#if you hate apple white this is not a safe space for you

[moonagedaydreamsofrhiannon]

Apple White has actually never done anything wrong ever in her life you just don’t understand her like I do

[toomuchracket]

apples (ross x shy gf!reader fluff)

another promptober fic. very loosely apple-related sickfic. enjoy <3

the sound of metal clattering against more metal shocks you awake from your nap; groggy and grumpy, you weakly attempt to pull yourself out of your sofa blanket cocoon when you hear ross swearing in response to the clatter. after a quick coughing fit, you call to him. “what are you doing in there?”

“oh, fuck,” your husband appears in the doorway between kitchen and living room, handsome face apologetic. he fills the liminal space in your house very nicely, it has to be said, big arms bare, your star baker apron over one of his infinite white band t-shirts, hair wisping out of its usual bun. “sorry for waking you, love.”

“s'ok,” your throat feels like sandpaper. “i have to take more meds now, anyway,” with some difficulty, you swing your feet onto the ground, and ross runs over to help you stand. “thank you, darling.”

you go to take a step, breathing shakily at the effort required. ross frowns, and gently scoops you into his arms; despite your (half-hearted) protests, his face softens into a smile as soon as he's holding you. “i've got you. s'alright.”

“well, if you say so,” out of sheer habit, you press your face into his chest, contentment washing over you as you take in the familiar scent of washing powder and sandalwood aftershave and… cinnamon? “you still haven't answered my question, by the way.”

“hmm?”

“i asked,” you pause to clear your throat. “i asked what you were doing in the kitchen, remember? aside from making a total racket, that is.”

ross hums happily, the sound vibrating through his body and into you. with a soft kiss to your head (which is how you know he really loves you, considering your hair is a sweaty mess), he plops you safely onto the counter, caging you with his body while he reaches for an open cookbook just to your left. “making this.”

“but what is- oh,” looking in the direction of the book, you see eggshells, an open, half-empty bag of flour, and a pile of what you squint to determine is apple peelings. combined with the cinnamon lingering on your husband, and the air, and the general warmth of the room, the realisation hits you before you even so much as glance at the page. “are you making me an apple pie, ross?”

“yeah,” he smiles, cheeks dimpling in the way you love so much; you don't miss the pink tint that appears on them, either. “well, i'm trying to. i know it's your favourite, and i just wanted to do something to perk you up a bit, y'know?”

you're not sure if you've ever loved him more, to be honest. what a darling. mustering all your energy, you give him a hug. “i love you.”

“i love you,” another kiss to your head, and then he pulls back, grimacing. “i don't love that handheld mixer, though. fucking blade kept falling off into the bowl every time i went to use it,” he shakes his head. “got there in the end, though.”

oh, bless him. “babe, i hate to tell you this, but,” you smile sympathetically. “you don't even need that for a shortcrust.”

ross blinks, bewildered. a beat passes before he speaks again, voice as confused as his face. “i don't?”

“no,” you huff out a laugh, tenderly squeezing his hand. “especially not with arms like yours. probably would've been easier just to beat it all by hand.”

“you're taking the piss.”

“i'm really not, baby,” you shrug. “but it's whatever, you know? i'm sure it'll work regardless.”

“fuck,” ross buries his head into the crook of your neck. “i can't believe i fucked it.”

“you haven't.”

“well, i might've,” he rests his forehead on yours. “my bake off dreams might be shattered.”

you laugh, a laugh that both hurts and quickly turns into a cough; ross quickly gets you a bottle of water, and you pat him on the arm in a gesture of thanks as you take a drink and recover. “i do think you and the boys should do the celebrity version, you know, for charity,” the mere thought of it threatens to send you into a fit of the giggles. “then you'd all really be fucked. d'you think george even knows what a crème anglaise is?”

“not a chance. hann might be decent, though.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. i mean, he's got a sourdough starter, so bread week would be alright.”

“s'pose,” you slide the pack of paracetamol from your (ross's) hoodie pocket, taking two tablets with a wince. “what about matty?”

“hmmmmm,” ross's brow furrows. “he used to be quite good at making brownies, to be fair. but i reckon they'd ban him from using his special ingredient on channel 4, wouldn't they? before the watershed, at least.”

“most likely,” you smile, reaching up to tuck a stray bit of hair behind your husband's ear. “but, honestly, i think i'd actually give more to charity if i got to see matty make paul hollywood eat an edible.”

ross cackles, a huge laugh that seems to come from the pit of his stomach; you think it might be your most favourite sound in the world. “you're mental, you know that?” big arms wrap around you, and you sink into them while soft lips and beard hairs brush your head. “but i really do love you.”

“love you so much,” your voice is muffled by his shoulder. “thank you for taking care of me. i hate being sick.”

“i know you do, love. always got me to look after you, though, yeah?” a big hand gently cradles the back of your head. “i made a vow, after all.”

the memory of your wedding day has you smiling into ross's t-shirt. “that was the best day of my life.”

“and mine.”

“fucking cold, though,” you laugh softly. “although, scotland in december is practically tropical compared to how cold i am right now, honestly.”

“d'you want a hot water bottle?”

you shake your head. “i think i'd rather just snuggle with you on the sofa for a bit. and then eat apple pie, of course.”

ross chuckles. “alright,” he lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist and moving to carry you to the living room. “maybe a shower later, too?”

“are you saying i stink?”

“no! well, maybe a little,” he kisses your cheek. “but you're still the most perfect girl in the world, so…”

“simp,” you tease, as you're carefully dropped onto the sofa - you wriggle into the blankets with all your might, cuddling into ross as soon as he sits down. “will you dry my hair for me after, though?”

“obviously,” he scoffs, hand resting on your thigh; his voice softens as he speaks again, though. “i'll do whatever you want me to, love.”

you smile into him again, the extreme cosiness making you suddenly sleepy. “wake me up when the pie is done?”

“of course,” ross pulls the blanket further onto you. “get some sleep, my girl. i love you.”

“love you too.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Vanished!Series Part Four: Live Ammo - Mike Duarte x Reader (feat: Joe Velasco)

Tagging: @resonmalvo @littleone65 @thesandbeneathmytoes @mydarkestsecretlol @evee87 @wooshwastaken @hearthockey @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @rosaliedepp @thatesqcrush @storiesofsvu @whateversomethingbruh @burningpeachpuppy @legit9thlunaticwarrior @kiwiithecrazybird @spooky-pomegranate @telepathay @weiwei0210 @spaghettificationandpretzels @plaidbooks @witches-unruly-heart @magic-multicolored-miracle @cycat4077 @deekaag @cixrosie @upsteadlogic @imaginecrushes @anime-weeb-4-life @hey-dw @alwaysachorusgirl @nu1freakshow

When Mike finds you, you’re clad in a white haz-mat suit with a ventilator strapped over your head. He’s never been so fucking relieved because you’re standing in the midst of a fully operational fentanyl lab and every single person involved in the raid knows just how dangerous that is. When he does the walk through the crime scene, he finds himself standing in a side room with a camp bed and a bin that’s filled with energy drinks and fast-food wrappers. The outside of the door has three different locks on it. It’s very clear you’ve been held prisoner here not because your cover has been blown, but because you’re exceptional at what you do. The evidence of that is stacked up in bricks against the south wall, ready to be packed up and distributed.

“The Niners put pressure on Connolly to pay back the money sooner. It put him into a spin, he needed more product and needed it fast.” You tell Mike when you finally get outside into the fresh air. “He’s been working me eighteen hours a day. Locking me in before starting all over again the next day.”

You’re sitting on the kerb sipping from a bottle of water. It’s the first time you’ve been outside in almost two weeks and it’s nice to feel the breeze on your face. You’ve stripped out of the haz-mat suit and are clad in a white vest and black cycling shorts, your hair is pulled back into messy bun. You would literally kill for a shower.

“Can I… Can I use your phone to call Joe? I just need to see Leah.”

Mike kicks himself because that should have been the first thing he thought of. The problem is he has other concerns. You both left something unresolved during your last phone call, something important and right now it’s all Mike can think about. He slips his phone out of his pocket before handing it to you and stepping away to give you a little privacy.

You’re crying when he returns, and it breaks his heart because he fucking hates seeing you upset. He wraps his arms around you, clasping you close, his palms soothing over your back as you bury your face into his shirt. It’s been two months since you saw your baby girl and he can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now.

“Sorry.” You murmur, drawing away and wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. “She’s just got so big since I last saw her. Joe’s going to bring her home when we’re finished up here.”

Mike smiles sadly, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek.

“Mi Vida,” He says, his voice breaking just a little. “You know we need to talk about our other little one.”

You’d discovered you were pregnant again three weeks ago. It had started the same way it had with Leah, exhaustion, constant nausea, tender breasts. You were hoping it was the stress of the op but then you’d missed your period. You couldn’t believe it when that test had come back positive.

“My vasectomy failed.” Mike had told you during your last check in with him. “I checked with my doctor; all this time we’ve thought I was firing blanks, but we’ve been playing with live ammo.”

You both know what this means. There’s a very real possibility that Leah might not be Joe’s daughter and if that’s true…

It would be devastating for all of you.

“I’m scared.” You whisper, your hands smoothing upon the space where your new baby resides, the one that you and Mike made together. “All those fumes and chemicals…”

You had tried to be as safe as possible during your time in captivity, but you were cooking eighteen hours a day. You have no idea what you’d been exposed to during that time, how it might affect your unborn child.

“I know.” Mike says quietly, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “I’m scared too.”

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[overactiveprefrontalcortex]

welcome

hello i'm em. i fangirl over many things and various forms of media. i'm physically unable to like anything a normal amount. i'm american (unfortunately). i'm non-religous but a believer of many things. i love to write but it's undecided if i'll be posting anything here. i have many opinions and share them frequently. i'm always looking for new mutuals so reblog this post and follow me and i'll follow you back. this is not and never will be a safe space for any form of hate against marginalized groups.

if you're a palestinian refugee seeking assistance, please reach out to one of the groups that can verify you and share your information. this blog is not the place to do so. i am not qualified to verify your status. i stand for a free palestine. please visit arab.org to see charities that assist with the fight in gaza and make donations if you can.

media | supernatural, true blood, the 100, the hunger games, criminal minds, one tree hill, avatar, taylor swift, ethel cain, hozier, noah kahan, sleep token, fiona apple, faye webster, metallica, ac/dc, phoebe bridgers, chappell roan, florence + the machine (and more..)

interests | i collect vinyl and cd - mostly taylor swift as i'm a massive swiftie. i love houseplants. i have a large book collection, though i've downsized recently as i haven't been reading often. i love to write poetry.

dni if you are | racist, homophoic, a white supremacist, misogynistic, anti-feminist, nazi, zionist, anti-blm, anti-semitic, islamophobic, maga, pro-life, a christian nationalist, terfs

and proshippers

yes, i am american, and yes, these hateful groups are apart of my everyday life as i live in a red state. i'm supremely uninterested with interacting with them online.

☆

[thecrashlanding]

"The King is coming! The King is coming!"

That was the sentence Denki heard all over the small town as he walked through. He just needed his month of supplies and then he could be back to his little cottage and his life in the woods.

"I heard the king is bringing a dragon!" A teenage boy with a red hat said to a girl with white hair.

"Really? I wanna see a dragon!" 

"I bet he's coming to inspect the school. I can see no other reasons why he would come to our small town." Said the purple-haired man walking with the teens.

"Or maybe he's coming for one of the elementals!" The blond holding his hand chimed in.

"We only have one elemental, Neito." The blond, Neito, looked unhappy for a moment, but then caught sight of Denki and waved a bit. Denki nodded in acknowledgment, and then they were out of sight. Denki knew them. He knew everyone, he just hated admitting that. He had been banished when just a child, only allowed to come into town once a month for supplies. The town allowed him a $100 credit every month for his trip, and that was that. He had been banished because he killed several people when his magic got out of control. He was a lightning elemental, and very dangerous. His magic had even hurt himself, at least at first. There was another elemental, well another family of elementals. Todoroki Shoto was the one everyone talked about though, for his status of Official Town Wizard.

"I heard that the king is looking for his other mate, and it's Todoroki!" Said a lady with pink hair to another with purple. They were standing in the baker's stall, the pink-haired being Ashido, the baker.

"Unlikely. Polybonds are super unstable. And I heard that Todoroki was aro anyway."

"No way Kyoka! Why else would he come but for a mate?"

"Any other reason. And if he were coming for that, why would it be Todoroki?" The pink-haired woman was about to reply, but Denki cleared his throat. Both of the women's heads snapped up, and the one with purple hair rushed behind a small cart next to the stall.

"I will be taking my leave now, Mina. I wish you well." Said the other woman.

