#in a sleep-specific type of gummy

[catsandcataclysms]

On that one post I wrote “me but oppossite” because the other day I Accidentally asked for weed. Yes, entirely accidentally. I just wanted some CBD so I could sleep but because I’m thinkin like, okay this is a CBD store, they probably have tonics and creams and stuff because that’s the most common form of CBD, I want the stuff you can eat, I said “CBD edibles”. Because “edible” is the word for “can eat” but is how you ask for weed. Gummies. The word is gummies. The lady kept acting confused and telling me they didn’t carry delta-8 [legal THC], only CBD. It never clicked for me. My partner had to tell me when I got home why the interaction went so poorly

[hurlingdown]

Ima eat you and your writing it’s so good can I please get a whiny sub Luffy x domtop male reader who’s like kinda tall I’m talking a tad bit shorter then brook type tall you can ignore if this is too specific 👍 love your work

EAT YOU UP — TOP MALE READER X MONKEY D. LUFFY

synopsis. luffy loved to sleep in your lap. it was warm, comfortable, and a big enough seat for him to nestle into. it didn't particularly bother you, and even if it did, you wouldn't be able to say no to your adorable captain anyway. just like you hadn't been able to say no to him when his ulterior motives re-surfaced. wc. 1.6k

tags. whiny! sub! luffy, dom! reader. size difference, reader's got a big cock, anal sex, virginity loss, cum eating, tongue-fucking, blowjob, he has no gag reflex, luffy being luffy, bit fluffy ngl

Luffy revelled in your size difference. 

The way you towered over him, your large hands being able to completely encircle his waist. Not to mention, you made such a good makeshift bed that he just couldn’t help but snuggle into your lap most afternoons, just to take a fat nap. 

You never really minded, as it didn’t interfere with your routine. Plus, having a lap warmer with you anywhere you went was undeniably a huge bonus. 

Today was one of those afternoons. 

Luffy hummed a song, squirming on your lap to find a comfortable position for his nap. You didn’t think much of it at first, until he started shifting about, his back pressed against your chest to directly sit on your cock. 

You froze, feeling the heat rush to your face, and somewhere else—it didn’t help that the rubber captain never kept still. Still, you couldn’t find it in you to push him off, as he had looked up at you with an adorably blinding grin, his gummy smile having wormed its way into your heart long ago. 

“Luffy,” you began awkwardly. 

“You’re hard today.” 

You spluttered. “I’m what today?” 

He turned around in your lap to blink innocently at you. “You’re harder than usual today, y/n!” 

“Oh. Haha… I am, aren’t I?” You let out a breath of relief. It hadn’t occurred to you that Luffy quite possibly didn’t know about that sort of stuff; or perhaps wasn’t interested in all, seeing as he never bat an eye to the beautiful, well-endowed Boa Hancock who practically threw herself at him at every chance. 

You were absorbed in your thoughts until you felt a hand palm your hard cock roughly. 

“Luffy!” Your hips bucked upwards, nearly throwing him off your lap. “What was that for—” 

“So yours does the same thing, too. Shishi, I thought my dick was broken when I touched it and it turned hard!” 

Oh. So he had touched himself before. Guess you could save yourself from having to give ‘the talk’ to an absolute airhead. 

“Wow,” Luffy continued to squeeze and fondle your cock through the thin layer of your pants, making you bite your lip to suppress a groan. “You’re pretty big!” 

“Captain,” you snapped, finally, glaring at him as he pouted. “This isn’t appropriate.” 

“But why not?” he protested, still not releasing his death-grip on your cock. 

“This—we—aren’t in that sort of relationship.” 

Luffy simply frowned. “Do we have to be in a relationship to touch each other’s dicks?” 

“Well, no, but—” 

“Good!” 

Before he went back to straight-up kneading your poor cock, you grabbed his wrists and bound them behind his back with one hand. 

“But why?” he whined loudly, bottom lip jutting out as he stared up at you. “I want to! You gotta let me! I’m the captain!” 

You sighed. “You may be my captain, but that doesn’t mean you get to take advantage of your superiority to sexually harass me whenever you want.” 

“I’m not sensually harassing you, or whatever that is!” 

“It’s ‘sexually harass’, not sensually harass. And—why do you even want to do this in the first place? You’ve never acted like this before when you napped on me before.” 

“I just suddenly want to! What’s the matter with that?!” Luffy looked petulant, almost angry as he couldn’t get what he wanted, and he retracted one of his legs hooked around your waist to tramp on your cock. 

You let out a guttural moan at that, and Luffy’s eyes had widened visibly, as though he wanted to hear more. 

“Hey, y/n? My dick’s hard.” 

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” 

Luffy’s knees were pressed into the mattress above his shoulders, making good use of his stretchiness as he shudders and whines a response beneath you. His hole is stretched perfectly around your cock, warm and wet and tight, taking you to the brim so well. 

“Y-yeah, puh—please!” he wailed desperately, raking his nails on your back as you angled your hips, thrusting up into his sweet spot. “So—so big—ah!” 

“There it is.” You grinned, hands fully wrapping around his waist to tug him back onto your cock like a ragdoll, perfectly nailing his prostate again. “Think we found it, mm?” 

Luffy nodded his head weakly, trembling all over as you railed him into the mattress with each heavy thrust, before dragging him back. “Feels really g-good! Right—right there!” 

“Here, captain?” You purposefully missed, tip of your cock barely grazing it, and he whined shamelessly. 

“No! Not there!” he moaned, shaking his head in frustration as he looked at you with pleading eyes. “Y/n, I need it s-so bad!” 

You would have never thought that Luffy was capable of such dirty talking. But right now—with your captain willingly spreading his legs for you, hole stretched wide open and insides rearranging themselves to fit your huge cock, you couldn’t even process it except for how good it felt. 

“And what’s the magic word, love?” 

“M-magic word?” He blinks at you confusedly. “I don’t know any—any magic word! I’m not—a magician, ah, silly!” 

Warmth curled in your chest at how utterly ridiculous Luffy was, and you gave a little laugh, before leaning down to kiss him. Luffy kissed you back with eagerness, biting and sucking impatiently at your lower lip. As you fucked your tongue into that pliant little mouth of his, mirroring your cock’s every thrust, he had sucked on it and moaned around it, drool spilling down the sides of his mouth as though it felt heavenly for him. 

“So full…” Luffy whimpered around your tongue, eyes rolling back in ecstasy—and you couldn’t pinpoint which hole he was referring to. 

You reeled back after a long kiss, going back to pounding into him as he whined for “harder”, for “more”, and “wanting to eat the funny liquid that comes out of your cock”. 

Your breath hitched in surprise as you realised what Luffy meant. “Want me to cum down your throat, baby? That what you want?” You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, his warm, spongy walls pulsating around you every time you pulled back, as though wanting to keep you inside forever. 

“Yes, yes—wanna, wanna know what you taste like, y/n!” he babbled mindlessly, clinging on to your shoulders as you flattened the head of your cock against his prostate, grinding hard and deliberately. “Ugh, ugh—it feels weird—” 

“Yeah? You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Fucking do it—cum on my cock, captain.” 

With the mention of his title, Luffy’s eyes squeezed shut before his head lolled back with a loud, drawn-out moan, body jerking violently and cock spurting all over his chest and abdomen. His hole clenched around you as tight as sin, and you had to hold back with all your willpower to not come on the spot. 

Luffy panted, still twitching beneath you as he raised one shaky finger, bringing it up to his face to point into his open mouth. Asking silently. 

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, but once you got the green light, you rammed back into his twitching hole, no longer prioritising his pleasure over yours, only able to process how divine it felt to be making love to your captain. As you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm, you pulled out of his hole all of a sudden and plunged your cock into his ready, parted mouth, cumming so hard down his throat you felt yourself ascend. 

Luffy’s lips wrapped around the base of your cock, sucking hard and milking you throughout your orgasm. You groaned, low and deep, thrusting messily into tight wet heat as cum steadily dribbled down a vacuum, as though insatiable. 

You released your hold on his hair as you felt yourself go soft, staring incredulously down at a red-faced Luffy who was sucking at you as if he was trying to swallow your entire cock. 

“Luff,” you huffed, gently wiping away a line of his own cum that had somehow splattered on his collarbones. “That’s enough.” 

It was then that he finally pulled back, frantically sucking air through his mouth. “I—I couldn’t taste it,” he whined, the corners of his lips turning down unhappily. “Your cum, or whatever. I couldn’t taste it and it went down my throat!” 

Oh. Oh. 

You suppressed a laugh—because that was what he was being prissy about. Caressing his face affectionately, you went to lay down beside him. “I’m sorry. Next time I’ll just put the tip inside.” 

“It’s fine. I felt full enough.” 

Luffy had to stop dropping these one-liners that made you gape. 

“What? Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” He looked at you, frowning with confusion. “Y’know, this almost made me as full as the banquet-thingy Sanji put together last week. There was so much yummy food! Your dick was really good, too, though—so don’t get jealous.” 

You really had to get used to the way Luffy talked—because he talked way too much and it drove you absolutely crazy. In an almost ‘too good’ way. This had to stop. 

“Luffy.” You pulled him into your arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he giggled happily. “Stop talking.”  masterlist! # luffy is such a fun character to write lol

[mochidoie]

room for two.

kim doyoung x reader wc - 7k genre - pure fluff, sharing a bed cliché, mutuals to lovers, mutual pining, SO MUCH TENSION BUILD UP warnings - kiss scene, sensual tension, mention of alcohol

It's Johnny Suh's birthday trip and as your childhood best friend, Johnny books a hotel room with only one bed for you and Doyoung to share. The catch: you're completely head over heels for Kim Doyoung.

“I can sleep on the floor.” Hands on his hips, Doyoung quizzically stares at the full sized bed in the center of the hotel room. Seconds pass by, feeling like hours staring at this one bed situation and trying to find a solution for the next three nights.

“Maybe we can ask if they have a spare mattress we can rent? Hotels do that right…?” If only you could be confident in your suggestions, knowing damn well that it was highly unlikely and you’ve already heard an earful of excuses as to why you’re unable to change your room last minute.

At this point, you are mentally strangling Johnny for this slip up. This is the last time you trust this man to do anything for you. Not only did he pick the middle seat for you on the airplane when you specifically asked for the window, he has now ruined your good night’s sleep by "accidentally" booking you only one bed to share with Doyoung.

Doyoung shrugs at your proposal, “it’s been awhile since I traveled. I can go down and ask if it’ll be possible. Hang tight.” He is gone before you can protest, but perhaps it’s better that he tries to negotiate with the receptionists since they wouldn’t even let you finish a sentence earlier.

Grabbing your phone, you’re quick to type an angry text to Johnny Suh about how badly he screwed up the hotel reservation and how he is getting on your last standing nerve.

Good. Maybe finally you’ll get the balls to make a move.

Plus, it was cheaper. You told me to save you some money and that’s what I did.

Scoff leaving your lips as you read the two text bubbles over and over. You can’t believe your eyes at this little weasel and in fact, you straight up cannot believe he actually thought this was a good idea.

While this means you get to share a bed with your crush, you never intended for it to be premeditated. A love that happens naturally, that is all you could ask for. Absolutely in no way did you want your friends to meddle with your love life and definitely not to put you in such an awkward situation.

The door beeps open and Doyoung walks in looking as defeated as ever. Judging from his facial expression, it was a no. You two are stuck sleeping together on this tiny bed for this entire trip.

“I really tried.” Doyoung scratches the back of his neck, quite apologetic that he couldn’t find some resolve to an issue that he didn’t even cause.

You laugh, “it wasn’t even your problem to fix anyways.” A sigh of relief follows after and Doyoung flashes you his gummy smile at the idea that pops into his head.

“You know, I don’t really mind sleeping together.” He admits, bashfully and trying to gauge your reaction to the potential thought of sharing a bed. “But obviously, if you’re uncomfortable with the idea, I completely understand too.”

“I don’t know… I’m just a bit embarrassed.” Your cheeks grow hot at the possibility of waking up next to Doyoung, how nice the fragrant of hotel body wash would smell from his skin so close.

Not to mention, the proximity of your bodies being way closer than they’ve ever been before. Just no respectable distance between the two of you underneath the sheets and completely vulnerable in your sleep.

“Of what?” The shift of the bed has you dipping toward him. “Do you snore?”

You don’t answer.

“I mean- like even if you did, it’s not a big deal and you don’t need to be embarrassed about it.” Doyoung frantically tries to make you feel better, seeing that your expressionless face leans closer to sadness rather than neutral. You two are definitely not on the level of friendship to be playful with each other yet.

So you lie just to see what he says. “I snore, I kick. I even steal blankets, Doyoung! And I think you’ll be too nice to wake me up about it or to take them off of me.”

Doyoung practically chokes on his spit at the last part of your sentence. “No, you’re right. I would be too nice to do any of that.” He seriously ponders for a second, his eyes darting around at the ground to maintain his focus on weighing the pros and cons. He really didn’t want to sleep on the floor.

“If it happens, it happens. I won’t mind either way now that I have a heads up.” He gets up to start unpacking his suitcase. “Like I said, there is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Fair warning, don’t be upset at me in the morning if you don’t get a good night’s rest. You can blame Johnny for that.” Unpacking the soft dress from your luggage, you smooth out its crinkles and hang it up in the tiny closet next to Doyoung’s jacket.

