#no but i also want to eat something halfway healthy....

[ghostcrows]

The question of dinner reared it's ugly delicious head another evening

[woso-dreamzzz]

Allergies III

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Lena Oberdorf x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Obi chooses your food

The first round of preseason right before a round of Euros qualifiers is a little bit annoying for your parents but to you, it doesn't matter much.

You're happy to just be around the team after the short break with your family.

It's not that you don't get along with your cousins but you've always felt a little anxious around kids your age, no matter if you're actually related to them or not.

You feel much more settled at training with a bunch of footballs to keep you occupied.

The girls are nice too.

Obi has joined from Wolfsburg and you really like Obi because she does fun things like swing you around and run around with you on her shoulders.

Momma says that's dangerous.

You think she's silly but Momma's in charge of you so you make Obi stop doing it where Momma can see.

"Princesse!" Magda calls over from her lunch table," Have you got what you wanted?"

"In a minute!" You yell back as Obi makes your plate for you.

You're letting Obi choose your meal today like she did a few time when you were at Wolfsburg together. Obi always chooses really good food like the mac and cheese a few days ago and the creamy chicken you liked so much that Magda had to go and get the recipe off the chefs because it was all you wanted to eat when you got home.

So, all in all, you trust Obi's choices even when she puts yucky salad on your plate because Momma and Morsa say you have to have something healthy.

Obi gets to the end of the line and hands you your plate before looping back around to grab her own food.

You walk carefully to the table Momma, Morsa and Georgia are already sitting at.

Georgia takes your plate as Magda lifts you up into your seat, tucking you in before you're allowed to start gobbling up your lunch.

Obi's chosen very well again as you eat your pasta and pancetta. You really like pasta. You think it's your favourite food even though Momma and Morsa have made sure that you like lots of other food too.

Pernille taps your plate. "Eat some salad too."

You huff.

A love of salad is not something that they've managed to instil in you. You're not a big fruit eater, having favoured vegetables since you were a lot younger but the idea of salad has always been boring and you'll always avoid it if you can.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes," Pernille replies," It'll make you big and strong."

You wrinkle your nose in annoyance as your spear a weird green cube on your fork. It's kind of soft but kind of not. Your fork goes straight through it and you sniff cautiously.

It doesn't smell bad, per say, but you still don't really want to eat it.

You do anyway because Momma is right but it doesn't mean you'll enjoy it.

And you really don't enjoy it.

The weird green cubes you eat make your mouth all itchy and your throat goes all tight again.

You scrunch up your face and put down your fork just as Obi joins the table.

"What's with the face?" She laughs, making everyone turn to look at you," Does the avocado taste weird?"

Magda and Pernille both freeze, food halfway to their mouths as Georgia cocks her head to the side in confusion.

"You're looking kind of red there, y/n. Do you need-"

You never quite hear what Georgia was going to ask as your throat closes up just as Pernille hauls you out of your seat.

Magda tears open the backpack on the back of her seat to grab an epipen, slamming it into your leg suddenly.

You yelp at the sudden pain blooming in your thigh but your throat and mouth feel less itchy and scratchy

"What the fuck?!" Georgia swears, feeling a little queasy as Magda pulls the needle out of your leg. She has to force herself to turn away until Magda puts it down.

Obi is also speechless, mouth opening and closing but no words are able to come out.

A crowd has formed now, after all the commotion and Pernille clutches you to her as the medics check you over.

You epipen works quickly and this reaction was nowhere near as severe as your first.

In fact, Magda reacted so quickly that your face didn't even have the chance to break out in hives fully so your recovery is already happening before you've even realised that you were having an allergic reaction.

"We'll pop an icepack on this," One of the medics say, hand lightly grazing the large bruise developing over your injection site.

"I feel sick," Georgia mutters nearby, having to turn away again when the she catches sight of the mere size of the bruise.

"She's okay?" Pernille checks, still clinging to you and furiously wiping away the few tears that have dripped down her cheeks.

"Keep the icepack on, let her get lots of rest and she'll be right as rain," The medic confirms.

Magda sits slumped on her chair, turning to Obi.

"She's allergic to avocado."

"I didn't know."

"I know. We should have told you. Kiwi and banana too."

"And latex," Pernille cuts in," But only kind of."

The adults are all fussing over you, Pernille especially.

You're still sitting on the floor together with a big icepack on your leg and her arms wrapped tight around you like she's scared to let go.

"Momma?"

"Yes?"

"Can I have my pasta back please?"

[miltonbarbie]

hiiiiiii can you please do Kokichi, Kaede, and Shuichi (separate) with a fem!s/o who needs help feeding themselves? Like at home one of their older siblings or parents has to help them bring the spoon to their mouth and/or spoon feed em because they're so nervous about eating? I have OCD type ARFID and I'm always really scared of eating to the point I need help feeding myself and comfort from my favorite characters might help 😭 im so sorry if this makes you uncomfy

No its alright! I dont mind at all <3

Kokichi, Kaede and Shuichi spoonfeeding their s/o (fem!y/n)

Kokichi

He'd think about it for a moment, pretending as if he's against the idea but it's just to tease you, he'd feed you every day if he was asked to.

He loves being able to feed you because not only is he being helpful, but he feels good about himself knowing he can take care of your needs.

Definitely starts giggling every time you open your mouth to take a bite.

Like I'm not even joking, sometimes he'll drop it before he can even feed you because he's kicking his legs too much.

You'll raise a brow at him because he's starting to twirl his hair, and now he even insists on calling himself your wife.

"Kokichi wtf are you doing?" "Shhh.. Let wifey take care of you... Blinks eyelashes aggressively"

But the first time when you asked him to, it wasn't that he was uncomfortable, but you could've sworn he started to sweat and his hand was shaking the whole time.

When you ask him if he's okay, he'll "Nishishi~ Don't worry about it!" it's off but he's trying to make sure that he doesn't hit your face with the spoon or something.

Also he does a taste test before he feeds you. Just to make sure that it's not poisoned, yk? Totally not because he wants to see if the food is yummy.

Imagine if you look inside your bowl because for some suspicious reason, the spoonful's aren't even full. They're just tiny portions. And the bowl is like, 80% empty because your stupid boyfriend ate everything.

It's a disaster, but it's out of love.

Shuichi

REALLLLLLYYY shy about it.

He wants to so badly but it's like he can never get used to it. Not when you look so cute whenever you let out a little "aah" before taking a bite.

He'll short-circuit halfway through putting the spoon in your mouth.

Apologizes for EVERYTHING.

If even a bit of food was on your lip, he's gonna give you a thousand apologies, and he's not gonna stop until you tell him to politely shut up 😭

"IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN T-" "Shuichi.. It's okay.. You can stop now.."

He's a clever boy, when you asked him to feed you because you needed help, first thought was just to do what you asked for because it was probably for something important.

He's not the best at it, but much better than Kokichi. At least he doesn't eat your food..

Insists on giving you seconds because he wants to make sure your satisfied and healthy.

If you're eating or munching on something unhealthy like ice cream, he'll probably sneak a few bites though. Not because he wants to actually eat your stuff, but he just doesn't want you getting diabetes or smth LMAO

Anxious little baby, and it's obvious too

Kaede

Hands down literally the best most caring sweetest girlfriend ever it's baffling.

Even if you don't ask to, she's still gonna feed you because she loves showing that she cares.

She's smiling the whole time and it makes your face get all hot every. single. time.

Starts humming in the middle of it

When you're finished, she washes all the dishes, and plays some piano for you afterward.

It gives you baby fever because she has that motherly kind of care to it.

When you asked her the first time, her face lit up like a Christmas tree and she didn't even ask any questions about it either.

"Hey Darling? Could y-" "Of course cutiee!~"

She makes sweet little comments while you're taking bites like "Awh your eyes are so pretty!" or "Have I ever told you how perfect you are?"

She always blows on the food before giving it to you so you don't burn your mouth.

If you're eating soup or having something messy, she'll tie your hair up first so nothing gets in the way of you enjoying your meal.

She's such a romantic it makes me wanna melt.

[its-time-to-write]

Omg I'm loving your response to my prompts!! thank you

I have a few ideas (You don't have to do them all) just throwing them out there to see what sparks ideas!!

I love secret admirer stories (I know its no where close to valentines day but still) maybe Reader is Rebecca's assistant and keeps getting gifts leading up to valentines day but she is pretty sure its like Sam or Isaac and tells friend Jaime (even though its really him) then the day of the grand finale and she comes to the lovely surprise of it being Jaime!

also if you could include Scarlett red roses in it for me (They are my favorite flower and the only flower I'm not allergic to)

So. I liked this one. Maybe too much? It might be the longest one I’ve written so far, so, uh, sorry about that. But I liked it a lot. It might be one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. Hope you enjoy. also the gif isn’t Jamie Tartt but it is Phil Dunster so hopefully that’s ok

honey, i’ll give you all my time

Good god, it’s February all ready. You have a love-hate relationship with the month; love, because Galentine’s Day and hate because Valentine’s Day. You and your friends would go out on February 15th to get discount chocolate from the shops, then return home for an ungodly amount of takeout and a movie. On the whole, you all preferred action movies with a good romance. 