"Goodbye, Kyoka. I wish you well." The baker blew a quick kiss before turning to Denki. "What can I help you with, sir?" He held out his credit book and said,

"Two bags of flour, a bar of chocolate, and two cookies, please." It was what he always got. He baked his own bread and the like, but he could not make his own chocolate, a treat that he loved. He didn't have enough space for wheat, so he bought flour here. He still had some at his house, but it was better safe than sorry. Ashido wrote something on the credit slip, bagged his items, and handed them to him, wrapping the cookies in wax and giving them to him by themselves. 

"Thank you, I wish you well," Denki told his former friend.

"I wish you well." She replied, and he left. He munched on a cookie as he walked to the fruit seller. He never needed vegetables, if nothing was in season he had plenty put up, but fruit was something he didn't grow a lot of. The man at the produce stand had green hair and freckles and visibly paled at the sight of Denki. 

"Good day, sir. I would like fifteen apples, please." Applesauce is delicious and keeps cold for over a year. Denki hands over his credit book and the man stutters. He must remember his poor mate, Midoriya Ochako, who was hurt by his magic. She's never been quite the same, the electricity messing up her brain. But in Denki's defense, that manticore would have messed her up much worse. The produce seller rushes through the interaction, shoving the booklet and the apples at him. A muttered wish you well was all he got before being hurried into the street by a man with blue hair.

"I wish he wouldn't come around here, not with what he did to 'Chako." It was said loud enough for him to hear as he walked away. Rude. It's not his fault that some god decided to put a powerful and dangerous force of nature inside a young boy. Not his fault that some lord decided to banish him. Not his fault that the fruit seller's wife got attacked by a manticore near his house and he chose to help her. Not his fault no one ever taught him how to use his powers. Not even his fault that his twenty-something-year-old self lived all alone in the woods and never talked to anyone. 

Last stop, book shop. It was run by Shinsou Hitoshi and his partner, Monoma Neito. They were soulmates, and what a pair they made. He had just seen them, probably on a lunch break, but they were back now. Shinsou was sitting behind a desk reading and Monoma was talking about something. They both fell silent as he walked in. 

"Hey, Denki!" Monoma shouted with a smile. He was the only one who ever acknowledged him with his name. He knew what it was like to have dangerous magic and to be outcasted for it. Shinsou knew this too, but whatever he could do to make himself fit in, he would do. He always treated Denki with kindness though, and Denki suspected Monoma had something to do with that. 

"Hey, Neito. Hey Shinsou." He was on a first-name basis with Monoma, not his partner. "Have anything new?"

"I've got just the thing!" Monoma cheered. "But first..." Denki smiled and handed over the extra cookie he had bought. they had done that since they were just children. When Denki was first banished the adults decided to set him up in an abandoned cottage with a month's supply of food and a calendar for when to come back. Monoma had been playing in the woods when he found Denki, crying and scared. Monoma had fished around in his bag for a moment before pulling out two slightly cracked cookies in a tin. They shared and talked, getting closer and closer. Now every time they saw each other they shared cookies. Monoma was Denki's best friend, and vice versa. "I've got a great new book for you, it's called The Map to Everywhere." He handed Denki the large blue-bound book with a picture of two children on the front. As Denki read the back he could feel a smile grow. 

"I would like this one, please. Here's my credit book." Denki pushed the leather booklet into his friend's hands. 

"No, Denki. You never have to pay for my services. I have plenty of copies anyway." Denki looked over to see Shinsou glaring at him. He gently pointed to Shinsou and Monoma whirled around. 

"Take as many books as you'd like Denki. No charge." Denki realizes that he should just do what Neito says, foiling his plans to piss off Shinsou is never good. 

"Well, I thank you Neito. You always know how to make my day." 

"And you mine Denki. I'll have to skip tea on Ishna, The King is coming to town that day and I would hate to miss him." Neito looked apologetic. "Maybe we can do it on Itsna?" 

"I will see you Itsna then, as I will not be seeing The King. I wish you well." Denki kisses Neito on the cheek.

"Wish you well Denki!" Monoma waved after him. 

Ishna had arrived and Denki was in his cottage as usual. He did not see what all the fuss was about. The King was just a man, and men were usually evil. Denki decided to go outside and work in his garden when he heard trumpets and men crashing through the underbrush. He stood in the doorway, staring in shock as The King and his procession made their way to stand in front of Denki's cottage. He gathered his courage and said,

"Who are you who comes here? You have no right to this place, for it is mine!" He reached to the sky and pulled down a bolt of lightning that hit right in front of the king's cabriolet. A head peaked out of it and suddenly rushed to Denki. 

"Kat! Look at him he's so cute!" The man had spiky red hair, horns, and a tail. He was wearing rich clothes and when Denki peaked he could see a pair of wings. 

"So they were right, The King did bring a dragon." The man laughed, and Denki was suddenly struck by how beautiful he was. His eyes were like magma, and they had a slight glow to them. 

"My name is Kirishima Eijiro!" He said, interrupting Denki's thoughts. "We came here looking for you!" 

"For me? Why? No. No, I don't care. Get off my land! Off! I've worked too long and hard for what I have for you rich aots to just come in here and destroy it all!" 

"Seize him." 

When Denki woke up he was in a lavish room lying on the softest bed he had ever had the pleasure of being on. He almost moaned at the comfort, until he realized that he was chained up. He sat up as much as the bonds allowed, a chain running between his hands and down to his feet which were connected by another heavy chain. 

He wanted to scream. He wanted his mu, Monoma, anybody who could save him. But he was alone, and screaming could let someone know he was awake. Despite his lavish surroundings, he didn't want to know what they would do with him. 

He feigns sleep as the door opens, hoping whoever comes in doesn't notice him being awake. 

"Denki? Are you up?" It was the voice of Kirishima. "Kat he smells like fear, even in his sleep." The voice held so much worry. 

"Don't worry Eiji, he'll get used to it." This voice was unfamiliar, and Denki cracked his eyes open to see who it was, only to squeeze them shut when he saw two pairs of red eyes staring at him.

"Well," said the unfamiliar voice. "Looks like the mouse is awake after all." Denki opened his eyes to see a man with spiky blond hair. 

"Who are you?" Denki mumbled. He was still slightly groggy from sleep, but his fear outweighed the feeling.

"Ha! You don't recognize your own king?" The man threw back his head and laughed while Denki froze in terror. Denki's voice trembled as he spoke.

"How would I recognize you? I've never met you?" Kirishima spoke up from the corner of the room.

"He has a point blasty! How would he recognize you?"

The King scoffed. "Well, he knows me now. I'm Katsuki Bakugou. Your mate."

"Impossible," Denki said. "I have no mate marks." Kirishima looked worried.

"Denki, you do have mate marks. There are two on your back, one's mine and the other is Katsuki's. Did you not know?" Kirishima spoke gently as if he was afraid Denki would freak out.

"No, I didn't know." Denki looked between them. "So you are my mates then?" 

"Yes," Bakugou said. "And you're going to live here. You'll be chained as such for a while until we know we can trust you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand." Denki hund his head. Kirishima hugged him.

"Don't worry mouse! You'll get used to it and be really happy here!"

Denki wanted to go home.

[watsername]

could i please please rant about a fashion aesthetic that personally gives me brain damage? see i actually agree with everything you said about balletcore being about classism with people trying to look rich with no respect for the art itself but i also want to talk about the opposite side of it, COTTAGECORE. I FUCKING HATE IT.

its the exact opposite in this case because people are trying to look poor which they somehow consider as humble???? and these days its so tied with TERF shit that it makes me homicidal. "Oh look how the simple village folk were so effortlesly beautiful, the village women nothing but fairylike waifs dancing through the fields with a handwoven basket full of apples, the absolute pinacle of true femininity and grace ❤️" IF YOU SAW AN ACTUAL VILLAGE WOMAN AT WORK, YOU WOULD PUKE.

theres also that millionaire bitch on tiktok that keeps pushing tradwife shit in her village cosplay kitchen which is a whole nother topic but lets continue onto the actual outfits used for this aesthetic. first, every single color and pattern choice is fucking wrong. i have my great grandmothers clothes, i wear her headscarves, the actual village aesthetic is surprisingly mainly white with bright pop out colors done in culture specific patterns on the hems of the garments. while cottage core is muted brown, muted brown, oh look! muted green! what a fantastic variety of earth tones and creams! why not just wear a fucking potato sack while your at it?! and surprisingly they rarely if ever incorporate headscarves into the easthetic, as if there aren't multiple village cultures that all share the use of headscarves as work and celebratory garments. and none of the aesthetic clothes have patterns outside of just cableknit! its all just cream shirt, cableknit sweater, long skirt. thats it? no scarf? no sash? no embroidery patterns? no apron?! also depending on the region (and the aesthetic is heavily focused on the EU countries often the western side) where the fuck are the furs?! wolf fur hats, fox fur coat/scarf???? welted boots?! its a fucking disgrace

all that i understood from doing research on the aesthetic is that they took western EU village outfits, took every single cultural marker out of them, smashed them together, got a brownish mess like dirty paint water, seperated it into basic color tones, and made shitty clothes which they mass produced and are now selling at an outrageous price so that the rich can badly cosplay as the poor. i have way more hang ups like how cottagecore is often merged with wiccan to make up mystical terfy bullshit which is so fucking disrespectful to the actual pagans but thats outside of fashion so nvm

yeah there’s been a lot of criticism of cottagecore and the audience it markets itself to there’s definitely something weird with the way they treat femininity and the whole connection between cottagecore tradwifeisms and divine femininity which is starting to seep into radfem spaces too like . the way that a soft femininity is being weaponised to promote anticapitalism and feminine separatism but also promoting traditional gender roles and enforcing a borderline biblical femininity as the ‘right way to be a woman’ whilst actively pushing capitalism by buying into aesthetics and specified interior design to portray the illusion of humility . it all feels very not like other girls as well by rejecting and borderline condemning modern femininity esp the treatment of women who enjoy glamour and express sexuality liek its almost puritan . its pretty i like muted greens i love a safe green kicthen but aestheticism always goes beyond the clothes it’s communication and i’m not a fan of what’s being communicated through cottagecore a lot

[dorisbestfriends4ever]

[demo2023 lyrics]

white bull terrier*

and i was two when you got me 

you singled me out behind the rusted wire fence

you never liked living alone

a 30 pound white bull terrier 

with a spot on my face that you kissed 

the day that you got me and took me home 

to where you reside

with the remains of old dogs 

that still sit at the door and wait 

of you to get home

to come home

you hated living alone 

i’m yours now

i hear your recall and i’m there

when you slap your hands

from which you feed me

the ones you bare my body in

but now my teeth can’t grip 

the words to make you hear me

i’ve learned to bite the bullet 

and keep quiet till i’m alone

time alone with you is now time alone with myself

just put me down like a dog 

who wont make it till monday 

and i’m trying to get home

i just want to get home to you

help me decide

if i should try

help me decide 

if i should try

be tall be strong 

white bull terrier

be tall be strong

white bull terrier 

the horse race*

in repetition there is comfort 

and in comfort i’ll repeat the same mistakes 

and when the race is finally over 

they’ll never catch me 

i never made it there 

if we run this race 

would you stand with me 

in the place they left and we can watch them 

move into the space that i was aiming for 

they will cross the finish line 

i am running i am chasing 

they have all moved past me we can watch them 

fall at the finish line 

but i am not complete 

were you watching 

i’m not complete 

in repetition there is comfort 

and in comfort i repeat the same mistakes 

and when the race is finally over 

they’ll never catch me 

i never made it there

(and if i make it i’ll fall at the line, the horse race)

if you keep walking 

over the petals underneath your feet

you will fall through

you will fall through 

no matter hard i try 

i’ve come undone again

i will fall through

i will fall through 

3 plates at this table 

not a single one mine

you will fall through 

you will fall through

bite marks all over this apple 

not a single one mine 

fairfield, conn.*

when it gets quiet that’s when i hear it

hear it the loudest

i should have been there, i should have known

should’ve known better

still haven’t seen you cry haven’t heard you say

never hear you say sorry

hit me as hard as you can

until the boy problems 

leave my voice

hit me as hard as you can

until my breath is gone 

spoken word - she makes me feel better, but for how long will she keep me safe

who’s gonna be there to notice i’ve changed, watch me grow, or stay the same

how was i supposed to know i spoke too much 

it felt like i was right until i got home 

i still can’t talk to my mum i still can’t tell if you leaving was good or bad 

but i promised to keep moving forward, keep growing until i see no one else around me 

i will keep running and i will keep falling 

i watched her as she drew her gun from the holster 

loaded with every vulnerability i’ve told her 

she fires it for the start of the race, i run with no knowledge of the end and i will keep running with no knowledge of the end 

at what point does “no questions asked, at some point i just wasn’t enough” turn into “no questions asked, you tried your best”

i will not find 

my way home 

i will not find 

my way home 

(and i have tried i fell, 

i will keep on running it home)

atsomepointijustwasntenough*

every time i stand by the kitchen 

teach myself how to cry

i forgot the feeling 

wish i understood why

catch the bus every morning 

i’m learning how to fit in

but when i sit there all alone 

they’re always there with me

reminds me of the summer 

the same 3 songs on repeat

if i could take us back to then 

would you tell me the same 

no questions asked 

at some point, i just wasn’t enough 

[writing-plurals]

Amazing that I found your account! I've been wondering about this thing.