Doyoung laughs, he has actually been laughing the whole time you’ve spent with each other. It’s as if you’re some comedian and it has you wondering if you’re actually even that hilarious. “I’m pretty happy rooming with you. I’d rather be here than third wheeling with a couple still in their honeymoon phase.”

The magnitude of his words has a buzz running throughout your veins, hairs to stand up on your arms and a slight churning in your stomach. Mindlessly folding out his clothes, Doyoung has no actual clue how he is affecting you. He’s just oblivious to it all.

“Good thing I didn’t bail like everyone else.” The nervous chuckle that escapes your lips is unintentional, probably an awkward reflex to deflect how you’re dying at being in his presence alone.

Johnny’s birthday trip had been a last minute thing and only a select few were able to make it, some bailing at the very last day before. It was a weird time of the year, especially with the New Year starting not too long ago. However, this season allows for cheaper flights and accommodation since it was after the holidays.

It was initially supposed to be a group of Johnny’s close friends — you, Doyoung, Mark, Jaehyun, Yuta — in addition, his girlfriend. How the room arrangements were supposed to be was that you and his girlfriend would share an all girls room, while the guys shared one room.

That outcome could still technically be possible, but Johnny insisted on switching rooms so he can stay with his girlfriend after the others dropped and how he has already shared the experience of being roommates with Doyoung. He also knew how big of a crush you had for Doyoung, so he thought it would be more fitting to pair the lovers together.

Although, Doyoung didn’t like you back nor does he know you do. The severity of your crush is mild, just that Doyoung is the most attractive man ever with poise and an aura that oozes so sexily from him. This is the first chivalrous man in your life, meeting him through Johnny some years ago.

You and Johnny are family friends, your moms being the closest women duo on this Earth. When they’re together, they’re unstoppable. In return, the two of you are practically siblings and have spent every celebration, every holiday, every family event, every funeral together.

Doyoung is Johnny’s roommate from college, these two have been lifelong friends since then. Doyoung had actually moved to your hometown after college, finding an amazing job opportunity at the same company as Johnny. He started coming around a lot more to social events or whenever you saw Johnny. Since the first moment he offered you a ride home, you’ve been stuck on this infatuation for this incredibly charming and sweet man.

Though, you two never got extremely close despite your individual connections to Johnny. It has always felt like Doyoung is Johnny’s friend and vice versa. You also really had no reason to see Doyoung without Johnny, so there had always been a distance. You two spoke when in a group setting, just to make small talk about work, general life updates, or anything about Johnny.

On a very drunk night long ago, you and Johnny had been very well over your drinking limit and had been talking about nonsense between the two of you. Just old friends catching up, but the itch of asking about Doyoung had been bothering you all night.

“Out of curiosity, is Doyoung single?” Oh god, the alcohol has started speaking for you. Johnny raises a skeptical brow and beckons his beer bottle at you before taking a swig.

“Don’t tell me you’re interested in digital marketing Kim Doyoung, cubicle 4E80.”

The boldness overtakes you, it’s not like you lose anything asking a simple question to satisfy your curiosity. “What if I am?”

Johnny laughs, rather than lightheartedly, it is a robust laugh that feels like he’s mocking you and that your statement is unbelievably ridiculous. “He’s single, painfully single too.”

There is a brief pause as your drunken state processes the loud beating of your heart in your ears. Hope settles in, a big dumb grin plasters on your warm face.

“It’s interesting. He had asked about you too.” Johnny sits back and sinks into the couch. “He asked if you had a romantic partner.”

“Me?” You are truly in disbelief that he would ever even give you a second thought.

“Yeah, you dummy. I think he meant it as you should get into a relationship though, not asking if you were single because he is interested in you.” Your heart soars, quickly depleting after hearing Johnny’s explanation. So much for hope or a chance.

“I’m not fully understanding.”

“Doyoung is weird sometimes with his thoughts. I think he was trying to say that you seem lonely? Oh, and that you seem like you have a lot of love to give.” Johnny rubs his eyes with his knuckles, feeling the alcohol induced drowsiness coming on. “Such an observant man.”

Since that night, you never tried any advancements toward him. Partly because you are afraid of him catching onto something and because it was enough for you to realize he probably isn’t interested in you romantically.

Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering or from your smile growing whenever Doyoung says something nice. He is a naturally friendly and genuine person, super considerate of others and very kind. Johnny says that he has never met another man with such good intentions and a big heart, while still being snarky and intelligent.

“Heading to the pool?” Doyoung asks, a fist holding his swim shorts and a plain shirt. The warm weather outside is so inviting, knowing you’re probably going to get sunburnt at the end of it but it being a year’s worth of Vitamin D. Johnny definitely knows how to travel.

“Yeah, I can’t swim so I’ll just sit by the edge and dip my feet in.” You’re rummaging through your suitcase for your bikini cover-up until your hand hits the bottom of the barrel.

Panic creeps up your neck as you’re tossing all of your clothes out of your luggage now, picking through shirts, dresses, underwear and pants to find the one item you set a reminder to pack.

It’s not there. “Everything okay?” The genuinity in Doyoung’s voice makes you feel more embarrassed for some reason. Tossing all your belongings back into your suitcase, you throw your hands up in the air out of frustration.

“I can’t find my swimsuit cover up. I guess this is what happens when you dismiss a reminder before fulfilling it.” Slightly annoyed, you’re holding the two-piece in your palms and wondering if it is worth the hassle and bashfulness to wear it. You brought it with the intent of looking hot and sexy for the trip, while also keeping your decency by having a cover up to …. well, cover up.

You excuse yourself and clench the bikini in your hand, walking into the bathroom. Fuck it, you brought it. You’re going to wear it. If it gets too much, you’ll just wrap a towel around or buy a new cover up. It shouldn’t be too big of a deal and you already know that Johnny is going to give you shit for not joining them at the pool.

You’ll suck it up. Looking in the mirror, the bottoms barely cover your ass cheeks. Barely is an overstatement, the fabric is so far up your crack that it gives you a wedgie every time you move. Nonetheless, the baby pink is such a sweet color that you’re not minding the exposure too much.

Now, the top situation is a whole mess. The strings wrap around your midsection, but your arms are too short to give yourself a secure knot. After multiple attempts at stretching and pulling, twisting your arms in funky positions, you give up and think it’s best to call in help.

Doyoung. Fuck. You take a few deep breaths and examine yourself in the mirror again, reminding yourself of every positive affirmation and Doyoung is too nice to say anything. Calming your nerves, you gently push open the door.

“Doyoung, could you do me a huge favor and tie my bikini top for me? I genuinely don’t think it’s tight enough when I do it.” You peek your head out and his footsteps come from around the corner, happy to help!

Walking in, Doyoung looks taken aback by your choice of attire. You’re examining his reaction through the mirror as he stops at the door frame, his eyes widen and drag down your body twice. He is most definitely checking you out.

He clears his throat when he meets your eyes. “Did you want me to double knot it?” He asks, softly and shyly. Stepping behind you, his hot hands guide your hair to the side of your neck to expose your back. Your heart is in your throat when Doyoung takes the string from your hands and pulls it toward him, a bit too roughly.

You lose your footing and jolt back into him, your shoulder hitting his chest. “Shit, sorry.” His breathy apology in your ear sends chills up your spine and a slight rush down below.

The tension in the air is so thick – you’re both suffocating in it. Staring at his profile in the reflection, Doyoung’s expression is none of what you’ve seen before. It’s lustful, almost, if you’re not interpreting it incorrectly. He’s biting the inside of his cheek and he is trying to look everywhere but your ass and your breast from an aerial view.

“It’s okay.” You laugh it off, but he is unwavering. “You’re stronger than you look, Doyoung.”

Your light teasing breaks the serious concentration on his face and his shy gummy smile returns, “it’s from all the times Johnny dragged me to gym with him.”

He ties the knot perfectly, making sure it’s one of those pretty bows that top off a gift box. He’s quite happy with himself that he forgets your bare ass is inches away from his clothed dick.

His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, “pink is a pretty color on you.” His eyes catch yours in the reflection of the mirror and a light blush dusts his cheeks, a kind half grin on his lips.

Your heart is soaring, once again. “It’s nice on you too.” Smiling back, there is a split second that you can actually believe that Doyoung could’ve felt some connection between the two of you. “Thank you for such an impressive bow.”

His demeanor shifts back to friendly, less serious and intense. “Yeah, no problem! If you’re still looking for a coverup, I have something you can borrow.”

Walking out of the stuffy bathroom, Doyoung hums and pulls out a white button up from his bag. It’s light and flowy, just the perfect thing to wear out on a beautiful day. He helps you slip on the sleeves and it covers your backside very well. It’s even better than the initial cover up you had. Then it hits you, you’re wearing his clothes. His scent falls on your body fruitfully and Doyoung doesn’t even flinch at the sight of you in his shirt.

Nonetheless, there is no denying that his stares seem to linger longer than they usually do.

Despite multiple occasions of waiters and waitresses mistaking you and Doyoung as a couple, the first day of the trip was jam packed with good fun and no complaints. Johnny and his girlfriend love showing PDA, but keep it modest for those around. Doyoung enjoys getting his picture taken at every tourist spot, some lowkey alleyways or artsy areas that catch his eye. You just like being around your friends, in a new environment and living in the moment with them all.

The night had fallen upon you so quickly, the expression time flies when you’re having fun held true for this day. Johnny had mentioned prior that he wanted to have a romantic candlelit dinner with his girlfriend for one of the nights you were on this trip.

It didn’t hit you that he was actually being serious about that plan until you’re back in your hotel room with Doyoung, looking for a place to have dinner on your own.

“I didn’t know how much of a romantic Johnny is.” You’re blowing raspberries into the air as you scroll mindlessly on the internet for a good place to eat in this foreign area. Doyoung takes a seat on the chair at the desk, doing exactly the same as you.

“It takes the right person to get it out of him.” Doyoung mumbles, ruffling his hair out of his face cutely. The strands of his bangs disheveled and sticking up. “But he’ll do anything for the person he really likes.”

“I guess I’ve never seen that side of him.” You shrug, attention draining from the overwhelming selection of food choices in the area.

Doyoung notices your mind wandering and hears the tiny grumble of your stomach from hunger. “How about we go here? Looks like they have happy hour and a very nice aesthetic.”

He kneels down at the bed level to show you photos of the restaurant. It’s a large outside patio with decorative ambient string lights, vines of greenery hanging from the ceiling and the rustic wooden walls within the indoor portion of the restaurant.

Overall vibe of the place feels elevated, yet still trendy and modern. The food seems to be a fusion of Korean and Chinese cuisines and the prices look more than desirable.

“Half off main entree items and bottomless cocktails during happy hour?!” Sitting up, you’re grabbing Doyoung’s phone out of his hand to get a closer read on the menu. You’re in disbelief at such a good deal. “Let’s go!” You cheer, jumping up on your feet to pick an outfit for the night.

“I knew the bottomless cocktails will get you. You understand me, y/n.” Doyoung is as overjoyed as you, and you’re both happily smiling at each other without a thought about how good you make each other feel. Grabbing your flowy white romper, you change quickly in the room as Doyoung fixes up in the bathroom.

There is elegance in the white silk, yet it doesn’t make you look too overdressed or too casual. Leaning forward to the vanity, you’re clipping on some shiny earrings and the door opens behind you.

Doyoung steps out in that loose white button up you borrowed earlier today, three buttons unbuttoned from the neck to expose some of his toned chest, half tucked into his neat slacks. His hair is combed and styled back, getting a clear view of his sharp features and maturity. He looks so good, you almost start drooling.

“Oh, your zipper isn’t zipped all the way.” Doyoung breaks you out of your gawking. Without any hesitation, he walks up behind you and helps you with your zipper. This moment mirrors earlier events from this morning.

He chuckles, mostly to himself as he drags the zipper up and his eyes follow the trail of your spine to your eyes in the reflection. “How do you ever get yourself dressed when you need help getting dressed so often?”

“It’s a bit of a struggle, but I manage.” Straightening up your posture, Doyoung’s hand gently caresses your forearm. “But you definitely have made it easier for me today.” You’re still in shock as you watch Doyoung clip your bracelet around your wrist, dropping your arm back by your side ever so gently.

“I’m more than happy to be of assistance.” He clicks his tongue and this fleeting feeling of sensual tension finds itself lost again. Nonetheless, this moment is going to play like a loop of reruns in your mind the whole night.

Three and a half cocktails in, you’re both indulging in a conversation that makes no sense to either one of you but it’s a harmonious time. Your heart is pounding in your ears from the alcohol running circles in your bloodstream, but the moderately loud ambiance of the restaurant creates a good buzz. Doyoung is a cute shade of red before you, every sip making him dangerously close to losing his senses.

“I have to say, this has been the most fun I’ve had in awhile.” The bottom of his glass hits the table and finds its way perfectly in the right spot everytime. The look of content fills his red cheeks and you’re seriously so intoxicated that your mouth has a mind of its own.

