#more texture than you can shake a stick at

[ocelot-art]

Harry "Hobocop" Du Bois from Disco Elysium. I've been putting too many hours into this silly detective game

[bisexualiteaa]

actually dying for a cooper howard x vaultie!reader smut where they have some slow burn longing steaminess, but coop thinks she’s too good for him UNTIL she comes in contact with a sex pollen-esque chem and he finally gives in to save her 🥵 please work your magic and elaborate however you want

A Flame in Your Heart

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: NSFW like absolutely filthy y’all, you’ve been warned. 💀 unprotected sex, irradiated cream pie, p in v, p0rn w/ plot, slow burn, flirting, cursing, perverted thoughts, dub-con (because of chem usage though consent is asked and given!) rough sex, dirty talk, choking, praise kink, degradation, squirting, mention of fingering, FEELINGS!! Slight deviation from TV series, possible grammar/spelling mistakes, cooper starts off mean but slowly warms up to reader

AN: I absolutely LOVED this request! I was up all night writing down all my ideas and spent all this morning perfecting it, and this has to be my longest one yet! I thank you for your patience anon and my lovely readers as I finally post this! Hope you enjoy and that I have done your ask justice! ❤️

Life outside of the vault was difficult to say the least. You felt hunger and dehydration in ways you’d never experienced before, going out of your way to do desperate things you would normally never do in order to get said food and water. The heat was unbearable, every stretch of land you walked across had a danger lurking around every corner, and worst of all, you’d never felt so alone. You weren’t sure what it was about you, maybe it was because you were new to the surface, maybe it was your nearly perfect skin, but everyone seemed to stare or glare at you when you would walk through. It wasn’t until you’d passed through Filly, meeting Ma June that you realized people didn’t take kindly to people like you. “Vaulties” she called them, an audible disdain in her tone, making you look down to remember you were in your blue and gold Vault-Tec suit. “I’ll be going then, have a nice day!” You said skiddishly, offering her a kind smile before turning and exiting the shop. You just wanted to make friends, why was that so hard up here? So when your eyes set on a man clad in classic Wild West cowboy clothes, watching smoke settle after a stand off, you weren’t sure why but you knew that was who you needed on your side in this world. Before you knew it, your feet were already moving and mouth speaking to him, grabbing his attention.

“I ain’t no charity case sweetheart, I don’t take on strays” The ghoul spoke, his southern drawl making him even more memorable than the marred texture of his skin. You looked to the dog that trailed not far behind him as he walked, changing its pace to keep up with the man. “The dog there with you tells me otherwise” you quipped. “Ain’t my dog” he responded harshly as he continued walking. “I can make it worth your while!” You yelled, making him stop in his tracks for a moment, a scary sight at first before you worked up the nerve to come closer once he turned back to you. “And how you suppose you’d do that?��� He asked, and at first you didn’t know what to say, the words leaving your mouth before you could really think of a good enough reason. Did nobody like company anymore these days? “Well…I can be your scavenger! Pretty good at collecting stuff” you offered, shaking your bag and making things rattle around inside to prove it, making him give a huff of a chuckle. “‘f I wanted a pack mule I’d‘ve found a brahman” he shot you down. “Okay, then I can be good company to talk to!” You offered. “They make radios for when I want to listen to someone yack” he shut down once again. “I’m a good cook! Even with shitty supplies, I can make a stew that’d put a smile even on the meanest son of a gun’s face” you said, hopeful that he’d at least take you for something, but you had a feeling he’d probably turn you down again. “Iguana on a stick’s just fine” he said, though he had to admit the stew sounded good. Reminded him of home before all this wasteland bullshit. “Oh, umm…” you said awkwardly, your tone growing quiet and my how it put a sad look in your eyes. The evil part of him liked it, seeing your sweet innocent face all downturned but the part that was still human deep down, the part that hardly ever saw the light of day anymore, had half a mind to let you.

“Got a lotta nerve walkin’ up t’ me, girly. If you somehow been lucky enough that you ain’t met dangerous yet, you’re lookin’ at someone who could put you down before you’d even mutter your last words” he threatened, motioning to the double barreled shotgun in his hands. “I know, I saw it first hand. You hold yourself well, I envy that. I’m new to all of this and just really want someone who can help me hold my own the same way” you explained. “Look, I know I don’t look like much but please just give me a chance” you begged, looking up at him with a fighting spirit in your eyes that he had to admit, he was pretty impressed in seeing in a vaultie. “You help me, I help you, however that ends up being” you offered, standing strong on this and damn if he didn’t see a little bit of himself in you at that. He gave a sigh, tilting his head down before shaking it, not believing himself for the words he was about to say. “Alright, but the minute you start draggin’ you’re out, got me?” He said, and he hated the way his cold heart seemed to pump a little faster upon seeing your eyes light up with joy and a smile stretch to your face. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” You said, opening your arms up to hug him but being met with the barrel of his gun poking your stomach to keep space between you. “I don’t do hugs” he spoke gruffly, making you back up enough to where he’d drop the gun back to his side. “R-Right…sorry” you apologized, embarrassment washing over you but still glad to finally have someone in your company. “C’mon, I ain’t got all day now” he said, motioning you to start walking, so you joined him.

Your travels with him certainly weren’t at all what you were expecting them to be. From being used as bait, to being tied up with rope most of the time you’d traveled together, or being sent in as his scavenger, you weren’t prepared for a lot of the reality you faced with being up on the surface. Most nights made you question why you’d ever left the comfort of the vault, why you’d abandoned a trusty food supply, regulated temperatures, a safe place to sleep that wasn’t riddled with radroaches or had the likely hood of waking up to a raider with a knife at your throat for no reason. Then you would remember the experiment in your vault, why you left that awful place for arguably a worse reality on the surface but at least you had freedom. Out here you were free to say what you want, do what you want, consume what you want so long as you could defend yourself incase that supply wasn’t unclaimed. You’d gotten pretty handy with a gun in the most recent weeks. Cooper, you learned one night was his name, using empty glass bottles as targets to help teach you accuracy and how to hit things from a longer range. In exchange, you came a little more useful than he had first thought. You had some useful stuff on you for trade like chems, ammo and food, were a good extra bag to hold stuff in, and you were a better cook than you’d talked about. Sure you had a tendency to talk too much, and you weren’t great with a gun, but you were getting there.

“Might I suggest takin’ them clothes instead of wearin’ that suit?” He said, making you look at him weird for suggesting you strip a dead raider of their clothes. “Why would I do that…?” You asked, genuinely confused and not sure what he was implying either, he was a hard man to predict. “Because, people see that shit and get real mad. People up here don’t like vaulties or the ones that run ‘em” he said and it made sense, it helped you understand why you kept getting evil glares each time someone would look at you or talk to you. You figured he knew best, so you took the shirt and pants from one of the female raiders, tucking them into your bag to change into at a better time. He gave a chuckle watching you do so, apologizing to the dead body profusely as you took their clothes and whatever valuables they had on them for the betterment of your own survival. You were still so naive, part of him was hoping he could slowly start to break and corrupt your way of thinking, but that was a thought for another time.

Before you knew it, night finally began to fall. The sun setting across the horizon gave the air less of a hot, harsh bite as the temperature began to cool rapidly across the sands of the Mojave. All you managed to grab was a pair of beat up, old jeans and a tank top, so as soon as the sun set, the chill set in. As you both set up camp for the night just outside of an abandoned rest stop, you started a fire to cook some of that stew you talked about being good at. He had to admit, it was pretty damn good, likely the best thing he’s had since before the bombs went off. Though even the kindling fire couldn’t manage to chase the chill away, watching you run your hands up and down your arms to try and warm up some by it. He felt a slight pang in his heart, watching you shiver like that, how your eyes lit up by the blaze of the fire and your hair seemed to be tousled just right. You were pretty, too pretty to be trekking this wasteland, and certainly too pretty to be trekking it with him of all people as your company. Even he had a heart still, as cold as it was, so out of kindness he shrugged his duster from his shoulders, draping it around you. You looked at the fabric pooled around you, pulling it over you better before looking to him as he sat down across from you again. “Ain’t no use if the cold gets ya” he said, making you smile appreciatively at him as you realized what he did. “Thank you” you replied, a slight blush fanning to your cheeks as the chattering of your teeth finally died down and you grew warmer. It smelled like him, sure it had splatters of old dried blood and was rather worn, but it had that gunpowder and smoke smell to it that you associated with him. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya” he replied, trying to sound cold but it didn’t come off that way, making you chuckle. “What do I owe you?” You asked, making him fall silent for a moment as he pondered the answer to your question. He looked you over for a second before tipping his hat down to cover his face a bit, the signal that he was about to try and get some sleep. “Just keep watch for a bit, I’ll be up in a few hours” he responded, and while it wasn’t what you were expecting, you’d take it.

He was startled awake a couple hours later when he heard a commotion, you yelling at someone telling them to back off that this place had been claimed. The raider you were up against didn’t seem to like that very much, claiming that wasn’t how it worked up here. The altercation took a turn for the worst when the man reached for his gun but you were quick to fire and kill him before he could let out a shot. A shaky feeling set in your hands and a horrified expression across your face at the realization that you just killed someone. Cooper, who was certainly wide awake now, was rather impressed by your quick timing and precision, coming up behind you to lay a gloved hand to your shoulder. “Well would ya look at that, looks like them lessons been payin’ off after all. How’s it feel?” He asked, looking down at you as you stared at the gun in your hands. “He was yelling at me but…he was aiming at you. I don’t really know what came over me, I didn’t like that he was going to shoot you so I just…I killed him” you said, recounting the encounter to him as if he hadn’t seen it himself. He didn’t really know what to think in that moment as you explained how your mind worked, he was proud for sure at your show of improvement with a gun, yet also touched at the same time. No one ever really looked out for him since he started his bounty hunting, he was a well hated man by many but you defended him without really any reason to. You’d just learned his name not but two weeks ago, and before that he was dragging you around with rope yet you still defended him, had you two really gotten closer in the time that’s passed since? He wasn’t sure, but it was something he could mull over while you were sleeping. “Get some rest vaultie, sun’ll be up soon” he said, knowing you likely wouldn’t get much sleep with the adrenaline still coursing through you, but it was at least worth a try, you two had a long day ahead of you.

When you woke up that next morning, things felt a little different between you two. You weren’t some annoying little dog following him anymore, you were an equal. He no longer looked at you and treated you like you were lower than him as you both set out across the wastelands, he had respect for you. Hell, he even started talking with you now when you were out traveling which was almost unbelievable. You learned through those conversations that he used to be an actor in Wild West themed films, explaining his outfit, and that he was married before the bombs dropped. You of course told him bits and pieces about yourself in exchange, after all it only felt fair but it was also nice to just finally talk to someone after all this time.

When night time fell again you two sat enjoying a meal by the fire together, only rather than across from each other, he sat next to you, making a blush come to your face as you’d smiled sweetly at him. “Glad to know I don’t have germs anymore” you said jokingly, making him chuckle. “Give an old man some credit. It ain’t exactly all peaches and marmalade out here darlin’, even cute can be deadly” he said, the nickname and him calling you cute sending a deeper blush to your cheeks despite knowing it’s just how he spoke. Whether it was the lack of contact with other people for so long, or just his charm you couldn’t quite tell, but it always seemed to have an effect on you. “Just teasin’ you, I get it. I’d tie me up and use me for bait too if I’d been doing this as long as you have. It’s a shit hole out here” you said, making him look at you as you dropped the first curse word he’s ever heard from you. “Well I’ll be damned, either I’m a bad influence or you’re finally growin’ outta that naive shell there, vaultie” Cooper replied, making you laugh as you saw a smirk stretch to his thin, marred lips, the first one you’d seen in a while that wasn’t brought on by drugs, chems or that first sip of a good bottle of alcohol. “Probably both” you quipped, making him chuckle. “Yeah, probably. Been told I ain’t easy to stomach” he said, making you hum. “You’re alright in my book, Coop” you replied with a sweet, genuine smile that matched your tone and was that butterflies you felt in your stomach? Did you just call him Coop? No ones called him that in ages, why did it make his heart start to flutter a bit? “You ain’t so bad yourself, vaultie” he responded, still affording you that small smile before turning back to his food. “Keep making food this good and I just might have to keep you around” he joked, making you giggle and break the slightly tense silence. “It’s not much but I certainly try. I’ll definitely make sure to stay good at it, I like traveling with you” you said, unintentionally coming off flirtatious and fuck there it goes again, that feeling in his chest and his stomach like he needed to hit his inhaler but he felt great. What were you doing to him?