For the past four years I've been working on and off on this book

In the book everyone has some sort of thing that kind of hampers them in the human world, but helps them in their world- kind of like how in Percy Jackson, a lot of demigods have dyslexia and adhd

These hampering things are different for almost everyone and they're often related to a power or ability that you have. A person who has telekinesis may "hear voices" and person who can prophesize things may have an ungodly horrible sleep schedule

One character in particular just blacks out

The idea with her was basically that she has this "side" thar whenever it senses she's in danger, shows up and whoops ass.

This version of her is clearly not her doing the things and then immediately forgetting she'd done them. Her friends make comments about this version of her acting very different, when she isn't in control of her body, she makes comments as to what it feels like. She counts how long she's there for, then, as if nothings happened, she's whipped back into reality

Now with this character, in the beginning, I really didn't want her to be a system. I'm not sure how I convinced myself she wasn't, but now that I've began to understand my own system, understand what's happening, it's pretty obvious she's a system. The only problem is, no matter how much she really hates her mom, she isn't traumatized. Not by her mom or anything else, it's literally a point in the story that all of her childhood was her parents keeping her safe from bad things. There's not really any room for truama

Especially nothing serious enough and that would occur at a young enough age for her to develop did or osdd

Now don't get me wrong, I support systems formed outside of truama, but the last thing I want is for the first book that I've ever written that wasn't a picture book to be a catalyst of a bunch of discourse, I also feel there aren't many clear representatives of did or osdd in the media, and even less that are actually good or accurate

Personally, as someone who identifies with endo system (despite beginning to wonder if undiagnosed osdd is a possibility) I genuinely just think it's only fair that the disordered people are tended to first, then, once I feel they've been represented, I can then chose to represent the non disordered

So my question to you is what you think I should do?

Should I continue with this character not being a system and just this being the magic of that world that causes the weird split

Or should I go back into her backstory and find somewhere to fit the truama needed to make this character representative

(And I just realized this but she's the only character I have really that isn't that representative of anything else the rest of the main cast

Mixed (black and white) + Bisexual + Adhd

Mixed (Asian and white) + FtM + MLM/demisexual + depression

A literal robot + nonbinary + panromantic + has traits similar to autism but I wouldn't call it autistic cause it's a robot

Mixed (black and asian) + agender + schizophrenia

They're all mixed bc they're all mixed with the things I'm mixed with shhh 😔

But like this character

White + heterosexual + Cisgender + literally nothing else interesting about her other than that blackout-different-person thingy

So yeah, theres also that

Hmmm, think of representation like a kinda pie being made for a holiday meal. Just cuz you made a pumpkin pie (endogenic system rep), doesn't mean other ppl can't go out and get what they need for apple or banana cream pie. There's plenty of space for both kinds of stories to exist. The same way just cuz tv has few long running lesbian shows doesn't stop gay ones being made.

Endogenic systems' stories deserve to be told too, and it's okay to wanna tell it with what you have set up. It's not being insensitive to represent one marginalized group over another.

As for other headmates you mentioned, I'm a little too white to help with that, so maybe our followers and other mods can help with that bit!

-Mod Tick Tock

[mugunghwc]

    let this be the only post about this i will make:

     let people write whatever they want. if you have difficulty distinguishing between fiction & reality, that’s your issue. browse with discretion & choose carefully what type of media you will consume based on what you’re comfortable with. stop making assumptions about people’s personalities or their lives based on what they write & stop relying on others, because what you might find problematic, i might be okay with & vice versa. make your own judgement based on your own experience versus something someone said, because by singling out someone, you’re only drawing negative attention their way, or fully isolating them by spreading a narrative that might even be false. you’re not morally superior just because you don’t write certain subjects. you’re, especially, not morally superior, if you go around spreading hate, wishing death to people over rp ( what happened to rp is a hobby?? ), calling them names, or dropping names / urls.

    i’m tired of the hypocrisy of the rpc community.  i’m tired of the preaching about  ‘ dark themes ‘ being included & that a blog is for adults only, while behaving like this is high school. dark themes include other stuff other than murder & gore, you know? & sure, there will always be the bad apples writing stuff with the intention of fetishizing or romanticizing certain stuff, but they’re not nearly as much as people ought them to be, while the same people accusing others, participate in this romanticizing when writing criminals, demons, etc.

   —the same people, that want to spread ‘ positivity ‘, safe spaces, advocate for mental health & white knight for communities they don’t even belong to & speak on their behalf.

    you’re entitled to who you choose to follow or interact with, & what subjects you’re not comfortable with. that’s fine, but don’t police others & spread this narrative about them when you don’t know what they think or why they write what they write.

[casspurrjoybell-25]

The Healer of Shakkara - Book One

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 13 - Hunted - Part 2

"Whether or not we are their intended quarry... they're on our trail, now."

Galen shivered.

He liked animals, including dogs but something about the trained viciousness of a hunting pack had always frightened him.

He hated the thought of what happened to any poor creature the beasts caught and had no desire to experience such a thing himself.

For the first time, he was glad that his companions were so well-armed.

Rea knelt closest to the entrance, her bow resting across her knee, one arrow ready on the string and a cluster stuck in the ground within reach.

Her face was pale and grim but calm.

No one spoke and Galen shivered in the cool, damp air, listening to the clamor of the dogs and hunters drawing near.

Sev laid a hand on his arm as if to reassure him but Galen shrugged him off.

He had no choice but to go along with these people, for now and they had most likely saved his life but he was still their captive, at the end of the day and he wasn't about to like them for it.

Especially Sevhalim, who had taken things from him since the moment they'd met... first his pendant, now his freedom.

Galen wondered what he'd take next.

Tense moments passed and Galen shut his eyes as he heard the dogs splash and yelp further downstream.

Rea shifted position slightly and began to draw her bow but Sev reached over and touched her shoulder and shook his head.

She frowned but relaxed and a minute or so later, the sounds diminished again.

Obi's salts had worked and the dogs were retracing their steps, having lost the scent.

Gradually, the sound of the hunt faded as the dogs and hunters moved on.

Still, another quarter hour passed and the deep stillness of the woods returned before anyone dared to speak or move.

"We'd best stay here until nightfall," Sev said, stretching his limbs as best he could in the limited space.

"I don't want to risk crossing paths with that lot."

Oberik sighed, eying the walls of brambles with a grimace of distaste.

"Not the most comfortable of domiciles," he said.

"But I suppose it will have to do."

"How strong is your salt, Obi?" Iksthanis asked, rubbing his stomach.

"Is it safe to eat?"

"It's not that kind of salt, Iksy."

The larger man rolled his eyes.

"I don't mean 'eat the salt' you dumb-ass. I mean is it safe to eat food? Can the salt mask the scent of it?"

"Oh... It should be... as long we stick to the less fragrant stuff."

Iksy nodded and began to pull cloth-wrapped parcels from his pack.

He passed around halved apples, a few nuts and a small piece of dry bread to each of them.

As Galen received his portion, he realized he was ravenous but forced himself to eat slowly and savor every bite, washing it down with a sip of water.

"Need a refill?" Iksthanis asked, seeing how far Galen tipped his flask but Zenir shook his head.

"Not here. The water doesn't smell right."

Iksthanis sighed and let his hand drop.

"Fine," to Galen, he said... "Last time I ignored Zen's advice I was sick for a week."

Galen cleared his throat and decided to dare a question.

"Are you all... er... 'Hands' or whatever it's called?"

Obi laughed.

He had a broad smile and even, white teeth and his blue eyes sparkled in his tan face.

"Hardly. Only Rea and Sev are 'Hands.'

The rest of us are just hired muscle."

Galen looked to the dark-haired man at his side, whose mercurial eyes were now light as silver.

"There are only a dozen or so Hands at any time," he said.

"We're chosen for service very young and raised by the Order. I was found at about age six, I think and became a Hand at fifteen or near enough."

Galen frowned.

"Found?"

"I was an orphan or so I'm told," Sev said.

"I remember little of my life before the Order but I was on a Yuthi trade barge when another Hand spotted me. And whatever I was to the people on that boat, they were willing enough to give me up. Rea was found a few years later."

"And the others?" Galen glanced at Iksthanis, Obi, and Zenir.

"We're mercenaries... I guess," Obi said, shrugging.

"We work for the Order but only because they pay us. We don't 'serve' it the same way the Hands do."

"Hands take sacred vows of obedience and sacrifice," Rea said, speaking up.

"Our lives and loyalty belong to the Order."

Galen carefully chewed an almond into paste as he absorbed this information.

"What do you get out of it?" he asked.

"We get to live," Rea said.

"Sevhalim forgot to mention one important detail. The Order does not take just any children... it takes dying children. Whatever they do to cure us is what makes us worthy to be Hands and grants us... unique abilities."

Appalled, Galen stopped chewing.

"The Order has the ability to heal children but only uses it on a few dozen?"

Sev shook his head.

"Now it is Rea who has left out the important detail. Those who survive the 'cure' become Hands and those who survive are very few, indeed."

"Even if the Order offered to take every sick child in the empire, most parents would rather hold out hope for a miracle and cling to every precious day than bet against almost certain and immediate death. That's why most Hands are orphans or children no one wanted, anyway."

Saving children who would otherwise die was good, Galen supposed but to do so solely for the purpose of turning them into servants seemed... less so.

He finished his small meal in silence, listening as Iksthanis revealed he was indeed half Naqqiri and had spent his younger days on a 'venturing merchant' ship, which Galen gathered meant he'd been a pirate.

Zenir, he learned, was a displaced noble who had survived an assassination attempt, that left him blind.

He'd been little more than a beggar when Sev first encountered him.

Lastly, Obi told of being a headstrong young soldier, who'd made nearly every mistake in the book and owed his life to Sev, several times over.

What they all seemed to have in common was a love and respect for the pale, dark-haired man.

For Rea, Galen detected only the latter sentiment and she herself shared little beyond the fact she was a Hand.

At last, the shadows in the bramble-haven darkened until Galen could hardly see and Sev gave the order to move.

They retraced their steps back down the stream, moving even more carefully in the gloom, until they left the water.

Pausing only to put on their shoes once more, they made their way through the woods with slow, quiet care, all watching and listening for any sign of pursuit.

But the forest was quiet and after a half hour, Zenir announced he had heard nothing but the usual small creatures, going about their lives beneath the trees.

Still, the others relaxed only a fraction and spoke only when necessary and only in whispers even then. 

Taking not of his observations, Iksthanis leaned close and said...

"It's when you feel safe that they get you."

"Sounds like a stressful way to live," Galen said.

"It's a way to not die," the man replied with a shrug and dropped back to walk at Zenir's side.

It was fully dark by the time they reached the edge of the woods and looked out across the swath of farmland to the low line of hills beyond.

The Wild Green lay on the other side of these... a vast wilderness stretching many leagues to the base of the Gray Mountains, over which lay the lowlands of Sakkara.

Galen shivered as the immensity of the journey before him sank in.

Even if they covered twenty miles a day, it would take nearly three months to reach the capital at Tal P'Nir and from there, they'd still have the journey north to the Jagged Peaks and Jana Val.

The farthest he had been in his whole life was the edge of the Wild Green.

"All right?" Sevhalim's light touch on his arm startled him and he frowned, giving a single nod of his head.

Maybe the man inspired love in his companions but zealots could inspire love, too and Galen wasn't about to trust him with the fact he felt frightened, lost and alone.

'As much as swords and arrows, those were weapons that could be used against him,' he thought.  

[littlecollective]

⭐Hello and welcome to our blog!

[⭐]; ABOUT｡ ｡ ｡ ｡

This is a space dedicated for the littles on our system as well those who ageregress,agedream or petregress so please,refrain from interacting if u post anything suggestive/sexual as they will see it,littles from systems and singlets are encouraged to interact!