“What do you mean?” You know what he means, but the alcohol is asking for more context and reassurance. Has it been fun because of the copious amounts of drinks you two have had after only sharing an appetizer? Or is it genuinely because of you?

“You’re so easy to talk to. I feel like I can talk to you for hours.” His gummy smile twinkles in the dim atmosphere, all because the thought of talking to you for hours makes him full of glee and happiness. He isn’t one to hold back a genuine compliment, he wants you to know how he feels about you as a person. Intimacy didn’t exist between the two of you before tonight, but that changes with every exchange of glances and sweet words.

The call of his name gets his attention, eyebrows raised and eyes as alert as they can be, “you’re one of the only people in this world that I could listen to for hours.” There is no stopping you at this point. Another compliment and you’re bound to confess a part of your heart tonight to him.

Doyoung nods, understanding every bit of where you’re coming from. He gets you like how you get him. “There has been a question that’s been on my mind since I met you.”

Your breath hitches at the actuality that he thought enough about you to have such curiosity. You lived in his brain when you truly believed he would never give you a second look. “Why have you and Johnny never dated?”

The laugh that creeps up your throat almost slips out from hearing the question, but Doyoung is more than serious with this revealed secret question he had been holding onto for so long. Clearing your throat, your finger lightly traces the rim of your glass as you really think hard about every reason you are not attracted to Johnny romantically.

“I’ve known him practically since birth, so he has always been a good brother to me.” It really is that simple, shrugging to show that it's nothing too deep. “While we meet people in a certain moment of their lives, that version of them freezes as the person you will always know them to be to you.”

Doyoung watches your finger dance around. “To me, Johnny will always be a booger-eating cry baby. The love I have for him is purely familial, as if he was the reason for every scraped elbow growing up or for my fear of abandonment when he left me in the grocery store aisles.”

He hums lovingly at your explanation. “I’m guessing you get that question pretty often.”

“Besides his current girlfriend, you’re the only other person who has asked.” Your chuckle makes Doyoung slightly embarrassed, can he be that obvious? It’s fine, you both won’t remember this night fully.

“A follow up question then,” Doyoung leans forward with his elbows digging into the white table cloth, “who am I to you?”

Your eyes widen, those words are enough to knock some sense back into you. Your heart continues to pound in your ears, but also drumming against your chest quickly with every possible way you could answer him.

His eyes stare down at you like prey, just waiting patiently and silently for you to speak. Doyoung’s demeanor may seem confident on the outside, but he is dying to know on the inside. “You’re Johnny’s best friend.”

He lets the disappointment subside, the whiplash in your face is enough indication that you weren’t prepared for such a question. Doyoung relaxes back in his chair, dropping his gaze and nodding at your simple answer. It doesn’t satisfy him, but he can’t be someone to ask for much in this situation.

“Who am I to you?”

Doyoung rolls his lips, debating if his answer will only produce fruitful reactions or you would be turned off. The alcohol has too much control over his choice of words, truthfully, the haziness surrounds his vision. “You’re y/n, Johnny’s cute friend who I can’t seem to get out of my mind.”

Something about Doyoung paying for dinner and his chivalrousness throughout the night oozes a romantic side of him you’re not used to. It felt as if you and Doyoung went on a real date together, even though it was curated off of unforeseen circumstances. Romance isn’t dead, as some may oppose. You could hope that Doyoung agreed.

“Doyoung, the shower is free for you now.” A towel wraps your wet hair up into a cone on your head, earning a small smile from Doyoung. He gathers his things and makes his way into the already steaming bathroom, your essence filling the tiny room.

You’re mindlessly scrolling on your phone, hearing the shower turn on and suddenly turn off. Then it hits you, you have walked out empty handed and your discarded clothes are still hanging on the glass door. You’re both quick at the door, but Doyoung beats you to open it from the other side.

His head pops out, the door slightly ajar. He is naked from the top down to the towel around his waist. Droplets dribble down his tone chest and stomach and your throat goes dry from the sight of him. “Don’t be embarrassed.” Doyoung says gently, holding out your dirty clothes in an orderly pile and your underwear visibly in the mix.

“Thank you.” Finding your words, you quickly take your belongings.

“I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose, y/n.” Doyoung clicks his tongue, a playful eyebrow raise and a corner of his lip turning upward into a smirk.

“No! I swear, you just make me so comfortable.. I’m treating this as if it’s my own space.” You’re coming to your senses, shutting the door on him so he couldn’t respond to such a ridiculous excuse. Your back hits the bathroom door, sliding down and huddling your laundry.

“I feel comfortable around you too.” You hear Doyoung say through the door. Though you couldn’t see him, a smile lies on his lips as he continues his nightly routine.

Some time passes, Doyoung enters the sheets before you and the anxiousness settles in your system when you know you have to eventually join him. He feels the shift in atmosphere, peering over at your hunched figure at the end of the bed.

“I can still sleep on the floor.” Pushing the blankets off of his body, he starts to get up. You’re fast to push his chest down, landing softly over him. You’re both unmoving in this position, out of pure shock of the sudden proximity.

Your eyes meet briefly, but you look away from his wide bunny eyes. “It’s okay. I don’t want you on the floor.”

His finger turns your chin to face him. The annoying pounding of your heart is loud in your eyes, aching from his hot touch and how you could seriously drown in his beautiful gaze. You’re wondering if he could hear it.

“Then, where do you want me?” Doyoung swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing at the sight of your lips before him and he is three seconds from diving into you. Completely stunned, obviously, taken aback by his bold question and the tension in the room seems to find its way back.

You want him in your arms. You want him suffocating you with his warm embrace. You want him where you are. Will he allow that? “The bed is fine.” The firmness in your voice assures Doyoung that you don’t feel unwavering. He would hate for you to feel the slightest uneasy. With a roll off of him, you’re planted on your back on the other side of the bed. Staring at the ceiling, you’re both processing the elephant that has overstayed its visit this entire day.

He has to have felt something. There is no way he could be that oblivious, you know he isn’t.

Pulling the sheets over your body, your back is facing Doyoung as he tries to find a good position to doze off in. Heat radiates off of your bodies underneath the blankets and you’re partly grateful to be sharing the bed with such a gorgeous man. Peering over your shoulder, Doyoung swipes on his phone aimlessly looking through the photos he took today.

He feels your curious eyes on him, “want to help me choose which ones I should keep?” Doyoung scoots a bit closer toward the middle of the bed, closing the distance between the two of you slowly.

As this man speedily scrolls through photo after photo, you’re too much in awe at how a simple photo could capture how handsome he is. You’re trying to be helpful, without saying much, but still trying. He deletes a random one at his distaste in a blink that you could barely keep up.

“Do, you look great in all of these.” You sigh, moving even closer to him as his shoulder hits your arm. You’re swiping a few photos back to one that caught your eye – gummy smile, hand covering his eyes, low light underneath the stars, one hand in his pants pocket. He is the perfect wallpaper material. “I like this one the best.”

“You can’t see my face in that one.” He laughs, “what do you like about it?”

“You look good.” It’s all you could say, anything more will tip the boat.

He instantly favorites it, moving on before he can dig anymore about your vague explanations. Swipe after swipe, a new angle, a new pose, a new facial expression but all in the same area. You’re starting to get sleepy at the endless miniscule details, but your eyes shoot open when he swipes upon a photo of you and then, quickly dismissing it as if you weren’t supposed to see.

“Was that me?” You ask, practically grabbing his phone. Doyoung sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, letting you scroll through his phone to find more pretty candids he took of you without you knowing. Progressively, you begin to see yourself in his perspective or maybe, he really is just that great at taking photos.

Nonetheless, you’ve never seen yourself like this. Hair in action, caught in the sweep of the wind. Your smile is as bright as the moon, very natural and genuine happiness painting your face at something stupid that Johnny probably said. There you are among your own laughter and excitement, Doyoung captured such beautiful parts of you that you didn’t know existed.

Doyoung breaks the silence between the both of you, slowly reading your facial reactions at the pictures. He slowly inches closer, his head slightly above your shoulder.

“I can’t help, but notice how happy you look when you laugh. Your smile is contagious.” He whispers, swiping a few more photos to land on one that you wouldn’t have even recognized was yourself.

Your right hand brushes your hair out of your face and you’re smiling from ear to ear. It had to be a moment at dinner with him. Doyoung knew the reason behind that gorgeous smile was him. “So pretty.” His voice leaves a chill down your spine and goosebumps to rise on your arms.

He perks up at the sound of his name, “I’m genuinely confused.” You say, setting his phone down and looking at him with eyebrows furrowed together. “I know you’re a nice person so it could be just your mannerisms or the intimacy of sharing a bed, but I don’t want to misunderstand your intentions.”

“Oh,” Doyoung shifts away from you, the bed dipping at the movement as he scoots back over to his side of the bed. “I’m sorry if I came off as overbearing.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” You’re fighting with yourself, trying to decide if you should just confess. What is the worst that could happen? You’re stuck together in the same room for two more nights and he will know that you’re insanely attracted to him.

But there feels like a chance. You could be incredibly delusional and misreading everything. You sigh, unsure how to proceed with this conversation. Nonetheless, Doyoung can see how heavy your heart seems.

“Is there something I did?”

“No, forget it.” You’re pulling the blankets back over your body again, turning off the lamp on your side of the bed and staring up at the ceiling. Doyoung follows your lead, doing the same and the room falling into complete darkness. Your shaky breaths being the only audible noise in the silent space.

There is so much adrenaline in your throat, coursing through your veins at how close you are to just telling him.

“Just know that you can tell me anything. I know we’re not the closest of friends, but I feel like that’s sometimes better.” Doyoung turns to face you and you’re staring at him in the low light, making out the most gentle and comforting smile that puts your heart at ease.

“Doyoung, I like you and it’s not just because you’re a nice person, I have romantic feelings for you. I hope you can understand.” You’re all choked up that it makes Doyoung’s heart ache. Confessions are way harder than they need to be, but you did it. That's all that matters.

You didn’t need reciprocal feelings from him, you just needed him to be okay with it. He is silent for a while, his gaze dropping and wandering the sheets. He, too, is conflicted about how he should proceed.

Laying on your side, you face him fully. Doyoung peers up at the shift and his eyes are intensely gazing at you. Your heart is back thumping at your chest and drumming in your ears.

Before you know it, Doyoung is leaning forward and his lips land on yours softly. Your eyes remain open and in shock, but you kiss him back fruitfully. This long awaited kiss has finally fallen upon you, something you’ve wondered days on end how his lips taste.

Doyoung kisses your lips tenderly, almost as if he has waited for this moment too. Gliding effortlessly along yours and a sweet heat that lingers deliciously, he kisses like a shy romantic. You’re both too hesitant to touch one another, afraid of asking for too much. Your arms are stuck to your chest, hands in fists and tensions rising.

His knuckle lightly brushes your cheek, and as you close your eyes and settle into the kiss, you find yourself deepening it and free falling right into him. Desperation? It is the right amount to indicate how much you wanted it, how much you have craved him.

You are kissing Kim Doyoung. That thought alone could leave you grinning ear to ear for days. He doesn’t even know how much it affects you.

When you both pull away, Doyoung’s lips are pretty and plump. It compels you to give him a last quick peck and he chuckles cutely. His eyelids fall over his eyes ever so slowly, his long eyelashes dancing on his cheekbones and he looks surreal.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you this entire day.” Your heart would stop right there. His raspy confession has your whole face turning hot, “ever since I saw you in your pink swimsuit. You don’t know what you do to me.” He buries his shyness into his pillow. Seeing Doyoung like this is new, it’s so adorable that you don’t know how to react besides giggling at how shy he is. He usually holds himself up pretty well, getting embarrassed here and there by Johnny’s silly actions or boldness. Nonetheless, here he is, barely able to look you in the eyes and a pillow shielding his pretty face.

“Have you always felt this way?” Your fingers touch your lips, still in disbelief at the scandalous kiss you two just shared and coming to the realization that Doyoung could have felt this way this whole time.

“Since the moment I met you, you have always been endearing to me. But since you are practically Johnny’s non-biological sister, you felt out of reach.” Doyoung sighs, “I didn’t want to cross any boundaries or make it seem like I was some creep trying to hit on you through Johnny. I respect you a lot, y/n, and Johnny does too.”

His voice grows soft and his words are still so kind. Doyoung is effortlessly sweet and chivalrous. At times, you question how he and Johnny managed to be the best of friends. Doyoung is so outwardly soft and feminine, emotionally attuned and safe. Johnny is all those things as well, but not as clear as Doyoung.

Growing up, Johnny always felt like he needed someone like Doyoung to reassure him that boys can cry too. Although you never imagined that you would stumble upon a dream man like Doyoung, he lays next to you in bed with endless thoughts of you running at full speed in his head.

“I’m speechless.”

“I can tell.” Doyoung smiles, “I’ve kept my distance enough to not give you any impression of interest.” He coyly puts his arms behind his back and peers over at how stunned you look blinking back at him. “Let’s sleep, I want you to rest up for the day tomorrow.”

“I feel like this is going to keep me awake.” You slide down to lay firmly on your side to face him.

“Will sleeping in my arms help?” Doyoung extends his arm out for you to snuggle up next to him. You’re practically losing your mind at how forward he is, it’s as if five minutes early he wasn’t all shy about confessing to you. “Sorry, too much.”