“Hey, if it isn’t too much can I ask you a sort of…personal question?” You asked, holding the beat up bowl in your hands as you looked over at him. This was normally the part where he would say no, absolutely not, he wasn’t here to be questioned on his personal matters. Yet, with you, it was different. Ever since last night he hasn’t been so on edge with you, it was like he’d warmed up to you. “Depends on what you’re askin’ there, sweetheart” he said, the nickname once again making you blush. “Do you…miss them? Your wife and daughter?” You asked, not sure if it was a good subject or good question to ask but after finding out, you were genuinely curious. He looked down at his bowl again, thinking of the proper response to your question. The old him would have been defensive, told you it was none of your business, but now? He wasn’t sure. “Ain’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about ‘em. About the way I ran out on ‘em when them bombs dropped” he answered, making you give him a sad look as genuine guilt filled his tone. This was the most honest and open he’s been with you this whole time. “I feel guilty. Not sure if I feel guilty for runnin’ out and leavin’ ‘em behind or guilty for the way I ran out, been tryin’ t’ figure that out for quite a while now and I still ain’t sure” he added, and you sympathized with that. Everyone has regrets, things they’ve done in the past that they aren’t proud of, people up here were no different in that aspect. “Well, in the short time I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve come to understand that everything you do has a valid reason behind it. So even if you feel it was a shitty thing to do, you obviously had a reason for doing so. No one can blame you for trusting your gut, and I don’t think you should blame yourself for doing so” you responded, your hand falling to his as a comforting gesture, your words ringing in his head almost as if you’d opened something in his mind, something he’d never really gave himself to think about before. He looked down at your hand that rested on his, noticing the way you didn’t flinch away from him like others did, the way you were brave enough to walk up to him, talk to him, *trust* him when he made it very clear that you shouldn’t. It was smaller than his, softer for sure, but warm all the same, then he looked up to see that caring look in your eyes and smile on your face that told him that you cared. “Guess you’re right, still wonder sometimes if it was the right choice to make” he replied. “I understand. Everyone has regrets, we all look at the past and hold at least something that we’ve done before in regret, it’s what makes us human” you said, making him give a huff as a chuckle. “You got anybody?” He asked, making you look down as you moved your feet along the dirt. “An ex-husband, but not anyone I really care about, no. My parents passed a few years before the bombings and he and I split up when I caught him cheating on me with some other woman in the vault..” you explained, not sure why it hurt you to tell the tale still, but you felt it was only fair considering what you’d asked of him to share. “Sorry t’ hear that” Cooper said, making you chuckle weakly, a somber look coming to your face that made his heart wrench. “I haven’t exactly been in love since, and considering he and I split up just a little over ten years ago, really says something I guess, huh?” You asked, trying to laugh to bring up the mood, knowing you sounded pathetic. “He was the fool, not you darlin’. He was the one skippin’ out on one hell of a woman” Cooper said, making you look to him and blush a bit as you gave a chuckle at his response.

“Thanks” you replied appreciatively and with a smile before casting your gaze down to see your hands were still connected and it left you blushing harder with embarrassment, you’d been holding his hand this entire time without realizing it. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable if I have I-“ “relax vaultie” he cut you off, pushing your hand back down onto his to assure you that he was far from uncomfortable. “It’s…rather nice actually” he admitted, making you feel relieved but your heart fluttered in your chest from it. A thick tension soon began to set in between you both after that night, something of an unspoken, kindling romance beginning to develop. “Then there it can stay” you said, making him smile softly at you, tipping his hat at you as a silent thank you.

Months passed on like this, where you’d spend the days scavenging, picking the land for its resources you could find and hunting bounties by day, then spending your nights by a fire growing closer and closer with every passing day. Through your shared meals, jokes, deep conversations, and plenty of near death experiences, you started to notice your fondness of the ghoul you traveled with. The way you’d hang onto his words with that southern accent that seemed to pull at your heart strings, or the way you’d go out of your way to stand between him and a stray bullet. You’d helped him on more than one occasion in getting out of a sticky spot, or getting him the stuff he needed to keep from turning feral. In return, he started to notice he was feeling the same towards you. There was this sudden need to keep you safe, to do nicer things for you, to speak better towards you, even flirt with you at times. Some nights there’d be so much tension in the air, it’s a miracle you haven’t jumped each other yet. Though in his eyes, as much as his heart yearned for you, he knew you were too good for him. You’d been hurt before, and he had a reputation for hurting people, feeling undeserving of even just the sweet smiles and company you afford him even now. You didn’t need someone like him, you needed a good man, someone who didn’t kill for a living, someone who could treat you right, someone who didn’t look the way he did. You were soft and warm, he was rough and cold, though he supposed that’s where the term “opposites attract” came from. So even when he was a whole bottle deep, he was sure to hold his tongue to a certain point.

Some of those nights around the fire were spent sober, others not so much, and this night happened to be one of those nights spent under the influence. You two had stumbled across a mini-mart, doing your best to out run the radstorm that had been trailing you guys for hours, coming in just to find whatever supplies you could to make it through the next week and possibly hunker down for the night. So imagine your surprise when you seemed to have found the largest chem stache you’d both ever laid eyes on. “Coop! Come here, you gotta see this” you said, making him run towards you to make sure you weren’t hurt or in trouble. His nerves were eased once he saw you, fully intact. “Tell me I’m not seeing shit” you said, pointing to all of the supplies sitting in a box on the table, joined by other supplies around it. You both looked at each other in complete and utter disbelief, this would keep you stocked for months, maybe even a whole year if you conserved it well. “Well ain’t that just the prettiest fuckin’ sight” he said. There was no way a horde of chems this large and this valuable was just completely unprotected you reasoned, so you routed around the place, scoping out for any raiders, straggling traders or ferals who happened to still be around. It was as if heaven was shining down on you both as you found no one around, seemed like no one had been here for days. So you did the most logical thing anyone would do in this situation. Stuff each of your bags to the brim of drugs of all varieties! Seeing as you had food, chems and even some clean water and alcohol lying around, Cooper locked and barricaded the door shut, proposing it could be a good spot to sleep for the night. With a radstorm approaching, it was best to have a roof over your heads to keep out the rain and potential radiation sickness that came with it. “This is the closest fuckin’ thing to a slice of heaven I’ve seen in ages” he said, aside from you is what played in his mind but he couldn’t speak that out loud, no matter how much he wanted to. “You said it!” you replied, and it’s even better with you here you thought, but thought it best to keep it to yourself. He plopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up to rest on the small table that seemed to be in shambles, enjoying a tape that was playing on the TV that he was surprised to still see functioning. “Holy shit, this thing still works?” You asked, amazed to see working technology out in the wastelands, sitting next to him as you watched it with him. He gave a smirk at your reaction, thinking it was cute the way your eyes would light up when you got all excited over something. Deep down it made him want to give you everything you laid eyes on like that just to see it pointed towards him. “Guess so” he replied, enjoying your excitement only to see you turn and look his way, which was his signal to stop staring holes into you before he gets caught. “I dunno about you baby doll, but I ain’t about to spend tonight sober with this stache sittin’ here ‘n front of us” he said, making you laugh as he routed through all the different drugs and chems til he found what he was looking for.

In the process of searching through it all, a small metal box fell to the floor at your feet. It looked like a box of mentats only the design was different, instead of the characteristic green and white box was a red one covered with hearts labeled DN-Chem. You supposed the worst that could happen was turn into the man sitting next to you, which you figured wasn’t the worst fate to succumb to all things considered, so you went against all better judgement and said fuck it, popping two of the mentat like chems and chasing it with the vodka he’d found to wait for it to take effect. “The hell is DN?” He asked, looking at the box, wondering what it was you took. “Don’t know, guess we’ll find out here soon because I took two” you said, taking another sip from the bottle of vodka he passed your way, and he gave a chuckle as you handed it back to him. “You come a mighty long way, little lady” he commented before setting the metal pill box down. He took the bottle from you, taking a swig, then placing one of the small viles into his inhaler before taking a hit of it then lying back, breathing a sigh of relief as it and the alcohol entered his system like the perfect remedy to any ailment. As about a half an hour rolled by, you waited for the high to set in but it never came, instead you were just getting hot, like really hot. There weren’t any windows open, and it was night time so you shouldn’t be this uncomfortably hot for how it was but you felt like you were on fire. “Shit, it’s hot as hell in here…” you complained, shaking off your jacket that you’d picked off of some raider a few weeks back, making him look to you curiously. “Lightweight” he quipped, making you chuckle. “Accept I don’t feel anything, I just feel hot” you said, making him hum with intrigue before turning back to the TV. “Give it some time, you’re new to all this. ‘m sure your body is wonderin’ what the hell you just put in it” he said, and he had a good point, maybe it was just a side effect of not doing them so often compared to his every day use.

As time went on, you began to notice the way your eyes couldn’t help but be glued to him, more specifically glued to the way his legs were now spread as he sat back. You wondered to yourself what he looked like beneath all that cowboy get up, what his reaction would be like to see you getting on your knees for him and slotting yourself between his spread legs. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of such inappropriate thoughts, but what you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried was the feeling of arousal beginning to pool in your panties. Sure he flirted with you every now and again, but you doubt he felt towards you the same way you did for him. To him you were sure you were likely more akin to a pet than a friend, useful and nice to have around, but not anything further. At least so you thought. You’d rather hoped you were wrong in assuming so, that maybe he saw you the same way you saw him. You bit your lip as you tried bouncing your leg to relieve the ache between your thighs, a light pink dusting your face and neck even up to the tips of your ears, but nothing worked. Even as you closed your eyes, all you could picture was you laid out on the couch beneath him, or bent over it with him behind you, or you riding him on it. “Been awful quiet. You doin’ alright over there, sweetheart?” Cooper asked you, and the audible whimper you let out from the nickname left you completely embarrassed. You clasped a hand over your mouth, god you were horrified but he gave a grin and a chuckle in response. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me all the sudden. I feel so…weird?” you said, unsure if that was really the proper word to explain it but it was the only way you could really word it off the top of your head with how much your brain felt as if it was turning to mush. “Ya took some chems, it’s gonna feel a bit fuzzy” he said, trying to assure you that feeling a little funny was normal, but this? This didn’t feel normal, not even for a chem high. You tried your best to swallow harshly, doing everything you could to try and relieve the dry ache you felt in your throat at the moment upon looking at him. You grabbed the bottle of vodka, taking a few sips but even that couldn’t grant you bliss from it. The throbbing in your core was driving you absolutely insane. You swore up and down that it was like you could feel your heartbeat in your chest, stomach, and in your cunt all at the same time. “No, this is different…I don’t think what I took was a normal chem, Coop…” you said, trying not to panic at the effects that were setting in but god you felt like you were absolutely feral. He turned to look at you, watching as you clamped your thighs together and the red that fell over your face. “I feel like an animal in heat” you said bluntly, making him go into a near coughing fit as you took him off guard. However that piqued his interest enough to pick up the little metal box again to see what it was you took. “I ain’t ever heard of a chem that does that, was that DN shit the only stuff you took?” He asked, growing slightly concerned for you and whether he had a possible horde of laced chems, or just an extremely horny woman on his hands. Speaking of hands, you were lost in thought staring at them, at the way they gripped the couch like you wanted him to grip your thighs, at the way they looked in those leather gloves he always wore. You wondered how it would feel wrapped around your throat, or how it would feel if his fingers were buried deep inside of you. Shit. This was getting out of control.

“Hey, ya with me still?” He asked, snapping to try and get your attention back on the matter at hand, making you shake your head yes as you broke from your perverted thoughts. “Is that DN shit the only thing you took?” He asked again, making you shake your head yes once more, because you knew damn well your voice was going to betray you the moment you tried to speak. That had to be it, it was the only thing that was different out of it all and the only thing he’d never heard of before. He knew it wasn’t the vodka either because he was drinking it with you, so if it was affecting you, it would have affected him and it hadn’t.