[⭐]; INTERACT IF｡ ｡ ｡ ｡

♡You're a little,either from a system or singlet

♡You're a petregressor

♡You're a caretaker

♡Your account is completely safe (NO heavy topics,blood,suggestive or sexual stuff and literaly anything you wouldn't show a child)

[🌙]; DON'T INTERACT IF｡ ｡ ｡ ｡

♡Radinclus/Radfem

♡Transcum/Transmed

♡Anti self diagnosis

♡Endo system/supporter/neutral

♡Queerphobic,even if to one label

♡Believe in mspec lesbians,bi lesbians,men can be lesbians and similar to any of those

♡Pro paraphilia or zoophile

♡Pro israel or antisemetic

♡Believe fiction is fiction,proshipper,against people who hate proshitters

♡And much more that should be basic human decency

[☁]; INTRODUCTIONS ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡

🐰💜⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚Jax˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆💜🐰

Petregre and Agere

🎀☆Ages: 5~7

🎀☆Pronouns: He/It/Bun [ No Preference ]

🎀☆Likes: Harboring plushies and blankets to make some kind of nest,eating apples and most fruits,no main aesthetic,loves all as long theres soft colors

🎀☆Dislikes: Showers,gets stressed always and very prone to crying at the slightest so always be gentle no matter the situation,prolonged eye contact and touch

🎀☆Others: Sensitive to noise,so be sure to be quiet and no loud videos at all,purple its buns fav color,has audhd (autism + adhd)

🎀☆Petre animal: A white lop bunny with brown spots

[ Jax is an introject from tadc,he sometimes agere/petre ]

🌿🪽⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚Doll˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆🪽🌿

Agedreamer

🪻♡Age: 8~11

🪻♡Pronouns: She/They [ No prefference ]

🪻♡Likes: Fauna and Flora,eating sweets and picnics in gardens,forests or valleys,loves to travel but easily gets sick,bakery

🪻♡Dislikes: Animals or insects getting hurt,stepping on flowers,getting sick,following orders

🪻♡Others: Often tries to stay up watching cartoons,loves all colors and to play with plushies,no favorite animal says she loves them all,likes cottage aesthetic and any that has to do with nature and animals,has anxiety,Stickers e v e r y w h e r e

[ Doll is a version of Fluttershy from mlp,but human ]

🐾🩷⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚Boris˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆🩷🐾

Agere and Petre

🧁★Age: 4~8~13

🧁★Pronouns: He/They/It/Pup/Maw/Paw and any neos u can think of! [ No prefference ]

🧁★Likes: Drawing,watching the rain and listening to ambience noises to fall asleep,plushies,blankets and stickers,likes anything star shaped,likes anything cute,fav aesthetics are nostalgic ones,scene,cutecore (not to be confused with cuteGore),carebears and mlp are comfort medias

🧁★Dislikes: Cheese,white chocolate and some bugs,loud noises

🧁★Others: Adhd

🧁★Petre animal: A mixed wolf and dog

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Here you will see drawings,posts and more! Each one of them will have their own hastag byee,more to be added thats all important info for now ~Bug

[chilihawg]

#CHILIHAWG 𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙸𝙴, 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝚅𝙰𝚃𝙴, 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚅𝚈 𝙷𝙲 𝙿𝙾𝚁𝚃𝚁𝙰𝚈𝙰𝙻 𝙾𝙵 CLASSIC (93') SONIC THE HEDGEHOG 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 SatAM / MANIA 𝙰𝚂 𝚃𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙱𝚈 ATTITUDE. 𝚎𝚜𝚝. 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺. black mun.  𝙱𝙸𝙾 𝚃𝙱𝙰. 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙻𝙳𝙱𝚄𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝙾𝙲𝙲𝚄𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙼𝚈 𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙸𝚃𝚈. 𝙸'𝙼 𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝙸'𝙼 𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : free-spirit. / environmentalism. / found family. / growth through empathetic learning. /post-apocalyptic dystopia. / overindulgence. / slapstick humor. / imprisonment. / slavery. / sadism. / animal cruelty. / ancient egypt. / unethical medical experimentation. / psychology [ I.e., freudian id, ego, and superego and carl jung's shadow. ] / darwinism. / dystopia. / child survivors, alongside other sonic-related media influences.

some need to know.

disclaimer: i am NEW to the sonic rpc. i've no clue who are the bad apples and or what's what. so, i ask that folks refrain for giving me grief in my inbox if i'm found interacting with someone that was proven to be problematic [ i.e. racism.]. if the issue was just squabbling between old friends and it fell apart... please, leave me out of it and leave me to my chili dogs. with that said...

001. you are the master curators of your own safe space. do what thou wilt. if you do not like antagonistic dynamics, this is not the muse for you. if you cannot stand the thought of being unable to tone police a thirty-year-old man, i am not the ideal writing partner for you. if generally, low-activity blogs do not suit your preferences, please feel free to block me. i have no personal issues with anyone, so do not inquire about me to a mutual or personally contact me regarding what you may perceive as '"beef". many of us say this until we're blue in the face, but yes, all i care about is writing and creating connections with great writers.

002. as stated above, i exclusively portray classic sonic. his voice claim is jaleel white, as i grew up watching the 1993 and always was in love with the stylistic choice to have him short & pudgy ( this does NOT mean i HATE modern sonic. i'm not interested in discourse over the franchise. ). that I said, his age is verse dependent. please, don't infantilize him. i do not ( nor do i ever. ) strictly portray a muse at their given age in the media, and my sonic's maturity will be explored throughout the course of his history with other muses on this blog.

003. shipping is fine with me. my potential partner(s) and i both reserve the right to drop it, if it fails to work out for any reason. as for nsfw, I don't mind sending in prompts, but i more than likely won't write it on the blog. it'll either be reserved for some nsft blog or on discord. i'm not the most secure in writing that content.

004. i'm open to exchanging discords with people, for quicker replies, but please don't harass me for replies.

005. i feel like i do best with freestyling ( or writing without plot. but, i won't deny someone the opportunity to discuss an interesting plot with me. just to let you know, i'm slow on dm and discord at times.

[sailor-cerise]

You said hard to explain, and I think that's totally understandable -- so could you use examples as a starting point? (Here and/or with your doctor)

What are some specific things that you can and can't eat right now?

E.g. "I can eat plain chicken breast and I like it with ketchup, but I can't eat it if there's skin on it or it's too juicy"

Or

"I like carrots but only raw. I don't feel good when I bite into a soft carrot"

Or general categories of issue, like "I can't eat any food that's too cold or too wet"

I'll put some of my issues and tricks below the cut, since I think I've gone on long enough as is and I'm not sure if that's helpful.

You're doing the right thing by trying to get your body the nutrients it needs <3

Generally, I try something in a safe space first, ideally with someone who will eat it if I don't and/or with a small portion, when I'm just a bit hungry rather than NEEDING food urgently. I take a sniff and then a small bite of the smell didn't make me nauseated.

If I don't like it but don't hate it, I'll try it again a few times, sometimes after a break.

If you find that all you like is Mac and cheese from one specific brand, eating enough of that is way better than eating nothing, and is a great starting point.

Some of my friends never were able to expand their diet, and so they take supplements for fiber and iron.

General thing I try: save a few bites of something I like or can tolerate, to have after the gross thing if I HAVE to eat it.

When possible, if eating something makes me feel nauseated, gagging, distressed, etc while I'm eating it, I stop eating it and have something else.

Always issues:

Slimy textures like mushrooms by themselves or lots of tomato, or some meat. I can counteract this to some extent with a carb like bread or rice

Too sweet. I usually have enough choice that I don't have to eat something too sweet, but if I don't and it's something savory (e.g. pasta with alfredo sauce) I add pepper and/or salt and/or something acidic (lemon, vinegar). If it's something like a donut and it's my ONLY option for food, I eat as little as I can.

Too creamy. Makes me nauseated. I have to alternate this with other foods and always save a

Too fatty. I handle this using all of the above techniques together.

American pickles. I just absolutely cannot.

Raisins in things. Too sweet, weird texture.

Organ meat (liver, tripe). Cannot. Texture or taste. Cannot at all.

Protein bars. Sickly sweet and bad after taste

Sometimes-problems:

Raw veggies are too crunchy but most cooked veggies are too squishy. They've got a tiiiiiny Goldilocks zone of being edible when I'm feeling sensitive to this.

Dark green veggies are too bitter

Fruit is either too cold and crunchy (apples) or too unreliable (berries) or too squishy and/or sweet (bananas)

Protein in red meat is sometimes inedible. Boneless white chicken is okay. Salami is easier than beef but harder than chicken to eat. Bacon is easier than sausage.

Cheese is sometimes too fatty and doesn't have enough carbs. Cheese on bread or crackers is edible.

Deli sandwiches. Sometimes they are revolting.

Prepackaged wheat bread. Sometimes good sometimes awful, even the same brand

Nuts. If I'm very hungry, these taste too fatty. I enjoy them otherwise

Smoothies are too cold and too slimy. This is less intense than most issues and I can almost always chug it down to get the nutrition if I need.

Meal replacement bars like Clif bars. There are only a few brands and specific flavors I can tolerate, like peanut butter or "superfood" flavor

Yogurt and cottage cheese. I love the taste but sometimes I can't eat these for years at a time.

Things that I can almost always eat:

Saltines

Soup, but I'm very picky about WHICH soup

Tuna salad (nothing sweet, no pickles/relish/raisins or I will cry or at least spit it out)

Fresh baked bread of almost any type

French fries

Mashed potatoes

Certain brands and flavors of potato chip - salt and vinegar is currently on this list, which is new

Peanut butter and jelly sandwich

Grilled cheese sandwich

Pasta with a non-creamy sauce (pesto, marinara, aribata) or just buttered

Most nutrients in food I need are on the "sometimes problem" list, so I do my best to have options. It means I carry more food on a trip because in the moment, I might not be able to stomach the peanut butter snack bar, for example.

You're not alone in having issues, and it might take some time but I bet you can find a way that works for you.

Ok, so I'm having trouble eating healthy food because of sensory issues that I don't know how to explain. Went to a nutritionist, she was no help. I don't think she understood what the problem was. I'm always hungry these days, which means (worryingly) I'm starting to ignore my hunger. My nails are always brittle and my hair keeps falling. I'm terrified I'm starting to get an ED or something. Any advice?

[thebadboyfanclub]

You Are My Home (Geralt x Reader)

This was requested by anon. Enjoy!

The life (y/n) had it was something Geralt often envied, it was a way of living that had nothing to do with him, it was almost like she created her own magical bubble that kept her away from anything harmful, she lived in harmony with everything.

(Y/n) was a farmer's daughter, an only child and her mother passed away when she was young, a few years after she made her first step into adulthood her father also passed, so since she was a little girl her day was filled with taking care of the land and looking after the animals she so much adored. It wasn't the squeezing cow tits and cleaning out the stables that fascinated him, it was the utter bliss you could identify at the twinkle of her eyes, she was in love with her life, the bitterness and greed of the world had graced by her and left her unharmed.

(Y/n) had stumbled across Geralt at the market of the closest town of her home. She sold fruits, milk and vegetables there, still the reason why Geralt noticed wasn't her healthy goods, it was her booming voice as she shouted at a man. 

"If you lay your hands on a child again I will make sure you have no hands to do so!"

As he approached to see what all the fuss was about he saw her. Her hair was nearly pulled back and away from her face, her dress was this beautiful purple color as her hands were on her sides, one breath away from the man's face. Another thing he noticed was the child in question that hid behind her as it clinged on her legs for protection.

"He stole apples from my table"

"You want apples? Here"

She turned and took as many she could hold and started to throw them at the man. He acted out on impulse and stepped in to restrict her, she had a strong fire in her but he would hate to see the obviously taller man harm her.

"That's enough, I think you proved your point"

He said to her as he got in front of her and gently touched her forearms to make her take a few steps back.

"That low life, he almost killed the poor little boy over a few apples"

She muttered as she turned her back on Geralt and kneeled to the kids level. Her hand reached the child's face as she inspected him.

"Are you alright dear? Come with me, I have a bottle of milk for you"

He felt a bit hurt as the girl ignored his presence entirely. As the woman and the child walked over her counter, she instruced the child to sit on the stool as she passed him a bottle of milk. 

The child smiled brightly before chugging the bottle, at that moment of silent Geralt found the courage to speak up.

"I'm Geralt"

"Oh I'm sorry I got completely distracted. I am (y/n), thank you for helping me"

-

After that Geralt felt compelled by her, he would leave her for a short period of time to travel and pick up jobs, yet he always felt the need to come back to her. She was his haven, his safe space to relax, even when compared to him she was this tiny little thing she made him feel protected.

He awoke at the smell of fresh baked goods, he had come to her cottage late at night and exhausted. She only smiled in a sleepy manner and hugged him tight before helping him get into bed with her with no questions or spared words. 

At that time (y/n) walked in the bedroom with a cup in her hand. She was dressed in her white night dress and her hair was down, framing her beautiful face. She sat on his side of the bed as he sat up, the sheets falling from his torso.

"Good morning"

"I believe a good evening is more appropriate. Here, drink this"

She said as she passed the cup to him. (Y/n) loved thyme tea, she always made it for him whenever he came to visit her, the aroma of it made him feel welcomed and now he had linked that smell with her. He remembered how she rambled about how much it helps and nourishes you, he didn't remember what she said exactly but just seeing her so happy and focused on a subject about a simple thing made him smile. 