Nonetheless, you dive right into him like it's all you’ve ever known. Your face hits his chest and the scent of his laundry detergent immediately hits your nose. His warm arm wraps around your upper back as he presses you closer. Planting a delicate kiss on your forehead, Doyoung rubs soothing circles on your back to help you sleep.

So if this was a dream, you hope to never wake from it.

The stuffy morning has you and Doyoung tiptoeing around one another. When you had woken up, Doyoung was already in the bathroom to freshen up and prepare for the day. You both had exchanged small good mornings before you had also disappeared into the bathroom. Now, you two silently get ready in your own corners of the room and nothing but the sound of clattering fills the air.

Did he have a sudden change in heart? You grow more confused with this man as it turns from day to night. Doyoung looks over his shoulder at you, noticing the eerie silence in the room.

“How did you sleep?” He asks, clearing his throat awkwardly. Good thing you two didn’t fuck or anything, you feel like that would make this moment even more awkward than it already is.

“Fine. You?”

Doyoung laughs, mostly to himself, as he remembers the position you two woke up in. “Seems like someone couldn’t let go of me last night, so I would say it was pretty good.”

Your embarrassment doesn’t shy away from being evident. Slowly, you turn to face him. Doyoung leans against the wall a relaxed fit, hair nicely falling above his eyebrows and a grin so taunting, you wouldn’t have believed it was his. He notices your lip quiver before you begin to speak and he reassures you once more.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s cute.” Doyoung makes his way toward you, his delicate hands holding your forearms quite lovingly and his kind smile tries to make you feel better. You both gaze into each other’s eyes like they’re all you’ve ever known in life.

This is so romantic. You’ve forgotten that you two aren’t dating.

“Would it be too much of an ask for us to start seeing each other?” He shakes his head without hesitation. Kissing your forehead, he can literally see how beautifully you admire him.

“I want to be with you.” He draws you in tighter. “I want to be yours.” Doyoung whispers. A chill runs down your spine. “However, you have to let me take you out on a proper date before we settle things. One where I ask you out, pick you up and bring you your favorite flowers.”

“I’d really love that.��� It is no joke how incredibly immersed in this man you are. Never in your dreams would you think that a moment like this would exist between the two of you.

All it took was sharing a bed. If only Johnny had thought of that sooner.

[sereh624]

sam collins and pregnant darlin' headcanons !! ( baby doesn't have to be his, could be from a previous partner or you could just pretend this is biologically possible ) ver detailed !,

request by anon :3

soon to be dad sam who during his studies, learnt a little bit about the human body, specifically during different phases/periods. uses this information to help you when he can during the first trimester, when morning sickness is hitting you 24/7 and everything seems to suck.

soon to be dad sam who when you are hunched over, throwing up into the toilet, has everything ready for you. he stands above you, feet planted either sides of you as he gently cards his fingers through your hair, pulling it into a loose ponytail away from your face. gives tender praise, "take it easy, darlin'" type stuff while you get everything out of your system. wipes your face with a wet cloth and hands you a glass of water when you're finished, helping you up off the floor.

soon to be dad sam with a transmasc partner, who much like david is constantly reassuring you and dismissing any negative thoughts you have. does anything and everything he can to support you safely now that a lot of your resources are limited. ( do not bind or take t during pregnancy, people !!! ) fiercely defends you against any and all transphobia.

soon to be dad sam who during pack meetings/events, finds himself gravitating towards the older members of the pack. even though he knows his fair share about children, now that he's being confronted with fatherhood he suddenly realizes he knows very little about kids at all. soon to be dad sam who never thought he'd be the type of dad to be up midday ( vampire nighttime ok ), scrolling on the 57th babyware site he'd found, reading a fifty-paragraph long review on some shitty stroller written by some rich arrogant mom with too much money to spend.

soon to be dad sam who's nocturnal sleep-schedule comes in handy when it you start having late night cravings. he enjoys the drives, with you passed out in the passenger seat, dad-rock playing faintly in the background as he drives you for the third night in a row, to the local bakery for bread.

soon to be dad sam who tries not to laugh when he sees you, his fierce and formidible werewolf partner, reduced to tears at seeing a baby sheep get kicked over on the TV. you grumble at him, swatting him away when he swoops in for an apology kiss, which he ultimately gets seconds later when he offers to take you out for donuts again.

soon to be (g)uncle porter, who when challenged at the baby shower by vincent, won the diaper-changing competiton with surprising speed and effiency. didn't stop rubbing it in vincent's face the rest of the night. porter then went on to never change another diaper in his life.

soon to be (g)uncle asher, who when asked to guess how many gummy bears were in the jar at the baby shower, said 5,000.

(it was 200)

@huxleaf lmk if you wanna be tagged!!

[ihrtjiro]

hihi i wanna request a mha matchup ^^

character preference-wise i prefer male and i’d like it if you could avoid the adult characters!

as for me, i’m roughly 5’7, blonde w brown eyes (and a girl lol) i’m an ambivert, so im pretty comfortable in social situations but i get overwhelmed quite fast and often end up zoning out/ getting quiet. i’d like to think that i have a good balance between being loud and listening to others but at times i can be a bit of a yapper 🙊 i’m very emotional, so i hate seeing my friends upset (i’m the if ___ cries, i cry type of person).

interests wise, i love science and really want to pursue that as a career (specifically biochemistry). in the same vein, i take my academics really seriously because i don’t play sports at all and genuinely enjoy learning. i also love graphic design as a side hobby and do little projects in my spare time ^^ other hobbies of mine include painting, skiing and gaming.

likes: dogs, kpop, sleeping, playing roblox (lol), iced tea, nerds gummy clusters 🤤

dislikes: math (i’m just bad at it), spiders, needles, and very specifically the point in winter where it’s dark and cold and bleak

hope this is good and thank u smmmm 🎀

a/n; hey heyy! hope u enjoy this :))

your matchup is…

hanta sero !!

sero always tries to be very aware of your behaviors while in social settings! like if you’re not talking/zoned out, he’ll try engage with you specifically to make you feel more welcomed! (he also loves it when you yap.. 🤫)

he also thinks it’s very endearing how seriously you take your academics! it reminds him of iida or yaomomo a lot and it’s very sweet to him :))

i personally hc sero to be good at math because i imagine while training his quirk he had to get really good at measurements when deciding how much tape he wanted to shoot for whatever reason, so he’d easily be able to help you with your math work if you couldn’t do it haha

he’d also shoot out small strips of tape for you to paint and doodle on during classes whenever you got bored <3

i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to ihrtjiro. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.

[written-with-blue-ink]

This may seem weird but could you do what Pokemon characters smell like? Smell is super important to me when it comes to a partner, not allowed to smell bad in my space. Specifically Grimsley, Drayden and Clara but you can add whoever else you want

Absolutely, hon! I kinda wanted to bully your taste a bit but I'll just say you have a type. Also, if y'all give me free reign with extra characters, I'll always chose N when it comes to Pokemon. He's my boy!

Characters: Grimsley (Gen 5), Drayden (Gen 5), Clara (Gen 8), N (Gen 5), Dahlia (Gen 4), and Wallace (Gen 3)

Grimsley: Smoke, Red Wine, and Petrichor

Smoke like the comfort of a cigarette on a cold winter night at a rooftop bar or snuffing out a candle after a long night on the couch with a movie. Red wine like a classy date in an expensive restaurant or a comforting drink after a long day, alcohol somehow numbs the pain in your joints. Petrichor like waiting for the rain to stop outside before walking away from work or walking through the city under an umbrella, watching the people walk by.

Drayden: Leather, Pine, and a Fresh Meal

Leather like finally buying a much-needed new bag or tying a nice pair of leather boots before going on a hike. Pine like a Christmas Tree at your grandparent’s house or walking in the woods in early winter, the last of the leaves falling in your hair. Meals like a pot roast on a cold winter night or sauteeing vegetables for a new recipe.

---

Clara: Sour Gummies, Cheerwine, and Poppies

Sour Gummies in the way of walking into a busy candy store or opening a package late in the night as a study snack. Cheerwine like on a hot and humid summer’s day, feeling the cold, cherry-flavored soda run down your throat to quench your thirst. Poppies like growing a batch in a small pot and smelling them and feeling the need for sleep hit your limbs.

---

N: Gardenias, Fresh Cut Grass, and Honeysuckles

Gardenias like walking in the woods in the beginning of spring or the surprise of finding one fresh white flower sitting on your desk in a small container with water, signed by your secret admirer. Fresh-cut grass like walking in the park in the early morning or lying on the grass between classes, the sun on your skin and engulfing you in warmth. Honeysuckles like going to the plant with your parent as a kid, picking the flower, and then having you try it. You aren’t sure but do and taste the sugary nectar engulf your mouth.

---

Dahlia: Mocha, Daffodils, and Oranges

Mochas like the sudden spike of caffeine in the morning after a long, sleepless night. Daffodils signal the beginning of spring with their yellow and white flowers. Oranges like eating a familiar fruit as you put the peels in a simmer pot with other ingredients, letting the scent engulf the house.

---

Wallace: Patchouli, Water Lilies, and Incense

Patchouli like walking into an apothecary, the variety and combination of all scents hitting and burning your nose. Water lilies like walking through an oriental garden and seeing koi fish swim between lilypads with pink and white flowers. Incense like lighting a match and setting the stick aflame before blowing it out, letting the smell engulf your room and yourself.

[bvlladonnas]

Is that LILY GLADSTONE ? Oh, no, that’s FREYA COBELL, a FORTY-ONE year old PREVIOUS LAWYER; CURRENT UNEMPLOYED FRIEND ON A TUESDAY who uses THEY/THEM pronouns. They currently live in CASABLANCA, and the character they identify with most is VAN PALMER FROM YELLOWJACKETS. Hopefully they find their own little paradise here in el país de los poetas!

BASICS:

full name: freya sequoia cobell  nickname(s): frey age: forty-one gender: non-binary pronouns: they/them sexuality: lesbian date & place of birth: january 24th in blackfeet nation in browning, montana  occupation: previous lawyer. currently between jobs (they are so unemployed) faceclaim: lily gladstone piercings: pierced ears traits: adaptable, laidback, flippant, particular, unyielding similar to: van palmer (yellowjackets), dean winchester (supernatural), janis ian (mean girls), ferris bueller (ferris bueller's day off)  aesthetics: clay caked under your nails, flannel jackets, baseball played with your childhood friends at dusk, big dogs that look like they have more bite than bark, and the bitter discomfort that comes with the inevitable passing of time. 

* mun is not indigenous & while i'm researching, please let me know if anything is wrong or off and i will correct it !

BULLET POINTS:

– born to a loving family on the blackfeet indian reservation in browning, montana. was never particularly wealthy but what their family did have was a lot of love and devotion, and they were always raised to know that they had the full support of their parents – this meant that they're decently well-adjusted. never really one to stress, freya's got a true 'type b' personality. – they discovered their love for art young, and had been sculpting pretty much since their fine motor skills kicked in. art of any kind attracted them, but sculpting especially – eventually decided they wanted to see the world and got a one way ticket to london for college. with their family's support (and sadness), they left the reservation for art school – met their spouse (rania <3) in college after a few flings and fell in love immediately – what was initially a fling turned into a whirlwind romance and of course freya was down Bad – as soon as they started taking the relationship seriously they knew they had to get their shit into gear because sculpting wasn't going to pay the bills – put their big thirl panties on and got into law; was wicked good at what they did, but their heart was never in it. still, they knew they didn't want to go back to the states (as much as they missed their family), so they got a job in chile instead, still wanting to see the world – unforchie law burned them out despite the fact that they were good at it and they quit, hoping to pursue their craft full time – currently is going through a bit of a rough patch with rania since quitting their job </3 they had a lot in savings and rania supported them after seeing how miserable they were, but it's ... rough. they're trying  – kind of having a midlife crisis ? in a way ? – still loves their children and their wife don't get it twisted. their family is their lifeline n main priority always

HEADCANONS:

— really chill. used to be kind of a stoner, now takes edible gummies to sleep ( i love you old people <3 ). still really go with the flow – gives fucking awesome advice – neurodivergent as hell ... chill unless their very specific ways of living are disrupted and they're like woah? – played softball as a kid – very much the yin to rania's yang – still calls with their family daily, facetimes often – has a pretty good amount of tattoos, including two for their kids – likes to birdwatch and play chess in the park – will add more here as i think :D 

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

— children they are adopting ( or ones that realize they give good advice and are like hi :p )

– does anyone want to birdwatch with them

– someone get them a job omfg please

– fellow artists!