It took him a minute to put two and two together before he finally realized the abbreviations stood for Date Night, reading the instructions and effects on the inside of the tin’s lid. “Shit..” he said as he read it, realizing this was a hand made thing thrown into the bunch by whoever was running this place. “Did you read the lid before you popped them pills?” He asked, making you go wide eyed. As if this couldn’t get any fucking worse, this shit show could have been avoided had you just read the inside of the lid. “There was instructions?? Oh my god…what the fuck did I take?” You asked, concerned for yourself and the tone he had while reading it. “Somethin’ that the creator of it called Date Night. Looks like it’s a…well looks like it’s a handmade sex chem” he said, making you cover your face with your hands out of sheer embarrassment, you’d never wanted to die out in a radstorm more than you did right now. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, cooper…” you whined, watching him read it more. “How much of it did you take?” He asked, almost scared to know and you were scared to know why. “Two?” You replied, making him whistle at that as he read it. “Fuckin’ hell sugar..” he said through a chuckle, and that nickname made a shiver run through you, sending electric bolts straight to your throbbing cunt. You did your best to bite back the whimper. “You’re only s’possed take one, and with you bein’ new t’ all this, I wouldn’t have taken more than half” he said, making you just wish you could just dig a hole and die in it already. “Fuck me…wait, shit! N-Not literally fuck me I- well I mean I’d like if you did but…FUCK! Forgive me Cooper, I’m so sorry, I can hardly think straight” you said, making him chuckle. “Well sweetheart, I think you and I both know there’s only one good fix for this situation” he said, making you whimper pathetically at the thought, your thighs squeezing together even more as you tried to fight to stay sane. Your eyes cast downwards to his lap once more, seeing the tent forming in his pants, clearly you weren’t the only one all worked up here. “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, Coop. I can run off and take care of myself if it makes you uncomfort-“ you rambled but before you could finish, his hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. You moaned into it without meaning to, feeling the way your body immediately relaxed upon wrapping your arms around him with no hesitation as the sweet innocent kiss turned passionate and dirty rather quickly.

“I won’t lie t’ you, doin’ this with you has passed my mind more times than I’d care to admit, but I don’t wanna cross that line unless you really want this” he said, looking into your eyes and making sure that this was truly what you wanted, that you felt the same way he did. “Coop, I know I’m under the influence of whatever the fuck this drug is, but trust me when I say, I’d be just as good with it sober. Been thinking about it for probably just as long as you have, if I’m honest with you. I want this, I want you and right now I want you so fucking bad that I might lose my mind if you don’t fuck me” you answered bluntly, taking him by surprise at just the sheer amount of absolute filth that left your otherwise innocent mouth, making him chuckle at your use of curse words and how desperate you were for him. “That so sugar?” He asked with a grin, enjoying teasing you at your neediest moments, including now. “God yes, Cooper please..” you begged, nearly moaning in reply and he’d spent time mulling over it before, denying himself the chance but just as the chem stache was a pot of gold, he took this as one of the best opportunities being placed in his lap by whatever higher power existed out there, making him waste no time in kissing you once more. “Good, because I don’t think I’d be able to hold myself back once we’ve started” he said, and the idea made you moan. “Don’t want you to hold back, want all of you” you said, and your wish was his command.

By the time your brain could finally catch up with you again, your clothes were strewn out all around you, your tank top hanging over the back of the couch, your jeans thrown haphazardly on the arm rest behind you, his pants on the floor, his hat on the table and shirt and duster having fallen somewhere behind the couch. By now, you’d already cum on his fingers twice, and on his cock once, this was your fourth round and this shit still had you on fire. “Yes!! Oh fuck, Cooper!” you moaned as your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him as close to you as you could get, your fingers digging crescent shapes and puffy red lines into his back that unfortunately he knew wouldn’t stay long thanks to his ability to heal stupidly fast. “Doin’ so good for me, baby doll. Look so pretty like this for me, all splayed out like a needy little whore” he praised and degraded through his groans, making you moan and roll your eyes into the back of your head at the praise mixed with degradation as his cock was drilling deep inside you like tonight was all you guys had. “Yeah, you like that, huh sweet thing? Like it when I tell you how good it feels and call you names?” He asked, making you nod your head yes because there wasn’t a single thought in that brain of yours other than his name, which you spoke like a mantra. “Never knew such a sweet lil’ thing like you would be such a dirty little minx. Fuck…enough to make a man like me go feral, ya know that?” he said, making you giggle as you moved his free hand up to your throat, urging him to choke you, and he groaned at the sight. Your kiss swollen lips all puffy and shining with spit, your cheeks dusted a constant pink that grew darker anytime his cock brushed that spot deep inside that made you cling to him, your eyes half lidded, looking up at him like he was your savior. It made him absolutely rock hard knowing you’d pick him over anyone else in this god forsaken wasteland. “My, you are just a little freak, ain’t you? Oh we are gonna have fun together, you and me honey” he promised, squeezing your throat tight enough to restrict your airflow but not enough to hurt or cause any damage. Just enough to get that puddle of a brain of yours all fuzzy as you got closer to your fourth orgasm of the night. “Cooper…’m so close, so close please!!” You begged, feeling the heavy drag of his cock as he pounded into you, leaving you damn near screaming as it nudged your cervix and that spongy little bundle of nerves deep inside. “Go on honey, I gotchya. Let go for me, wanna see those pretty faces and hear those pretty noises you make” he said, angling his hips just right to hit that spot over and over again. “Oh fuck, oh fuck I’m gonna cum again, I-“ you warned before your moans rose in pitch as your walls clamped around him, gushing on his cock as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your body arched off the couch, stars filling your vision for a moment as you felt your release gush out and coat your inner thighs, screaming his name like it was your only chance at salvation. “Well ain’t I just the damn luckiest man in the wastelands right now, got me a pretty little vaultie and she’s a gusher” he said, making you whimper at his teasing but judging by the way he emptied himself inside you for the second time, you took it as a sign that he liked that about you. “Holy shit, I-I didn’t know I could do that” you said, thoroughly shocked with what your brain and body were doing as they almost seemed to almost be working against each other. “Do it again for me” he said, grabbing you and moving you both to where you were straddling him this time. His hands rested on your hips, helping guide you as you speared yourself on his dick with ease from how absolutely soaked you were, making you both throw your head back and moan. “Now that’s a damn good sight” he said, making you lean in to kiss him once more as his hands helped you start and keep a steady rhythm with your hips. It was definitely going to be a long night, but one you two have been needing for months, maybe even longer.

It’s a good thing ghouls have remarkable recovery time, because in order to finally get you sated and back to normal, you both had to spend all night going at it. Granted, it was aided by the mix of pent up sexual tension and pent up sexual frustration, but it was dawn before you both had gotten to a point where you could even *try* and fall sleep. First few times was on the couch between missionary, doggy and you riding him, next was you bent over it, with your pretty legs spread and ass in the air for him. Then, you used the arm rest of the couch as a pillow beneath your hips as he stood up while you laid out on the couch. He liked that one a lot for the way your tits would bounce with each and every forceful thrust into you, jolting your body. After that, it was done standing up with your back pressed against a wall, your legs and arms wrapped around him to keep him deep inside of you and fill you til he had nothing left to give you. From that point on, the rest of the night was all a hormone-hazed blur, but you knew well that he took care of you. You woke up unbelievably sore, your joints aching in places that you had no idea could even ache, a swollen, angry throb between your legs for the harsh, almost punishing treatment to your pussy followed by bruises, bite marks, scratch marks, hand prints etc. littered your skin as you woke up curled into Cooper’s side. You gave a gravelly groan as the sun shone in your eyes through the windows, making him chuckle at the way you were such a ray of sunshine except in the morning. Coming to learn that you absolutely *hated* mornings. Though you suppose you started to enjoy them more since traveling with him. “Mornin’ sunshine” he said coyly, making you groan disapprovingly at the way the sun was in your eyes, making you hold your hand up to cast a shadow on your face and grant you some relief. “Morning” you answered, your voice hoarse and half gone from sleep and all your activities that transpired the previous night. “Ain’t that a pretty sight” he said, turning and seeing you curled up to him, naked, your hair all messy from sleep and the hickeys and bite marks littering your skin, making you chuckle. “Last night was definitely something, can’t believe you’ve been holding all *that* out on me” you joked, making him give a dry laugh. “Could say the same thing about you, sugar. Had no idea that mind a yours could be so filthy. You’re a wild thing to party with, lil’ lady” he teased, sliding his arm around you to keep you close, making you hum as you lay soft, appreciative kisses to his collarbone and chest. “You’re fun too, and thank you for taking care of me last night. I’m sorry that it ended up happening the way that it did, I wanted to work up the courage and tell you some other way, I really did, but I guess life had other plans” you said making him chuckle as he saw you blush when he kissed your head. “Drunk words are sober thoughts they say, so I’d say I made out pretty good. But don’t sweat it, not sure how I deserved someone as good as you, but it’s good to know I ain’t as hard to stomach as most people say” he said, pulling you in for a soft, heartfelt kiss. “I think you are just perfect, Cooper” you said, your hand resting on his scarred chest as you looked at him with that gaze he swore he’d do anything to see pointed his way.

“You really wanna be my girl?” He asked softly, sounding shocked and with some self doubt still lacing his tone, but he had to be sure this was what you wanted outside of the drug’s effects. He cared for you deeply, in a way that he hasn’t felt in a very long time, but maybe you were just the right person for him to finally open his heart up to. His question made you giggle as your heart fluttered in your chest with excitement. “I absolutely do, I meant it when I said it last night, I mean it just as much now. I think we’ve danced around it for long enough, don’t you?” you replied, making him smile the most genuinely happy smile you’ve seen him wear since you’d met. “Just checkin’” he said, before laying a sweet kiss to your lips, wishing every morning could be like this one. Maybe it could, now that you were here with him.

[sirfrogsworth]

Hard & Soft: An Explanation of Light

I was watching a video from one of my favorite tech YouTubers, Mr. Whose the Boss. He was showing off some of his favorite tech and pulled out this tiny LED light.

And then he placed a diffuser on the front and said this...

"You can equip a softbox on the front which *massively* softens the light on your face."

Sorry, Arun.

No it doesn't.

I sometimes wish I could get a job as a YouTube lighting advisor. So many creators have to set up and use professional lighting but very few actually have an understanding of how their lighting works. And with just a little knowledge they could up their lighting game big time.

If nothing else, I could stop the plague of ring lights.

Ring lights are my nemesis.

*shakes fist at ring lights*

Arun repeated a classic myth. Diffusing a light does *not* make it softer. And despite the name, a softbox is fully capable of producing hard light. Especially if it is only the size of your granddad's wallet.

I'm afraid softboxes are a bit misnamed—much like how the tremolo system on a guitar is technically a vibrato mechanism. Tremolo is a fluctuation of volume, not pitch. Personally, I just stick to calling it a whammy bar because that is more fun anyway. And, like, what does "whammy" even mean in the context of a guitar? I'd rather call something by a nonsensical name than an inaccurate one, ya know?

What the hell was I saying?

SOFTBOXES!

They should probably be called "light homogenizers." Which is a mouthful, but more accurate.

Or, hear me out... WHAMMY BOXES.

Froggie Note: I am trying a color coding technique to help make the most important information stand out. Red means PAY ATTENTION and blue means "do your best to remember this." Let me know if this is helpful or annoying or if a different color combo is preferred.

Hard Light vs. Soft Light

Hard light is a less flattering light source that creates high contrast, sharp shadows, and accentuates texture.

Soft light is a more flattering light source that creates soft shadows and reduces texture like pores, blemishes, and wrinkles.

You can *only* get hard or soft light by changing the apparent size of a light source from the subject's point of view.

If you remember only three things about light, they should be...

Bright light = sharp photos, less noise Hard light = small light source Soft light = large light source

Now, it's important to remember that hard light is not *bad* and soft light is not *good*. In photography, the oft-used parlance "flattering" just refers to the rendering of facial features and blemishes. So you might use a more flattering lens to make sure faces do not distort or a more flattering light modifier to reduce wrinkles.

But there are situations where soft light can be very boring and hard light can be much more dynamic and interesting. But if you have someone who is insecure about their skin or has a lot of blemishes, you can mitigate that by making the light softer. But if you have someone with great skin and a lot of angular facial features, you might use a hard light to show that off.

Which of these do you prefer?

The one on the left was taken with a 7 foot diameter light source and is *very* soft. But the other had a 1 foot diameter and I think it is more dynamic and interesting.

You can also mix hard and soft light. And with something like a parabolic reflector or a beauty dish, you can even modify a light source to be hard and soft at the same time.

This technological terror of a light modifier is sort of like having 24 individual small lights around the edges but the entire surface of the reflector also acts as a single large light source.

And when it isn't atomizing Alderaan, it is taking photos like this...