"Hmmm, what have I done to deserve you?"

He asked before taking a sip of the tea. She giggled at his teasing, he always said that to her, at first she found it funny however she was aware that Geralt thought very low of him, it made her so mad that he didn't see what she was seeing.

"It's the least I could do, you keep us safe"

"It wasn't by choice"

"No one forces you to work Geralt, you go hunting for jobs"

He didn't respond, he was well aware that she had a strong case here. After taking a few sips of the warm liquid he left the cup on the side of his bed before reaching for her hand to caress her soft warm skin. She looked at her hand in his, his skin against hers brought her goosebumps, she tried to hide her smile from him, although Geralt saw it and decided to not comment on it.

"How are things here?"

"Carina gave birth"

"Oh well she was really big last time I saw her"

"She was having a baby cow inside her, I think that's a bit normal"

They had been around enough for her to know what he wanted. She slowly crawled on her side and got under the covers with him, he smiled as he laid back down and rested his head on her breasts while his arms went around her waist bringing her as close as possible. Her fingers went up on his head, slowly caressing his long silver hair she so much adored, for a man that gets covered with monster blood ever so often his hair was soft like silk. 

His warmth made her relax even more as she took a deep inhale and closed her eyes, enjoying his natural scent tingling her nostrils, she never thought a man's smell would bring her such a calm sensation that made her muscles relax completely, the feeling was almost euphoric as she continued to run her fingers through his white mane.

Geralt enjoyed being caressed by her, after years of feeling the touch of a woman only after offering her coins he finally felt he was being cared for, it was something he thought he would never experience. Now here she was making the giant witcher melt in her arms.

"I missed you"

He whispered just enough for her to hear, (y/n) smiled before placing a kiss at the top of his head. Anyone else would laugh at the sight of the big bad witcher snuggling up on a girl and letting her wrap her legs around his torso in order to make him feel protected. She wasn't short but anyone would look small in comparison.

"I missed you too dearest"

Hearing her speak to him in such a delicate and soft way made him feel his stomach twist, in a good way of course. She was what he never knew he missed, she was the warm sun in his gloomy life.

"One day I won't have to leave you"

"One day I will put poison in your tea. Not the deathly kind, maybe paralyze you so you won't be able to leave"

His chest erupted with laughter at her snarky comment, she never phrased her sadness and displeasure when he left her, still he could sense it. It was exactly what he felt so there was a mutual understanding of how much they both hated that departure. He raised his head to look at her as she offered him a warm smile in return

"You are my home"

"Maybe one day my home won't have to slip away from me"

[nanaminshousewife]

i feel i need to defend my actions indulge in this gojo brainrot so here goes…

warnings: not proofread. fem!bodied, gn, black reader. slight femdom? if this is wrong please let me know

a/n: this is highly self indulgent and fuelled by my urge to take care of a vulnerable gojo so nanami please avert your eyes

imagine gojo coming home from a mission. he’s not injured, but god is he exhausted. he’s been running around at the orders of those damned higher ups, exorcising curses and seeing his friends get injured.

when he gets home he just stands in the doorway, unable to move as the weight of his tiredness sets in. you recognise the look on his face: slightly downcast, and if you pulled his mask up and over his brows you’d see the fatigue clearly in his crystal eyes.

he hates being this vulnerable, there’s just something about baring his true self that sets him on edge, raising his hackles and bringing his guard up ten times higher. but with you, it’s different. with you he feels safe. so with that, he lets you take his hand, pale and slightly shaky in the warm yellow light of your kitchen, and lead him into the bedroom.

the way you undress him is tender, a love language of its very own and when you’re done, you caress his face so gently, and he leans into your touch as if its the last chance he’ll ever get to. this kind of gentleness is rare he thinks, so what’s the harm of indulging a little?

he takes the chance to duck in for a kiss, his soft lips moving against your own with a soft hunger that leaves you breathless and wanting more, desire thrumming lowly in your veins. in an instant, your hands are all over him, tracing over his back and chest, your brown skin contrasting against the smooth planes of his abs. and he can’t get enough, uncharacteristic whimpers and groans leaving his lips. he’s desperate and needy after weeks of being away from you, and when your hands wrap around his cock and the fight leaves his body he realises he needs you to take care of him. so when you push him onto the bed, he goes willingly, landing with a soft thump and watching as you undress and join him.

you start kissing at his neck, nipping at the column of his throat as your hand wraps around him once more and begins pumping. the hitch in his breath is positively sinful, and you watch his adams apple bob as you continue littering his neck and chest with hickeys. he looks beautiful like this, white hair mussed and stuck to his forehead, body glistening in a light sheen of sweat. it’s almost angelic, his whimpers and whines and for a second you want to tease him, but the way his moans ring around the room make you merciful. you continue pumping his shaft, running your thumb over his slit and with a jerk of his body he’s cumming in hot, thick spurts.

when he’s done, he relaxes into the mattress, blue eyes hooded and unfocused, balanced on the very edge of sleep. once you’re done cleaning up, he pulls you down to him, arms wrapping around you as he nuzzles his face into the space between your neck and shoulders.

he whispers a “thank you” into your skin, and you giggle through the ticklish feeling of how breaths against you.

“you’re welcome” you tell him, and from the even breaths that linger quietly in the air, you know he’s asleep.

tagging: @gabzlovesu, @misss-chrisss, @dejwrites and @kazuwhora

[myxtiny]

Behind Safe Walls

This fic is part of the “Enchanter’s Emporium” series

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The sky above Solitude was a flat, solid white, with a few icy flakes already drifting down from the ominous clouds. Glynn shivered as he checked the latch on the window, making sure it was tightly secured. “It certainly looks like that storm is going to hit, just as promised.”

A grunt of agreement came from the hearth, where Kai was stoking the cooking fire. “Mmm. Been feeling the chill in the air all morning.”

“I’m glad Elijah was close enough to the city that we could invite him to stay the night. I would hate to think of him all alone on those rocky slopes, with only skins and furs to protect him from the wind.”

“I’m sure he’s used to it.” Kai stood up, brushing the grit from his hands. A smile touched his face as he turned to look at Glynn. “But I’m glad we got to him too. Always good to have him around. He’s coming in time for dinner, isn’t he?”

Glynn nodded. “I did all the shopping yesterday, thankfully. We should have plenty to eat. I’m keeping the shop closed today -- I doubt anyone will be out seeking enchantments in a blizzard anyway -- so I can spend my afternoon up here, minding the roast.”

“Good idea. Wish I could stay here with you. It’s going to be cold as a frost troll’s ass outside.”

Glynn caught Kai on his way to the pegs on which the various pieces of his guard’s uniform were hung, pulling him close and planting a sympathetic kiss on his temple. “Poor darling. You should be home before the worst of the storm hits, right?”

“That’s what I’m on the roster for, anyway.” Kai’s scowl morphed into a crooked smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve been through worse. Just make sure the food is nice and hot when I get home, alright?”

“Absolutely.” Glynn leaned in to kiss him one last time before releasing him. “You have a nice afternoon guarding the citizens of our good city.”

Kai snorted at that. “Probably won’t do more than break up a few drunken brawls. There’s always a handful of folks who deal with cold weather by hitting the bottle early.” He took his red sash down from its peg and wound it around his shoulders before securing it over the leather scales of his armor. Then he buckled his city-issued sword around his waist, picked up his worn shield from its usual place, and with a quick “see you later,” he was out the door.

Standing in the empty apartment with nothing but the groaning of the eaves in the wind and the tramp of steel-plated boots fading away down the stairs, Glynn felt a brief pang of loneliness. It was funny, really. Years ago, when he had bought his shop and the apartment above it, he’d been amazed by the size of the thing. He’d spent most of his life until that point in boarding houses and simple rented rooms, and suddenly he’d had separate spaces for cooking, sleeping, and entertaining, all his own. It had felt like an incredible stroke of luck. But now, sometimes, the bigness of the place made it feel especially empty when no one else was around.

The thought faded quickly from his head, though. Elijah had said he would come by early, so a knock on the door couldn’t be more than a couple hours away. Soon this place would be all lit up with the warm glow of companionship.

The roaring warmth of the cooking fire quickly drove the remaining chill out of him. A cast iron pan was sitting on the hot coals at the front of the hearth, and Glynn crouched down to lift the lid and peek at the cut of goat leg roasting inside. Juice glistened on its surface, which was starting to develop a nice color. Satisfied, he replaced the lid and went to retrieve some onions from the barrel in the corner. 

Soon, a pot was hanging over the flames, full of apples, onions, and cabbage that were slowly simmering down into a thick stew, and some potatoes were roasting on the coals. Glynn had just gotten down a chunk of eidar cheese to cut up when he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

He paused and put down his knife, ready to welcome Elijah with one of the big hugs the man was so fond of. But to his surprise, when the footsteps reached the top of the stairs, there came not a knock, but the sound of the lock turning. The door swung open to reveal a frost-covered Kai, carrying his helmet under one arm.

“Kai! What are you doing back so soon?” Glynn hurried over, intending to take his spouse’s armor and steer him over to the fire, but Kai held up his hand.

“I gotta go back out,” he said wearily. “We got news that there’s been a small rockfall on the path leading up the city gates, and a trading caravan is stuck on the wrong side of it. The whole guard is being mobilized to help clear it so they can get to safety before nightfall. I just came back here to get some warmer things, and to let you know that I won’t make it back in time for dinner.”

“By the Nine!” said Glynn, crestfallen. “What terrible luck!”

“Yeah.” Kai stomped the snow from his boots before stepping inside to open the chest next to the door. “Tell Elijah I’m sorry. I expect you’ll both be sleeping when I get back, but I’ll see him in the morning.”

“I’ll tell him.” Glynn peered down into the cooking pot, checking on the stew. The apples hadn’t yet cooked down into their most flavorful state, but they looked soft enough to be edible. “You should eat a little something before you go, love. I hate to think of you out in the cold with an empty belly.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. They’ve promised that they’ll feed us at the guardhouse.”

“Well, that’s good. But I would hazard a guess that whatever slop they scrounge up for you won’t be half as tasty as my cooking.”

Kai chuckled. “True. I suppose I have enough time for a little something.”

Glynn was already ladling a small serving of stew into a bowl. “I won’t give you more than you can eat in ten minutes,” he promised.

In addition to stew, Glynn cut a small slice from the edge of the goat roast and put it on a plate with a few bits of cheese and a chunk of bread to soak up the juices. Kai laughed as the plate was slid across the table towards him.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he said with a laugh. “I can’t shift rocks on a completely full stomach.”

That prompted Glynn to roll his eyes with fond exasperation. “Oh, come on. That’s barely enough food to take the edge off most appetites, you know. I just wanted to make sure you got a taste of everything! I’m sure I can save some of the roast for you with an ice spell, but it won’t be as nice, and the stew won’t keep at all--”

“Seriously, don’t worry about me. Say what you want about the quality of food we get from the guardhouse, but they sure know how to provide quantity. I won’t be coming home hungry.” Kai popped a spoonful of stew into his mouth and closed his eyes for a moment, savoring it. “Mmm. Delicious as always.”

It took Kai all of the allotted ten minutes to finish the food. A couple chunks of cheese nearly got left behind, but Glynn refused to let him leave before the plate was clean. Kai stifled a soft burp behind his hand as he got up to go. “Sorry. You’d think since I started guard work, I’d be more used to eating quickly.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Glynn rounded the table to give him a kiss goodbye. “Got everything? You’re wearing those bracers with the resist frost enchantment, yes?”

“Yeah.” Kai held up one fur-encased hand. “I’ll be plenty warm.”

“Be safe out there. I don’t want to be hearing reports that a hapless guardsman got beaned on the head by a falling rock.”

“Yeah? And I don’t want to come home to find you’ve impaled yourself on a kitchen knife or choked on a piece of potato.”

“Come now. Elijah would never let that happen.”

They embraced, and then with a final wave, Kai went back out. Glynn stood at the window and watched the small figure fighting its way up the street towards the guardhouse, through what was now quite a bit of snow, whipped into a fury by the biting wind. He hoped Elijah was already in the city. It would be difficult to navigate in this weather, especially with dark falling.

He needn’t have worried. It was barely ten minutes later that a knock came at the door. Opening it, he stepped back and smiled up at the image of Elijah, his usually dark hair and beard stark white with frost and snow, and a warmth in his blue eyes under the brim of his hat.

“Glynn,” he greeted fondly, then chuckled as he knocked ice from his boots before stepping inside. “One moment, let me rid myself of snow, first, so I don’t get you wet.” 