You’re dreading Valentine’s Day because it’s when your boyfriend of two years held your hands in his, and told you he wanted to break up. 

That was a year ago. You’re mostly angry that he’s a dark stain on one of your favorite holidays. You’re absolutely determined not to let him ruin your enjoyment. 

This is also the first year you’re not with your friends. You moved away last March because you realized your ex had been holding you back in far too many ways. 

So. To recap. 

You’re alone. You love Valentine’s Day, despite it forever being the day of your breakup. Your friends aren’t here. You have new friends. There is no one to go to the shops with on the 15th. But discount chocolate is still discount chocolate. 

Your current job is as a personal assistant, something you excel at. You basically anticipate needs, meet them, and just generally make your employer’s life a whole lot easier. The application said the job required a lot of travel, but all expenses (minus some food) were covered. 

You were shocked when you got an interview, then a second, then a third, then were hired. 

Your boss is a woman named Rebecca Welton, and you’re half in love with her, but who isn’t, really?

You swear you’ve never been in such a healthy work environment. You mention it one day, early on, and she says it’s all thanks to their head coach, someone named Ted. 

You meet him for the first time later that day, and you understand. 

It’s impossible not to love him, because he has vision. He knows what he wants from his team, and he knows how to get it. 

He believes the team extends far beyond the players. 

He believes it extends to you, too. 

Ted and Coach Beard steal you from Rebecca as often as they can, claiming emergencies such as “a toxic amount of testosterone from all these boys,” “life-threatening boredom,” and last but not least, “there’s a new pun Ted absolutely needs to test right now and he won’t take no for an answer.”

(You like to give Ted honest feedback on his puns.) 

You also find yourself in their office when Rebecca is out for lunch, eating your respective sandwiches and swapping life stories. 

They remind you a lot of your parents.

It’s mid-June when you mention the Valentine’s Day story. 

It doesn’t hurt as much when it’s punctuated by Ted’s “he didn’ts” and Beard’s perfectly-timed gasps. 

You find yourself laughing halfway through, unable to stop. 

“And anyway,” you finish, cheeks painful from smiling so hard, “that’s why romantic love is a joke and I am drowning myself in platonic love forever.”

Ted and Beard share a look. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Beard says. 

You shoot him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“Well sweetheart,” Ted says, “between the two of us collectively,” here points between him and Beard, “we know of at least three of the boys on the team who are madly in love with you.”

“What?” you gasp, “How did you- where did you- who??”

Ted zips his lips and Beard tips a finger to him. “We know of five if we count Rebecca’s intel.”

You’re sitting cross-legged on the edge of Beard’s desk, in shock. “Rebecca knows about this??”

Ted and Beard shrug in unison. “We all have our opinions on which one should shoot their shot, but that’s neither here nor there,” Ted says. 

“Coincidentally, it’s the one thing we unanimously agree on,” Beard nods. 

You’re cut off from saying anything by the door opening. One of the players stands in the doorway. 

“Excuse me, coach,” he says, accent thick. 

Ted motions in a you have the floor type of way, and the footballer turns to address you of all people. “We’re all goin’ out tonight, and Keeley sent me to invite the new girl. None of the lads have really met you yet, just seen you ‘round. Thought it might be good for team bonding, or something. I’m Jamie, by the way.”

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. “I guess- yeah, I guess I haven’t really met them. I mean, I see you guys around and stuff and I’m at your games, but I don’t really know you. Are you sure you want me to come?”

Jamie shrugs. “Coach is always on us about bein’ a team or some shit. And, havin’ a girl around makes the lads look good.”

You think that makes sense, and then find yourself agreeing to go out that night with a group of footballers you don’t know, and (thank god) Keeley Jones. 

You’re going to figure out which five before the summer’s over. 

—

You have nice time out with the lads. They go to a bar and cram into separate booths. You’re wedged in between two who have introduced themselves as Isaac and Dani, and across from Sam, Bumbercatch, and Jan Maas. Roy, Richard, and a few others you don’t know are milling about, and you see Jamie and Keeley at a table, surrounding by giggling girls. The sight is so absurd that you catch yourself smiling and turning back to whatever conspiracy Bumbercatch is telling you about now. 

—

You put Sam at the top of your list as soon as you get home. The man wears his heart on his sleeve, or maybe in his eyes, but you’re positive that he’s one of the five Ted and Beard referred to. One down, four to go. 

— 

It’s the end of July, and you begin to become friends with the team. You know for an absolute fact who is not interested in you, Jamie being one of them. Coincidentally, he’s the one you become closest to. You think it’s because you’re not worrying about sending mixed signals or leading him on. You dropped public hints about not really looking for anything romantic, just to be sure you wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

As it is, Jan Maas and Dani have made the list. Jan Maas, because he stifled his Dutch bluntness for you and Dani, because he openly declared he was madly in love with you in front of the whole team. 

—

Isaac makes the list in December. It had been in between him and Bumbercatch, but Isaac was the one who walked you to your car every night and the first one to say hello to you every morning. 

You’re not gonna lie, it was cute. 

You shared some of this with Ted and Beard, who remained impressively stone-faced. Rebecca proved to be equally impervious.

You shared all of it with your lunch-buddy-turned-work-bestie, Jamie. 

You ate with him because Rebecca was constantly in lunch meetings these days, and Ted, Beard, and Roy were always revamping their football strategies.

Jamie would plop down at your table and say, “What’s the news, Amy Hughes?” in his perfect Mancunian accent, and then listen/add commentary to whatever you had to say. 

You explained to him that the reason you wanted to know who liked you was so that you could be extra careful with their hearts. You knew what it was like to be led on, and you did NOT want to do that to someone else. 

Jamie nodded thoughtfully at that and then said, “We’re all footballers though, ain’t we? We get the shit end of the stick all the time, hearts broke by models and whatever. Even ends up in the fucking press. Everyone here’s has their heart broken before, and we all know you aren’t doing it on purpose.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “I’m pretty sure it’s short end of the stick, Jamie.”

And thus begins your lunch hour of bickering. 

—

No one has made a move on you yet, and you don’t have a read on number five. You still think it may be Bumbercatch, but in reality, it slips from your mind. Sam’s moved on, Jan Maas has accepted defeat, Dani swears he will love you until the day he dies, and Isaac stays, well, Isaac. Still sweet. Still walking you to your car, coming round extra early in the morning with a coffee or a water, depending on which “looked less like shit.”

Really though, you don’t think about it until February first, when you walk into your office to a small box on your desk. 

At first, you think it’s a box of Ted’s biscuits. 

Then, you notice a small, scarlet-red rose taped to the top. There’s no note, and all that’s inside is a tiny paper heart. 

It’s folded with extreme care, and you place it on your shelf, smelling the rose. It smells amazing and you make a mental note to figure out where the heck it came from. But for now, it’s time to work. 

—

You don’t mention the gifts until February third, because now there’s been one a day. Each one with a scarlet red rose, and a different gift. Yesterday was an incredibly expensive bar of chocolate (it was life-changing) and today is a tiny gold bracelet.

It’s a simple enough chain, but it is absolutely breathtaking. There is no mistaking the fact that it is not cheap, so you take it and march straight to Rebecca’s office.  

“Rebecca,” you say, hands outstretched, “look.”

She does, smiles, then says, “It appears you have a secret admirer.”

“But I don’t want that!” you cry. “I don’t even have time for that! I don’t even like anybody right now!”

She peers at you over her glasses. “Don’t you?”

The sheer weight of those words is enough to physically knock you back two steps. 

You don’t, you swear you don’t, you’re absolutely sure. 

What about Vienna? a voice in the very back of your head nags.

You reply, out loud, “We don’t talk about Vienna,” and Rebecca just shrugs. 

“Have it your way,” she replies in a tone that means this conversation is over, but you’re the one ending it.

You turn on your heel and find yourself taking the route to Ted and Beard. 

You burst into their office in such a flurry that the entire room turns to look at you. “Close the door,” you say with such urgency, that Trent hurries to comply. Beard even shuts the blinds. 

“What’s on your mind, Ollie Cline?” Ted asks. 

“Wait,” you say, holding up a hand. You point to Roy. “Do you want to be here? It involves feelings.”

“Fuck no,” says Roy, “thanks for being fucking considerate.” He follows it up with a pointed glare at Ted, then goes into his office and firmly shuts the door. 

“Can he be here?” Ted asks, tilting his head toward Trent. 

“I don’t care, he’s probably a good one to have around for this because look!” You present the three collected roses and the bracelet. 

“Someone’s started leaving me gifts, and I’m pretty sure it’s a Valentine’s thing because of the roses, and it was fine for the first two days but this is expensive, and I can’t accept this!”

Ted and Beard share a look. You hate it when they do that and leave you out. 

Ted sighs. “Listen, do you think this about Vienna?”

You fix him with a glare. “No. We are not talking about Vienna ever again.”

Trent pipes up, “What’s Vienna?” and you wheel around on him, taking your glare with you. 