This creates a falloff of light around the edges of her face, nose, and arms while also reducing the intensity of the shadows. Lenses with longer focal lengths prevent distortion of facial features but also flatten our faces. So a modifier like this can bring back dimensionality.

Neat!

Now I just need $8,000 to buy the Death Star light.

There are a ton of possibilities when it comes to modifying light sources, but most people typically want the main light on the subject to be in the realm of soft and use hard light sources as edge lights.

Also, everything is a spectrum and light is no different. There is a giant space in between hard and soft to play with. In fact, the hardest light possible would be cast on a subject floating in space.

And the softest light possible would be on a planet that has 100% cloud coverage that still allows sunlight to scatter through.

So, I have determined the surface of Venus to be the most flattering light in the universe.

Look at how dark and sharp that astronaut shadow is! And I'm sure Venusian photography would be quite popular if you wouldn't burst into flames.

On planet Earth, noon on a clear day would be the hardest light and a very overcast day would be the softest light.

How can the sun be both hard and soft light?

Well, the sun is quite large, but it is very small in the sky and very far away. It is the only thing humans can observe that is close to a "point" light source—the smallest light source possible that shines light equally in all directions.

But on an overcast day, sunlight scatters through all of the clouds and becomes a HUGE homogenous light source. The clouds become a singular giant light above us. And as you can see, the light is so soft the woman does not have a hint of shadow on her face. And shadows can draw attention to pores, wrinkles, blemishes, and other textures.

But wouldn't the smallest light source be a laser or something?

When photographers refer to a small light source we mean from the perspective of the subject being lit. This is referred to as apparent or angular size.

But you also have to account for the size of the area the light source can illuminate.

This is the area a laser can light up.

And this is the area the sun is able to cats cast light upon.

It doesn't matter if a laser is close or far away, it focuses light onto a very small area. But the sun lights up half the planet. So look at imagine the apparent size of the sun in the sky and compare its size to half of the Earth. In that relative circumstance, the sun is a super tiny light source.

And the sun becomes an even tinier light source on the moon because there is no atmosphere or clouds to scatter and enlarge it.

You can change the apparent size of a light source in two ways...

The physical dimensions of the light and the distance from the subject.

A light with small dimensions can be a large light source if it is close enough and if the subject is small enough. So a flashlight could be a large light source for an ant if that flashlight is directly next to said ant. But a flashlight could never be a large light source to a human.

However, we can enlarge small light sources with modifiers.

A modifier can be a softbox. It can be a piece of paper. A large poster board. A wall or a ceiling. Anything that changes the nature of a light source can be a modifier. But not all modifiers increase the size of a light source.

So, you can take that flashlight, shine it on a wall, and reflect the light to make a giant light source capable of producing softer light.

But what you cannot do is put diffusion material directly in front of a flashlight and make the light it produces softer.

When Arun put that diffuser on the front of that tiny light, he was not making the light any bigger. He was only making the light more diffused.

What does diffusion *actually* do?

Diffusion scatters light. It makes light bounce in all directions and keeps it from being focused. And while this is an important aspect to making a light source larger, it does not change the apparent size of a light source on its own.

Diffused light is homogenous.

A homogenous light source has the same intensity across its entire surface area. And that homogenization is the key to creating a better soft light source. It can *assist* in making a light source larger, but only if you know how to wield that diffusion properly.

When you shine a flashlight toward a wall, you increase the apparent size of the light source.

Fantastic! You now have a softer light. Mission accomplished.

But if you do not diffuse it, you will create a hotspot.

That bright hotspot will reflect more light than all of the other light reflecting off the wall. That reflected light has different intensities across its surface area and you end up creating TWO distinct light sources—one hard and one soft.

This can sometimes be desired if you want to create graduated light that falls off like I showed earlier. But if it is not controlled well with a specialized modifier a hotspot can cause more problems than benefits.

This can reveal unwanted texture, double shadows, cause harsh glare, and it may not achieve the desired amount of soft, flattering light you were hoping for.

However, if you diffuse the light from the flashlight before it hits the wall, the light will scatter and reflect off the wall more evenly. You will create a more *homogenous* light source that acts as a single entity of light.

Diffusion does reduce the overall intensity of the light, but that is usually a worthy trade off for the increased homogeny.

These pesky hotspots are actually a big problem with those cheap softboxes you can buy off Amazon.

Many of them do not have enough diffusion to create a single homogenous light source. So they end up with a hotspot that gives you that double light source effect.

I was able to fix this with my friend Katrina's softbox by adding a layer of tracing paper in front.

You can see the chip clip holding the tracing paper in place on the right side.

Photography is just problem solving all the way down.

A higher quality softbox will have a second layer of diffusion already built in to prevent this, so make sure the softbox has this feature before buying.

Or invest in a roll of tracing paper and some chip clips.

Softboxes are an ingenious light modifier when built properly. They take a small light, diffuse it, enlarge it, and then focus it toward your subject. It's essentially a paradox of scattered & focused light. And since all of the scattering only happens *inside* the softbox, it gives you great control over how that light hits your subject. And you can focus it even more by putting a grid on the front.

This keeps light from "spilling" off to the sides though it can reduce intensity a bit and create unusual looking catchlights in the eyes.

Whereas a cheap shoot-through umbrella kinda "shoots" scattered light all over the place and causes a ton of extra reflections off the walls and ceilings. That may end up giving you unwanted second, third, and fourth light sources contributing to your exposure.

You can see light hitting the left and right walls and the ceiling—those pesky photons are going everywhere! And while it is giving a soft, flattering result due to that umbrella being so freaking big, you have almost no control over the light and how it affects your background.

So, yes, a softbox can make a small light source bigger, but that doesn't always mean you will get "soft" light.

This softbox takes a 10 inch LED panel and creates a 12 inch light source. This is mostly a scam product.

The marketing says it makes the light softer.

And while that is *technically* true, I'm afraid people are going to be disappointed if they think this thing is going to dramatically soften their light. A small increase in surface area like that would only be dramatically different if you were lighting a little toy car or the hypothetical ant friend I mentioned earlier. Something the size of a person is not going to see a difference in softness. Not to mention you are going to decrease the power of your light by adding diffusion and have no softening benefits.

Photography gear companies love taking advantage of new photographers because the desire to buy more gear to improve the quality of photos is quite strong. This is jokingly referred to as G.A.S. or "Gear Acquisition Syndrome." And while there is absolutely gear you can buy to improve your photos (lights, lenses, tripods), knowledge trumps any piece of gear at any time.

So, no, this scam softbox will not make the light appreciably softer. The only way to make this light softer is to find a softbox that enlarges it more than 2 friggin' inches, bounce it off something larger, or bring it closer to the subject. Move your light as close as possible and you will enlarge its apparent size.

Or, conversely, you can move your light farther away to make it hard.

Meaning you can technically make a softbox a hardbox.

Seriously, can we just do the whammy box thing?

So, what have we learned?

Soft light is more flattering to skin and reduces texture and harsh shadows.

Hard light increases contrast, sharpens shadows, and highlights texture.

Neither is good or bad. Soft light can be boring. Hard light can be interesting. A mixture of the two often produces the best result.

The only way to make light softer is to enlarge the light source.

You can enlarge a light source by...

Increasing the physical dimensions with a modifier.

Moving the light closer.

Reflecting the light off a larger surface.

Diffusion alone does not make a light softer.

Diffusion makes a light source more homogenous by mitigating hotspots.

Softboxes create homogenous light that you can direct and focus.

A softbox can still produce hard light if it is really small or really far away.

We should call it a whammy box.

How can you use this knowledge?

Well, the first thing you can do is...

DON'T BUY A RING LIGHT.

YES, I AM RANTING ABOUT RING LIGHTS AGAIN!

That giant hole in the middle of your light is a great spot for extra light.

And as we just learned, a larger light source is softer. So unless you specifically need a ring light and know how to use it (facial close-ups, camera goes in the hole), you are better off getting the biggest light you can fit in your space.

Look at how much bigger this light is than if it were a ring light.

It's like all of these influencers are throwing perfectly good light into the garbage.

Sorry, let's try this again.

Once you avoid ring lights, how can you use this knowledge?

I know a lot of you reading this are not influencers or YouTubers or photographers. And you may be thinking all of this knowledge I just shoved in your dome is useless.

But here's the thing...

We all take photos.

And I think we all want our photos to look their best.

If you start thinking more about light when you take photos, I promise you will be able to improve their quality.

If you are taking a selfie, think about where you can go that has a larger light source. Perhaps you have a large window. Or you have a big overhead light or floor lamp that shines up into the ceiling.

I actually had this idea to create a mega light that could blend in with a house's decor, but secretly be a photography light for taking pictures of people and pets indoors at night.

Secret Photography Light Ingredients Cheap Floorlamp Dual Light Socket Adapter 9000 Lumen LED Bulbs

(Seriously, if you put that together, stick it in a corner, and turn it on when your kids or pets are playing, you will never have another blurry photo from inside your house unless they are going full zoomies.)

If you are outside on a sunny day, don't stand in direct sunlight.

Remember, THE SUN IS ACTUALLY SMALL, angularly speaking. Find a shady spot under a tree. Or put the sun behind you and face a big white wall so the reflected light smacks you in the face.

Walls are light sources!

The ground is a light source!

Remember that moon photo?

You were looking at the sharp shadow earlier because I drew your attention to the sun being a small light source.

But the surface of the moon... HUGE LIGHT SOURCE.

How do you think the front of that space suit is lit when the sun is behind him? Either Stanley Kubrick has a big reflector offscreen or the ground is a soft second light source.

If you can't make it to the moon, just wait to take that selfie on a cloudy day. I think overcast light is a little boring, but your skin will look buttery smooth without using those stupid Facetune apps.

You can also wait for good light. Sometimes sunset has some nice, soft directional light because it has more atmosphere to scatter, diffuse, and enlarge it.

If you are indoors, don't use direct flash on your phone. Never ever use direct flash if you can avoid it. But perhaps you are with friends and they all have phones too. Use one or more phones to bounce the flashlight off a nearby wall. Or open up a paper napkin and hold it just out of frame and shine light through it and diffuse it.

A piece of paper can even work!

Flashlight 3 feet away shining directly onto my face...

Flashlight shining through a piece of paper a few inches in front of it...

Flashlight shining through a piece of paper 2 feet away that is just out of frame...

I started with a small light source.

I then made the light source a little bigger with the paper, but the diffusion was too close and it created the dreaded hotspot of doom.

And then I made the light source as big as I could by moving the paper as close to my face as possible without being in the shot. This also gave the light more room to scatter and diffuse making it homogenous.

Froggie Tip: I was using a pretty powerful flashlight, so with a phone you might get better results *bouncing* the light off the paper rather than shining the light through the paper.

So, before you take a photo, just think about how you can make your light source bigger, brighter, and more homogenous and you might be surprised how much better you look.

ANYONE CAN DO THIS!

[ddejavvu]

hiii!! can i suggest some hotch x bau!wife!reader where reader is pregnant and she doesnt know, but at work she goes on about how she doesnt know whats wrong with her lately and spencer suggests that she might be pregnant and then she find out that she is!!

I love your writing sm btw😚😚😚

i think i might finally have enough time to write whole blurbs again :'))

--

"No flamin' hot for you today, Mrs. Hotchner?" Derek eyes your bag of plain cheetos where they lay open on your desk, and you grimace at his phrasing.

"God, no," You groan, "Don't make me sick."

"You love those things," His brows furrow, and he leans on the edge of your desk with one hand, his thick fingers splayed out over the wood, "I'm pretty sure your tongue is permanently stained red by now."

"I like them when I'm not in the middle of some weird stomach bug," You admit, "I woke up sick. I don't know what did it, but it was probably something Jack brought home."

Derek pointedly removes his hand from your desk, but he's kind enough not to tell you that he thinks you're contagious.

"Feel better, mama." He offers with something that you're sure is supposed to be a sympathetic smile, but looks a little more like a wince. Emily isn't so easily scared off, though, and she continues munching on the carrot sticks she'd brought for a snack.

"You look tired," She comments, and you almost want to take offense, "You were up all night with your stomach thing?"

"No, just when my alarm went off," You hum, swallowing a bite of your sandwich and trying not to heave at the texture, "It was nice enough to let me sleep, but-" Your sentence is cut off with a well-timed yawn, "I feel like I've been awake for days."

"Probably just your period," Penelope hums softly, trying and failing to keep your menstrual cycle a secret, which isn't surprising considering her track record with secrets. Everyone is kind enough to ignore the information she revealed, but when you shake your head and grumble, 'I'm late.', Spencer snaps to attention.