Elijah steadily took off his cloak, scarf, cap, and gloves, shaking each one free of snow outside the door before closing it behind himself. He lowered a bag from his broad shoulder to the floor, dusted the frost from his face and beard, then beamed before moving to wrap Glynn up in a huge hug. Beneath his slight shivers, he felt warm and soft; his embrace strong enough to squeeze Glynn’s breath away a little but not the least bit too tight or uncomfortable.

“It’s good to see you!” Glynn said as he hugged Elijah back. “How have your travels been? Not too chilly, I hope?”

Elijah made a sound reminiscent of a shrug. “No more than is usual for this time of year.” He pulled back slowly and smiled again, then bent to pull open the flap of his knapsack. “I brought a few things with me.”

Glynn watched as Elijah laid on the table by the hearth a string of smoked and salted salmon, so fresh that Glynn could smell their rich aroma, a jar of homemade snowberry preserves, and a little cloth pouch, which Elijah opened to show contained carefully dried mountain flowers, jazbay leaves, and thistle root - herbs for luxurious teas. Then he lifted one last thing, unwrapping it from its bundle of clean leaves, and set it on a saucer - a chunk of beautiful, golden honeycomb, dripping with sweetness.

“Oh my word.” Glynn’s eyes widened at the sight of so many rare and wonderful treats. “Elijah, this is so generous! You know you’re always welcome to turn up with nothing but your appetite?”

Elijah made a little noise in the back of his throat; a teasing, falsely offended note. “I’m well aware. But I can promise you that it is much more enjoyable to share these things.” His smile was huge, but faded slightly a moment later as he glanced around the room, searching for something. “Is Kai still out on his shift?”

“Unfortunately, yes. He won’t be making it back in time to join us tonight,” Glynn explained with a rueful smile. “Something about a rockfall emergency? He’s sorry to be missing dinner, but he’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.” Elijah’s brow creased a bit, but he seemed to deliberately smooth his expression as he slid into a chair at the table near the hearth, watching as Glynn lifted the pot lid to check on the stew again. “That is a shame. I hope he’s staying safe out there. The blizzard has really been picking up in the last hour or so.”

“Yes, I worry about him too.” Glynn sighed as he swirled a wooden spoon around in the pot, checking the consistency of the cabbage. “But you know him. Always convinced he’s seen worse. At least I managed to get him to eat a little something before he went out.”

Elijah’s smile made a comeback when Glynn carefully lifted the pot of stew off the cooking fire. “Can I help?”

“I suppose you can.” Glynn met Elijah’s inquisitive gaze with a smile of his own. “I thought we could eat over in the tower room, since it’s more comfortable. Would you help me carry things?”

“Of course.” Elijah rose from his seat again and obligingly grasped the big handles on either side of the cast iron pot.

The tower room, so-called because it lay in a part of the building that was topped with a turreted tower, was a small space directly adjacent to the kitchen and beneath the bedroom. Its round walls and tall windows that looked out over Solitude’s marketplace gave the space a certain charm. It was here that Glynn and Kai usually entertained visitors, and as such, it had been outfitted with a big round table and a series of benches softened by cushions and pillows. 

It was here that Glynn and Elijah brought the food. It took several trips to move everything over, but finally the table was set, complete with two plates and two mugs of ale.

Once he’d gotten settled on the bench, Elijah took a long drink of his mug and lowered it with a sigh of comfort; the burn of alcohol doing its job, warming him up from the inside. He made a sound of happiness when Glynn scooted around the table to sit companionably close, then accepted the basket of rolls when it was passed to him.

“The snowberry jam is for the bread.” Elijah murmured, cracking open the tightly sealed lid of the jar and handing it to Glynn. “Though it goes well on meat too. I actually received the recipe from Evette here in Solitude a few months ago.”

“Did you? I can’t even imagine how delicious her concoctions would taste with your fresh ingredients.” He smeared a dollop of jam onto a chunk of bread and popped it into his mouth. “Mmmm, and now I don’t have to. Elijah, this is excellent!”

Elijah smiled warmly. “I’m very glad you like it.”

“I’m amazed you find time for jam-making amidst all the tramping about the countryside.” Glynn’s voice fell into a tone of good-natured ribbing. “I still don’t understand why you haven’t taken me up on the offer to help you find a nice place to settle down within some good strong city walls. I find it hard to believe that anywhere else in Skyrim could hold a candle to Solitude’s desolate yet cosmopolitan charms.”

Chuckling, Elijah shook his head. “If I’m in need of cosmopolitan charms, I can always come to visit you.” His smile broadened at the way Glynn laughed. “Or Micah, of course. But the thought of being trapped behind stone walls is dreadful. I still insist that you should let me take you on a journey out in the countryside sometime. You might enjoy it more than you think.”

“Ehhhh….” Glynn’s long, doubtful sound was purposefully exaggerated to prompt another chuckle out of Elijah -- but it was true enough that he had little desire for such an adventure. He’d been born and raised in Solitude. The day trips he sometimes took into the surrounding hills to refill his soul gem supply was more than enough roaming for him. “If I’m ever forced to travel, you’ll be the first one I call on. But I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” Glynn helped himself to a slice of goat roast and a couple roasted potatoes before pushing the pan towards Elijah. “Talk to Kai about it. I bet he’d go on a hunting trip with you in a heartbeat, if he could only get some damn time off from the guard.”

“Mmm. I will.” Elijah focused for a moment on his bowl of apple cabbage stew, then continued, “To be fair, it’s been bad weather for hunting for more than a week now, even if he weren’t working overtime. I’ll have to come back sometime soon when the winter winds have died down a bit.” Humor twinkled in his eyes. “I can’t imagine even Kai enjoying sitting for a few hours by a hole in the ice with a fishing rod.”

The image that floated through Glynn’s mind made him snort with laughter. “No, you’re entirely right. He wouldn’t have the patience.” The mention of fish reminded Glynn that he hadn’t yet partaken of the catch Elijah had brought. He served himself a cut of salmon, feeling a shiver of anticipation as the soft pink meat parted easily beneath his fork. It tasted every bit as fresh as it looked, rich with the flavors of smoke and brine. “Mmmm… oh, this fish is incredible.”

“Caught it this morning.” Elijah said proudly, then filled his mouth with a bite of roast and potatoes and also hummed in appreciation.

As delicious as the fish was, Glynn felt a surge of pride when he sampled a bite of roast and discovered that it was almost as good. The potatoes had also turned out perfectly tender, and the stew had been simmered just long enough to extract the flavors from the vegetables without turning into a mushy mess. Glynn couldn’t help but hope Elijah was hungry enough for seconds as he looked at the brimming pot. Apple-cabbage stew did not stay pleasant to eat for more than a few hours, and he had made enough for three people to have indulgent portions.

Thankfully, Elijah moved to refill his bowl without even being asked, clearly having a deep appreciation for the heat of the stew with the cold wind still beating at the windows outside. He seemed absorbed in his dinner for the next few minutes, choosing another roll and pulling apart the flaky crust before spreading it with jam. He looked up once he’d started in on his own cut of fish. “You know, I stumbled across something curious in the south about a month ago -- talk of… of vampires; beginning to increase in number throughout Skyrim. There seems to be a group of people forming a resistance to them in an old fort on the east side of Riften, and I heard they were looking to recruit mages. I’m not sure if it’s been long enough for word to travel this far, but you wouldn’t happen to have heard anything about it, would you?”

“Vampires? No.” Glynn frowned as he ladled himself out a second helping of stew. “The news must not have spread yet, at least in magic circles. This time of year, most mages hole up with their books for the winter. Is there a particular reason you’re asking?”

Elijah sighed. “Well, I have to admit it worries me a little. I suppose there’s nothing I can do, so it may be best not to fret about it, but while Micah lives close to the city, he’s far enough out that he would be an easy target for creatures such as vampires. I’ve been thinking about keeping a tighter range around Whiterun for a while, but at the same time I’m not sure if it’s a wise precaution or if I am overthinking things.”

“Hmm. Vampires sound like rather a big deal.” Glynn thought for a moment. “Perhaps you can tell Kai about it in the morning, and he could escalate the matter up his chain of command. Surely that information is relevant to the security of Skyrim itself. The Imperial Legion will want to know, and I’m sure that as soon as the army starts keeping an eye out, this vampire problem will die -- urp -- down.” Glynn raised one hand to his mouth, a little surprised at himself. The burp had seemed to slip up without warning, although now that he was thinking about it, his stomach had begun to feel a little heavy since he’d started on his second bowl of stew. “Oh dear -- pardon me.”

“You are pardoned.” Elijah smiled over at him, fondly amused. The slight edge of concern over his alchemist friend had lifted from his eyes. “Perhaps I should set some tea to steep?”

“Mmm, that sounds lovely.” There was nothing better than warm tea to help keep a heavy meal comfortable. Glynn set down his spoon and made a move to stand. “I’ll go put the kettle on the--”

“I can get it.” Elijah stopped him and rose to his feet. “I know where everything is. Maybe you should let dinner settle a little.” And with a chuckle, he disappeared towards the hearth in the other room.

While he waited, Glynn refilled his plate with meat and potatoes, spread another roll with jam, and topped off both his and Elijah’s cups with ale from the pitcher. Then he took a moment to rub absently over the very top of his belly, where he’d just begun to feel the weight of everything he’d eaten so far gathering under his ribs. It felt incredibly nice, if he were honest. Dinners lately had been quick affairs, snatched in the moments between Kai’s shifts and Glynn’s obligations to his shop. It had been awhile since he’d felt properly, luxuriously full.

Not that he was finished yet. Both he and Elijah were on their second helpings, and the spread on the table hardly seemed depleted. Even considering the amount they’d save for Kai to have the next day, there was still plenty to go around tonight.

Just then, Elijah returned to the room with the kettle in one big hand and a pair of mugs in the other. After setting the mugs down, he poured enough aromatic tea into each to last through dinner, then passed Glynn his as he sat back down beside him.

“Thank you.” Glynn accepted the warm mug gratefully and took a sip. The delicate flavor of mountain flower filled his mouth, brightened with sharp notes of jazbay berries. “Mmm. Mountain flowers truly are a gift. Delicious, abundant -- and I’m sure Micah has told you all about their alchemical uses?”

“Mmhmm.” Elijah smiled as he lowered his own mug. “I used some of what he told me to put this tea together, actually. The purple mountain flowers and the thistle -- Micah said it’s good for resisting the cold. The blue flowers though -- that’s what I really keep an eye out for on the road. Good for healing, and Micah tells me they’re often overlooked in favor of seemingly ‘rarer’ ingredients.”

Glynn chuckled. “I can believe that. Most mages I’ve met are somewhat allergic to simplicity. Prone to choose interesting solutions over practical ones, that is. It sounds like Micah may be an exception.”

Elijah hummed in agreement. “Micah was raised by a single working mother who managed an alchemist’s shop in a small village while he was growing up. With both a child and a town depending on her, I think she passed on a good appreciation for simplicity to him, wherever it can be had, at least.” Elijah dug into his second helping of potatoes. “He does like to experiment on occasion, though. I’ve helped him put out more than one fire.” Elijah couldn’t seem to stifle a laugh. “Nothing too damaging, of course.”

Glynn grinned broadly at the contrast between Elijah’s calm amusement and the tongue-lashing he knew he’d get if Kai ever returned home to find he’d lit something on fire. “He sounds like very good company. I don’t suppose he’d ever consider joining you on one of your trips? Coming up here for a visit?”

“He very well might. He’s not much of an outdoorsman either.” Elijah slid Glynn a smile. “But I’ve taken him camping for a night at a time before, and I’m sure if he knew that Kai and Glynn wanted to meet him, he’d be eager to make the trip.”

A wave of pleased surprise washed over Glynn. “Oh -- you’ve mentioned us to him?”

“Of course. The troll did leave a scar.” Elijah touched his chest briefly with a sigh. “And Micah was rather distraught until I assured him I received only the best of care.” His smile warmed further. “And I tell him when I think I might be away for longer than usual, and if I plan to stop here to visit. He’s often asked after you both.”

“Really?” Glynn wondered if perhaps he was more surprised than he ought to be. He and Kai had become very friendly with Elijah. It was just that, considering Elijah’s frequent journeys and amiable nature, Glynn had assumed that the entirety of Skyrim must be dotted with more friends than Elijah could possibly tell tales about. It was a strange but warm feeling, to realize that someone he’d never met in a distant town wondered after him. “Well, next time you see him, let him know that if he ever makes the journey, we’d be delighted to meet him. And to cook him dinner, of course, if he appreciates good food as much as you do.”

“I will.” Elijah nodded. “And he does,” he added affectionately, swallowing his last bite of bread and washing it down with a swallow of tea. “I’m sure he’ll be just as delighted to hear it. I’ll write to you the next time I’m with him and we can let you know when he thinks he can spare the time for the journey.”