“Vienna," you spit, like it’s poisonous, “is a terrible, awful place where people think terrible, awful things. I never want to talk about it again and I never will.”

Trent nods. “Noted.” 

You turn back to Ted and Beard, pleadingly. “What do I do? Tell me what to do.”

Beard gets up and puts his hand on your shoulder. “Kid, if you want my advice, take the damn roses and wear the damn bracelet. These boys make more money than they know how to spend, so just let it go. They all know how you feel about dating, so if someone’s shooting their shot, they know the stakes.”

You shake your head. “Fine. Fine. I’ll let it go.” 

—

You decide to tell Jamie on day five, because it’s a Friday and you’re dying to get his take. You tell him everything, show him the roses in your office (hanging upside down to dry), and then hand him the notebook that was in today’s box. 

“Jamie,” you say, “this is an expensive notebook. There was a typed note inside that said, ‘for your drawings.’ How did this person even know I like drawing? I never talk about it!”

Jamie looks at you and laughs a little. You’re very flustered for something most people would enjoy. “Dunno, love, but we’ve all seen the sticky notes you leave Coach. That might be it.”

You groan and flop down into your chair. 

“At least tomorrow’s the weekend,” you say.

—

Jamie’s phone dings at 9:00am on Saturday with a text from you that says, what the actual heck and a picture of a brown bag at your doorstep. Inside is a plastic box of your favorite lemon muffin from a local bakery. He emphasized the image, then waits for your response. 

It was still warm, you write. It was someone who knows where I live and knows what time I leave to get breakfast.

Jamie grins and sends you a shrugging emoji, and you respond with an eye roll and a you’re no fun.

Jamie reads that and privately disagrees. He thinks he’s lots of fun

—

You’re pretty sure it’s Isaac. After all, he’s the only likely candidate. He’s one of the few who knows where you live and knows your routine. Not in a creepy way, in a we’re-good-friends type of way. You bring this up to Jamie, after personally banning all talk of this with Ted, Beard, and Rebecca. Stupid Vienna. You should never have told them. 

Jamie shrugs for the millionth, infuriating time. He’s been noncommittal this whole time. You’re over here pouring out your heart and soul, considering whether you like Isaac romantically or not, and all he can say is, “I dunno?” 

This is not the Jamie Tartt you’ve become best friends with. 

That Jamie would be down to hunt this secret admirer with you. That Jamie would be helping you figure out if Isaac had a chance with you. That Jamie would be way more engaged than the one sitting in front of you right now. 

But, you suppose maybe that Jamie died in Vienna, so you stop bringing it up.

—

It’s day ten. Valentine’s Day is in four day, and you’re nervous. 

You’ve decided you don’t like Isaac like that, mainly because it shouldn’t take you that long to decide if you like anyone. There has to be an initial spark, and you shouldn’t try to manufacture it. 

Still, you’re not sure it is Isaac, so you’re not going to say anything about it. The scarlet red roses hang on your office wall, permeating the room with their scent. 

You feel like you’re dying. 

This is a cruel joke and you’re dying. 

The building is basically empty right now. Rebecca and Higgins have some meeting, the team is on the pitch (including Will) and various other staff are somewhere far away from you. So, you jump a little when Trent Crimm comes tripping into your office. 

“Vienna,” he says, no greeting. “If you didn’t want to talk about it, you wouldn’t have told anyone. I’m assuming you do want to talk about it, but you don’t want judgement from the people you love. I’m here to offer my services as a neutral party.”

You look at him. “Trent. You are a journalist. Your whole job is writing down people’s secrets. Why on earth would I talk to you about the worst day of my life?”

Trent shrugs. “I’m good at keeping secrets. This would be off the record. I’ve never lied to people about off the record, also. I consider it bad journalism.”

You consider this for a moment, then sigh. 

“Alright,” you concede. “At least if this gets out, I know whose head I’m shaving in retaliation.”

Trent looks at you in surprise, seeing you in a whole new, slightly threatening light.

“It happened two months ago. It was around Christmas, and I didn’t have anywhere to go…”

—

Your family all had their own separate plans that Christmas. Plans that didn’t really involve you. Same with your friends. You said something casually to Rebecca, and the next day she told you she had booked you a trip to Vienna. Call it an early Christmas present, she said. It was at the Aumaris Vienna, and it was gorgeous and ridiculously out of your budget, but she said you worked hard and gave her peace-of-mind, and you can’t really put a price on that, can you?

So you went. 

But here’s the thing. 

Someone else didn’t have Christmas plans. 

So when you brought up your trip at your daily lunch, said someone else casually asked, can I come? 

You almost choked on your sandwich. 

Because here’s the other thing.

You were, maybe, kind of, possibly just a little bit head over heels in love with this someone else.

You’re not sure when it happened, really, just that it was probably in August and that it was soul-crushing because you knew for an absolute fact that he did not, and never would, feel the same way. 

You didn’t tell anyone except Keeley, but under the condition that she just let you say it and that she never, ever give you a response to it. Just listen. 

She did, but you were pretty sure she almost combusted. 

But who are you to say no when Jamie Tartt invited himself on your luxurious Christmas vacation saying, I’ll pay extra to get a plane ticket next to you? 

You were doomed from the start. 

To make matters totally and impossibly worse, he couldn’t find another room. 

He had his tickets, but the hotels, he said, were packed. 

It was Christmas, after all. 

So that’s how you ended up in a luxury hotel with Jamie Tartt for a week and a half, one day of which was Christmas. 

You know the, “there was only one bed” trope that everyone thinks is so cute?

It was that, but only if you add deep, shattering heartbreak to it. 

Because every night, you had to listen to Jamie say, “goodnight, love,” and then get into that giant, soft bed as far away from him as you could manage. 

Every morning you woke up to the pillow barricade long gone, one of his arms thrown around you. Or one of your legs on top of his. Or a million different scenarios where you end up literally asleep together, some weird gravity pulling you to each other. 

You were falling so hard and so fast, that you felt like the air was knocked from your lungs when Jamie started talking about the girl he liked. 

“She’s just so fucking beautiful,” he’d say, staring at an Alpine mountain. Or, “Swear she’s the smartest fucking person I’ve ever met,” while traipsing through the city. Or, “Pretty sure she’s ruined me for everyone else,” while getting facials at the hotel spa. 

To be fair, you were the one who teased him into admitting he liked someone. 

You just didn’t expect it to hurt so much. 

The entire trip felt like heaven and hell had simultaneously converged on you, and you never wanted to leave but also desperately counted the days till it was over. 

You came back and broke down in Rebecca’s office. Ted and Beard were there. The whole thing came spilling out, about how you loved the trip so much it felt like your heart would explode but that Jamie loved someone else. 

They all exchanged looks amongst themselves and did their best to comfort you. 

You pulled yourself together and they promised never to say anything to anyone. 

—

“So that’s Vienna,” you finish. 

Trent is just staring at you, mouth slightly agape. 

He finally says, “My god, that’s fucked,” with such emotion that you decide right then and there that you like Trent Crimm and his rainbow mug. 

Now, you just shrug. “I did it to myself, honestly. That’s why I’m tripping out about this secret admirer thing. And god, Trent, the roses. They’re so beautiful and it’s so romantic, and whoever it is obviously knows me well so there’s a part of me that wants to like this person, but…” you trail off. 

“But there’s a part of you that’s hoping against hope that Jamie’s behind it all,” Trent finishes. 

You let out a little laugh. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

Trent looks at the roses, then at you. “Maybe you should talk to Jamie,” he says, gently. 

You reply with a forceful, “No,” and then follow up with a small, “That’s what Ted and Rebecca say, too.” 

Trent stands up, shrugs, says with a small smile, “Just a thought,” then he’s out the way he came. 

—

It is Valentine’s Day. And it’s a Sunday, which means you are legally required to stay in bed until 10, at which point you will get out only to make yourself decent enough to go buy a good cup of coffee and maybe (definitely) something to eat. 

You’ve just finished putting on your shoes, when there’s a knock at the door. 

You take a breath, and get ready to let down your secret admirer as gently as possible. 

You swing open the door to reveal- 

“Jamie! What are you doing here?”

Jamie Tartt is on your doorstep, hands behind his back, looking shyer than the day you first met. 

He opens his mouth and says the last thing you’d ever expect:

“D’you remember Vienna?”

Your heart, which had already been going fast because his dumb floppy hair was all dumb and floppy in his stupid, cute headband, is now working double time. You manage a nod. 

Jamie takes this as permission to continue. “D’you remember how I couldn’t get another room, no matter how hard I tried? That wasn’t true. I could’ve.” He pauses, and you wait for him to continue. 

“And d’you remember when we met, when I told you Keeley told me to invite you out? That was a lie too.”

You tilt your head, confused. He keeps going. 

“Look- I fucked it. I fucked it a million times and I told Ted and I told Beard, but they kept helping me un-fuck it and giving me chances, and then Rebecca bought two tickets to Vienna and slipped me the other one, and they all told me I had a perfect shot.” 

You’re still not understanding what he’s saying. He might as well be speaking another language. Jamie sees the confusion in your eyes, takes a breath, and tries again. 