– erm check back soon

[incyrayinc]

crude concept art for Theif's stupid spaceship(s)

been thinking about what kind of requirements something kinda abiotic like a Heartless would have for a ship, and realizing that A: all oxygen and similar would have to be ADDED to the base ship design, since I don't think Heartless need to breathe lmao, and B: the rest would be very minimal, since I'm pretty sure the only other requirements these things have are like. med bay if they get injured, bathing/laundry because they are physical things that exist, and maybe sleep (in COM you can encounter dubiously real Heartless sleeping)

I like to think they have major cockroach brain and would prefer to sleep in some sort of crevice with surface contact on all sides so they feel hidden and safe. and then I realized. the densest, most efficient cockroach sleeping arrangement is. fucking. Egg Carton…

(also, 'SPOM' is 'self-powered oxygen module' and is inspired by the electrolysis-based oxygen generating machine commonly used in Oxygen Not Included)

similarly i don't think they really get how bionts like humans prefer to sleep, and probably just googled 'human bed' or 'biont bed' or 'bed for mammal' and got images of like, various human and animal beds, and then picked the cheapest option for the highly unlikely scenario of long-term guests, which is dog bed

it started as a joke but then I realized it makes sense? so I'm keeping the dog beds lmao

(the specific types of gummi ships here are Dreadshark, and Strike Shuttle)

[yoonshrimpp]

[ SUNDAY MORNING - JEONGCHEOL ]

"Jeonghan-ah, I'm here!"

Seungcheol's voice echoed through the hall of Jeonghan's apartment. He hanged his soaking wet coat at the entrance as he closed the wooden door behind him. He took off his equally wet shoes. Taking a look at his socks he suddenly regretted that specific choice. Jeonghan was gonna make fun of the dinosaurs on them, for sure. He sighed at the thought, unintetionally smiling to himself.

The house was quiet. The only noise he could hear was the rain hitting the big window in the living room. He walked through it, trying not to focus on the plants that were definitely being a bit too ignored by their owner.

"Jeonghanie?" he called again.

He finally reached the corridor and saw that the door to his bedroom was open. He could hear some music coming from it. He rolled his eyes when he recognized the song.

The moment he peeked into the room he immideately got hit by a strong smell of vanilla, but a sweeter one, more sugary. At the same time though it made him feel fresh all over, like recently cleaned clothes or like the first snow on Christmas day.

Jeonghan was sitting crossed legged on the big white rug between the queen size bed and the wardrobe, which was open. It seemed like it had exploded. Clothes were spread everywhere on the floor and on the bed, luckily not on Jeonghan too. The man was sitting still, looking at two sweaters laying in front of him. He seemed extremely concentrated as he bit his thumb.

Seungcheol chuckled "What are you doing?"

Jeonghan raised his brows, not even surprised by his presence. "Its sweater season Cheol, i gotta change the clothes in my closet." He picked up one of the two sweaters that he was so focused on "I have to choose what i want to keep for winter."

Seungcheol carefully made his way between the colored different types of fabrics that were covering the entirety of the bedroom's floor and went to sit on the bed, right behind Jeonghan. The now almost longhaired man leaned back, resting on his legs. Seungcheol's hand instinctively went to stroke those dark hair he loved so much.

"Did Joshua make you obsessed with this song too?" He said, a sweet smile on his face as he felt the younger relax under his fingertips. "I won't admit that. Let's just say that its the perfect song for today." He said as he folded some white jeans. Seungcheol looked at him from above "Hm?" "It's sunday, its morning and its raining. Couldn't be more accurate."

Seungcheol took a deep breath, nodding. Maybe the scent of Jeonghan's yankee candle was getting to his head but he suddenly felt sleepy once again, reminding him about the initial intent of his visit. "Jeonghan-ah..." He whispered, his lips coming in contact with the younger’s hair and he leaned down to kiss it. The latter seemed to melt on the spot, but replied anyways "Cheol, I really gotta do this...and i gotta study too." "But i can't sleep without someone to cuddle." He pouted as Jeonghan brought his head back to look at him. The older took his opportunity and left a small peck on his lips.

"You're such a child." Jeonghan said as he closed his eyes. Seungcheol's hands were back at doing that scalp massage that was making it extremelly difficult for him not to surrender. So he got up, broke the spell. Seungcheol's pout turned into a gummy smile, thinking he had won. Contrarily to his expectations, after Jeonghan made him lay back on the bed, he just grabbed a fluffy pink blanket and covered him neatly with it.

Seungcheol whined "Oh, come on! I'll help you study later if you cuddle with me now!"

"I'm not falling into this Choi Seungcheol. The deal was you'd sleep here only if you'd let me study in peace."

The latter just groaned loudly this time, accepting his fate and burried his face deeped into the blanket. It wasn't a bad idea after all. Jeonghan was always more calm after he had studied and done everything he had to do, which would have made the cuddles even better later. He rubbed his eyes, already feeling drowsy after that sleepless night. That's why he had come there in the first place, to catch up on sleep. When Jeonghan offered him to come over he couldn't believe it and he had rushed into his car and crossed the whole city under the rain to get there as soon as possible.

But now those dim lights, that soft song, the comfy blanket and that fresh but sweet smell, were ralaxing him so quickly that in a few seconds he found himself drifting into sleep.

Jeonghan closed the closet with a sigh, now ready to focus on studying but when he turned around the most beautiful view caught him off guard.

Seungcheol was sleeping soundly, plump red lips parted as he breathed out slowly.

He couldn't resist and he brought a hand to caress his hair, still a bit wet from the rain. He smiled and leaned to leave a ginger kiss on his forehead as he whispered a three words phrase coming from the bottom on his heart.

[sunnybunny2468]

any fun facts abt ur ocs? im rlly interested in them :3

oh betbetbet

four facts about each!!!

BRI:

-she's a huge vocaloid fan!! specifically english songs, but she is the type to listen to darker songs in japanese so long as the instrumental is peppy and poppy. nobody tell her.

-she knows how to understand ASL somewhat, a friend taught her! she messed up salt four times and mixed up salt and fork. ....she really just struggles with salt, huh.

-she is incredibly sheltered, but has bad luck sometimes. if it's deceptively dark under cuteness, she will likely fall for it....especially if it has pretty girls. DDLC and Madoka Magica are things she will never recover from.

-her spirit animal is most totally a bunny. besides her love of them, she taps her foot when she's impatient, she runs more than she fights, and she jumps in place when she's excited but good luck getting her to eat anything but coffee rolls. :3

ALLIE

-she is popular canonically, but doesn't like it too much. ah, it's so hard to be a girlboss girlfailure in this world...luckily, she's good at telling them to fuck off. (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

-Bri thought her trans flag on her wall was hatsune miku related. i mean, miku did help her figure out her gender crisis, so task failed successfully.....??? once she finds out, Allie is just planning to make it into an inside joke though. Bri aint escaping this one.

-oh her gaydar is crazy good. she knows Bri is sapphic as fuck but isn't about to tell her. she's gonna let the clueless girliepop figure it out herself like she had to <3

-used to do magic as a teenager, and brought Bri along. still wears her mini tophat near constantly, to the point the pin always attached to it is her calling card at this point. doesn't do magic often anymore, but she did use it to keep her sis occupied when she was little, along with annoy Miley these days by confusing the fuck out of him.

MILEY

-he loves rain. his favorite gift from the group is an orange umbrella he got for his birthday. the reason he likes it? it keeps other people inside and lets him chill alone outside of his room. vibe lil man.

-if there's one hobby he loves, it's photography. he only takes pictures of other people or things, and often ends up deleting them out of worry someone will criticize something about the photo and he'll lose interest/start hating it. the only exception to this is pictures of animals and his friends, since he loves them too much to get rid of them.

-mans sleep schedule is FUCKED. he stays up late googling things related to his friends interests, and then spends the rest of the day paying for it. Bri is very tired (pun intended) of having to constantly wake him up in the middle of class because he decided that last night he wasn't gonna sleep until he beat a minigame. that he had only started an hour ago. which was 11PM.

-he shares a birthday with hatsune miku! (august 31st, 2007) his weeb of a best friend reacted to this by, without fail, every single goddamn year, showing up wearing at least one miku related thing. he's grown to love it, promise. that exhausted sounding sigh is a loving exhausted sounding sigh. <3

LAVENDER

-Lavender is a nickname, due to her first name being hard to pronounce, that being Liliana. eventually, everyone started either calling her Lav, Lavu, or Lily. Most times it's just Lavender though hehe

-she keeps track of the favorite snacks of every close friend she has, and makes sure it's always in her basket. for each member, Bri has coffee rolls, Allie has chocolate chip cookies, Miley has fruit gummies, and she packs herself white chocolate.

-she refuses to curse under any circumstances. you cannot make her. she sees it as inappropriate and immature. compare this to Miley, who if you asked him to stop cursing, would tell you 'are you goddamn serious?- shut the hell up and fuck off!' they argue over it often. very often.

-she wears gloves whenever she leaves the house. originally, she started wearing them as a gift from Allie, but slowly realized it made her more comfortable to have them. sadly, her trips into the woods behind her house and picking flowers have ruined quite a few pairs :(

thank you for asking! <3

[wifting]

Frye helps you with math homework and feeds you goldfish crackers shifting script..

To preface, this script is mainly for myself but I thought I'd post it for others if they wanted a oddly specific Frye based DR. ^^

-------------------------------------------------------

You: (left blank so you can fill it out^^)

Name:

Pronouns:

Age:

Physical attributes: (you can just use a photo if you want!)

Notable traits:

--_--_--_--_--_--_

DR effects: (for things you want Immunities to or other special things you want to detail) also this is kinda tacky cus I'm a simp 💀

--_--_--_--_--_--_

Frye:

Name: Frye (obv •°3°•<3)

Pronouns: she/her ^^

Age: early 20's / 16[highschool alt] (Delete the one you don't want!! )

Physical attributes: short ahh, gorgeous (actual goddess straight up TvT) , cute colorful fingertips eee, perfect soft skin fr skincare routine probably goes hard, literally glowing ~✧ш✧~

Notable traits: V. Pretty •°-°•, smart and good at math, silly, sweet :), funny!!, caring, notices people's visual tics easily, empathetic, willing to make jabs at u

- - - - - - - °•. - - - - - - - - °•. - - - - - - - - :*•.° ^-^

Location:

A small study (like the type of room not the action) with a desk and two chairs

On the desk is a lamp, desk bookshelf, pencase, a woodwick candle, and some of your papers and textbooks spread around.

~~~~°=°~~~~~~~°^°~~~~~~~~°π°~~~~~~~°•°~~~~~

Setup:

You've been having a hard time with your classes recently and Frye reached out to help you tonight.

She's agreed to come over and help you study on this late night (she's so nice!!! ^•^) . She's also bringing some snacks for you guys to break into. She said she's gonna bring some fruit gummies and some goldfish crackers for the two of you to munch on.

Once you've shifted you'll be woken up from a sleep at your desk by her. She's gonna scold you man why you sleeping at your desk sleepy head •^а^•

~~|~~|~~|~~|~~|~~|~~|~~|~~|~~|~~|~~|~~|~~|~~|~~|~~|

Bonus affs •'v`•

You will shift

Shifting is easy

You can shift easily

It's okay if it takes time

Everything is okay

Your DR is close

~~~❀✿❀

Remember to drink lots of water today and have a good day and night! I wish you luck!

-🏀

[cdyssey]

Drill Day

Summary: After Abbott Elementary's now traditional Drill Day—which requires the teachers and students to practice four mandated emergency drills over the course of a single day—Barbara checks on her own: Gregory, Jacob, Janine, and, of course, Melissa.

TW: Mentions of emergency school drills: earthquake/fire/tornado/lockdown.

AO3 Link

—

It’s been an extraordinarily long day.

Specifically, it is what is infamously known to Abbott teachers as Drill Day. The school is mandated to run at least four drills each semester, one of each type—fire, earthquake, tornado, and lockdown. Any competent administrator would carefully space them out over the course of five months, so as to minimize disturbance to the rhythms of a normal school day…

But, well, Abbott has Ava, and since last year, they’ve had Drill Day, where the school runs every God-blessed emergency procedure over the course of a single day, one after another after another. Melissa thinks it’s because she just forgets when they’re supposed to do them and overcorrects when a higher up tells her to get ‘em all done before the break. Barbara is less generous and suspects that Ava is too unbothered to properly schedule any of them out in the first place.

“God,” Melissa had smirked at this, her green eyes twinkling, “I love it when you’re cattier than I am.”

“Meow, meow,” she had only drawled against the rim of her coffee mug in response, unable to prevent herself from smiling at the sound of Mel’s deep belly laughter, warm and vibrant and loud.

Barbara is a proud Christian woman—sure, absolutely, irrefutably—but she has to admit, on Drill Days, she perhaps inappropriately prays that someone keys the principal’s shiny red car.

Lord, grant her prayer and forgive her for making it.

Amen.

Barbara and Melissa handle the demands of the day better than most of their younger colleagues. With over fifty years of experience between them, they know how to order their classes in single-file lines, distribute textbooks for students to place over their tiny heads, and usher their kids into dark supply closets. Relatedly, they’re well-versed in soothing those very same scared children, wiping away the tears that form at the corners of their eyes, and taking verbal lashings from parents who are rightfully concerned that their kids shouldn’t have to simulate four different traumatic situations over the span of an eight-to-three day.

But still.

It’s hard work.

Exhausting work. 

And after Barbara calmly explains to a fourth indignant parent that they should take it up with Ava, she wants nothing more than to get in her tan sedan, go home, and pop the cork on the Prosecco that she had been saving for the winter break. Perhaps she’ll even down the whole ten-dollar bottle, one chilled glass at a time. Sitting at her desk, fingers templed beneath her chin, she stares off into the middle distance and thinks about it, daydreams about how easy it would be to let Mrs. Howard take the night off before it’s even six o’clock.