"You've missed a menstrual cycle, you're feeling extreme fatigue, and you're experiencing morning sickness?" Spencer verifies, and it's only with his discerning brain that you feel a weight sink in your stomach - preferably not your unborn baby.

"Oh my god," You breathe, your hand coming subconsciously up to your stomach, "Oh my- oh my god! Aaron, Aaron!"

Aaron rushes out of his office with the combined urgency of boss and husband, his eyes locking on you sharp with concern.

The air between you is thick as the members of your team grin up at Hotch, leaving you the silence to cheer, "I'm pregnant!"

His eyes are no longer viciously worried, their sharp edge melting into something far softer. His lips part, barely enough to let air through, until they crack and curve upwards in a dazzling smile that the bullpen doesn't often get to see.

"You took a test?" He confirms, but when you shake your head, he dims slightly.

"Reid said I am," You offer, and his zeal is back. You're sure he wishes he could wrap you up in a truly breathtaking embrace, complete with kiss far too passionate for your work environment, but you'll save it until you're at home, away from prying eyes and phone cameras. Regardless, you can feel his exhilaration from where you stand, and you're already planning out a nursery in your mind.

"He's probably more trustworthy than the plastic stick," Derek claps Reid on the back, and the doctor looks like the wind was knocked out of him. They're both smiling, though, and you feel JJ's hand on your shoulder, squeezing happily.

"Congratulations," Rossi pats Aaron on the shoulder, much gentler than Reid had been subjected to, "But a word of advice, Hotch? Don't have any more. If I have to split my inheritance another way, it won't be worth killing me over."

[goldfades]

sweet on you (dad!joe au) thoughts of the day!

this morning, joe got up with hayes to let you sleep in, and you woke up to the sound of them laughing in the kitchen. when you walked in, joe was holding hayes on his hip, both of them wearing matching pajama sets that you didn’t even know joe had ordered. “look who’s finally awake,” joe teased, like he hadn’t been waiting for you to join them.

hayes keeps calling joe “dada” in this sing-songy voice, and it’s like joe can’t help but melt every time he hears it. today, hayes said it at least ten times in a row just to make joe laugh. “you’ve got my number, kid,” joe finally said, shaking his head with a grin.

joe is so gentle when he handles hayes, even when hayes is being a little menace. like earlier, when hayes decided it was funny to stick blueberries to joe’s shirt while he wasn’t looking. joe just laughed, picked one off, and said, “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

joe has this thing where he smooths hayes’ hair down whenever he’s holding him, even if it’s not messy. it’s like he can’t help himself, like he needs to make sure hayes is taken care of every second.

tonight, hayes got overtired and a little fussy, so joe walked him around the living room, humming softly under his breath. you could hear snippets of whatever song joe was making up as he went along, and by the time hayes finally fell asleep, you realized your heart was just as full as it’s ever been.

joe always insists on doing bedtime stories, even on game days when he’s exhausted. tonight, he turned The Very Hungry Caterpillar into a full-blown production, complete with voices for every piece of food. “this apple sounds like a New Yorker,” he said at one point, making hayes giggle so hard he had hiccups.

sometimes, joe gets this look on his face when he’s watching you and hayes—like he’s trying to memorize the moment. it happened earlier when you were playing peek-a-boo, and you swear he looked at you like you hung the moon.

after hayes went to bed, joe found you folding laundry and immediately pulled you into his lap, saying, “this can wait.” he held you there for a while, his hands tracing slow circles on your back, and whispered, “i love this life with you.”

joe has this soft habit of thanking you for the smallest things, like when you made his coffee this morning or set his keys by the door. today, he thanked you for “being my favorite person,” like that’s just something he says now.

he bought you flowers yesterday, and when you asked why, he shrugged and said, “just felt like you deserved them.” this morning, he pointed out how good they looked on the counter, like he was proud of himself for picking the right ones.

tonight, when you were brushing your teeth, joe came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “you know,” he said, his voice low and warm, “i don’t think i could love you any more than i already do.”

The house is finally quiet, save for the faint hum of the baby monitor on the nightstand. Hayes went down after a full day of mischief and laughter, leaving you and Joe completely spent in the best way. You’re lying in bed, your head on Joe’s chest, his hand trailing slow, lazy patterns along your back. His other arm is tucked behind his head, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek.

“Long day,” you murmur, though there’s no real complaint in your voice. It was the kind of long day that fills your heart just as much as it drains your energy.

“Yeah,” Joe agrees softly, his voice still thick from the weight of the day. “But a good one.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, and his eyes are already on you, tired but warm. There’s a faint shadow of stubble on his jaw, and you reach up to trace it with your fingertips, just to feel the texture. He catches your hand and presses a kiss to your palm, holding it there for a moment before resting it against his chest.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “With Hayes, with everything... I don’t know how you do it.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Pretty sure you’re the amazing one. Did you see yourself today? Full-on Broadway performance during bedtime stories. Hayes is gonna think his dad’s an actor instead of a quarterback.”

Joe smiles, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that way that always makes your stomach flip. “Anything for the kid,” he says simply, and you know he means it with every fiber of his being.

You settle back against him, letting the weight of the day melt away in his warmth. “Anything for us,” you whisper, closing your eyes.

“Always,” he murmurs back, pressing a kiss to your hair. And in the quiet of the night, with the soft rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

[n0tamused]

'Please cannot fix'

Content: angst, character death, gn reader, possible grammar mistakes

Words: 1167

A/N: to that one person said I wouldn't do it - here you go. Suffer with me now.

Once mighty and flamboyant  Galaxy Ranger, now nothing but a desperate pile in the mud. The rain hails down onto him like acid, unrelenting as it bashes his back and makes him sink further into the ground. BootHill’s breath is heavy and ragged as he has long lost his voice, crying out to you to keep awake, to hold on until you’re both back at the base, he has already contacted a doctor through a built in radio - why didn’t you listen?

Leftover footprints had long since been washed away, eradicating the proof of his attempts at keeping you alive, as if he never tried.

You had pleaded with him to slow down, he was jostling you too much, doing too much, and you never saw him this panicked. His eyes could barely handle looking at the red gushing out of your wounds and onto the cold iron of his body. He didn’t listen, and kept going, his feet leaping and swallowing the ground under him with sloppy expertise, kicking up rocks and mud before it could stick to him. One of his hands mussed up your nape, patting the skin and pushing your head closer against him until he could feel your breath on his actual skin - on what little he had to feel with.  “Just a little more, sugar-” he’d say, turn after turn, thunder growling behind him. Moments feel like minutes, and he swears he can run faster, but he can’t -

“BootHill, stop-!” he froze, his eyes escaping whatever daze his mind spun him into, darting to look at your begging ones. Tears or rain, it made your nose red and your lips quivered with the weight of your words. “Let me go..”  You breathed it out, cupping his cheek and turning him to face you, forcing him to feel the fleeting warmth of your palm, it prevented him from running. However, he doesn’t stop moving, he consciously, simply cannot, and for once his artificial body agrees with his organic one; and neither listens to your wishes for him to stop carrying you. “I-I can’t- are you crazy?!” he blurts out sharply, but his face betrays the anger of his tone, his eyes, as wide as yours, show the man crazed with fear of losing something precious beyond life itself. 

“No, no, move yer hands away, I can’t see” he grumbles with a tangible tension in his jaw, shaking his head, flicking raindrops from the tips of his hair. 

“Please..BootHill..I don’t want this sight to be my last-! Please, put me down” you argued, lungs feeling heavy and full of holes that let the rain in. They burned for life, for air, they sought to be engulfed in warmth of the space ship once more, to breathe in the metallic scent that fill the room as BootHill cleaned his iron from the rain. Just once more. But you knew such a future was only a dream behind your heavy lidded eyes that were harder to pry apart every blink.  “Please..just hold me..” you muttered with defeat in your tone, and perhaps it was that which stopped BootHill at long last, or the sight of the bridge that had been split and broken before him, with the raging wide river threatening to swallow the earth itself around it.

He slowly lowered himself to the ground, you in his lap, and his eyes bubbling up with what you could call tears. Translucent blue in color and greasy in texture, his tears fell for you. One metal and freezing hand goes on top of the biggest wound on your torso, pushing down to stop the bleeding. 

BootHill never felt more hopeless and useless than he did now. He tried and failed. And most heartbreaking of all, he didn’t protect you when he needed to. When he should have.

The rain fell harder after that. Your body absorbede the cold of it and grew heavier in his lap.

The wind howled over his head and went right through him too.

…..

Your face was the palest he had ever seen.

Your lips blue.

Eyes shut.

Hair slicked back with how many times he ran his fingers through it, keeping it from your face. Keeping you tidy.

You were limp and heavy, and you were still.. whole, as whole as you could be. He had cried all the tears he had within him, and he struggled to breathe for even longer. Feeling raw and more human than he did even before being turned into this walking machinery. 

You had held his face, and you apologized to him, and asked him to smile, you asked him to deliver you one more charming line - and he failed you in that too.

….

The silence was unbearable, and the cacophony even worse. Now, in the confined space of his ship, he cracked his voice raw open as he glared at the little hologram of the doctor that turned him into this walking tin can.

BootHill couldn’t stand the sound of his own voice that fluctuated higher with the flare of his anger, every sentence more distraught than the last. It got to the point the Doctor on the receiving end had gone silent as a grave, realizing the futility of trying to speak over BootHill. 

‘Bring them back’, he pleaded, hovering over the hologram, making himself feel greater, stronger, and more in control. 

‘If you could turn me into this with just ma head alone, you can help them as well!’ he argued, teeth grit together and showing off their points. Like a cornered dog he clawed and bit and held the last pieces of hope in his maw. ‘They’re whole, jus’ a few scratches-’ he added in haste, and the doctor began shaking his head.

‘Please, Doctor, you’ve gotta’ he stared at the flickering hologram, feeling something akin to acid rise in his throat, sick at the thought of denial. No, he wouldn’t give up on you. ‘Why not?! Because they’re not as loud as I am?! What is the reason?!’. He tried to argue and reason with the other man, and when he ran out of reasons he began to repeat the ones he already mentioned.

‘WHY NOT YOU IDIOT?!’ he shouted, now on his knees before the system table in front of him, the hologram now looking much larger than his own figure. His elbows still rested on the table and he felt like strangling the man in front of him through the hologram itself.

He could see the Doctor’s face fall, disappointed at best. And he heard him sigh. 

“BootHill. I can’t do it, and I won’t try it.”

The hologram flickered, and then went out, allowing the dark of the spaceship to swallow him whole. Trickles of oil began to seep through cracks in his metalwork, and more of his tears began to bubble up in his eyes. Like claws, his hands fell over his face, muffling a choked cry of anguish.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

-Tags: @prettyliliy @nvuy @lofasofabread @teanypaws @molotto

(I just tagged everyone who showed interest when I talked about this idea, pls lemme know if you don't want the tag/want to be removed from the post <3)

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY XXVII. — DRY HUMPING

cw: Dry Humping, Teasing, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Heavy Petting, Implied Backstory with Touya, Post-MHA, Fem! Reader. 18+ Only!

author's note: Yes, fluff for my favorite boy. I love him so much, ahhh. I hope you guys like this!

word count: Approximately 1.1k words.

His hands aren’t chilly, but they leave frostbite wherever he touches. You meet Touya’s gaze, that half-lidded grin that shows his crooked teeth off, and you roll your eyes. One of your hands stretches up, fingers splaying and at the ready so that you can start gently prodding at each individual tooth. You stick your fingers underneath the blankets of his mouth, rubbing over his ribbed gums, tracing the lines of each tooth, finding their gaps. Touya doesn’t break your stare, doesn’t look away, but humor’s in his eyes before he starts to chuckle. It’s deep, and you stop fiddling with him. You withdraw your hand, saliva stringing like guitars. 

“Like what ya see, dove?” 

You hum, nodding. 

“Yeah, those teeth of yours are like pearls underneath the deepest ocean.” 

Another chuckle, but it revs into a few bold laughs before Touya shakes his head and reaches for a water bottle next to the bed. He unscrews the cap, holds it between his thumb and index, and takes a fat swig. You wince. 

“C’mon, Touya, don’t drink that flavored mineral water shit. It’s like dishwater.” 

A few more hearty chugs, and Touya pops the bottle away with a satisfied gasp. 