“Keeley told me to invite you out, but only because I’d seen you around and thought you were fit. Then Isaac and all the lads thought the same thing, so I didn’t even get to fuckin’ sit with you. And then you started sayin’ things about not bein’ ready for a relationship, so I tried to let it go. I really fucking tried. But I just couldn’t. Your eyes are too sparkly and your laugh is too fucking cute and I couldn’t let it go, so I started eating lunch with you and you fucking let me. I knew the moment I said anything about liking you, it was over.”

Comprehension has started to dawn, but you push down hope until Jamie’s done speaking. 

“Everyone told me to shoot my shot in Vienna. We shared a bed, for fuck’s sake.” Here, Jamie looks bewildered. “But I dunno, I didn’t want to make shit weird. So when you asked if I liked anyone I said yeah, and started fuckin describing you, but you never fucking picked up on it. That’s when I got the idea to try one more time. All by meself, no help from anyone else. So…yeah.”

Jamie Tartt is standing on your porch confessing his love for you on Valentine’s Day and it is not a dream, because if it were your teeth would be falling out and his hair would probably be neon pink. 

“I’m an idiot,” you breathe. “You like me? Like, like-like me?”

Jamie quirks a smile at that. “Not quite, darling. Pretty fucking sure I love you.” He pulls his hand from behind his back to reveal a bunch of scarlet red roses. The same from each gift. 

“Got these for you,” he says. “D’you know how hard it is to get red roses in February?”

You don’t answer him because you’re leaping into his arms, kissing him like you’ve thought about doing every day for what feels like forever. He’s kissing you back, hand with the flowers pressed against your back, other hand in your hair. 

“I love you too, Jamie,” you whisper against his mouth. He smiles and pulls you in again. 

[doodle-pops]

Finrod NSFW Alphabet

Request: Hello 👉👈 I really love your writing and since your requests are open if you're up for it could I ask for some NSFW headcanons for Finrod? I deeply enjoy this blonde blorbo 💜 thanks and be healthy - Anon

A/N: It’s always a pleasure to write one of these alphabets for the elves, especially for our golden boy. I hope you’re staying well also. Enjoy!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

The air is quiet, however, he’s still energetic after having sex and would cuddle you like an overly ecstatic puppy while touching some part of your body. It’s usually him pulling your sweaty body halfway on top of his while his hand wander and touching your back, butt and thighs. Finrod doesn’t mean for it to be an initiator for another round, he simply enjoys the proximity of the bodily contact you two are sharing in the moment and doesn’t want for it to end or be limited to simply lying beside each other. At the same time, when you manage to catch your breath and haven’t fallen asleep, likewise him, he would inquire about your next move. His voice is tender, yet, deep as he asks if you would like to have a bath run, something to eat and drink or lie in bed and talk? Once he receives his answer and is aware of your body status, he returns to being the cuddly bean that he is.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It’s your eyes. Those gorgeous eyes of yours he loves endlessly. He wants every act to involve you looking into his eyes because the eyes never lie; they are the windows into one’s soul and he wants to know how lost in the pleasure or in love are you. All those whimpers and pleads are usually followed by your eyes softening or becoming puddles as they roll or cross when the pleasure is just right. He loses his mind when he knows how close you are and you’re struggling to keep your eyes open, which drives him wild. It allows him to calculate his next move with accuracy and precision to make you lose your mind.

On him, it’s between his mouth and fingers because he’s exceptionally skilled at bringing you great forms of pleasure using those two. He simply loves when you beg him to use his mouth, guiding him to where you want him most or how he whispers sinfully into your ear as he holds you down to finger you. His ability to drive you crazy with his body parts makes his ego run wild and he uses them to his advantage.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Not a messy person to begin with and prefers releasing inside you, on your thighs or in your mouth if you provide him with a blowjob. While his desire to impregnate doesn’t run explicitly as the rest of the members of his family, he enjoys the sensation of your walls milking every ounce of his cum out of his cock. It’s a feeling he experienced and became hard to ignore anytime you two are intimate. The rare occasion when he doesn’t desire to finish inside you is when you’re rewarding him with an earth-shattering blowjob, which he can’t refuse.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

As regal and majestic Finrod appears, he enjoys the days when you take the weight of dominance off his shoulders and take the lead in bed. Yup, he’s a switch and revels in the dynamic. Not all the time he want to be giving the pleasure even he receives; he wants to see what tricks you have up your sleeves and how well you can take the lead and return satisfactory pleasure to your King. The sub side of him tends to appear when he’s down on energy or when he’s in that roleplaying headspace. However, he tends to lean on the dominant side more often than the sub.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He read lots of books and heard discussions from his lawless family members about the basic do’s and don’ts when it comes to intimacy. Finrod isn’t a skittish person when it comes to daring acts when it’s new to him. This is something he faces with passion and determination; it’s both your pleasure on the playing field and he isn’t wanting to take it as a joke. His first time with you would be full of confidence, leading you to believe that he’s done this before—he’s a natural. Anything outside of the basics would require experimenting and your input should you have intel, and he isn’t one to shy away from learning new intimate activities.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Finrod is a simple person and would go for missionary as his most used position because he wants to get lost all up in your eyes—you have gorgeous eyes he wants to see, okay. It’s such a raw and intimate position in his eyes that allows him to grant you the world of pleasure, plus, he can manoeuvre your legs anywhere he enjoys while choosing the pace he wanta to deive hismelf into you with. Furthermore, in this position, he gets to have access to your body to utilise his mouth, meaning his pretty lips are whispering sweet praises in your ear or attached to your lips, neck and chest.

Riding him is another favourite position because he gets to watch you riding him like a stallion. Those hands on his chest leaving behind moon crescents, or the up and down motion of your body causing your breasts to jiggle spurs him on. His own hands can’t help but reach out to ‘assist’ as you ride him like there’s no tomorrow. It’s an easy-to-access position when you slip into his study or throne—should he be up for a quickie—or when he wants to lead you under the false impression that you’re in control of the session. So easy it is for him to buck into you, pinning your arms behind your back and take over. All you can do is hang on for the ride.

On mornings after your night together, when his energy might be too low for him or you to get on top, he’ll opt for spooning. In this position, it feels like he doesn’t have to rush, and you don’t have anywhere to go as the world unravels around you two as the morning awakens. Your leg resting in the crook of his elbow as he spreads you wide enough for his cock to sink smoothly into your heat, while he presses soft kisses to your shoulder as he takes his time carrying you off to your climax.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s capable of being both goofy and serious during sex, it all depends on the reason. If he’s jealous or the moment calls for a touch of sentiment, Finrod would hope that you would understand his reasoning and respect the atmosphere. Laughing during times like that would lead him to believe that you didn’t care. Anything outside of those moments, Finrod wouldn’t mind revelling in a burst of hearty laughter if he or you made a mistake, or the moment requires great joy to be expressed. You two probably knocked heads or slipped, leading to you laughing at each other’s eagerness.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Sadly, elves don’t have body hair and Finrod is remarkably famed for the hair he had on his head compared to what he has below. So if you peeked, it is clean.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Finrod has his own way of making every sentimental moment romantic and full of love. I’m sure there were times when you two slept and it was simply pure fucking for the sake of pleasure and relief, but there are times when he wants to romance you. This is when you get introduced to body-worshipping Finrod who doesn’t stop until you know your worth and you are incapacitated, in a good way. His mouth is attached to every inch of your skin, whispering sweet words as he kisses and bites while having extreme body contact—like he’ll rest half his weight atop you to pin, but also want to let you feel him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I can see him masturbating if it’s done under mutual masturbating and voyeurism. Other than that, it’s hard to see him touching himself when he’s alone. Don’t get me wrong, he would touch himself to thoughts of you, but he would rather you watch as he comes undone to the thoughts of you that consume him, putting his cravings at the back and waiting for the right moment to gift you that sight. So if he was thinking of you, he’ll wait when you’re alone in your chambers and gift you the magnificent sight of witnessing how crazy you drive him.  

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

One of Finrod’s weaknesses stems from his titles being used to get him either on his knees or feral. He adores when you address him as ‘My King’ or ‘Your Majesty’ which already announces his position, however, he likes to take it up a notch and introduce roleplaying. He has admitted to enjoying the use of domineering titles being used on him, so he opts for roles that grant him access to hearing names like, ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’. The cheeky devil finds himself caught up in a whirlwind of pleasure when you’re playing a servant or a merchant, desperate for your King to grant you favour.

Whether it is a kink or not, he has the strangest fascination watching you squirt. It brings out a childlike wonder in him, especially the first time it happened, and he inquired about it. That was all Finrod needed to get to work using every technique in the book, and like I said, he’s skilled with his mouth and fingers, so it will be achieved with ease. Just seeing you gush a waterfall which is derived from the satisfaction of the insurmountable pleasure he’s giving you makes him content. He doesn’t always make you squirt every session, since the time and place prevent that, but when he’s in the mood to, count your blessings because one is not enough.