“That sounds like a wonderful plan.” Glynn beamed at Elijah before polishing off the final bite of the jam-covered roll he’d been working on. As the mouthful went down, Glynn suddenly felt a slight rumbling just under his ribs. He put a hand to his mouth in a mixture of surprise and embarrassment as another burp took him by surprise. “Oh, Divines. Excuse me.”

Elijah glanced his way. “Everything alright?”

“Fine, yes. Ooh.” Glynn let his hand fall from his mouth to his belly. He noticed with a bit of shock that it felt rather firmer and rounder than usual, and the cloth belt that secured his robes seemed to be fitting a little more tightly than he’d tied it that morning. “I suppose I’m getting full. That’s a shame.”

With a warm chuckle, Elijah reached for the stew pot lid. “In that case, we may as well begin packing up leftovers.”

“Hmm.” Glynn paused, letting his gaze drift over the food still remaining on the table. “You know,” he said slowly, “one of the small drawbacks of living on a second floor is that we don’t have a cool cellar to keep things from spoiling overnight. There’s a chest in the kitchen which I’ve enchanted to freeze anything stored within it. We could save the roast and some fish in there for Kai. But I don’t think the potatoes will be pleasant to eat cold. And the stew definitely won’t keep....”

Elijah paused and set the lid down again, humming a slightly inquisitive sound.

“I don’t know that I want to be finished yet,” Glynn admitted, even as he rubbed a gentle circle over the tight feeling in his stomach. “Everything is just so good. And, well -- I’m full, yes, but… I think I could eat a bit more.”

Looking amused, Elijah passed the ladle to Glynn again. “No harm in that. I suppose it would be a shame to let good food go to waste. I could eat a little more, too.”

Glynn laughed, letting out a little nervous breath he scarcely realized he’d been holding. It wasn’t that he’d thought Elijah would judge his desire for indulgence. In fact, Elijah had always been very obvious about the fact that he enjoyed good food just as much as Glynn did. Still, the clear validation felt wonderful. “Let me just pack up the meat, and then we can both refill our bowls. No, no” -- he held up a hand as Elijah moved to stand, his mouth already parted with what Glynn knew was an offer to help on his tongue -- “you stay right there. You already got up for the tea. And besides, the chest can give you frostbite if you accidentally touch the enchanted part.”

It was a little more difficult to stand than Glynn had anticipated. The heaviness in his belly shifted as he moved, pressing even more firmly against his belt, and he had to stifle a soft hiccup. But he managed, and tried not to let the strain show on his face as he carried the leftover roast and fish back into the kitchen and packed it away.

When he returned to the table, Elijah was waiting with a smile. He had refilled both of their bowls from the stew pot, set a fresh roll on each of their plates, and moved the dish with the honeycomb between them.

“I’m certain we’ll both sleep well tonight.” Elijah glanced at the window, at the frost creeping over the thick glass pane. “Especially if we manage to finish the rest of this.” He nodded back towards the stew pot with a chuckle.

“I don’t doubt that you’re right.” Glynn gave his rounded stomach a soft pat as he eased himself back onto the bench, as a sort of apology for the strain of walking around. It grumbled quietly under his hand, but he didn’t let that stop him from reaching over to dig a spoon into the oozing honeycomb, scooping a generous amount of thick, golden honey onto his bread. “I suppose I really should save the sweets for last, but I just can’t resist. It’s been so long since I had honey, and this looks incredible.”

“Honey is hard to find this time of year.” Elijah agreed, spooning up a mouthful of stew and biting into his own roll a moment later, after spreading a more modest amount of the golden sweetness over the top. “I was sheltering under an overhang a few days before reaching the city, and followed the sound of buzzing deeper into the cavern when it woke me from sleep. Of course, I didn’t take more than what the bees could spare.” He smiled thoughtfully. “But it was a big hive.”

Glynn shivered a little, both at the thought of actively following the sounds of insects deep into a cave and from how deliciously sweet the honey tasted as he bit into his roll. “Brave man. Weren’t you nervous about getting stung?”

At that, Elijah laughed lightly, then smoothed a hand over the top of his belly as if the jostling had disturbed his dinner. “It’s fairly simple to avoid. Just build a little fire with a bit of green wood, and the smoke sedates them. Best not to go grabbing at them of course, but they’ll hardly react to a honeycomb harvest.”

“Fascinating. All this time I’ve been imagining that beekeepers required some kind of -- I don’t know, protective spell or enchanted cloak to avoid being stung to Oblivion.” Glynn finished his roll in a couple more bites and then dug the spoon into his stew. It was so warm and rich and delicious that he barely noticed the pulse of tightness under his ribs. “Honestly, where do you learn things like this? As far as I know, there’s no ‘traveling trader’ school the way you can study to be, say, a mage or a bard.”

Elijah lowered his mug after taking another swig of ale and tilted his head in thought. “Good question. Hmm… I would say it’s a mix of learning from experience, and picking up advice along the way. I’m sure some years ago, a traveling trader discovered by chance that building a smoky fire near a beehive subdued them enough to make it possible to harvest honey. And then that technique was passed on, by word of mouth, from person to person through the years. I remember being quite young when someone gave me the advice between the stalls of the marketplace in Riften. But learning to build the best shelters and cleverest traps is something that you can improve upon with every trip.”

“Makes sense, I suppose. It’s just very different from my trade, what with its heavy reliance on learning through books.” Glynn tipped his head thoughtfully. “Have you ever thought about writing a book? You could compile all your tips and tricks -- or at least, the tales of all the adventures you’ve had! I’m sure plenty of dreary people like me would be fascinated.”

Elijah blinked, looking stunned. “Me? Write a book? I’m flattered, but I think you might be a tad biased.” He seemed to force a smile past his surprise. “I mean, I’m certainly literate, but I don’t know if you could call me educated enough to compile a tome. Not like the mages and other schooled folks, anyways.”

Glynn waved a hand dismissively. “Honestly, if you can read, you can write. The only thing the extra schooling does is give your words that little extra pompous sheen. Although….” He paused, grinning. “I would be happy to ghostwrite for you, if you’re ever interested. I think we could have a lot of fun on that project.”

After a moment, Elijah gave a contemplative hum. He swallowed the mouthful of stew he’d been chewing and a slower, more genuine smile touched his face. “Maybe. I will think about it. Thank you very much for offering.” Then with a low grunt of effort, he leaned forward and tipped the stew pot to see how much was left.

“How’re we doing?” Glynn asked. “Have we made any progress?”

“Almost there. I think we can finish it off with one more helping each.” Elijah ladled out a few apple dregs into his own just-emptied bowl and curled a hand over the top of his belly again, looking satisfied and sleepy. Then he picked up his spoon again and dug back in.

Glynn leaned forward to refill his own bowl -- and then stopped, groaning softly, as he felt an immense weight inside him pressing back against the movement. His stomach gurgled softly as he pressed a hand to it, and he blinked with surprise at how round and firm it felt. Divines, how much had he eaten?

Elijah looked over at him with a smile. “Perhaps you’re feeling too full to keep going?”

“No, no.” Bracing his palm over his heavy belly, Glynn gingerly eased himself forward to snatch the pot of stew. He determinedly scraped the remains into his bowl, ignoring the hesitant rumbling of his insides. “I’ve still got a little room. I just might -- um, if you don’t mind….” He slid his fingers through the knot in his belt and tugged at it, sighing as the fabric loosened from where it had been digging into his swollen middle. “Whew. That’s much better.”

Removing his belt provided Glynn with a little relief from the overwhelming fullness, but as he resolutely scooped up another bite, and then another, he felt that smidgen of extra room quickly fill up, and soon he was swallowing back shallow groans along with the stew. His stomach just felt so tight; he wasn’t sure he could fit anything more in there, at least not for a moment.

Beside him, Elijah lifted his bowl to his lips, tipped back the last of his own stew, and blew out a satisfied sigh tinged with a faint groan, smoothing a broad circle over the front of his stomach with one hand. Then he turned his head, an amused twinkle in his eyes, and slid a friendly arm around Glynn. “If you’re certain you don’t want to stop there, maybe I can help?”

“Mmm.” Glynn glared down at his half-full bowl, as though giving the stew a pointed look would make it easier to cram into his swollen belly. It was just so delicious. Even with his stomach feeling so strained and heavy, he craved the taste of the next bite. “Ooh… if you wouldn’t mind. I think I might need it.”

With a low chuckle, Elijah obliged, slipping his other hand around Glynn’s front and pressing his broad, warm palm over the tightest part of his middle, where the weight of his indulgent dinner was resting. Elijah’s gentle fingers found the brim of Glynn’s overtaxed stomach and kneaded in, carefully and soothingly, first under the ribs and then stroking down his sides, coaxing the muscles there into relaxing just a little further, easing the heaviness and pressure. A small series of grumbles under his hand was the only warning Glynn got before he had to bring a hand to his mouth to muffle a deep, relieving burp. 

The tiny corner of Glynn’s mind that had not yet been overtaken by the haze of overindulgence told him to apologize, but all he managed to mumble was a soft “oh goodness.” It was alright, though -- he knew Elijah didn’t mind. In fact, he felt completely safe from judgment in his big friend’s embrace. Elijah appreciated good food and hearty meals every bit as much as Glynn did; it was a commonality they had discovered early on in their friendship. Elijah, more than anyone else Glynn knew, would understand why a person might continue eating despite the complaints of a very full stomach.

Elijah’s hand stilled itself over the roundest part of Glynn’s belly, which was now feeling much less overwhelmingly tight. Part of Glynn was deeply tempted to just lean back against his friend’s broad chest and close his eyes. But the rich flavor of the stew still remaining in his bowl lingered in his mind, and so he stubbornly leaned forward and picked up his spoon. The bite he took prompted a reluctant rumble from his stomach as it settled inside him, and Glynn felt Elijah’s fingers work soothingly into the little cramp that followed. He groaned deeply, not quite able to keep himself from pressing into the touch. The next few swallows went down much more easily as Elijah began to rub slow circles over Glynn’s stomach, encouraging the food to squeeze into the last remaining crevices of room.

“Almost there.” Elijah murmured softly when Glynn paused, letting the soothing pressure of his friend’s broad palm ease his latest bite down comfortably. “Another two, three spoonfuls maybe. Don’t push yourself too far, of course, if you want to stop.”

Glynn made a little sound of acknowledgment; it felt like he no longer had the mental faculties nor quite enough space for air inside him to form words. Truth be told, the idea of stopping wasn’t even tempting. Glynn felt enormously stuffed, but with Elijah’s touch easing the strain from his belly, the indulgence felt far more satisfying than uncomfortable. It was with this thought swimming through his mind that Glynn swallowed the final mouthful of stew -- feeling his overfull stomach pulse pleasantly, and Elijah’s warm fingers working away the accompanying ache -- and then slowly reached for the dish of remaining potatoes.

Elijah made a soft sound of surprise, clearly having expected that Glynn would sink back into his arms and stretch out in a heap once the last bite of stew was down. But as his hand swept over Glynn’s side, massaging helpfully over the tightness there that was beginning to swell against the fabric of his robes, Elijah seemed to decide not to comment for the moment. Instead, he gently shifted, guiding Glynn to lean more against his chest than his arm, and then brought both hands to the surface of his belly, pressing under the swollen curve, supporting the heaviness and rubbing little soothing circles with his fingertips under his ribs and down, quieting every last twinge and urging cramped gurgles into easier, more productive sounds of digestion. 

A deep grumble rolled through Glynn’s middle as he swallowed a mouthful of perfectly cooked potatoes; a sound he could feel working its way through his heavy dinner and quieting down with the sensation of his stomach stretching just a little more to hold it. He groaned as the warm pressure of a hand smoothed over the strain, transforming the discomfort into a satisfying heaviness. 

It was getting difficult to track what was happening. Time was beginning to smear a little; things were jumbling together in Glynn’s mind. He could taste the buttery softness of potato on his tongue, but couldn’t quite figure out when he had taken that last bite. He could feel the solid softness of Elijah’s chest behind him, practically holding him up, and dimly registered that at some point the idea of moving away from his friend’s warm embrace had started to seem impossible. Mostly, Glynn was aware of his stomach. He’d eaten so much that the weight of it seemed to be filling his consciousness almost as much as it was filling his insides. He could hardly hold onto a coherent thought, and yet he was acutely aware of twinge and pulse in his belly, every shift and rumble of its contents, every soothing stroke of Elijah’s hand…

Abruptly, a bite of potatoes seemed to stick a little in Glynn’s throat. He swallowed thickly, already unthinkingly digging around with his spoon for another morsel. Then he felt the sudden absence of one big, warm hand against his middle, just before it closed around the handle of his utensil and gently but firmly tugged it away.

“Glynn.” Elijah’s tone was both baffled and concerned. “You might want to take a bit of a break. I’m not sure you can eat much more.”