Prosecco.

Jeopardy!

An perhaps a singular melatonin gummy—(only five milligrams, of course)—if she’s feeling a little frisky. Something to assist her into the velvet comforts of sleep.

Mm.

But the positively sinful fantasy evaporates when she glances at her door, which still has a black piece of construction paper neatly taped over the plexiglas window. It haunts her, that damn paper. It bruises her, every time she has to explain to a student that it’s to keep the bad guys out. And it simply excavates her—ruins her all over—that she has to prepare them for this precaution at all. They are children, no more than five and six years old.

Babies.

They are children, and she wants to protect them from learning that there’s such a thing as evil in this world, that it lurks just around the corner every day.

She inexplicably thinks of Janine and Gregory and Jacob then, young things, children themselves, just starting out in their careers and all very unsure of themselves in a lot of ways, like little fawns on ice, skittering around on their hooves. She thinks of herself—a young thing once too—and how drills had occasionally kept her up at night, imagining all the different ways that real disasters could go sideways in a maddening instant. What if a child was left behind during an actual fire? What if a book fell on a kid’s head during an earthquake? What if a tornado blew the roof off of the school? What if the cheesesteak stand on the corner was robbed at gunpoint and the miscreant ran into Abbott? What if there was a fire during an earthquake, while an approaching tornado forced an escaping robber to—

It was hard to leave the classroom behind on drill days, to shut the proverbial door on all the little faces that were in her care.

She knows this unsavory truth intimately, and she has an inkling that there are at least three teachers in Abbott Elementary who are just starting to learn it for themselves.

So Barbara will enjoy her well-deserved indulgences later.

She has babies to care for.

Before she leaves her classroom, though, she snatches the black strip of paper down from her door like it has personally offended her.

(But she meticulously replaces it in the topmost drawer of her desk in case she needs it later.)

—

She makes her rounds on the junior teachers, starting with Jacob and Gregory first since she finds both of them in the teacher’s lounge, trying to finish the drill logs they’re required to do. Completing one of them is tedious enough; doing four of them in a row once is just downright cruel.

“Nope,” she says, looming over both of them like a well-dressed monolith. “Close up shop, boys, and go on home.”

“But—!” Jacob tries to protest, gesturing helplessly at his unfinished forms. He hasn’t gotten past writing out his name on the first one, and there are stark lines beneath his eyes.

“No buts, young man,” she purses her lips sternly, appropriating her best teacher voice. (It's a very good teacher voice.) “It’s been a tough day, and these forms can wait until tomorrow.”

Gregory gives up the pretense and the ghost much faster than Jacob, placing his pen on top of his neat pile of papers. Still, when he looks up at Barbara, his dark brow is troubled.

“How do you do it, Mrs. Howard?” He asks, strain in his quiet voice, subtle but undoubtedly there. His uncharacteristically loose tie adds to the effect and the implication that this day has unraveled him. It's hard to be completely unflappable in crisis, even simulated ones. “How do you keep it all together? By the tornado drill, all of my kids were upset. I had to promise to bring them candy tomorrow to get them to shuffle into the hallway with their books.”

“Lucky,” Jacob mutters somewhat petulantly, idly fiddling with his pen. “We didn’t make it past the fire drill. When we got out into the parking lot, half of my students ran to the ice cream truck and didn’t even ask if I wanted something!”

“That’s cold, dude,” Gregory snorts tiredly.

“Tell me about it,” Mr. Hill laments dramatically, sinking further into his hardback chair.

Barbara offers both of them a rare and sad smile. 

Young things.

Children.

Babies even.

(Yes, they are thirty-something-year old adult men, but that doesn’t really mean anything, not on Drill Day. Not to her.)

“The simplest answer, of course, is time and practice,” she tells them gently. “I’ve had thirty years to perfect the art of corralling students into a line, and I’ve needed each of them to weather this ridiculous Drill Day.” 

She frowns quite magnificently into one of the omnipresent cameras at this, as though to say to the documentarians, Do you see this nonsense we have to put up with?

And to her immense satisfaction, one of the camera persons rewards her with a vigorous, affirming nod.

“With each successive year," she continues, turning her attention to the boys again, "you’ll have learned new techniques, new strategies to deal with what feels like the impossible, and that’s simply what being a teacher is all about—constantly growing. Adjusting and readjusting for stressful situations.”

“And it’ll get easier?” Jacob quickly asks, a pleading note in his voice, his blank drill logs splayed all over the break room table with their mocking, white faces.

After a traumatic day, there is always bureaucracy to follow.

“Well, not exactly easier,” Barbara returns softly, not wanting to paint a false picture of upcoming years. “These drills will always be exhausting—both physically and emotionally—but you’ll be more equipped to deal with individual challenges that occur, at least. You will be practiced, and that is what counts. Progress and the pragmatic implementation of what you have learned.”

Easier is not the adjective.

But maybe familiar is.

Granted, the longer she thinks on that particular conclusion, the more sad she is about it.

One day, these fine, young men in front of her will be as proficient at running these drills as she is; they will be familiar with crisis.

It's necessary in their line of work.

Still, it's rather sad all the same.

“Yeah, okay,” Gregory half-smiles, shrugging a hand across the back of his neck. “I can get behind that. Pragmatic is my thing.”

“Truth,” Jacob agrees zealously, though he doesn't pull it off half as coolly as his counterpart does.

Barbara steps out of the teacher’s lounge with a satisfied smile, contented by the sight of the boys packing up their satchels… She’ll just make sure Janine’s gone home—(probably not)—and then she’ll mosey on to her car herself. 

While she’s walking that way, though, she can’t help but notice that Melissa hasn’t gone home yet. Her black rectangle is still up, but Barbara can see the lights fanning from the cracks beneath the door. She briefly thinks about going in and giving her friend the same mama hen spiel she’s clucking at all the rest of the little chicks… but ultimately decides against it.

Mel will get going soon. 

She’s probably just finishing up some grading.

—

“Janine Teagues,” she says, closing the younger teacher’s sticker-covered laptop with a firm snap. “It is high time for you to go home and rest, little lady.”

The school’s resident optimist looks up at her with wide eyes, and there is nothing, not even the remotest trace, of her ever perpetual smile. In fact, Barbara would wager that Janine has only recently been crying. Her mascara is smudged, and the tissue box is within arm’s reach on her desk.

“I will,” she replies in a would-be-normal-voice. “Just have to finish a reply to a parent’s email. And then another one. And, um, maybe one more after that.”

And with a small sigh, she re-opens the laptop, and the white light skates harshly across her face, making her wince.

“Ah,” Barbara smiles knowingly, folding her arms across her chest, “let me guess—they’re all to the effect of how dare you subject my child to the horrors of this world? This is supremely unfair. Four drills in one day? What kind of teacher are you? And so on and et cetera forevermore?”

“Add in a few remarkably chosen expletives and you’ve got it,” Janine mumbles, limply clicking a few letters on the keyboard. “I didn’t know you could put the ‘f’ word in so many compound phrases.”

“Oh, they do get creative, sweetheart,” she laughs painfully and places a hand on Janine’s shoulder. The verbal abuse and degradation that teachers receive on a nigh daily basis is no laughing matter, but sometimes, they simply have to make it into one just to get through the day. “And to be completely fair, perhaps it’s their… mmm… dubious prerogative. Drill Day is horrifying, and our kids don’t deserve it. None of us do. Yourself included.”

She lets her hand fall away as Janine takes a moment to digest this crucial fact. She rubs her eyes tiredly, and for a second there, tenderly cradles her temples between her slender fingers.

Young thing.

Child.

Baby even.

And Barbara has had ample reasons to suspect that the young woman in front of her hasn’t had the chance to be most of those things—always responsible, perhaps from the time that she was a small and clearly neglected girl.

“I had one kid, little Tegan S., start crying on me during the earthquake drill, saying that she didn’t want to die,” Janine murmurs, her voice so low that Barbara has to lean forward to really hear her. “Her dog ran away during last year’s 3.2 earthquake—you know, the one right before the Eagles lost—and didn’t come back, so earthquakes are a little traumatizing for her anyway…”

Barbara knows exactly who and what she’s talking about. Tegan was in her class two years ago. Good family. Her dad is an optometrist, and so even when she was in kindergarten, Tegan always had a vaguely age-inappropriate array of interesting eye facts to share with her classmates. But she was sweet and kind. When she was five and there was a gap between her two front teeth, she’d always called her “Mrs. Oward.”

As for the Eagles game, goodness, she remembers the whole city being in an uproar after the loss—Melissa included.

“That damn earthquake jinxed us,” she cursed, banging her hand on the break room table.

“From what Gerald says, the team has been ailing this season anyway…” Barbara had playfully teased, earning a baleful glare in response. 

“The earthquake, Barb! Threw off our kicker's mojo.”

“I couldn’t get her to calm down,” Janine continues dully, looking down at her (unfortunately) mustard-colored pants, “but we were in the gym with Melissa’s class, and Melissa came over in an instant. She took Tegan into her arms and soothed her and comforted her… told her that today was make believe, and no earthquake wasn’t going to hurt her today. Not on her watch.”

Janine smiles weakly at the memory, and Barbara smiles proudly at the thought, something pleasant coiling in her chest as though she had personally witnessed the exchange herself.

“Yes, that’s very Melissa,” she hums softly, conjuring her scarlet-haired friend easily in her mind’s eye: intimidating in her black-leather jacket, but beneath the toughness, behind the big and brassy facade, a genuine teddy bear at heart—so warm, so kind, and so good. “She’s excellent at those sorts of moments.” 

“Sooooo, so good,” Janine agrees vehemently, like she doesn’t want to be mistaken as thinking otherwise. “And I just… you know… really wish I could have been like her in the moment. Or like you!”

She gestures upwards to Barbara somewhat frantically.

“Both of you carried yourself so well today, and I just kept thinking to myself, what happens when there’s a real emergency, huh? How can I help my students if an earthquake really happens, and I can’t even console one crying student? If I can't help them when it really matters?” Janine finishes nearly in hysteria, sounding like she’s out of breath—as she so often does.

(The girl really needs to get that seen about.)

“Now, shush, hon,” Barbara says, not unkindly, “and take a step back to look at the bigger picture. You say that you only had trouble with one student, which means that you were able to effectively calm your twenty others, yes?”

“Yeah, but—!” She tries to interrupt, but Barbara cuts her short with her famous I’m talking hand signal.

It works with all her babies.

“But nothing, Janine,” she continues, a little more loudly, but warm. Always warm. “You were yourself today, and that was more than enough. So you needed a little help from Melissa? Lord knows we all do. That’s what friends are for.”

Her words have their intended effect, she supposes, because Janine sniffs once and reaches for the tissue box. Barbara nudges it closer to her as surreptitiously as possible.

“And in the event of a real emergency,” she concludes gently, smiling down at the younger woman and seeing an echo of her own self so many years upon years ago, “you will be a leader, and that is never the same thing as being perfect, sweetheart.”

“What is it then?” Janine asks, after having blown her nose rather noisily.

“It’s about showing up for the people whom you care about,” Barbara answers, and it is the easiest and truest thing she has said all day. 

“Just like Melissa did for me,” the younger woman says, eyes widening it like it’s revelatory.

Melissa is a good leader.

Melissa cares for her.

The two are one and the same.

“Indeed, indeed,” she agrees emphatically and quietly hopes that her dear friend is home by now, kicking back with a nice bottle of wine.

—

She most certainly is not!

This is clear enough to Barbara when she and Janine walk out to the parking lot together and see that Melissa’s Aztec is still in the lot right next to her own car. The sun is starting to set, the peach-colored sky weighing upon Abbott’s rooftop like a gilded crown.

“Oh, that stubborn woman,” Barbara mutters mutinously, her brow pinching somewhere in the middle.

“Huh?” Janine exhales next to her, audibly startled. “What?”

But the kindergarten teacher doesn’t have time to respond, already power marching through the small parking lot and back to the bricked building across the way.

—

The hallway is silent and only dimly lit when Barbara re-enters the school, her two-inch heels heels clacking noisily against the tiled floor as she passes her own classroom, Janine’s, and Gregory’s until she arrives at Ms. Schemmenti’s second grade door. 

The black rectangle is still up, and the lights are still on—the same set-up that she had seen when she had left the break room nearly an hour earlier.

She glances at her watch.

It’s nearly five now.

Traffic is going to be of the Devil.

“Melissa, honey, it’s time to go home now.” Barbara gently taps on the door with her knuckles. She’ll give her friend approximately thirty seconds to answer of her own accord before she bursts in there without mercy. “We need to get on the road soon before some fool gets into a fender bender, and the roads become more congested than an clogged artery...”

It’s an inelegant metaphor, but Lord, it’s been a long day, and she’s all out of pretty aphorisms after consoling her kids—both of the adult and non-adult variety. Besides, she doesn’t need pretty aphorisms here.

Not with her.

Not with Melissa.

After nearly three decades of friendship, they have a secret language, just the two of them, and part of the intricate grammar is just the profound and mutual understanding that they can be themselves around each other. For Barbara, that occasionally means not having to be so polished all the time, not always having the prettiest things to say.