Believe it or not, sensory play is also a favourite of Finrod. He’ll introduce blindfolds and elven ropes to leave you on the edge as he strips away your sense of sight and touch, even going as far as to remove hearing as he becomes a ghost on his feet. One minute you’ll be feeling the feathery touches of his fingers, and the next, you’re experiencing his cock pounding into you. When you’re incapacitated like this, his teasing tends to go up a notch, denying you any and all chances to feel his body against yours except his cock, fingers or mouth.

A massive body-worshipper which grants him access to quite a few other kinks up his sleeves like bondage. Nothing extravagant or elaborate, just a few simple bonds to your/his wrists and ankles, and he’s good with that. All that’s left to do is to relax and enjoy the oncoming pleasure either of you would grant the other. The only difference between you two is that Finrod is a massive tease and revels in teasing you as he worships your body; making you beg or confess how beautiful you find yourself if you desire his touch. However, he doesn’t appreciate the favour being returned excessively; tease him, but not too much. He’ll tug against the restraints, easily breaking out of them, before pinning you to the bed and asking, ‘What was so funny about teasing me so much?’

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Mostly in his chambers, study, the courtroom and his home (in Valinor). You can get him to participate in a session in the forest if you two are camping, at a spring or a waterfall and the area if safe. It wouldn’t be wise if his guards were standing outside while he was taking you because it meant that he couldn’t hear your sweet moans and cries of his name. So, he would ensure that his guards weren’t around before he indulged.

Whispering ‘My King’ or ‘Your Majesty’ in his ear late at night or in private easily gets his blood pumping. He’s doing his best to restrain himself as he grips his quill with every effort not to snap it. The desire to pounce on you is strong yet hangs by a thin thread and grows more dangerous each second you wander about his space, taunting him. Finrod is also quite proud of his accomplishments and himself, so praising him also goes a long way in getting him to conform to your wishes to of having him in bed. Run your hands across his muscles, his clothes and through his hair giving small tugs, tell him how good of a King he is to his subjects and that you wish to pay respect to his kindness. He’ll easily allow you to have your way.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing that would involve infliction of pain, blood or violence. Extreme BDSM would be out of the question to Finrod as well as any use of weapons. Furthermore, he isn’t going to be pleased with sharing or having others watching.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Like his older cousin, it’s no joke that he has an oral fixation as well and his mouth has to be on some part of your body. Finrod is a pleaser and he’ll eat you for both his pleasure and yours. Spending hours between your legs while it’s wrapped around his head suffocating him helps to relieve his stressful days as King. All he has to do is bat his pretty lashes at you and you’ve succumbed to his desires. There are times when he keeps his crown on and informs you to come sit on your throne while flashing you a lopsided grin because he knows what he’s doing. This is the one time where he doesn’t let up because he can’t get enough of your taste. Your legs could be shaking, you could attempt to push his head away and he’ll continue; this is after all for both you and him.

When receiving, he doesn’t shy away from accepting the act, however, he has a preference for you pleasuring him in other ways, so you’ll have to push him down. Or you can sneak into his study and suck him off from under the table while he struggles to keep a straight face and focus. During those moments, his hands would gently cradle your head as he leaves you to do your thing at your own pace…until you decide to go extra slow and tease him. That’s when he’ll grumble before guiding your head along his length or if he’s standing, thrusting into your mouth. It’s the one time when he’s rough while receiving oral.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Finrod leans towards slow and sensual whenever he’s intimate. This means that he’s a slow and passionate lover, enjoying deep, long, and slow strokes that are almost too much for you to handle before speeding up slightly, leaving you breathless or begging him to ease up—he doesn’t because he enjoys how flustered you become with his thrusts. This isn’t to say that he can’t get rough from time to time. For him, being rough only comes when you make him jealous, he’s heavily stressed or being a damn tease. This is when his thrusts are swift and rougher than usual, perhaps a slight bit of manhandling might happen in the moment. But to say the least, his rough side is enjoyable when he’s pinning you against some surface.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are a thing you would depend on due to both your hectic schedule as leaders, and he would follow along. Most of the time, it’s him helping you out when you require relief since he isn’t as horny as you unless you purposefully rile him up by calling him one of his titles or wearing a tight or low-cut neckline. Otherwise, he genuinely goes along because he doesn’t have an issue when you desire him to please you. And here is where he gets to use his mouth and fingers most to get you off. It is on the rare occasion that he undresses and fully takes you, leaving you to take charge in the form of riding him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I believe that the biggest risk Finrod is willing to take is allowing you to crawl on your knees to him in your submissive role. The act to him is debauched because you shouldn’t ever be on your knees in that manner, but there’s something sexy about watching you crawl over to him dressed in your finest lingerie or naked, to greet him. It’s different compared to when you’re on your knees sucking him off. Either the predatory or innocent look in your eyes as you look up at him makes his brain shut down for a split second before he gets serious. It’s the only lowly act he considers taking a chance to participate in.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Should the moment surround love and sentiment, Finrod is willing to have two to three rounds for the night, stretching each out to over thirty minutes. He’s worshipping you from head to toe every round because he is a passionate lover who leaves his touch quaking in your bones when he’s finished. However, if he’s jealous, everything is rougher and longer, as in five rounds until you understand that it’s he you should focus on and belong to. Of course, he gauges your responses to know if you can go for more.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Since toys, like what we have, don’t exist in Middle Earth, there aren’t many options to choose from if he were to indulge. To him, the idea of including toys would be great on your behalf since it would allow you to pleasure yourself when he couldn’t. The most he would request is to be present when you use them, so he can enjoy the performance while sipping on a glass of wine. Blindfold and elven ropes, something they have, would be included frequently in your activities since you mentioned that you enjoyed the heightened pleasure they added.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Yes, Finrod is a massive tease who hates to be on the receiving end when the tables are turned. He wants to drive you mad and have you moan, cry and beg for his touches; it fuels his ego to learn how much you crave him. Just listening to your whimpers as his lips ghost the shell of your ear as he tells you how much he desires you, knowing that you’re unable to do anything because you’re in public. The wicked, innocent, grin he throws at you before he saunters away, leaving you in a mess. But if you return the favour, he’ll take it for a while before growing impatient and pouncing.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I have to say, his moans are heavenly. Quite angelic, especially when he tosses his head backwards to allow his golden curls to fall while releasing sweet notes, emphasising how good you make him feel. Either that, or he’s in your ear moaning like crazy, knowing how his voice makes you wetter and come undone faster. He isn’t excessively loud, but rather soft whimpers and moans like his goal is to seduce you with them, and he succeeds.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Finrod has a mirror kink which is a category under his love for body-worshipping. It goes both ways because he wants you to witness how you come undone with every touch, stroke and whisper he delivers so diabolically while you also desire the same with him. If you have an issue with your confidence, you can bet yourself that mirror sex is going to be a frequent occurrence until you can get it into your head that you’re beautiful. He’ll force you to watch as he takes you, the only time he’ll have you from behind, and force you to repeat after him, ‘I am beautiful.’

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hmm, for someone considered one of the many beautiful elves to exist, he sure does have a pretty package. Well endowed, not too thick or thin, just the right length and girth to smoothly enter without any discomfort and carries a gentle weight, so he feels just right. He’s a shower that has a few veins running along the surface with a pink tip that stands out. Finrod is incredibly proud of his appendage as it matches his good looks, allowing him to have both a pretty and well-endowed cock.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is quite low. He doesn’t crave sexual intimacy as much as you probably would, hence why he would invest in toys of all sorts for you, once he can access them. In the early days of your relationship as a newlywed, he would experience the same need to be as close to you as much as possible and spend more time behind closed doors, wanting to understand your body and bask in the joys of being newlyweds. But as time rolled on and the newlywed phase disappeared, so did his urge. Being dutiful to his people and with the ongoing war, his focus lies elsewhere. Perhaps twice to thrice a month, you two indulge to keep the flame burning.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a while to fall asleep due to his boundless energy. Leaving you after having a moment isn’t an act he enjoys since in his eyes, it makes him believe that he's using you, so he always stays. Most of the time, he’ll be the one awake while you’re curled up in his arms, fast asleep. Should you manage to have the energy to stay awake, some pillow talk would help to sedate him. Once he does drift into slumber, Finrod becomes a cuddler and a sleep talker. Softly murmuring your name as he snoozes and clings to you like a bear cub, he refuses to let you go the entire night.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @involuntaryspasms @aconstructofamind @addaigio

[areadersuncertaintyprinciple]

Even tho I'm sad that they had to cut so many of the 'stuff' from the webnovel(iykyk) but TELL ME HOW TO HATE YOU TELL ME HOW TO NOT LOVE YOU?!!! Gimme more sire

I almost dropped this show coz of the tonal whiplash that ep6 gave me- Sunday retreat was meh. Yet I loved this episode despite its logical fallacy (Idea for next date: please don't make a patient walk so much and climb a fricking skyscraper😊). I never expected logic from this drama from day1 tbh & despite that there's something in this whole mess that makes me want to prolong my suspension of disbelief every week. Even they leave plot threads weirdly dangling, I still eat up whatever they serve 😂. It's a delicious blend of CLASSIC TROPES with a healthy dose of whatthefuckery.