“But I like the way she burns…” 

There’s a resigned sigh that leaves you before a sly grin dances across your face, and Touya arches a brow. He starts to put the bottle down while you use this moment to begin crawling further up Touya’s textured chest. The bottle clatters the rest of the way to the floor once your fingers tease over his collar bones, and you have a faint thought of spilled water that’s going to wet your socks once you step out of bed, and you wonder if Touya laid that trap on purpose as a cheap prank. His pruned hands curl around your body, muscle memory, and you can feel his frosty breath fan across your lips whenever you brush yours against his. That humor in his eyes twinkles into something more, something softer, and you wonder if things will always be like this. 

“If you’re getting plastered, then lemme have some.” 

Static electricity trickles against the shells of your lips whenever you press against Touya, and he groans instinctively. He’s always been so sensitive. His fingers flex into your skin, worming underneath the band of your underwear and slipping beneath the edge of your bra. The sensation makes you moan, and Touya swallows the sound up. He’s grinning, smiling into your kiss, and the burns on his lips warble against you. Both of your eyes roll, and you really do think about how special he is, how truly thankful you are to be in his arms. And you don’t care about anything other than rolling your hips into his, and Touya’s painfully hard already. He breaks the kiss, 

“Heh. Don’t think sis kept the liquor cabinet unlocked. Wanna rob a place?” 

A sigh that peters into a moan, and you’re not even nodding.

“Your fam’s already got us on house arrest. How’re we sneaking out?” 

Touya’s hips tilt into yours, he’s grinding. You follow his motion, repeat it, breathe it, chant it, and you’re both thrusting against each other with a breakbeat song that’s blasting on full volume. The column of Touya’s neck is sturdy whenever you bury your forehead against it. The burns are blurry when you open your eyes. 

“Poorly done disguise? I’m thinking All Dogs Go to Heaven style.” 

You throb, the pads of your fingertips ache and thunder. They beg to traverse Touya’s body, to grip against his already unfastened pants, to tug them down his thighs so you can grip his cock. 

“Okay, Charlie. Constantly cheating death, aren’t you?” 

It really does take everything in you to keep rolling against him. The thrill, the fascination, and you truly are praying that this moment never ends. Touya is so real against you, even though his body fluctuates hot and cold, even though he’s an atmosphere that never ever made sense to you, even though he’s a man that you want to be with, be a part of, crawl inside, staple whatever broken pieces of a heart he has. Your cunt cries, you cry, and tears are bubbling like soups to warm the soul, and Touya nuzzles his jawline against your head whenever he feels a few droplets splatter against his skin. Those fingers hoveling their nails tighten before they loosen so Touya can start massaging whatever flesh he can locate, can flatten his palms against. His thrusts speed up. 

“I was thinking that you should be the one wearing the mustache. How good are you at imitating my old man’s voice?” 

You start to giggle, and you lower the frequency of your voice. 

“Are you fucking kidding meeee?” 

Touya’s wriggling underneath you now, stifling his chuckles at your poor attempt, but he just thoughtfully hums and comments, 

“Could use a little more asshole, but you’ve got the spirit, dove.” 

Heartbeats pulsate throughout your entire frame, your core, and you feel like a snake coiling itself, preparing to strike, and you begin moaning in a song that has no true flow. Touya follows along, and he starts to hug you closer, embracing whatever sanctity the two of you share. 

“How about we imitate your little brother? Shouto? You could be the one standing on my shoulders.”

The hand Touya has underneath your bra slices down, running over the cleft of your ass, swooping to cup your cunt from behind so that he can position you higher onto his clothed cock. 

“Isn’t he in school right now?” 

You’re laughing softly, and Touya’s whimpering into the shell of your ear now, but you can feel him attempting to smile. The strain of his pants expands, and you can feel your engorged clit laying itself prostrate just so it can slide over his shaft. You’re chasing friction, pressure, and Touya is awkwardly hopping his hips off of the bed to slam further into you. 

“Makes it better. We need to get outta here to go to school.” 

The smile Touya’s attempting twists genuine. 

“It’s one in the morning.” 

The softness in your voice really leaves as laughter, and Touya’s hold is heavy, treasuring, and your eyes squint. Never. 

You never want to leave this moment. 

[rubellirium]

Fork honed sharp

◆ Pairing: Blade x reader (gender-netural) ◆ Word Count: 900~ ◆ CW: thoughts of cannibalism, very vague description of intercourse, Dead Dove Do Not Eat ◆ Inspired by Korean Cakeverse. "Forks" people have no sense of taste. "Cake" people's flesh and bodily fluids are sweet and are the only thing Forks can taste.

Your tears weren't enough anymore.  The taste was fading, like licking a wooden ice cream stick, tasting more of the wood than the sweetness. You were so, so sweet– Something between honey, with your tears having an aftertaste of nectar. When Blade first got to taste you– simply licking your sweat, going step after step– he felt like he was eating for the first time in his life. Compared to the faint flavours in his memories, it all felt bleak, almost tasteless like the ashy food he had been forced to eat for years now. Back then, he lapped at your wrist like a starved dog (taste of your sweat, of your skin– addicting) till his tongue was numb, your skin red from friction (pulse of your blood– tempting).

But he quickly craved more.

Now, you lay under him so prettily. Back arching, your ribs pressing against his, shaking with every breath. (How would your marrow taste?) Your nails add red lines on his back, they disappear quicker than you can create them– he wishes they would stay, that you could have a payback. For hours and hours wasted on him licking every inch of your skin, for every tear he made you shed, even if it wasn’t from pain. For now, Blade, despite being more of a tool than a man, could bring something more than pain. With his hips in a rhythm that you desperately tried to match, with his lips, leaving a trail of open-mouth kisses - from the dip of your shoulder, the column of your neck leaving blooming marks on the side where your blood pulses wildly (how would your veins taste?), to the edge of your jaw till he reaches his reward.

Blade sucks on your wet cheek, each tear disappearing in his eager lips– he clicks his tongue in frustration. It was tasteless, like wet ash on his tongue.

You open your eyes at the sound. Blade can see the sadness mixed with tears, the wrinkles between your brows and the frown on your lips; something akin to shame and worry painted on your face. His heart doesn’t ache at the sight; he wishes it would. He wished it could be different, that you were the one cursed with this insatiable hunger. His flesh would regenerate, his heart would pump as much blood as you desired– the pain would fade. You would consume him again and again– a kinder death. Two cursed lovers; blood on his hands, blood on your lips.

Eating was a chore. Something he had to do to not slowly starve but not truly. Never truly. Beautifully smelling meat, salads full of colours, cakes promising so much sugar his teeth rot, it’s all the same– ash. Each bite was mechanical action, like pumping gas into a machine - forcing himself to chew, to ignore the tasteless textures, to swallow despite his body wanting to puke. Bite after bite, minutes stretching into hours as he stares blankly at the plate -  chicken with its golden skin peeled, mashed potatoes with red sauce carelessly mixed in (How would your blood taste?).

You tremble under his calloused hands. Clinging to his body like a lamb fearing for its life– Blade wishes he wasn’t the butcher. He nuzzles into your neck, your skin so hot and full of life, his hands stroking your body; from your sides to your hips, resting on the thighs that were straddling him. Meanwhile, your hands stay rigging, gripping onto his shoulders, digging into the material of his shirt. Desperate and afraid, but when he glances at your eyes, he sees only kindness and devotion.

He wished he could be kinder to you, as much as a tool could be. Put a scabbard on, so he would never cut even if he bruises you.

Blade groans into your skin. The taste of you melts across his tongue, dizzyingly sweet. The more of you he could consume, the more prominent the taste was. Thick and deep like wine, sweet like honey with some aftertaste of flowers he cannot put his fingers on, leaving pure sugar on the back of his tongue. You dig deeper into his shoulders, plea on your lips when Blade snarls, teeth still deep into your flesh as he pulls you closer– step away from feral.

You weren’t close enough, he needed you flushed against his body, to feel every inch of you against him as he slowly worked on making you both into one in the most literal sense of it. The pain in his scalp as you jank him by the hair only makes him more excited, but at least you manage to get his teeth out of you. For now, he’s sated to just suck on the wound, drawing out more of your blood. Blade’s sloppy, letting the liquid trickle, roll down his chin and stain both your and his skin.

Every few days, your body was being decorated with another bite. On the dip by your shoulder, on your plushy thighs, your forearm, your calf. Each one red and aching, and each one kissed better. Each one followed by an almost apologetic look from Blade as he kisses you slowly– his lips taste like copper. For him, it tastes like ash.

Your blood wasn’t enough. (How would your meat taste?)

[ahgasegotarmy116]

a drabble where jti!jungkook takes care of oc when she is sick 🥹

"Darling" I hear whispered in my ear, stirring me awake from my ill ridden coma.

I hum in acknowledgment, only opening one eye to block out as much light as I can, greeted with his warm smile laced with concern.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, sitting on the bed beside me and placing a kiss on my brow, partially to show affection, the other part with the purpose of checking my temperature.

"You're still burning up" he say, more to himself than me, finding out the answer to the question he had just asked to save me from wasting the energy to provide a response.

"What's that?" I rasp out, chancing a glance at the white styrofoam cup in his hand with a red straw sticking out of it. "I know that ginger ale helps with nausea and because you have a fever I figured I would make you a slushy with it" he says, caressing my face for a second, taking in the weakened state of me.

"You wanna sit up" he asks and I nod my head, leaving him helping me up and resting me against the headboard.

I've been like this for two days and although my fever is relatively low grade we still haven't gotten it to break, leaving me listless and barely grasping on to consciousness.

He hasn't left my side unless necessary for instance to make us food or get me whatever other item I might ask him for. I haven't asked for much but he's always rushed out to get it after placing a kiss on my brow, the closest I've let him get to my lips since this fever bloomed.

"How is it?" he asks as I have been nursing the drink for the past few minutes. "Really good" I say truthfully, the ginger flavor dancing across my tastebuds while the texture of the slush cools me from the inside. The first truly refreshing thing I've consumed in the past forty eight hours.

I shiver at the feeling after a while, the chill settling in a bit too quickly and he gently asks for the cup which I offer up for him to place on the nightstand next to me.

"Anything else I can get you?" he asks and I barely shake my head 'no', taking care not to do it too hard or too fast since it'll only plague me with more dizziness than I'm currently graced with.

"How's your ear?" he asks, the cause of this fever being an ear infection that's wreaked havoc on my body in more ways than one.

"There's lot of pressure and it hurts a little but it isn't too bad" I answer truthfully and he takes a look at the time. "Should I give you some more ear drops?" he questions while running a hand up and down my thigh, a gentle caress meant to provide comfort more than anything.

"Yes please" I respond and he gives me a sad smile before helping me lay down on my side, the ear in question facing up for ease of administering antibiotics.

The cool liquid hits my ears, once, twice, thrice and the sensation soothes the heat that had been building since the last dose had withered away.

He places the bottle on the nightstand right next to the slush and takes up his seat again, rubbing my back now and trying to coax me back asleep.

"Can you lay with me?" I mumble out and I'm met with a deep chuckle. "Of course baby. Want Daddy to hold you?" he teases but I pay no mind to it and simply hum in response again.

He knows he can get away with calling himself Daddy in times like this and even I chance calling him that as well, knowing it makes him happy. He just wants to take care of me and I would love nothing more than that, no matter how silly his ways of going about it are.

He settles in next to me and drapes an arm around my waist, not cuddling in too close in fear of raising my fever and against all of my protest that's as far as he'll go.

I whine like I do every time, wanting to burry my face in his chest instead of this damn pillow that's been my companion for the past two days but he simply runs his hand up and down my side, providing me with his love and attention without chancing worsening my condition.

"I'll hold you close all you want later but we've gotta get you better first" he says, slipping his hand under the loose t shirt he's provided me to wear through this so I'm not bundled up too warm.