Confused, Glynn started to take a breath to answer him. But the breath caught in his chest with nowhere to go, then rushed back up as a groan that he could feel rumbling through the contents of his belly, and suddenly, his only thought was, I’m going to throw up.

He managed to glance down at himself, at the way his swollen stomach was bowed out against Elijah’s palms, which were still holding and rubbing soothingly at the tight curve under his robes. A heaviness was pulsing and aching under his ribs and at any moment he was sure it would rush up his throat, where he could still taste the potatoes at the back of his tongue. Another wave of nausea made him dizzy, and he took the smallest breath he could, trying to hold it all down, but at the moment it felt like entirely too much.

“Glynn?” Elijah’s voice tilted more in the direction of concern, and one of his hands left the side of Glynn’s belly again, this time to rub soothingly at his shoulder. Glynn must have tried to answer him, but it came out as half whimper, half groan, and Elijah hummed, sounding more and more worried.

But he returned to where he’d left off, and changed the pattern he was rubbing over Glynn’s bloated middle. His hands left the tightest part of the swell, and pressed instead into Glynn’s sides, carefully and gently, inwards and up.

A jolt of unbearable nausea rushed up Glynn’s spine and he doubled over, pitching forwards, thinking maybe he could at least not throw up all over Elijah. But it was an enormous belch that pressed up his throat, not his dinner, and for a moment, all he could do was shiver in the wash of relief it left behind, with Elijah’s hand rubbing comfortingly at his shoulders. A moment passed, and then Glynn remembered to cover his mouth as he burped again. He was still groaning faintly, his belly twinging with a low series of gurgles, when Elijah gently tugged him back to lean against his chest again and returned to rubbing his stomach, stroking big, soothing circles over his front and sides. Glynn couldn’t have resisted even if he’d wanted to. He slumped weakly against Elijah’s solid warmth, trying to steady his breathing.

The slight easing of the pressure had relieved the urgent nausea, but for a few minutes afterwards, Glynn felt it was best if he kept his mouth shut. He was so incredibly overfull that it felt as though the reassuring pressure of Elijah’s hands on his aching stomach was the only thing keeping him from bursting. Dazed, he stared down at the huge swell of his belly as gentle fingers pressed into its crest. The little pulse of relief that followed caused him to let out a surprised groan. Surely that couldn’t really be his stomach, taking up all that space?

Elijah’s hand patted softly over a strained grumble in Glynn’s side, and a moment later, he murmured, “When you think you can, let me know how you’re feeling, or what you need? Take your time.” And a press from his broad palm coaxed up another bubble of air.

Releasing that little bit of pressure brought Glynn much closer to being able to speak, but it still took another minute or two before he managed a quiet, “Just, um… keep rubbing, please. I think I…. ooh.” He had to break off there as a cramp shot across the stretched front of his upper belly. Elijah’s hand moved to soothe it almost immediately, and Glynn couldn’t help leaning into his touch, groaning softly as his friend’s warm fingers stroked trails of relief into the sharp ache.

“Poor thing.” Elijah said in a low voice that was half a chuckle, and Glynn felt his bearded chin press affectionately to the side of his head. Then he shifted his hold, and massaged a slightly firmer circle, over a place just above Glynn’s navel but below the tight, aching swell of food pressing out from beneath his ribs. The tightness eased and abruptly a burbling shift in Glynn’s belly tugged out another soft groan, as he squirmed and leaned again into the warmth of Elijah’s hand. He could feel the press of gentle fingers over the next wave of grumbling as his stomach struggled to find enough room to digest his dinner.

It took some time -- how much time, Glynn wasn’t sure, because he was in no fit state to tell the difference between half a minute and half an hour -- but little by little, Elijah’s ministrations eased the worst of the discomfort and helped Glynn’s stomach settle to the point where it still felt incredibly strained, but not overwhelmed. The heaviness of his insides could have sent Glynn straight to sleep. But he couldn’t rest without reassuring Elijah that he was truly alright.

He cleared his throat, wincing a little as even that small movement prompted a disagreeable rumble from his belly, and tried to pitch his voice somewhere between sheepishness and levity. “Sorry about this. I, um -- I didn’t realize I was overdoing it quite that much.”

“I figured as much.” Elijah sounded faintly amused. He stroked another comforting arc over Glynn’s swollen middle, pausing to knead gently over a twinge. “It’s alright, I’m just glad you’re feeling a bit better.”

“A bit, yes.” Glynn huffed out a shallow breath and sagged further back against Elijah as the cramp was worked away -- then suddenly jerked forward as he felt a quivering against his back coupled with the unmistakable sound of a digestive grumble. “Oh Divines, you’re--” he paused to cover a burp that had been jostled out of him “--you’re very full too, aren’t you, Elijah? Have I -- have I been hurting you?”

“Mmmn, no.” Elijah’s hand on Glynn’s shoulder coaxed him to lean back again, and as his weight pressed against Elijah’s front, he felt his friend sigh and his belly rumble again. “Feels good.”

“Oh. Does it?” Glynn couldn’t imagine how. Having a person’s weight pressing against one’s full stomach sounded absolutely dreadful to him. But he certainly wasn’t in a condition to question this, so he just relaxed gratefully into Elijah’s hold. “I’m glad.”

Elijah hummed again, then seemed to stifle a hiccup. His hand rubbed over Glynn’s swollen stomach for a few minutes more, then he gave a couple of very gentle pats.

“Although I think I’d better go ahead and clean up a bit.” Elijah murmured, sounding very sleepy. “Would you be alright to sit for a minute while I put away the food?”

“...Mmm?” Glynn had been halfway to falling asleep, and it took a moment for his brain to catch up. “Oh! Yes. I’ll be fine.” A vague guilty feeling prickled at him -- it was not exactly proper Skyrim hospitality, letting one’s guest clean up because you’d eaten too much to move -- but the way the simple motion of sitting up straight tugged at the contents of his belly made it clear that he really had eaten so much that walking around was out the question. “Thank you for taking care of it.”

“Of course.” Elijah’s familiar soft smile was in his voice, and then he gently extricated himself from behind Glynn, making sure he was comfortably situated on the cushioned bench before moving away and beginning to pack away the remainder of the potatoes, meat, and fish, as well as cover the dishes of jam and herbs.

Glynn was so full and heavy that even watching Elijah mosey between the table and the kitchen felt exhausting. Not only that, but he was starting to realize just how much support Elijah’s embrace had been providing him. Even the small engagement of his abdominal muscles required to hold himself upright on the bench felt tight and uncomfortable across his distended stomach, and without the soothing warmth of Elijah’s rubs, he was starting to feel its contents churn and grumble again. Sighing softly, Glynn closed his eyes and rested a hand over the slight ache of his belly.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem to take Elijah long to put away the perishables and set aside the dishes and empty pots. Normally, Glynn could imagine he’d be more thorough, but he heard his friend yawn once or twice and guessed the heavy meal was more than enough to encourage Elijah to take it a bit easy as well. Before long, Elijah was sliding back into the bench and reaching to put his big, warm arm around Glynn, who settled into the hold gratefully. Then moments later, gentle fingers pressed into the aching swell of Glynn’s stomach and began to massage in soothing circles. A grateful sigh escaped from Glynn unbidden at the feeling of steady pressure against the growing restlessness of his digestion.

Soon relief was curling through his insides from the attentive rub, and Glynn quickly began to fall asleep again. Some time passed, though he couldn’t be sure how much, swimming in the half-awake state that he was. But he roused a bit when the slow creak of a door being eased open sounded from the other room and Elijah shifted in surprise, beginning to straighten up in his seat. Glynn let out an indignant grunt, unhappy at being jostled, before his wits caught up to him and he registered the meaning of the footsteps that were moving as quietly as heavy boots could through the kitchen. He managed to pry his eyes open just in time to catch sight of Kai appearing in the doorway.

“Oh.” Kai stopped short, looking surprised. “Hey, sorry, I thought you’d be asleep.Um -- what... ?” His eyes roved slowly over the table, and Glynn abruptly realized what a scene he had stumbled into. “What in Oblivion happened here?”

“We had dinner.” Elijah answered from behind Glynn, a smile in his voice, just before his breath caught in a hiccup. His hand brushed soothingly down the front of Glynn’s swollen stomach again before he added, “It would have been nicer with you here, but there’s a good bit of roast and fish left, and some potatoes and bread as well.”

“Yeah, uh -- thanks, but that’s not what I was worried about.” If Kai had been genuinely concerned when he’d entered the room, he wasn’t anymore. His voice had lost its bewildered hesitation; Glynn could practically hear the smirk in it. “Kinda amazed to hear that there are leftovers, judging by the look of Glynn’s belly.”

Glynn raised his head with as much indigance as he could muster. “I don’t know what you’re -- ooh -- talking about. Mmm...” He couldn’t quite stop himself from trailing off with a groan as Elijah’s fingers found the cramp that had just pinched in the tight place below his ribs.

“Well, I brought a couple of dishes with me to add to the table.” Elijah explained nonchalantly, kneading over Glynn’s stretched sides with a smile. “It was far more than two people could eat.” He patted over the sound of a grumble and briefly lifted a hand, softly ruffling Glynn’s hair as he exchanged a look with Kai. “I was thinking we might want to head upstairs soon. But to be honest, we might need a little help.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Kai came deeper into the room, rounding the table to stand by Glynn’s shoulder. “Do you want to take one side of him, and I’ll take the other?”

“Sounds good to me.” Elijah stood, slowly and carefully, and Glynn felt his friend’s sturdy arm circle his shoulders and gently tug him to his feet, supporting the side of his overburdened belly with one hand. 

Even with the help, getting up wasn’t comfortable. Glynn bit back a groan as his dinner sloshed inside him and the line of tightness that ran down his front strained even further. But the firm press of Elijah’s hold did a lot to ease the ache, and a moment later, Kai’s familiar shape made contact with Glynn’s side, and a second hand rested itself soothingly against the bloat of his stomach.

They hadn’t yet started to walk when Kai snorted with gentle amusement. “Looks like Glynn isn’t the only one who got ambitious at dinner. You sure you don’t need help up the stairs, Elijah?”

Elijah scoffed good-naturedly. “Neither of you would be able to move me if I did.” He chuckled and patted Glynn’s back, nudging him forward a little.

It was slow going. Each step threatened the precious peace that the contents of Glynn’s stomach had settled into, and ate away at what little energy remained in his limbs. The stairs that led from the tower room up into lofted sleeping quarters were particularly difficult. But Elijah and Kai were gentle and steady, all strong arms and encouraging pats, and with their support, Glynn soon found himself being eased back down, this time onto a thick woolen quilt.

There were two beds up in the loft -- a larger one, which Kai and Glynn typically shared, and a smaller one sized for a single person, which was usually for overnight guests. It was much too small for Elijah, however, and early on in their friendship, the three of them had decided that it was best to just push the two beds together and share the whole thing. Mercifully, this rearranging of furniture had been done in the afternoon, so there was nothing stopping Glynn from crawling gratefully up towards the pillows and curling up around his belly.

“There you go,” Elijah’s soft murmur came from somewhere nearby, then a big, warm hand rubbed up and down Glynn’s back, before a thick fur was spread over him and tucked down at the edges. 

The floor creaked under another set of footsteps and then Glynn heard Kai’s soft laugh cut off in a breathless huff as Elijah greeted his friend with his typical bear hug. Their quiet voices whispered back and forth for a moment, then the edge of the bed sank down heavily, and Elijah laid down beside Glynn with a quiet grunt of effort, his belly grumbling softly as it settled. Kai took a moment longer - perhaps taking a moment to shed his armor and replace it with a soft tunic for sleep - and then he took up the space at Glynn’s other side.

“Listen to that wind,” Kai murmured, and Glynn was dimly aware of howling and rattling somewhere around the rafters, although it seemed so far away and unimportant in this little bubble of warmth. “I sure am glad you’re not out in that, Elijah.”

“Mmm.” Elijah hummed gratefully, nestling further into the soft furs beneath the three of them. “I am, too. Thank you both for having me. It’s good to spend time in a friendly spot.”

“Gotta tell us about your latest adventures over breakfast tomorrow,” Kai said. A thought flitted dimly across Glynn’s mind -- he wasn’t sure he was going to want breakfast -- but he was certainly going to want Elijah’s stories. Those were always wonderful.

“I certainly will. I’ve saved up quite a few tales to recount.” Elijah interrupted himself to yawn. He had to be tired after such a long journey and a heavy meal. Glynn was tired too, so tired that whatever response Kai gave was unintelligible through the gathering fog of his fatigue. Only the warmth of his tone registered, the way the words were edged with a low chuckle.

Consciousness slipped further away. At one point, a terse gurgle from his insides threatened to rouse him, but then a soft touch found his belly and stroked over it until he forgot the discomfort entirely. Nestled in the cozy space between his friend and his partner, Glynn drifted off into sleep.