I wanted the teasing, cat-&-mouse game to go on longer where Saeon frustrates the heck out of Heejoo but then I remembered that it's a 12ep show & we r already past the halfway mark. Sad lol. The editing on this episode also felt tighter compared to the last.

I love Yoo Yeon-seok & it amuses me that he's now going viral for his 'sexy image'🤣 coz I've known for yrs that man's looker & an actor to match that! Oof.

I had wished his last few works coz I wasn't into them,so, I was anxious whether he still works onscreen for me coz I thought the trailer looked badish in a goodish way(Surprise- HE DOES).

Chae Soobin & He do the heavylifting day in & day out on this show but hat's off to the direction too. I have always liked his choice of focusing on Saeon's wedding ring and I liked how that was focused even today. And that Kiss? Dramaland, Cinemaland, etc-land writers...now this is what we call a kiss-after-years-of-yearning. An onscreen kiss is rarely meant to replicate real life kissing, rather, its job is to look "good" on camera while showcasing the apt emotions/script. And Yeonseok+Soobin nailed it

[tenpintsofsundrop]

What would Dick Grayson be like in bed? (Titans Kink Headcanons)

A/N: So originally I was going to publish all of these for all of the characters in one long post, but I got tired/creatively stalled out about halfway through, and it's just been sitting in my drafts unfinished for weeks now. So I have decided to post them for the characters one at a time so that way I can catch up on them and have the energy to complete them really well. The reader is meant to be completely gender neutral, and I don't really know how to put warnings on this, because there is mentions of kinky topics throughout, but it's basically just a list of kinks? Like, the content itself is like a warnings list for a fic. Main warnings are for kinky topics, Daddy kink, and discussions of BDSM.

DC Titans Masterlist

...

So... one of those things that is totally obvious to me from the source material is that Dick Grayson is Daddy.

Not just when it comes to Daddy kink (although he definitely does enjoy being called Daddy for sexual gratification). He is the living embodiment of the title of Daddy. And tbh, I think he would love being called Daddy in a non-sexual context - which might sound weird if you've never been in that kind of relationship before. But when you try it out with him, you would probably love it.

It's something he would find comforting. You calling him Daddy in completely non-sexual contexts when you have no sexual intent behind it - it would make him feel good because it brings the joy of having a long term partner who feels comfortable calling him that. And he would definitely also love the casual dominance of it. He would love feeling owned by you because he gets to wear that title 24/7.

But he would be likely to say that it's something the two of you can only do in private - like in text messages or when nobody else is around to hear it, because he holds the title very sacred and he doesn't want others to mock him for it, because it is like a safe space for him. Even if he would 'laugh off' any mockery of it, he would feel hurt deep down inside.

But anyway, speaking of casual dominance - it's something he is obsessed with. I think he loves BDSM as a lifestyle, and for him, when he has a partner, it definitely doesn't stop in the bedroom - he loves setting lifestyle rules for you as a way of taking care of you.

He will set rules about when you eat (to make sure you never miss a meal), what you eat - he wouldn't ban you from eating junk food, but he would limit your intake of sugar and make it mandatory for you to eat a certain amount of healthy foods, and if you have a bad habit of consuming too much caffeine or soda, he is sure as hell gonna use sexual punishments to curb it.

His goal with casual dominance and the rules he makes will always be to take care of you and improve your quality of life - including your physical health and your mental health.

Is he always dominant?

I think that he vastly prefers being dominant because he is a control freak who hates giving up any kind of control, and funnelling those feelings into a BDSM relationship can keep him from exerting his intense need for control in other areas of life - like having emotional fits when other people don't do what he wants and violently beating up criminals. And on very rare occasions, when he is with someone he knows very well and trusts, he will play the submissive role. But I don't think he would ever be a submissive in a long term relationship.

If his sub misbehaves, I think he would avoid using pain as a punishment. I genuinely think he wouldn't be into spanking or any other type of painplay, because at the end of the day - even if he's strict about rules, it really makes his soul ache to hurt you.

One of his favourite punishments is overstimulation. He loves giving oral simply for the fact that he loves overstimulating you with his tongue for hours, and he loves vibrators and even fuck machines for the same reason.

He would use attention denial or ignoring you as a punishment - denying you of affection, or going as far as to ignore you completely if you want to talk to him at all (unless it's an emergency, of course).

He would also use this punishment in combination with overstimulation - setting you up with a vibrator pinned between your thighs and leaving you alone until you're whining and desperate, begging for his attention and ready to apologize for whatever rule you have broken.

I can also see him being into semi-public sex. He would be the type of dom to enjoy putting a remote control vibrator in your underwear just to push the button and watch you squirm at the most inconvenient times. He would also love taking you out to dinner somewhere nice and teasing you under the table, living to see you squirm and become desperate for him.

He would love any kind of bondage - tying you up in different complex ways, blindfolds, gags, all of those kinky things. As long as it doesn't hurt you, he would love seeing you vulnerable and wanting - he would love seeing rope against your skin. (And he would absolutely have the patience and intellect to learn complex shibari just to tie you up.)

And lastly (one that is obvious to me from the show) - Dick has a breeding kink.

He wants to be a father so badly, even if it's unconscious for him - it would come out when he feels you squeezing around his cock. And whether you can get pregnant or not (and whether you want kids or not), he would be obsessed with roleplaying the act of knocking you up. He would be obsessed with seeing his cum leak out of you, and telling you how he's gonna knock you up while he's deep inside of you. The first time you tell him to ditch the condom while having sex, it drives him insane, and it's the best sex of both your lives.

(A/N: I think that's a good round-up of all my headcanons for him lmao.)

[isleofdarkness]

Heyyyyy

Can we get some more AK lore? 🥺

-birb

Absolutely (TW for suicide attempt in Nora's paragraph)

Anxelin doesn't really want to be queen. She'll do it if she has to, she just doesn't like making that decision without Ginny there, because Ginny is the eldest and technically the Crown Princess and Anxelin doesn't want to take that from her without her permission. It'll probably be Ruby who takes over as queen when Rapunzel and Eugene retire.

Arturius has scars on his face- I know I've mentioned them briefly. He's almost got a Glasgow smile like Rose, but his scars are way longer. The scar on the right side of his face curves drastically upwards at around halfway through his cheek and goes up his temple and into his hairline, and the scar on the left side of his face does a U-turn and goes across his nose (it doesn't affect his nose like Maverick's affects hers, his is just a surface scar,) and then follows his cheekbone across the side of his head. He charges people $100 for questions about his scars because he thinks that "what happened" is pretty obvious- someone cut up his face. The reason he lives on the Isle part-time is because he's not safe in Auradon or even in Camelot. Gods only know if Beast will kidnap him again. He's a great fighter but there's also the matter of if he kills Auradon guards, it'll cause an international incident and that'll cause problems. So he stays on the Isle when necessary- sometimes, the Isle is safer for him than Auradon and Camelot.

Winter's Thoutube channel is a lot like Legal Eagle. She discusses laws, reviews the accuracy of legal media (like Legally Blonde,) discusses the crimes committed in media and the charges and sentences they would get, and discusses some legal issues. She's famous for her long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, and giving people common sense rules (like "do not film your crimes and post them on social media") with the same voice as a teacher telling her students not to eat the markers. Her Ace Attorney videos are legendary.

Nora attempted suicide a few years ago (like, two,) via drug overdose, which killed her kidneys and liver. She got a partial liver transplant from Isak (he volunteered) and a kidney transplant from a random donor. She hates herself for that attempt now. Her brother was the one who found her and it traumatized him even worse than he already was. He blamed himself. They're both getting better, but it was hard on the entire family.

Liang and her brother only go to Auradon Prep so that Yi-Min doesn't need to. Yi-Min stays in China where she's safe from any bullshit Beast might pull, because even though they're important as children of the famous Fa Mulan, she's more important as the princess. If something happens to them, China will be pissed but ultimately fine. If something happens to her, it's a threat to the monarchy of China. So they do what they can to put the target on their backs instead of hers.

Tavasaya ran away from the orphanage he and his sister lived at because the orphanage started to go downhill and the matrons were getting abusive, plus kids were going missing. He was worried for Devika, who was catching more and more punishments for the crime of being HSN autistic and who couldn't really protect herself. It got bad enough that he feared for her life, so he took her and ran. He spent the next few years doing everything he could to support her and keep her happy and healthy, until the place he was "working" at (being human trafficked in) got raided by the Maldonia secret service for human trafficking. This was a very big bust, so big that Naveen was there in the aftermath to help the survivors. Devika and Tavasaya were staying in a kind of halfway house after this and he knew they needed more help than most foster parents would be able to provide, so he and his family decided to take them in. It took a long time for Tav to feel safe there, but he does.

Aziz has always opposed the Isle because that's where they sent his grandfather to. Auradon took his grandfather, his baba's father, and stuck him on the Isle for petty reasons and he will never forgive that

[iloveschiaparelli]

Harvesting & Processing Basil

Finally! The long-awaited basil post! I wanted to wait until the process was completely finished before putting this together. I deeeefinitely made some mistakes, as you will soon realize.