I shiver in response to his cold fingers now tracing patterns up and down every bare inch of skin he can find. "Your hands are cold" I groan granting me another chuckle from behind. "You'll survive" he say, scooting just a little bit closer making me smile.

~~~~

I love them sm 🥹

[sis-goleona]

Finding out you are pregnant

Title: Finding out you are pregnant

Pairing: Cat King x F! reader

TW: Pregnancy. If you do not want to read about pregnancy this is not the story for you! I will be back posting a different story about our cat king.

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

-when he found out you were pregnant, he was NOT surprised. I mean can you blame him….I think we all know why he was not surprised. 

As you lay there, sick from nausea, you thought about how you would tell him. The king never really mentioned wanting a family, he didn’t really strike you as a family guy. Nevertheless, here you were, lying in a fetal position, clutching your stomach in a fruitless attempt to soothe the nausea. Soon enough, you heard the familiar sounds of cats meowing, and boots sticking to the floor. Thomas waltzed in, arms outstretched in a ‘honey I'm home’ fashion, that iconic smirk plastered on his feline features. His eyes scanned your body; Taking in your fetal position, it had become quite familiar to him; You not feeling good. You have been like this for a week already. Waking up and puking what you had eaten the night prior, a headache very prominent.  He had just assumed that this was a normal, human thing; Getting sick. He never got sick. “Still sick, love?” The king whispered, running his fingers across your forehead, then dragging a few stray hairs from your face. You nodded meekly, knowing that sooner or later you would have to tell him the one hundred percent absolute truth. Uncertainty scared you a lot more than you had previously thought, but now you were staring down the metaphorical barrel of a gun. All this thinking was enough to make you puke, the familiar acidity of bile bubbles in the back of your throat, threatening to spill out past your gritted teeth. You shot up, running to the bathroom, splurging all the contents of your stomach into the toilet. You stayed like that for a few minutes, your arms shaking trying to hold your weight over the bowl, still heaving yet there was nothing left in your body. Sweat dripped from your forehead and mouth to the rim, it dribbled down your neck. You felt in all sense of the word; ugly. Fingers gently pulled your hair back and away from your face, startling you from the black hole of self-depreciation. A cold wet towel was placed on your sweaty neck, the rough texture caressing your now goosebumped skin. “Thomas” you whispered, before you even thought about it, his name tumbled out of your quivering lips. He would find out eventually, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t hide from it much longer. “Yes? Darling” that voice, saturated in pure adoration, flowed through your ears and your trembling heart. Would it be best for him to find out like this? All the videos you had seen online were hardly, this unprepared. The woman had made a basket or a gift for her husband, or some silly prank with a happy ending. This was nothing like that, it was unexpected, and there was so much to be afraid of. “I’m pregnant” and there it was. The truth, unadulterated truth. Straight from your mouth, surely caught by his undivided attention. A chuckle slipped out past his lips. What? He’s laughing? You couldn’t find the joke in any of this. He was supposed to get angry and yell at you for being so stupid and careless. A hand lifted your head by your chin, weary eyes meeting bright yellow ones. He brought the wet towel; now folded, up to your lips and gently wiped away the residual bile. It was so gentle you could barely feel it. “Figures” was all he said, that smirk never leaving his face. 

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

I personally have been craving a paternal Cat King.

"mwah mwah mwah" - Tobias Forge

[river13245]

Do you do multiple Fandom requests? Like more than one Fandom in one post? If not these can be separate or not done at all.

If you're interested, I would wanna see the orange peel theory with, Thor [marvel], Argyle [stranger things], Raj [big bang theory], and Fred [Scooby doo]. Or just general little quirks and cute things they do in relationships. I would like a headcanon format and the gender of the reader is up to you! <3

Orange Peel Theory

how would they act if you asked them to peel your orange for you.

Thor

he wouldn't even question why you were asking him.

he could be in the middle of a conversation and he would just grab the orange and peel it for you.

Knowing thor he would probably struggle to get it going at first because he doesn't want to break the orange in half.

But when he gets it going he does it so gently.

He would hand it back to you and when you place your hand on his arm and thank him. He would act as if it wasn't that big of a deal and say your welcome.

He would not know about the orange peel theory. Honestly just thinking you needed his help.

Argyle

Argyle would be in his living room on the couch. He would be smoking and getting high.

He would probably be talking to Jonathan when you enter and sitting next to him.

You would politely wait until he was finished with what he was saying before holding the orange in front of him.

he would be confused as to why your handing him an orange and take it anyways.

"thanks" he says in a questioning tone. You shake your head and tell him that you need his help peeling it.

He nods and he pushes his thumb into the middle of it and begins to peel it. He had slightly longer fingernails than you did so he did it quite easily.

Once he was finished he took one slice of an orange and ate it.

Then handed you the rest and when you gave him a look he laughs and shrugs. "hey im hungry too"

You ended up sharing the orange with him anyways.

Raj

you wouldn't even have to ask Raj to help you.

He would look at you and notice you struggling and would offer to help.

Doesn't matter if he was with his friends or not. He would offer to help.

If sheldon or someone asked why you needed help. He would stick up for you.

Sheldon would understand if you didn't like how sticky oranges were. Because he himself has problems with textures and things like that.

Raj would peel the orange then hand it back to you. Then throw away the peel.

He would even come back with a napkin for you.

Raj would know about the orange peel theory.

however he wouldn't say anything just wanting you to never really have to ask him for anything.

if he had it his way. he would do everything for you and with you.

for his help you would kiss his cheek and he would be very flustered

Fred

Fred would definitely be oblivious to you needing help.

he would be preoccupied with setting traps.

it would take you a few times of saying his name so you would have to go and tap on him.

he would be patient with you and when you ask him for help he would.

fred would struggle for a second before getting it.

Once it was peeled he would hand you the orange

then when you would place a kiss to his cheek he would blush.

he would go back to his trap and whatever he was working on.

But the whole day he would be in a happier mood.

he wouldn't miss the change to help you.

only if you asked though.

he wouldn't want to be over bearing and make you feel like you couldn't do anything.

so he would wait until you asked for help.

[psalacanthea]

Gluten free apple crisp

here u go I made this. :) u should make it too (u can sub gluten flour for gluten free flour and then it's just um...regular-ass apple crisp I guess)

This recipe is for a 13x9 (rectangular) pan. Halve it for a 9x9 or 8x8.

8-6 apples depending on size (I used honeycrisp cuz a bag of them got dropped and were all bruisey, but granny smith are good too)

1 lemon

Brown Sugar

White Sugar

Cinnamon

1 stick butter

GF Oats

GF Flour blend (skippable but changes texture)

Salt

1/2 cup crumbled pecans (optional)

nutmeg, cloves, other warming spices (optional)

Peel and chunk your apples. No, not slice, chunks. Small pieces, like inch to 1/2 inch cubes? But they don't have to be perfect; if they're too big you just have to cook them longer

If you like slices you can make them into slices but that is the INFERIOR way to make apple crisp.

Mix apples in a big bowl with 1/2 a squeezed lemon

1/3 cup brown sugar and 1/3 cup white sugar added to the apples

1 tbsp cinnamon added to apples

1/2 tsp salt

Mix, taste. Add more sugar if you like, or more cinnamon.

Add other spices as you like (nutmeg and cloves don't need much, maybe a 1/2 tsp? I added a few shakes of nutmeg and a tiny bit of pumpkin pie spice to mine)

Add 3 tbsp gluten free flour to apple mixture, mix until homogenous and then pour into a 13x9 pan. (i taste before adding gf flour because it tastes gross before cooking)

Flatten apples.

In the same big bowl, because we don't make more dishes than we have to, add 1 cup oats, 1 cup brown sugar, a pinch of salt, 1 tsp cinnamon, and 6 tbsp gluten free flour.

Add ur nuts if you want them (you should it's tasty)

Combine that however. Whisk works fine, or fork. Then take 6 of your 8 tablespoons of butter from the stick. If it's cold, chop it into fine pieces and then rub it into the oat-sugar topping until no hunks of butter remain.

BUT I find a much easier way is to use SOFTENED butter, incorporate the topping all together thoroughly, and then put it in the fridge until the butter solidifies and you can break it up into crumbly bits.

As we're using gluten free flour, the mixture will not develop gluten, and thus cannot be overworked. So, using softened butter is much easier!

Once your topping is ready, crumble it over top of the apples in the pan.

Use your last 2 tbsp of butter, cut up into small pieces and sprinkle over the top.

Bake at 350 for like 40 minutes or until the apples are as done as you like and the filling has thickened and is bubbly. If the top gets too brown too fast just slap tinfoil over it.

eat crimsp

[manicpixiefelix]

These specific gifs of Louis Garrel in The Dreamers makes me think of Felix Catton and his oral fixation 🚬

also just makes me think of an OC in the Head Heart Hand 'verse who's a French friend of the L/N Siblings. By which I mean, they're friends with benefits and they still have that chemistry which makes Fi jealous.

Jamie had been working as the assistant to a renowned stylist when he'd first met the siblings, at least that's what you all tell Felix when he shows up at Oxford a week and a half before a gala event you and Oliver had been complaining about for a week already. Now his old boss simply works with your parents, and Jamie works with the two of you. Jamie is beautiful and well dressed and you and Oliver interact with him in a way that makes Felix feel a spike of jealousy whether he sees the casually affectionate way you all touch each other.

He's perfectly polite and incredibly warm to Felix, even affectionate at times - what beauty you've found, my loves, is the first thing he'd ever actually said when you introduced Felix to him - but occasionally his voice drops low and teasing as he says something to either you or Oliver that makes Felix wish he understood less French. Because he really didn't need to know just how unprofessional your relationship really was.

Christ some of the things he'd overheard were absolutely fucking filthy. Its also incredibly hot, yes, but that just makes him more conflicted.

"Is something wrong, lovely Felix?" Jamie's voice is quiet but vaguely distracted as he's taking Felix's measurements. Felix was going to be attending the gala with you and Oliver; it'd be the first of many, and Jamie was more than happy to pull together a look for him too at your request. He's got a cigarette poised between his lips, but Felix is looking at the roof, because if he looks at Jamie he's going to think about all he'd been overhearing in the past few days. You all think he doesn't understand, clearly.

"No problem," Felix lies and hopes it's convincing. Like he's not thinking about how the gentle hands sizing him up have pressed you up against the walls of countless dressing rooms, or been wrapped around Oliver so many times that he'd apparently lost count, "no problem whatsoever." If he bites any harder on the stem of the lollypop in his mouth he's pretty sure it's going to break.

Jamie hums non-committally, but Felix knows he doesn't believe him. Still, the next thing he asks is if Felix had any specific clothing textures that bothered him - like the darling siblings do, he clarified - and Felix thinks for a long moment. He doesn't think so, at least none he's adverse to, but -

"No no," Jamie cuts him off, "you will feel luxurious in my clothes," he assures, leaving no room for argument, like it's an order, "you will trust me. But you're saying there's nothing I could put you in that would make you want to rip it off your skin immediately because it would feel bad?" Felix shakes his head, mouth pressed to a thin line. Jamie fixes him with a coy smile, petting his cheek, "you make me feel lucky, lovely Felix; you make a beautiful muse." The genuine compliments make him feel worse for the blatant jealousy.

So maybe Felix makes a point of sticking close to you and Oliver more than was strictly necessary, at the pubs each night and the club when you all finally head to London on the weekend of the event.

"Jealous boy, look at him," he hears Jamie mumble in French as you've all occupied a roomy bathroom stall to do a few lines of coke. Felix's got you in his lap, lips against your shoulder while Jamie's leaning against the wall with that beautiful fucking smirk. You and Oliver both giggle, and you turn and press a kiss to Felix's temple while your brother takes the mirror and rolled up bill from your hands.

"You're making him jealous on purpose," you respond in kind. Jamie's gaze on you is close enough to leering that Felix can't help but start pressing soft kisses along your shoulder and neck.

"Can either of you blame me?" But Jamie still looks away, grin widening as you turn properly to meet Felix in a messy, passionate kiss, "obsessive little lovers you both are, always have been," he accepts the mirror from a grinning Oliver when it's offered, "maybe I should be jealous of lovely Felix."

"Maybe you should be," Felix breaks the kiss, turning to Jamie with a challenging look in his eyes as you mutter a flustered 'ohmygod' and Oliver gives an embarrassed giggle. All three of you come to realise that Felix has been fully aware of everything you've been saying since Jamie had arrived.

Jamie himself just smiles wider, meeting Felix's challenging gaze almost like he's proud.

(also Jamie falls for Farleigh pretty much the minute he sees him btw. Like Oliver fell for Felix in the film, Jamie sees Farleigh and is immediately enraptured. He asks him if he's done any modelling as the first thing he says after his name (and is delighted when Farleigh admits that he has, back in the states). Farleigh is at first bewildered by the attention - he's pretty and self aware but this is the kind of attention Felix usually got, it feels strange receiving it, rather than observing it - but quickly finds himself enjoying the attention. But also there's something very beautiful about Farleigh and Jamie together, they probably have a little fanclub of their own. They buy each other drinks at the pub like it's a competition half the time, but they end up side by side on the leather booth by the table, definitely too close (in much the same way that you, Felix, and Oliver often were, even surrounded by the rest of your friend group) tipsy and flirting in French while half their friends just kind of admire them.)