People have come to expect that of her, she thinks, and not by accidental design.

She's cultivated an unimpeachable motherliness about herself: saintlike, perfect... and not entirely easy to perpetually maintain.

Melissa gets that—perhaps a little better than most.

She does a damn fine job of putting on her chosen mask too.

Thirty unbearable seconds pass and there’s no response, not even the telltale squeaking of a chair, and unfounded anxiety coils in Barbara’s stomach like a tightly wound spring. In a day solely revolved around preparing for the horrific, she is already anticipating the worst: Melissa on the floor, injured and bleeding. Or Melissa sick, maybe, fevered and unconscious. It’s always been difficult for her to admit to any suffering.

Case in point, her marriage with Joe.

Barbara hadn’t known how much pain her friend was in until the divorce papers had already been signed. Melissa had called out of work for an entire week afterwards, citing personal issues, and she had come back to school the next Monday simply broken.

She didn’t laugh for an entire year.

She didn’t smile.

And Barbara had prayed for her on her hands and knees every night; sometimes, when her fervor for her colleague became a little too intense, she felt the strangest need to ask for forgiveness too.

“I’m coming in,” Barbara says resolutely, already plunging the silver door handle downwards. “Alone.”

She glares at the camera crew pointedly, and the sweet gal holding a boom mic—she thinks her name is Audrey—eagerly nods in camaraderie and taps her nose. 

This is a private moment.

A stolen one.

Barbara mouths a quiet ‘thank you’ and slips inside the room, thoroughly unprepared for what is on the other side of the door.

Her first impression is one of unspeakable relief at the familiar sight of Melissa simply sitting at her desk at the front of the room, readers perched on the end of her nose, her leather-clad body slightly angled towards the door. But familiarity is just a well-worn facade, and Barbara can almost as immediately intuit that something is deeply wrong from the way that the younger woman is holding herself, her usually slumped posture impeccable, all of her joints stiff, from the folded arms over her chest to her painfully crossed legs. She is is less flesh than immutable stone, less stone than she is a trauma reaction.

And even though she’s looking directly at Barbara, it's clear that she’s not really seeing her, her pupils blown, the horror of them framed by dark lashes. 

Pale tear tracks shimmer on the planes of her cheeks.

“Melissa, baby.” Barbara drops everything on the floor—her purse, her dignity, any lingering hesitations—and goes straight to Melissa, placing her hands on both sides of the woman’s sharply hewn face. Her skin is clammy, her own hands warm, and the chemical reaction between the two polarized charges must be enough to startle her friend back from the depths. Melissa immediately recoils at the touch, bucking and thrashing, panicked and clearly confused, but Barbara just holds her, firmly cupping that beautiful jaw. She holds her and tells her—in the softest intonation that she can, in so many alphabetically diverse ways—that she is here.

“It’s just me,” she whispers soothingly against that mass of auburn hair. "Breathe. In and out. That's it, sweetheart."

Her racing mind immediately jumps to the threatening possibilities of strokes and seizures and cardiac episodes, but she inhales deeply—reels herself and all her worst fears inwards.

She’s seen this before.

Helped students through one a time or two.

An anxiety attack.

Melissa is having an anxiety attack.

“You’re safe now, Melissa,” she hums as the second grade teacher starts to still beneath her touch, even though she continues to breathe heavily, her entire frame shaking. But her pale eyes have re-focused, at least, awareness having seemingly returned in increments. “I’m here.”

“Wha—? Fuck?!” Melissa eventually chokes out, reaching up to curl her hands around Barbara’s wrists. Her nails are a vivid red, perfectly manicured. “I-I mean, uh, I’m fine. I’m fine, Barb. Just got lost in thought. L-long day.”

And even though she had just grabbed on to Barbara, even though she had consciously reached out, she just as quickly and violently pulls away, rolling her chair backwards until she’s out of range from the older woman's touch. It’s only through distance and space that she can compose herself, glue herself together one purposeful gesticulation at a time.

She wipes discreetly at her face.

She crosses her arms over her chest again.

Oh, and this impossible woman even tries a wobbly smile.

Barbara frowns softly because she knows this vicious tango well, how desperately Melissa Ann Schemmenti wants to fool the world into believing that she is perfectly okay.

She's good at it, she'll give her that.

Proficient even.

But not entirely.

Not to Barbara, at least.

“Now don’t attempt that nonsense with me, Melissa,” she shakes her head sternly, though she remains at a respectful distance, allowing the woman her little rituals of becoming. “I know you. I know when you’re hurting.”

“I’m not hurting!” Comes an immediate reply—petulant, defensive, blatantly untrue. “I’m perfectly—“

“If you say fine one more time, I’m going to come over there and slap you senseless,” Barbara warns, settling her hands on her hips in the way she learned from the very woman sitting in front of her. Though she supposes her own posturing is hardly as intimidating because Melissa immediately abandons her own indignation, cracking a half-smile that looks rather wane in her drawn face. 

“Yeah, okay, and the Jacksonville Jaguars are actually goin’ to the Super Bowl this year.”

“You don’t believe me?”

Melissa shakes her head thoughtfully.

“Nah," she says seriously, the smile trickling from her red lips like sand. "You wouldn’t know how to hurt me if you tried…” It’s remarkably high praise—the kind of unadulterated veneration that places her on a looming pedestal—and Barbara is incredibly sure that she doesn't deserve it. Hurting someone is not just a matter of fighting and force, the application of a well-timed fist.

She’s said some careless things to Melissa before.

(People like you...)

She’s hurt her.

And she’s been forgiven every time, her sins mercifully forgotten. Who knew such grace could coexist in a soul who knows enough curse words to make a sailor blush? Who knew that redemption could unspool from the lips of fifty-something, Italian woman who wears leather jackets and knows her way around an excellent right-hook?

Her own personal Jesus.

“That’s rather maudlin of you, Melissa,” she says softly, noting that her friend’s eyes are still rather bright in a way that clearly suggests that she's trying not to cry.

“Well, maybe I’m getting soft in old age,” she snorts humorlessly, glancing away somewhat self-consciously, clearly aware that she's on the dangerous precipice of almost crying. 

Melissa doesn't often cry in front of people often—if at all.

Something, something about not wanting to be vulnerable around others.

Terrified that they may weaponize her openness into a knife.

“Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing," Barbara reminds her.

“It isn’t?” Melissa asks uncertainly, sounding less like her usual self than a small child.

A young thing.

A baby even.

It’s a funny thing, how even a nearly sixty-year old woman can seem so young.

“Not at all,” Barbara murmurs, and always a consummate leader, takes the moment for what it is, an opportunity to practice what she’s been preaching all along. She closes the gap between herself and Melissa in a few tottering steps, makes the cavernous space that had existed between them negligible, and she slowly leans down—

“Huh?” Melissa immediately flinches, swallowing hard, so unused to receiving acts of care these days. Does she think she doesn’t deserve them? Has she convinced herself that no one cares? Barbara has turned these sad and cyclical questions over and over in her head for years now, ever since the younger woman’s divorce and the consumptive sadness that shortly followed. “Barb, what are you—?” 

And Barbara wraps her arms around Melissa’s neck, firmly resting her chin on the crown of her gleaming head. 

“Showing up for you,” she finishes quietly, feeling the moment when Melissa goes limp beneath her, the fight and the bravado and all the incredible pretense leaving her body and slumping pathetically against the floor. Barbara cradles her gently and runs fingers through her thick tresses. Her hair smells like something wild and simultaneously sweet, like strawberries and raw honey.

“I held it together all day,” Melissa rasps in admission, the sounds muffled against Barbara’s sweater. “Got through the drills and made sure all my kids were okay... but I don’t like being hyper vigilant for so long. Does somethin’ to my nervous system, always looking for a threat over my shoulder—even if it’s just make believe.”

Make believe.

If Janine wasn’t paraphrasing, then Melissa used the same wording when she was comforting Tegan.

It was all make believe.

No earthquake was going to hurt her today.

Not on her watch.

“Even the make believe can haunt and hurt us,” Barbara muses sagely, now twining a red curl around her finger, now pushing that same strand behind Melissa’s beautiful ear, now idly memorizing the exposed column of her neck, the smooth, rosy, and slightly freckled skin. “Hypotheticals are just possible realities, and sometimes, our bodies don’t know how to differentiate between the two. You were looking out for you kids with every part of your being, hon… and now—“

“Now?” Melissa interrupts, always a little impatient to jump to the ending, but Barbara doesn’t take offense, only smiling fondly against her companion’s vivid head.

“Now, sweet girl,” she chuckles, “you’re going to go home and rest. You’ve earned it.”

And she’s a little impulsive then.

Before she lets Melissa go—before propriety demands that she has to—she presses a kiss to the other woman’s forehead and doesn’t give herself time enough to wonder why her stomach twists into impossible knots at the simple gesture, leaning back and firmly stepping away.

It’s just a forehead kiss, the kind she freely gives out to her children and students.

Chaste.

Friendly.

(Holy.)

“You too,” Melissa says hoarsely, her pale cheeks stained red—whether from flushing or having buried her face into Barbara’s knit cardigan, she isn’t sure. “You should go home and rest too, Barb.”

“Oh, and is that right, Ms. Schemmenti?” She delicately arches a brow and tries to ignore the riot of feeling surging through her entire body, all her nerves electric with the sensation. 

Adrenaline, she hurriedly rationalizes.

Just leftover adrenaline from this entire damned day.

Yes.

That is surely it. 

Adrenaline.

“You look tired yourself,” Melissa says gently, smiling up at her crookedly. “Let’s get you home, Grandma.”

"Who're you calling Grandma, you old hag?" She chortles, briefly forgetting herself, and she is rewarded—blessed even—with one of Melissa's beautiful laughs: warm and vibrant and loud.

It reaches down into her bones and does something to them.

It reconfigures her atoms and makes them want to sing.

"Touché."

And Barbara offers her upturned hand—(perhaps ignoring the vague feeling that she probably shouldn't)—her palm inexplicably tingling when Melissa slips her fingers perfectly between her own.

[madamlaydebug]

#HEALTHNugget

Is CBD Oil Safe and Worth Your Money?

A medical cannabis expert weeds the hype from the truth about the herbal cure for pain, depression, anxiety and insomnia.

You can’t turn on a daytime TV program or flip open a lifestyle magazine without hearing or reading about CBD, short for cannabidiol. It’s the biggest buzzword in holistic health news, and statistically speaking, it is expected to reach around 1.8 billion dollars in U.S. consumer sales by 2022, a whopping increase from around half a billion dollars in 2018.

What exactly is CBD?

CBD is the non-intoxicating component of the cannabis sativa plant. Cannabis plants can either be classified as hemp or marijuana depending on the quantity or percentage of THC in either plant. This distinction was established by the FDA: Cannabis plants with 0.3 percent or less of THC are considered hemp and those with more that 0.3 percent are consider marijuana.

So in a nutshell, CBD that is derived from hemp will not make you high. You should also ask your primary physician about using CBD while taking medications.

Kisha Vanterpool, medical director of Medicinally Jointed, a medical cannabis spa and alternate health practice located in South Philadelphia, says the biggest misconception her patients have is understanding the difference between CBD and THC.

“Some associate CBD solely with cannabis (marijuana) which carries its own stigma of being used to attain a high,” the board-certified internist explains. “But really, cannabis is an herbal medicine that has many benefits. Through educating my patients around the plant as medicine and how it interacts within our bodies, patients then become more open to its use.”

What is CBD used for?

Studies show consumers are using CBD — sold in oils, lotions, balms, bath salts, coffee, oral sprays and gummies — as a specific therapy for pain, anxiety, depression and sleep disorders. Depending on the product, prices range from $20 to $100.

Nira Hyman turned to CBD three years ago to help manage chronic back pain and joint inflammation she’s endured for about 15 years. The 46-year-old was recently diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, a type of rheumatoid arthritis called ankylosing spondylitis, which affects the spine.

“Chronic pain is quite isolating, so I’m open to trying almost anything. My research led me to THC, then to CBD. It helps mute the pain. It’s still there, but the volume of the pain is dialed down. CBD doesn’t manage my pain on its own, but using that along with other stuff on my regimen can make a difference,” she says.

“Most of what I use is handmade. It’s expensive but worth it. Friends ship balms or soaks to me. And yes, the sellers are Black. I believe strongly that Black women belong in the cannabis industry, so the louder our voices the better.”

The Brooklyn, New York, native also uses CBD to alleviate anxiety. “It may be a placebo effect, but I do feel it helps my anxiety. And I prefer using something that’s natural and naturally medicinal. I’d much rather take CBD — and I do use high doses — than opioids. My doctors agree, off the record,” says Hyman.

Vanterpool recommends CBD to her female patients to help them with anxiety, insomnia, hot flashes, menstrual cramps, endometriosis and other chronic pain. When shopping for CBD products, she suggests consumers research the product “to ensure that it truly contains CBD and has been tested for contaminants such as pesticides, bacteria and fungus/mold.”

Is CBD FDA-regulated?

Not currently. The U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) recently published a consumer update on its website (FDA.gov) that addresses the claims that cannabinoid (CBD) is a cure-all, risk-free miracle drug.