Part I (October 9): Harvesting the Leaves

I didn't take a picture directly before the harvest, so these ones from 12 days prior must suffice. This is more or less what I started with:

As you can see, it's a fairly healthy plant, albeit smaller than you might expect. My first attempt at basil died in July, and was replaced in August with a cutting from someone else's plant that was being given away on the local freecyling facebook group. I was pleasantly surprised to find out it the cutting had roots, so I planted it and this is what it became in ~ 2 months.

I wasn't originally planning to harvest on any particular day. It was more like I just, on a whim when I got home for the day, grabbed some kitchen scissors and went outside to cut some leaves. I was originally only planning to take a few, leaving some to grow. That was, until I discovered that the plant was flowering. If you don't know already what basil looks like when it flowers, here are some pictures! If you don't know, basil dies after it flowers. (At least that's what I've been told) So when i saw this, I knew I had to go ahead and harvest the whole thing. There is also a photo at the end of the flower/seed pods that are precursors to the flower. I had never understood how the ends of basil look different when they're growing new leaves vs. about to flower until I saw this. Now I know what to look for.

I was texting a boy basically the entire day while harvesting, so it took several hours longer than it needed to, because I kept pausing to type on my phone. I went out at like, 3pm, and finished + came inside around 6-7pm. Yes, we are dating now.

This is what it looked like at the halfway point, when I was just laying all the stems in a pile and collecting small leaves in the strainer:

That is when I realized it was hubris to have such a small vessel, so I grabbed a large mixing bowl from inside.

This is what the plant and both bowl & strainer looked like when I finished picking off of the main plant:

I was... shocked, haha. I did not expect the stems to have so much volume when picked. As you can see, I left some leaves at the end of the plant where there were flowers, so that I could enjoy them for a while longer until they withered. Also left some "undesirable" (by me) leaves behind on the woody stems.

The next step was to separate the leaves from the stems. Remember, I was winging this whole process and not thinking ahead. Otherwise, I might have been pulling off the individual leaves from the start. I got this setup, with a paper towel for a working space, and a slightly smaller mixing bowl as the receptacle for stripped leaves. I used bag clips and the weight of the bowls to prevent the paper towel from blowing away:

For the most part, I just relied on my fingernails to cleanly break the leaves from the stems, then threw the stems to the back of the paper towel and the leaves into the bowl. I only had to use the scissors a few times, especially for cutting off pieces of leaves where bugs had begun to eat them, or they were extremely yellow, but I wanted to still use the green part. Here are some process photos, including a couple of tiny heart-shaped leaves. There's also one leaf where, when I cut it, just the clear strip of cellulose remained where the rest of the leaf had been, and I thought it was cool that I could see through it.

When i was done, I threw the stems back into the planter. With the stems removed, everything fit in the smaller mixing bowl just fine. Since the basil was in the planter for only ~2 months, the plan is to remove the roots and re-use the dirt for something else (like giving more space to + propagating my African Violet! Which is something I've been wanting to try lately. I already saved an egg carton to potentially use for starting the leaves.

Part II (October 10): Washing & Drying the Leaves

I was going to wash the leaves and lay them out to dry on the same day, as I believe is recommended, but I got lazy LOL. So I returned the following day. I started by putting leaves in the strainer and rinsing them under the faucet, but quickly realized that that was going to be annoying and take forever. I finally decided that the most efficient course of action was just to fill the bowl with water so that everything got soaked. I used warm water, with no solution or vinegar or anything added.

I got an extra large baking sheet and put down a paper towel on it. I had just begun pulling leaves out of the water and laying them out on the paper towel when I realized that this was too much water involved. I fixed the issue (somewhat) by pouring all the wet leaves into the strainer and shaking it gently to remove as much moisture as I safely could, then set it down to let it continue to drip down into the bowl while I worked. Setup A vs B:

Although I started off trying to make sure everything was evenly spaced, I had roughly 14 layers of paper towels to put down so I eventually faded into chaos, as every ADHD gardener is wont to do. Some vague asf process photos & what the stacks looked like:

I let it sit for a few hours while I cleaned out my food dehydrator. Now, this is the part where I Completely forgot to be taking process photos, so Unfortunately, I don't even have any pictures of the dehydrator to share, except for this product photo of the model that I was using:

I laid out all of the still-slightly-damp leaves in all of the trays, trying to keep them evenly spaced and not overlapping but (kind of) failing. Then I shelved it to wait overnight for the leaves to air-dry. Had I been doing this properly, I would have let the leaves sit on the paper towels, in a single layer, instead of stacked up or in the dehydrator the way I did.

Part III (Several Day Period Oh My God): Dehydrating the Leaves

It is utterly embarrassing how difficult it was to get these leaves dry. The recommended temperature for basil/herbs is 95 degrees Farenheit, for 12-24 hours for basil. I started off at the lowest dehydrator setting, 100F, for 13 hours and started it overnight.

In the morning, two of my three roommates were complaining about the smell and asked me to move it outside to the porch (direct sunlight) I obliged, and seeing as the basil was still thoroughly damp, added another 6 hours on.

Then I forgot it overnight again. *sigh*

I brought it back inside and realized that all of the leaves on the top were brown (albeit mostly dry), but many of the leaves at the bottom were still wet. This is when I posted my cry for help on Tumblr dot com, and was told to not put them outside again.

Unsure what to do and overwhelmed by other tasks, I pretty much gave up. I ran it for roughly 12 more hours indoors a day or two later as a last-ditch effort, but didn't check it right away.

October 22nd was the day I finally took the time to check the leaves and I was immensely and pleasantly surprised to find that almost all of the leaves were dry! I knew that it had likely been exposed to moisture in the powered-off dehydrator, so I ran it for 2 hours just to get rid of any atmospheric moisture and then set to work on grinding it up.

Part IV (October 22): Processing the Dried Leaves

This was, honestly, the second-most-fun part of the process immediately after the harvest. It was a little bit tedious, but I still enjoyed it. It's also when I started taking pictures again.

First of all, I spilled several leaves onto the floor while trying to empty the trays into a small metal mixing bowl that I was using to collect the dried leaves. Unfortunately, they had to be swept away because our kitchen floor is dirty.

A week or two earlier, I had washed out an Old Bay seasoning container, anticipating putting ground basil in it. I know that whole leaves preserve the flavor better, but I am working with what I can here!!! This is what worked best for me this time. My roommate Lilly has a tiny asf mortar & pestle that she allowed me to use, so I washed it out. I grabbed a funnel for the Old Bay shaker, and set up shop at a foldout table right in the middle of the kitchen floor. I put on the podcast that I'm currently working through, a Behind the Bastards miniseries titled Behind the Police. It was released in summer of 2020 and is all about the history of the institution of police in the USA. Super interesting.

This was the setup:

So, the way I did this was, I would gather a few leaves at a time into the mortar & pestle, grind it up in a circular motion, and then pour the ground basil into the funnel and the Old Bay container. Pretty simple and straightforward.

A few leaves in the bowl were still damp/limp, and wouldn't crumble in the mortar & pestle. I just removed them as I went. I included the brown leaves from the top tray because, at this point, I was just happy that I wouldn't have to throw everything away.

This is what it all looked like when I was done! As you can see, only a few leaves had to be removed.

Part V: Conclusion & What I've Learned

It's absolutely incredible to me how much those leaves at the start reduced, until they only filled a tiny handheld bottle!!! Yes, that is ALL of the leaves!! To drive home how insane this is, here is a side-by-side of the initial harvest of leaves-only, and the bottle that it filled at the end:

Just crazy! It's a bit hard to comprehend the scale from these pictures, honestly.

From there, it was just cleanup and storing the dehydrator, then writing BASIL

basil BAsil. BASIL

BASIL. BASIL

all over the Old Bay container so that it wouldn't be mistaken.

The plan if i didn't have enough room in the bottle was to portion out & give away bags of whole leaves at the punk rock market, like I've been doing with zines (oh! that's something I haven't posted about!). I was slightly disappointed that I didn't have enough, to be honest

Going through this process has given me an insane amount of increased respect to spice harvesters both currently in the spice world, and throughout history. It's a LOT of work to harvest & process just one bottle of basil! It's like that one post talking about how our ancestors are probably proud of us, or at least happy for us, to be surrounded by spices and luxuries that previously were only available to the rich and powerful.

Also as someone with Indian heritage, which is known for its spices LOL, this honestly felt like it connected me a little bit with that culture that I wasn't raised in. Not in any crazy metaphorical way, just coming to appreciate the process and work that goes into spice production, in a way that I wasn't able to before going through this process. The significance of spices carries more weight for me now.

I don't think I'll be able to use all of this basil before next year. I honestly don't even cook with dried basil that often, it's just nice to have fresh basil. What I might do is manage a plant again next year, for the gardening experience, then just straight-up give away fresh & dried basil at the market like I was originally planning to this time. I could plan it a little bit better, though, to ensure that I can feel confident in the quality.

8/10 enjoyment. Tedious & frustrating at times, but ultimately very rewarding, and mostly fun! This is the first, and likely only, harvest I've had this year in 2024. I look forward to expanding next year!!! I can't wait to see what I'll grow then. Time to start planning, I guess!

