I’m starting to get some feeling back. I think it worked a little.” 

Kagome practically leapt back onto him, kissing him fiercely with both hands cupping his cheeks. She pulled back and kissed him again and again until she felt him grip her arms. 

“Woah there, Kagome.” 

She only moved back a few inches. “It worked, right? So—“ 

His face was redder than his haori. Hers follows his example. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, pushing himself to sit up slightly. “It’s working, alright.” 

Clearly the numbness was fading and her tactics were effective. That didn’t ease their embarrassment. 

She nearly huffed, “What’s the problem?” 

“Just give it a minute. No amount of kissing is going to turn me back into a hanyou, so we’re still screwed until sunrise.” 

“I’m still mad at you about that. You should’ve told me. You should’ve trusted me with that much! Now we’re here.” She wanted to shout, but with Shippou and Nazuna sleeping in the corner, she kept her words to an angry hush. Still, the overwhelmed tears caught his attention. 

He pursed his lips. “Why were you—are you—crying?” 

Kagome let out an indignant sound. “Because I’m frustrated and scared! I thought you were going to die, I thought we all were going to die. We still might. This sucks!” It was a childish way to end her sentiment, but screw it! It did suck! 

“Why… did you kiss me?” 

She almost sputtered. “Because I need you to get better!” 

“To save you?”

“To not die, you idiot! I don’t want you to die! Obviously!” She scrubbed her face angrily. Why was he being so weird? 

Then he spoke, soft but firm, “One more.” 

Kagome blinked. “One more what?” 

“Time,” Inuyasha said, and without warning pulled her closer to lock their mouths together. 

And he was right. 

It was nice… His lips have warmed up, even though they’re dry and rough. It’s the first time that this feels mutual–not just contact between two bodies. It feels almost like this is real…

“Sorry,” Inuyasha muttered when they came apart. “I still couldn’t feel my toes.” 

Funny, since Kagome felt hers tingling—her toes to her spine, to her fingertips, to the very top of her head. 

She felt out of breath when she asked him, “Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah,” his hand came up to her cheek. “I can feel things again.”

[bearieio]

Hihi!! May I request some soft sleepytime stuff with leon? 😋

leon sleep hcs :3

warnings: none! pure fluff! awkward!totallywhipped!loser!leon (kinda...)

a/n: tired of writers depicting leon as a freakydeaky daddydom typa guy... when in reality he's a (semi-) normal, awkward guy.... (￣︿￣) (i will die on this hill).

leon probably snores… like loud, obnoxious snores. almost ALL THROUGHOUT THE NIGHT. he’s like an old man that you have yo turn over to make him stop.

anyways… leon also loves cuddling with you :(( but he’s SOOOO awkward about it. he tries not to breath because he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfy with his breath flowing directly against you face, so he’ll STOP BREATHING (!!?!!???) for long periods of time😭 his heartbeat never losing it’s fast rhythm.

leon is definitely a catdad. he spends insane amounts of money on his 2 cats, both of them being scottish folds :3

“babe look at this cat tree i got for them,” and it’s a FUCKING BUCKINGHAM PALACE CAT TREE. y’know… THE ONE THAT’S LIKE $2,200!!???

“it was the last one in stock!” he continues, one of the cats hanging on his shoulder, the other he’s cradling like an infant in his arms.

leon WILL NOT let you sleep on the bed if the cats were there first.

“BABE! what’re you doing?!-“ he motions towards the 2 felines resting against the silk and satin pillows. “we’re sleeping on the couch.” he smiles, ignoring the irritated look you have on your face “c’mon!”

leon is literally such a dork. a loser, if you will. he’ll tuck you in and make sure you have water, in case you need it in the middle of the night.

he’s so weird too, he’ll be like sound asleep one moment, but then when you open your eyes again 15 seconds later, he’ll be staring at you like:

leon also talks in his sleep. mumbling and groaning in the middle of the night. and like- he only repeats things he hears..

“barack obama was the 44th president chat- he was the 44th presi-“

…dude what.

“i’m ova strokin’ ma dick, i got lotion on my dick, and i’m strokin ma shit-“

when you ask him about it, he’ll be like, “oh yeah… well, did you know barack obama was the 44th president?” and then he’ll carry on with his day as if he doesn’t have the most outrageous dreams….

when he doesn’t have work the following day, HE DOES NOT SLEEP.