[najia-cooks]

うどん / Udon (thick Japanese noodles)

Udon are thick, chewy Japanese noodles. They have a place in 和食 (washoku; "Japanese food" or "harmonious food")—'traditional' Japanese cuisine that predates the increased opening of Japan to foreign trade and influence in the Meiji period. Conventionally, udon are eaten hot or cold in soups and with dipping sauces. Yaki udon and curry udon are udon dishes more associated with 洋食 (yoshoku: "Western food").

In some places, udon may be purchased dried, fresh, or frozen, but in others they may be unavailable. This recipe lets you make delicious fresh udon—with much better, chewier texture than dried or frozen—no matter where you are, with just flour, salt, and water.

Recipe under the cut!

Patreon | Tip jar

Makes 2 servings.

Ingredients:

1 2/3 cup (200g) all-purpose four

1/3 cup + 1 Tbsp (90g) lukewarm water

10g kosher or flake salt (about 2 tsp David’s kosher salt—volume may vary by brand—or 1 tsp table salt)

Potato starch or cornstarch (for dusting)

Instructions:

To make:

1. Add flour to a large mixing bowl. If measuring by volume, measure flour by spooning it gently into a dry cup measure and levelling off the excess.

2. Dissolve salt into water to create a brine.

3. Slowly add brine to flour while mixing to distribute evenly. Mix and press dough until it just comes together into a ball with no dry flour remaining; it’s okay if the ball has cracks in it or seems “shaggy.”

If dry flour remains, wet your fingers and continue pressing. Be careful not to add too much water; the dough should feel too tough to knead by hand. Cover and allow to rest for 30 minutes.

4. Knead the dough by hand for about 200 turns, until smooth and pliable ("as soft as an earlobe").

Another common Japanese method which will spare your hands is to place the dough in a large resealable plastic bag, leaving a little bit of air. Step on the dough with your heels (starting from the center and working your way out) until it is flat. You can also place it between two pieces of parchment paper and place kitchen towels below and on top of it before stepping on it, if you don’t have a large enough bag.

Remove the dough from the bag and fold the edges in towards the center, like an envelope; then fold the corners into the center to form a ball, and place it seam-side-down back inside the bag. Repeat this (stepping on the dough, folding it and gathering it into a ball, and placing it back in the bag) four more times, or until the dough is smooth and pliable.

5. Allow the dough to rest, covered (or sealed in the bag), for 1 1/2 to 3 hours (closer to 1 1/2 hours if your kitchen is warm; closer to 3 hours if it is cold).

6. On a working surface lightly dusted with starch, flatten the dough into a disc with your hand, then roll it out with a rolling pin into a rectangle about 1/8" (3mm) thick and 12" (32cm) long. You can do this by rolling it out in one direction, then flipping the dough 90 degrees and rolling again. Then, wrap the dough around the rolling pin as you roll diagonally from corner to corner, first in one direction and then the other, to even out the thickness of the dough and shape the corners of the rectangle.

7. Dust the surface of the dough with more starch and fold it in thirds lengthwise (so that the folds are parallel to the 12" long edge).

8. Using a sharp knife, cut the dough widthwise (perpendicular to the fold lines) to create noodles about 1/8" (3mm) in width. Cut straight down, rather than moving the knife back and forth in a sawing motion, which would tear the edges of the noodles.

9. Pick up and "plop" the cut noodles down using your fingers while adding a bit more starch to ensure that the noodles don't stick to each other.

To cook:

1. Bring a large pot of unsalted water to a rolling boil. Shake excess starch off of the noodles and add them to the pot.

2. Cook, stirring occasionally with chopsticks or a pasta spoon, until the noodles no longer taste raw, 10-13 minutes.

3. Drain and rinse with cold water to halt cooking and rinse off excess starch.

To use the noodles in hot soup, dip the noodles into a pot of hot water to bring up their temperature; portion them into individual serving bowls and pour your broth over them.

To store unused noodles, place individual portions into ziplock bags or tupperware containers lined with parchment paper; freeze for up to a month. Boil noodles directly from frozen for 12-15 minutes.

[bearpillowmonster]

Epic Mickey: Rebrushed

I'm an Epic Mickey stan, I would've bought this whether I played it or not, just to support it because I've always wanted more. (mainly, for Oswald!) But so much was planned for this franchise, including a movie and an Epic Donald spinoff.

CHANGES

Looking at this is night and day especially for a dark setting. The graphics weren't bad on the Wii, they were just, well, on the Wii. (which ran at max 720p) And while that's still feasible, it's so nice to see everything smoothed out and relit. They didn't have to go as far as messing with the actual fidelity of it or the custscenes but they make it known what a movie it would've been and we lost boys.

The addition of sprinting, dashing and butt stomping is really what this game needed because the first Epic Mickey was a Wii exclusive and I loved playing it when I first got into it but I found it had faded since then. I came back maybe a year or two ago to try and play it again and I just couldn't bring myself to. I like platforming and the platforming in this game sucked, it wouldn't control right, I felt like I was jumping in a straight line, like barely any momentum. It wasn't quite there for something you do a lot of. And if you fall in the thinner, there's very seldom a platform to catch you so dying sets you back and then you had to walk back so sprinting is just a complete clutch.

You also had aiming to deal with as far as the Wii remote- This review is for the Switch version, yeah, I knew that it would run a little worse than the other consoles but now I have the experience to talk about specifics and I wanted to play it on the go. The darkness I mentioned can be adjusted, not just in brightness but in color and style for color deficiency. You cannot shake the joycon to spin.

There is a choice to use motion controls when you're spraying but that's the only time it comes up, you already have to have the button pressed down and even then you can just use the analog stick, it's really good either way, no complaints. You can also set it if you're standing still and press the down arrow. The framerate…could dip and there was a time or two where it'd get stuck, the load times can be long (but you don't see a loading screen often) it's just weird to me that the game is a remaster of a game from 2010 and actually has the biggest file size on my Switch and even with all that size, has longer loading screens than comparable titles like Super Mario Odyssey.

And this is especially important for this game because you sometimes have to traverse back and forth between Ostown and Mean Street and whatever to get the side quests done (and sometimes main) and every time you have to speedrun the same pathway level (projector) to get there and each time you jump in or out is a loading screen. Seeing as this is labelled as a remake and not just a remaster, they very well could've made a fast travel. There were some instances like that where the sequel had the feature that I wanted and was hoping that it'd be updated in here like so many remaksters are doing now, Last of Us and Horizon for example.

The one thing that did carry over is that you've probably seen the different skins that you get with either preorder or purchase, there are a few unlockable ones as well. They fit well with the 2.5D levels (Brave Little Tailor for 30s cartoons, Steamboat for 20s). There is a photo mode, it's not as customized in the 2D levels but I definitely had fun with it if you can't tell.

It's the same game but it's not one-to-one, for example, the locations of the power boxes are different in Os-Town, scenes like this look different.

Which is a downgrade in my eyes but some of them are very neutral, like the health bar

…that's a choice, I guess, there was no real need to change it. It definitely makes things more textured and seem a little less rough, look at this platform where you find Pete Pan.

Sometimes more detailed and lush, but sometimes it takes from the scene. Little stuff like goo dripping from the ceiling removed, sometimes it's the overall colors and vibes of a level to either lighten or darken. I can't say whether I like one or the other totally more.

THE GAME

Let's talk about the meat because it's 60$ so I'm going to treat it like it as if it was a brand new game, plus I never reviewed the original and I don't talk about it enough so here we go. I'll cover thinner mode in some other post, this is more or less hero mode.

It's a reasonable amount of hours and honestly time as been gracious to it, whether it be the growing cult status or the fact that it's on other consoles other than the Wii because while the combat still leaves a little to be desired, the gameplay overall is a lot more refined in my eyes.

There are times where your paint can't reach an item, it's not a bad limitation but still in sight, it tells you what's reachable by turning green. But this is especially precise and annoying for the ending with the bloticles. I don't get what it is with games and popping bubbles.

Oswald is in this a lot less than I remember, I always thought of him as making mischief for a level but he kind of shows up just to show you your end goal. Towards the second half he appears a lot more though. It's kind of cool how it's all a Alice Through The Looking Glass type thing and Oswald is the White Rabbit. And all things forgotten, Atlantis, Tron…no Black Cauldron (which fits perfectly) and no Treasure Planet though everything that is popular is all mechanical, an artificial imitation and the way Smee is colored makes it look like the concept art, all inverted from the way we know and it's just-

I really like the idea of having different endings correlating to how you played. When I first played this, I tried to hundred percent it first round and paint absolutely every nook and collect every item and to be honest, I found myself doing a lot of the same stuff I did when I started, it's funny, I have the same thought processes but I've come to the conclusion that if I waste my time on just one collectible, it won't be as fun and I won't want to play it anymore and it's been this long so let me finish it. But there are obvious rewards for either path, one of the first I could tell was having a gremlin in a catapult and a chest on the switch. Remove the chest and it launches the gremlin, remove the gremlin and it locks the chest. There are times you can just thinner brush most things and it'll show a negative outlook on the world itself. You can either clean up your mess with paint or take out the trash and destroy it like it never happened.

There are a lot of things to collect and I had fun just looking in every corner though I found that they seem kind of half-and-half, some going by the wayside like the pins and some being cool like the concept art.

[cambriancrew]

I'd like to briefly talk about a kind of dysphoria rarely talked about outside of eating disorder circles. So content warning, food and diet and weight discussion ahead.

We grew up very unhealthy skinny due to abuse and neglect and food related trauma. Because of that, our internal view of ourselves was as this tiny little girl. We were anorexic - not nervosa, just VERY minimal appetite - and a picky eater with texture and taste sensitivities due to autism and, again, trauma. We have and have long had really bad emetophobia due, yet again, to trauma. We had body image issues related to people we knew who were at a healthy weight being jealous of how skinny we were, which made us feel guilty and even worse about food.

Then as an adult we started working in healthcare as a nurse's aide and med tech, which are very physically demanding jobs and everywhere we worked was horribly understaffed so we rarely had time to sit and most often did not get breaks. We joked a lot about having a nurse's bladder because when you're chronically too busy to pee you get to where you can wait forever to go. There for awhile we were consistently walking 20,000 - 30,000 steps a day - more like 40,000 if we were forced to work a double shift (16 hours). And rarely eating a full lunch/dinner/both because of time constraints and being in too much pain and too tired to eat.

As a result, we remained underweight by a lot. We were doing our best just to maintain our weight at 90-95 pounds - drinking protein shakes and meal replacement shakes and snacking as much as we could.

We viewed ourselves, internally, as being this stick thin, no curves girl, even though despite all that we did have curves.

Then we left the healthcare field for a sedentary job, got put on an antidepressant that actually gave us an appetite for the first time in forever, and worked through a lot of our trauma.

And over two years we doubled in weight. At first as we gained we were really glad to finally hit the triple digits. Then it became a concern, as we can't push ourselves to walk as much as we used to when working healthcare. We just can't do it anymore without severe pain. Heck, we couldn't do it then without severe pain, but we pushed through because we needed money.

We don't recognize ourselves in the mirror anymore. We want to lose weight, but working out is difficult, and having to actually watch what we eat for the first time in our life has been a difficult adjustment.

It's not just the mirror. We can't move the way we used to. Sitting cross-legged when you're fat is harder than when you're thin. Crossing our arms or holding one hand in the other physically reminds us that we have an actual chest now, which is especially hard on Varyn as that creates gender dysphoria for him.

And it just feels weird trying to adjust our mental picture of what we look like now against what we looked like the rest of our life. It feels wrong to look at ourselves and see us so much bigger than we used to. Old clothes don't fit. And we can't wear long sleeves as much as we used to because now we overheat so easily now (partly due to weight and partly due to medications) when we used to be cold all the time.

We don't wanna go back to being unhealthy skinny. But we don't want to be the weight we are now. And while we've been able to lose some, it's slow going and difficult.

I feel like, due to some of our health issues, we probably need to see a physical therapist and a personal trainer in order to figure out how much we can safely exercise, but who can afford that in this economy?

So for now, we're stuck with a body that clashes badly with our internal view of what we should look like and feel like and be able to do. And that's a kind of dysphoria that we feel needs to be talked about and recognized more outside of eating disorder circles. Cuz it sucks. But we know we're not alone in this.