Although the FDA is presently gathering data from health professionals, cannabis industry representatives and patients to learn more about the efficacy of CBD, the agency wrote, "there are many unanswered questions about the science, safety and quality of products containing CBD.”

Where can I find CBD products in my area, and is it legal in all fifty states?

Remember the 69-year-old grandmother from North Carolina who was arrested at Disney World for packing CBD oil in her purse?

Federal law says CBD oil products are legal to possess if they contain no more than 0.3 percent THC, and CBD products are readily available online. Do your research to find products that are safe, effective and legal. Consumerreports.org has an informative guide. Be aware, however, that some states like Florida, Ohio and Texas generally don’t differentiate hemp from marijuana. So before you purchase or travel with CBD, check the state laws.

[starry-skies-116]

Personality Facts +More- Samuel Lee Witwicky (AU):

Introverted Pisces INFJ, what more can I say?

Autism, hyperphantasia, alexithymia.

The type of person to drink tea in the morning, also the type of person to prefer picnics on a spring day when the weather hits JUST right-

Also, Samuel’s def the type of person to love white chocolate sm. It’s one of his safe foods. One of his other preferred safe foods are those sour lychee candies/gummies. He actually has a whole list, in fact: among them include mac n cheese, specific sandwiches he buys from the deli, cake, fried rice, mooncakes, pancakes, bread with sprinkles and butter, REALLY well-made hot chocolate, home-cooked hotpot, potstickers, ramen, boba, california rolls, etc. Basically anything that’s warm and comforting.

He does like to eat ice cream, though- but every time he, Mikaela and Heidi go to get some he literally orders the same flavor and toppings every time (god me too).

Stomps on crunchy leaves in autumn when he thinks nobody’s looking 😗

Has way too many house plants that his mother always lets die. He never figures out why they always seemingly revive and regain their vitality near his presence until later events.

Has two or three plushies, one of which he sleeps with (and then there’s Heidi with a whole ass army of them-)

Loves to stargaze at the night sky, daydreaming about the life beyond there and fantasizing/planning obsessively over how his interactions with them will go if he were the one to make first contact (don’t tell him any spoilers now shhshshshhssh-)

Uses lots of emoticons when texting, especially ones like ‘:)’ ‘:3’ ‘:D’ ‘:(‘ and ‘<3’

Perceived as a cat person because of how mellow, non-confrontational and demure he acts, actually loves all animals (drawn to dogs to put some energy in his life because mans fr mimics behaviors similar to a cat sometimes sssshhhhh ♥️)

Typos/spelling errors frustrate him immensely, though he does his best not to show it (it doesn’t work lmao)

Mikaela and Heidi are his next-door neighbors, as well as his friends since childhood: they met when they were all five. Their friendship began to develop slowly due to many other factors in their life, but as they grew older they began to have the opportunities to spend more time together. The events of them crossing their own fates with that of the Autobots only served to make them further inseparable and strengthen their bonds. 

They literally evolve from average supportive friendship still blooming awkwardly to ‘THIS IS MY BEST BITCH. WE ARE ONE UNIT. WE RIDE OR DIE.'

Sam primarily holds the role of the ‘default brain cell holder’ in the group. In other words, he holds the brain cell that they all share.

He’s also the shortest in the friend group, even though he’s average height and the height difference is in literal centimeters to the point where it’s barely noticeable (he’s 5’3/160 cm, Mikaela is 5’6/167 cm, and Heidi is 5’4/162.6 cm)

Elusive, enigmatic, secretive and reserved. Has all the traits of a leader and is decisive, despite being rather cautious and always opting for a peaceful solution. Strives to be kinder and wiser every day, so he can finally understand and truly connect with others. Prefers to keep things to himself- always shrewd and observant around people. Exceptionally prodigious beyond his years, master strategist, scientist and leader. He’s used to learning from his mistakes and making the best of bad situations, so he often denies any kind of pain he’s in no matter how severe it is.

That, or he literally does not recognize his pain at all. It takes him at least three to five business days at minimum for him to figure out his feelings and needs if those said sensations prolong for an extended period of time. If intense emotions flare up and then vanish just a moment after, it’ll fly right underneath his identification radar.

He’s sometimes prone to dissociative episodes to escape situations that remind him of trauma. Even with the AllSpark’s/Primus’s memories, anything that remotely triggers the traumatic parts of them causes him to slip into either a meltdown or a dissociative episode because of the emotions he feels and associates with them. Even when the memories are not Samuel’s… they still mean so much to him for no reason at all.

He spent his elementary and middle school years being homeschooled, and then the first time he’s ever been enrolled in public school was his Freshman Year.

His most exceptional traits are his curiosity, his compassion, and the sheer amount of effort he puts into trying to understand and communicate with others purely out of his kindness and care for people.

Samuel is very patient- however, that patience is born out of passivity. His lack of experience in social situations with those other than his friends, as well as a period in that time of bullying and ostracization, made him afraid to stick up for himself and to state his boundaries. When he came out to his parents and asked to transition on his thirteenth birthday, he was genuinely so scared that he was about to pass out.

As a result of his lack of socializing, he has a somewhat poor grasp of social interaction. His limited emotional expression and composed, impartial demeanor comes off as a bit eccentric and distant. Due to this, he admits to needing to study human emotions and ‘regular’ human interaction more. (autistic mood)

Sam loves to make either mental or physical note of things in his head that he deems of interest. Often, surprisingly they are odd but useful details that he somehow finds a way to utilize to his advantage.

Detests conflict, and always tries to negotiate and help people via kindness and not throwing hands. Despite the love he has and gives, he doesn’t really believe that he can ever protect anyone- not in a way that makes a difference. At the end of the day, all he wants is for people to get along.

Very observant of his surroundings- too observant. He jokingly refers to it as ‘gathering intelligence’, which isn’t too far off. Sensory issues essentially force him to pay attention to each and every little detail- but Samuel always insists that it’s fine, because ‘he’s used to it’ (shit explanation my guy-)

His favorite color changes from week to week- oftentimes it’s a whole color palette instead of just one color.

His camera roll isn’t really what you’d expect from someone as quiet and reserved as him: it’s full of cursed images, memes, stimboards, selfies of important moments with his friends, pictures of school notes and his workplace environment, and pictures of his dog.

He comes from a relatively wealthy family, but from the part-time jobs that he takes, he saves up money to buy more books, as well as anything that captivates him/immediately takes his interest hostage upon first glance (like I’m not kidding, it’s legit on-sight)

Whenever he’s captivated or genuinely, truly interested or enamored with something, he reacts like a cat in response to seeing shiny things. His eyes widen and get brighter, and his pupils dilate. He does barely noticeable stims (such as fiddling with his bracelet or jade pendant), and he leans closer, shuffling his feet to approach closer and closer without even realizing it.

He loves finding interesting rocks/geodes on occasion, and secretly making DIY-at-home jewelry at his part-time mechanic job with them and the equipment at his workbench. To get away with it, he arrives early, before his shift begins. He then shares the product with those he makes (whenever he isn’t burnt out): it’s his love language, finding cool rocks and making them into ‘socially acceptable’ gifts because he fears rejection sm 💔

Literally a sci-fi nerd. Gushes over shit like Star Wars and Star Trek and all that: has written novels and drawn fan art before, and basically died inside when Mikaela and Heidi discovered his stash in the closet when he was ten (bullied for his interests because other people can be assholes sometimes). He thought they both would leave him and never want to associate with him again, turns out they spent the next hour squealing over their blorbos, writing up headcanons/theories, and finding makeshift tools to cosplay characters.

Can’t relax his mind to save his life, honestly. There’s always a bottomless pit in his mind of ‘you are not doing enough, do enough so you can relax’ but it’s never enough. Whenever he’s restless, he fiddles with his clay bead bracelet or his jade pendant so that he doesn’t let his mind wander or race to places he doesn’t want it to go.

Low self-esteem, beats himself up for every mishap and mistake- (RSD guys, it sucks major ass-). Still has the occasional intrusive thought that nobody actually loves him, they just tolerate/ ‘put up with’ him, due to his childhood of being somewhat sheltered and socially ostracized by literally every kid except for his only two friends.

Even when he deadass has not only two friends, but a federal agent, the lead researcher of N.E.S.T, and a WHOLE GIANT FCKIN ROBOT ALIEN ARMY ready to straight commit WAR-CRIMES FRESH FROM THE OVEN FOR HIM at a MOMENT’S notice-

Dances as a hobby, loves to sketch scenery. He visits the city’s theater every other Saturday to greet and play with the kids living around that area who also come to visit. Community and connection is important to him, since he was deprived of several life experiences in his childhood.

As smart as he is, he desires nothing more than to learn with hands-on experience. He’s spent the entirety of his sheltered upbringing learning from books.

Literal GOD in the kitchen. He spent his entire childhood being somewhat sheltered, so he’s developed quite the pantheon of hobbies that he revolves his day around in his pastime. Baking sweets for others particularly makes him happy.

Living in symbiosis with the AllSpark embedded in your literal heart is… an experience, to say the least. Nevertheless, he finds a way to navigate the experience with the help of his family and friends.

Has a brotherly relationship with Bumblebee and it’s seriously one of the most wholesome things ever. Like seriously, when he called Bumblebee “gēge” on accident (“older/big brother” in Chinese), Bro just… had to physically resist the urge to straight up curl into a fetal position on the floor and cry pure joy. Mans was straight grinning from pure elation from one side of his visor to the other once he used his translators and realized what it meant-

Literally, Autobots like Ratchet and Optimus and Ironhide, etc etc… they will literally take ONE look at this guy watching the beat of a butterfly’s wings or something and immediately go: “mmmm yes he is very much son-shaped”

He can’t really read tone or social cues, ESPECIALLY when it comes to being directed at him. Whenever Jazz is being sarcastic or makes jokes that he can’t recognize the tone of, Samuel becomes so genuinely confused. And speaking of that, one of his habits when he’s confused and/or straining his mind to try and understand something, is to tilt his head and cross his arms with a finger raised to his lips to tap against it. Once again, it’s one of his stims that pops up when he’s trying really hard to discern an answer, or a proper way to navigate an unfamiliar situation with little clues.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

A quick thank you!

For all the kind words and suggestions about my sleep stuff.

Here’s some specifics now that i have two nights of rest under my belt: 

Under the cut for those who do not care.

I have no trouble falling asleep. Generally I’m good at that. It’s the staying asleep that gets me. I wake up naturally anytime between midnight and 4 in the morning after 2-3 hours of sleep, and THEN I have a hard time falling back asleep because I’m stressed out that I’m awake in the first place. 

I want to stress that it’s not due to night terrors, and I don’t wake up suddenly or violently (though I used to have really terrible night terrors! But thanks to a lot of therapy and living in a safer environment, those are very rare these days). I just. Wake up.

I have tried a multitude of things to help me stay asleep, and the most success I’ve had is CBD. I ran out this week, which is why I was awake for 19 hours.

I don’t like taking melatonin, because it makes me foggy in the morning, and I don’t feel good in the aftermath, but it’s kind of a “break glass in case of emergency” type deal. Which is why I took some the other night.

My CBD came a day early, and when @dettiot walked in from work last night, holding it she sang “HAPPY DAYS ARE HERE AGAIN!” because she is, in fact, pretty funny.

I’m trying CBD gummies for the first time this round, as the last two have been straight oil. Because the oil tastes like ass. It turns out the gummies just...also taste like ass. But someone else’s ass. So. Y’know. 

I slept from 11-12:30 and then got back to sleep really quickly until 4:30 and then was back to sleep by 5:30 and DID NOT WANT TO GET OUT OF BED THIS MORNING so I let myself doze until almost eight (when it’s meds and cat feeding time). I still feel a little groggy today, but it’s much better. Hopefully tonight will be even better. 

[pgratedlies]

advice story time (not eventful but I should share my discoveries before I pull a hermit crab on the world and peace out my contribution to socialization)

Ok so writer's block sucks ass and I'm more of a pussy/dick person so it writer's block can trip on an egg and fall into the 6th ring of hell.

And I was super pissy about it, draft due on Friday, I got decent sleep this week but a girl wants to sit in bed on Pinterest not stuck on her stuff ass chair typing. So after being dramatic about it I was like "Hey this is a feature article and if imma hate whatvr I write anws why not just write whatever the hell?", Before this I asked my sister and she cheered me up and told me to use some of the inside jokes of the fandom we're in.

Suprise, suprise- if u whip out yo stash of gummy bears, Luke warm water and (this is my secret element) the most emotive song about the emotion ur tryna convey (get a loop) then they're ya go. First off the gummy bears were a reminder for me to keep the writing decently positive, gummy bears make me happy- fruity(teehee) flavours, not too chewy but u still get that stuck on ur teeth feeling and they're sweet, now for the emotive song if ur writing sad things listen to sad songs, if you wanna write about a normal lifestyle get a generic song if you wanna write about marine life listen to under the sea specifically.

Also type in comic sans- you get so angry u wanna finish as fast as u can and boom! A half essay in 30

Now when writing I was totally messing around but in a serious way, I used inside jokes and I got a laugh outta my sister but I aldo got a great fucking intro after 2 fucking hours of procrastination ✨✨