“it’s the voices, babe…” he mutters, his eyes glued to his PC, you can hear the minecraft sound effect of blocks breaking and cows mooing. “they’re telling me….. to beat the ender dragon and finally learn how to use redstone…”

when you try to protest, all he responds with is “the grind doesn’t stop for anybody, baby.” with his back still facing you, he lifts his arm to flex a little but immediately brings it back down to rest on the desk, his keys continuing to make a clacking sound as the light from his computer screen lights up the darkened room.

when he finally does go to sleep, it’s usually on the couch. he’s sprawled out and SNORING.

i feel like it’s super hard to wake him up. he’ll be lying on the bed, lifelessly. when you try shaking him/lifting his arm up his body goes limp, almost like those “i thought my cat was dead videos.”

when you’re finally able to wake him up, you’re on the verge of calling 9-1-1. “HOW ARE THE POLICE GONNA COME WHEN THE POLICE IS RIGHT HERE?!” you find yourself talking to the cats. one of them meows, as if she’s responding to your panicked state.

“huh?” you hear a groggy leon, now propped up on his elbows, “hey kitty.” you turn around to see the cats rubbing against leon’s face.

“WHAT THE FUC-“

masterlist

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I'm sorry that you're going through this. It sounds terrible.

How does a machine make your bones feel like jam? What do you mean, "like jam"? What helps while you're in the machine?

You lamented the lack of a "no downers" Tumblr option before. Is there any kind of fun internet thing your followers could curate for you?

thank you for actually asking me about the Big Machine

so a modern radiation therapy machine looks like this:

It is actually kind of hard to communicate the scale of this thing. It's the size of most people's living rooms, and the whole thing rotates around you. You feel like you're trying to dock with the international space station.

Actually being in the machine doesn't feel like anything. You lay down, they take your boob out of your hospital gown and align the lasers to these little tattoos they've put on your chest and sides, they leave the room, Vivaldi plays for about 5 minutes while things beep and buzz and the space station revolves a few times, and then you're free to get dressed and go home.

Then - in my experience, as someone who is, apparently, "a real outlier" in terms of how sensitive I am to radiation - about 30 minutes later, on the subway ride home, you start to feel extremely bad. Shaky, weak, exhausted, stabbing pains all over the boob, and just an overall feeling of, like...internal griminess. Like there's grit gumming up everything on your insides. You feel wobbly, like your bones have turned to jelly. It feels a little like food poisoning, but without the nausea, if you've ever had that experience. Just that jittery, feverish, whole-body feeling of something being very wrong.

That feeling persists for 4-5 hours, then starts to taper down; but it never tapers down completely, so every day (and you go in for radiation every day, except for weekends) it builds up a little bit more. So on Monday, you feel like shit for a couple of hours, but you shake it off by dinner time; but by Friday, you're dragging yourself through every step of the process and then you get home and pass out for 14 hours.

It's weird, too, because it's not like there's anything that the doctors can do to make it better. Like, they can't give you a different treatment, or give you less radiation. There's a set amount of radiation you need to receive over a set amount of time to be sure that they've killed all the cancer, and the alternative to radiation is cancer, so you're getting radiation. The radiologist was sympathetic to how hard I've been taking it, but all she could really do is remind me that it's temporary. All of the effects of the radiation will be out of my system a week or two after the treatment ends, so like. Knuckle down, camper, it is what it is.

Y'all are sweet to ask if there's anything you can do, but honestly, not really. I vent a bit about this stuff on Tumblr because I don't want my friends and family to have to hear about how tough this is. Sending the occasional nice message or little question is appreciated! It gives me something to think about that isn't cancer.

[zarla-s]

well i have no clue if you answer random asks like this but hell yeah it's great seeing one of my fav artists get into omori!! how far are you into the game / have you finished it already? any thoughts on it? :0

I finished both routes about a week or so ago! I wrote up a giant post about it over here (SPOILERS). It's hard to think of how to talk about it without spoiling it, haha.

But I think it's really effective at what it's trying to do! It has a great sense of atmosphere and sound design, a lot of neat uses of color. The quirky RPG parts are a lot of fun! Silly and lighthearted and the battle system has a nice level of depth to it, not too much but enough where you have to really think about your plans when battles get tough. The horror parts were also done well, very good at creating palpable feelings of dread and unease, and I think the execution of those sequences was done really well. It would've been easy to go too hard and make it sort of a parody of itself but I think it showed just the right amount of restraint. There's a lot of layers to it in general, you can really dig into it and untangle symbolism and metaphors if you want, and there's a lot of room to interpret and explore people's emotional/mental states, which is something I also really enjoy.

I liked the characters too! Got attached to all of them, they're all charming in their own ways. It hit some very realistic and relatable emotional beats for me.

I think maybe some of the Headspace bits ran on a bit long, but that's mostly because I was really interested in the mystery of the game and wanted to solve that sooner than later (before I got spoiled), haha. But on the whole, although it would sound weird to say I enjoyed it exactly, given how mentally/emotionally draining it could be, I do think it was a good game and a definite worthwhile use of my time.

[phefics]

𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: kaz brekker x reader 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: part two to loophole. kaz and reader try another new kind of intimacy. 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬: afab!reader, fem!reader, boot-riding, cumming in pants, intimacy struggles, kaz likes to be praised, mentions of kaz’s canon trauma 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ~1k

Ever since discovering that he could please you without touching your skin, Kaz had become…creative in coming up with new ways to do so. He would randomly suggest positions the two of you could try, ways around his aversion to most forms of touch, ways to get you both off with the least amount of skin-to-skin contact. Fingering you with his gloves on had only been the first of his ideas, and it had been a very good plan.

Just like that night, he was sitting at his desk, but instead of perched above him, you were on the floor at his feet this time. Once again, he was fully clothed, and you were in nothing but a pair of cotton underwear.

He beckoned you closer with those leather gloves, a new pair, after you had soaked the last one. You crawled closer, looking up at him with wide, wanting eyes.

“Sit on my shoe,” he said simply. He said it with such authority, but you could see the uncertainty in his face. He was out of his element in the bedroom, still nervous and learning, but he was an expert con-man, able to play off his nerves and sound like the strongest, smartest person in any room. You, however, could read him like a book.

The request took you a little off guard. “Your shoe?” you asked, clarifying.

Kaz stretched his bad leg out to the side, getting it out of the way before planting his other foot down in front of you. “Yes. You’re going to sit on it, and grind yourself on it.”

You had your doubts that it would feel good, but after a moment of curious silence, you obeyed, straddling his shoe and lowering yourself onto it. The shape of the boot actually made it so if you moved your hips just so, you could rub your clit against it. You smirked at the realization.

“Can I hold your leg, or would that…?”

“I think I’ll be alright,” Kaz said.

Tentatively, you wrapped one arm around his calf, steadying yourself. You felt him take a deep breath when you did, but he stayed calm. He was getting better with it all, the touch and the intimacy. As long as it wasn’t bare skin, he could usually manage.

Slowly, you pushed your hips forward, and you immediately knew that Kaz had done well when he came up with this. You weren’t sure if he had read about it, or if he’d simply come up with the idea on his own, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it actually felt really good.

You let out a moan, and Kaz immediately perked up, watching you with lust burning in his eyes. Before he had pleasured you with his gloves on, he had watched you touch yourself once. He had quickly become overwhelmed by the sight, and the evening had gone in a different direction after that, but now, watching you experience pleasure gets him so riled up. To be the one causing it, albeit through a few hoops, brought him the utmost satisfaction.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, breathless.

You nod. “It’s good. Weird, but good.”

The sturdy, constant pressure made it easy to keep a steady rhythm. You had tried to hump pillows before, but always found them too flimsy. A shoe turned out to be much more effective, and you pressed your hips down onto his boot, rocking back and forth, surprised at how satisfying it proved to be.

To your surprise, Kaz brought a still-gloved hand to the erection pressing against his pants. Through the layers of clothes, it seemed he was comfortable to palm himself. Seeing him do so only lit the fire within you more, knowing that you had encouraged this side of him to come out.

Kaz was not a prude: Nudity and sex did not embarrass him. It was the act of sex itself that freaked him out, and you had slowly but surely helped him to settle those fears and allow himself to experience pleasure.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his pale face flushed and scrunched up in concentration as he thrust his hips into his hand.

“You look so pretty,” you said, pressing a soft kiss to his knee.

He whimpered, his ears going red.

The sound only encouraged you to chase your own pleasure, picking up the rhythm of your thrusting. “You like it when I call you pretty, hm?” you asked. “You are. You look so good when you touch yourself for me.”

Kaz moaned, the hand that wasn’t rubbing his cock reached out and grabbed your hand, squeezing it. Every time the two of you fooled around like this, he grew bolder, more confident, more comfortable. It filled you with so much pride to see him let go, to know that you were helping him through one of the biggest struggles he faced on a daily basis.

It also made you feel loved, to know that Kaz cared for you enough to do this, to face his fears in an attempt to be closer to you. He still wasn’t good at emotions. He never told you that he loved you, rarely went out of his way to compliment you, but he showed his affection in other ways: How worried he got when you were injured on the job, the little gifts he would leave on your pillow, and most recently, finding ways to pleasure you without triggering himself.

As you got closer to orgasm, you found you couldn’t keep silent. “Fuck, Kaz, it feels so good. You’re doing so good for me. Wanna cum for you, want you to cum for me…”

It didn’t take long for Kaz to do just that, his sweet whines like music to your ears. His pants, despite their dark color, were evidently damp.

You followed him soon after, clinging to his leg desperately as you came, panties soaked as leaving a shiny spot on his shoe.

Kaz brought a gloved hand to the side of your face. “Was that good for you?”

You gave a breathless chuckle. “It was amazing. You’re very innovative.”

He smirked. “I try my best.”

You couldn’t wait to find out what idea he’d come up with next.