[topaz-witch-tea]

Hello ! I love love love your yanqing family au! I’m a PhD student so I have very limited time when it comes to sitting down and reading fan fics so I really appreciate the little drabbles you post on here! Whenever you’re able to, I’d love to see a fic where yanqing gets sick and his father (and aunts) fuss over him

Hello! I'm very happy you love it! 🥰

Totally understand on the PhD part, I hope you are doing your best to stay healthy and hydrated.

I do enjoy writing drabbles since they don't need to be as clean as fics are, so please have a drabble of Yanqing being sick. This is a bit longer than some of my other drabbles.

*****

Mimi woke up to whimpering and the body of her young master tightly curled in the blankets. He didn't him to be awake but his breathing was labored and as Mimi walked over to poke the bundle with her nose, it seemed to curl even tighter into the blanket.

Worried, the lion quickly opened the door and rushed to her owners' room. It was a cold night and the three were all curled together in the middle of the bed. Mimi jumped onto the bed, startling Jing Yuan awake.

"Mimi?" The general rubbed his eyes, "what's wrong?"

Mimi made no noise, instead choosing to prod the others awake as well.

"Mimi…stop." Yingxing groaned, stuffing his face into the pillow. Dan Feng blearily opened his eyes, also displeased at being awoken in the middle of the night.

Mimi, displeased by how tired everyone was, started to pull at Jing Yuan's robe before hopping off the bed. She took a couple of steps before looking back to see if they were following her, a growl at the ready if they were still too tired to understand her urgency. Jing Yuan was already walking in her direction as Dan Feng was scrambling off the bed to get to his robe.

Yanqing felt horrible. He felt hot and cold and his body hurt all over. All his thoughts were foggy and when he wanted to call for his dads, it hurt his throat.

"Yanqing?" A voice called out, but Yanqing could only respond with a whimper.

Warm arms rolled him on his back and a slightly cold hand brushed his forehead. He could hear murmuring but they sounded as if they were talking to him underwater. Something wet and cold was placed on his forehead and a bitter liquid was fed to him from a cold, metal spoon. His thoughts went black again and he felt hot and icky for hours until a voice called out to him.

"Come on, little bird. Wake up, you need to eat."

Yanqing opened his eyes to see Jing Yuan. His bright, golden eyes filled with worry as he helped the boy sit up.

"A-die?" Yanqing muttered out. His throat not hurting as much anymore.

"How are you feeling? You didn't want to eat earlier so we just gave you medicine and let you sleep." Yingxing came over with a bowl of soup on a tray.

"I don't feel good," Yanqing said before burying his face into Jing Yuan's gray robe.

"I know, it'll be okay. Ba is getting medicine for you right now. But you have to eat before you can take more okay?"

"Okay," Yanqing murmured before being spoonfed soup by his Baba.

"It's just broth so try to finish the whole thing." Yingxing held out another spoonful.

"It tasted weird."

"Yes, that's normal. Food doesn't taste good when you're sick."

Yanqing was halfway done with his soup when Dan Feng arrived, a small brown paper bag in his hand. He set the bag down before coming over and playing his hand on Yanqing's forehead. The hand was cold like the water in Scalegorge Waterscape and for Yanqing, who felt like he was burning up, it was a welcome respite.

However, his father quickly drew his hand away. "You're burning up. You should take some medicine now and finish your food."

Dan Feng pulled out a brown bottle and a metal spoon from the bag. Pouring the amber syrup into a spoon, he held it up for Yanqing to drink. The medicine was bitter and had a sharp, tangy aftertaste. He hated it and quickly ate the rest of the soup in order to get rid of the taste. Jing Yuan helped him lay down again and with a little bit of Cloudhymn magic, Yanqing quickly fell asleep.

"It pains me to see him like this," Dan Feng said as he adjusted the blanket.

"I know. He's a strong boy now, so there's no need to worry." Jing Yuan scratched Mimi's ears, a reward for her ever-vigilant care.

"He'll be hungry when he wakes up. I'll prepare another soup for him when he's up." Yingxing said, standing up and collecting the bowl and medicine spoon.

Yanqing woke up a couple of hours later to Mimi laying by his side, her cold nose poking his arm and her sharp blue eyes were as watchful as ever.

"Oh, you're awake! How are you feeling?" A cheerful voice spoke up, though her purple ears were flat against her head- a telltale sign that she was worried.

"Auntie Baiheng? Why are you here?"

"I came to visit you, little bird. I heard you got sick last night. Are you feeling better?"

Yanqing nodded. His body was still tired from the illness.

"Good. Auntie Jingliu is here too. She brought some special ginger tea for you. I think she's still preparing it now." Baiheng gently smoothed away the hair that clung to his face.

"Ginger is spicy." Yanqing didn't like ginger but his family always made him eat it since it was good for him.

"I know. But it's good for you." The little boy pouted and somehow looked even more pitiful than he already was.

"Where are my dads?" His fathers were usually by his bedside when he was sick, so it was strange not to see them there.

"You're A-die got called into work for a quick thing but he should be back soon. Baba is in the kitchen with your auntie preparing food and tea. Ba is probably looking at medicinal herbs to make more new medicine for you."

"I hope the new medicine is sweet like candy. The one I got tasted really yucky." Yanqing made a face, earning him a laugh from Baiheng.

The door opened again and Yanqing could hear the tinkling of glassware.

"Are you feeling better Yanqing?" Yingxing placed the tray down before moving to sit on the bed and placing his hand on Yanqing's forehead. "You aren't as hot as earlier."

"I feel better. But my throat hurts a bit."

"Here, drink this." Jingliu placed a small, ceramic teacup into Yanqing's hands.

He knew better than to fight them when it came to drinking tea and medicine so he took a deep breath and finished the tea in one gulp. The tea was hot and spicy and burned his throat and tongue. When he was younger, he cried when they made him drink it.

"Good job." Jingliu patted his head and took the cup away.

Yanqing heard the door open again and this time, Mimi jumped off the bed. "Why hello to you too, Mimi!" Jing Yuan laughed as the lion rolled onto her stomach, obviously lacking in belly rubs as the family was busy.

Dan Feng paid little mind to them, instead walking over to check Yanqing's temperature.

"I just checked it. He's fine." Yingxing spoke up.

"One can never be too sure."

Yingxing rolled his eyes as he pulled up a chair to the two new arrivals. "Do you want to eat dinner now?"

"You're eating here?" Yanqing asked.

"Of course!" Baiheng fluffed up the pillows so he could lean back properly. "It wouldn't be fair to have to eat here on your own."

The five of them sat by Yanqing's bedside happily chatting with dinner in hand as Yanqing finished his soup. Mimi, after finishing her meal, was curled up at the end of the bed.

"When I get better, could we go somewhere?" Yanqing asked after finishing his soup.

"Where would you like to go?" Jing Yuan replied.

Yanqing thought for a moment. "I want to go to the Artisanship Commission Auction!"

"The auction?" Yingxing looked taken aback, "You have no money to bid with."

The comment earned him a kick to the shin by Dan Feng.

"I'll give you however much you need!" Baiheng said cheerfully, always happy to spend on her nephew.

"Stop spoiling him." Jingliu looked over to her wife, knowing full well how much would be drained from their account next month. Those words fell on deaf ears anyway and she was just as guilty.

"I don't see why not. I think it's a wonderful idea. But you have to take your medicine and rest if you want to recover in time." Jing Yuan said.

"I will!" Yanqing beamed, ready to take that horrible-tasting medicine and dream of all the swords he could have.

****

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it and please feel free to send me asks!

[katyakurae]

Just finished to read chapter 12 and I am glad they at least not actively trying to kill each other anymore lol THAT’S CALLED IMPROVEMENT TO ME(small mercy)but I also hope they got to talk after they finish to eat each other up(mostly Lucy but u know). It’s pretty obv that Al previous relationship with Vox has messed him up quite a bit and Lucy is very sweet to ask for permission instead of just touching him without asking(I adore how attentive Lucy is in regard of Al little change in his perfect mask and I love how he gets a little cheeky towards the end and makes Al say what he wants)

That’s a big step in the right direction for an healthy relationship(at least as healthy as it can get in hell)and I think we should give more credit to Charlie’s lessons, cause if they work even on the devil, I’ll say they should give her one of these certificates that Tik toker showcase to say that they have a degree in something, cause Charlie deserves that and more(thinking about the fact that she send her Dad upstairs to talk with Al and they are fucking) it definitely worked lmao

Also I Wonder why Al stayed as long as he did in a relationship with Vox if he hated it that much…mhhh so many questions! Can’t wait to read more💜

Mind that "anymore" cause we're still halfway this story.

(Maybe? I don't know yet how many chapters it will be cause 🌈plotwist🌈 still happens. I'm aiming for 25, more or less)

(Oh, there is so much coming)

Anyway, Lucifer had a good dinner yesterday, but yeah, he is a gentelman and, for all the mistakes he did, he doesn't want to hurt Alastor anymore. Not like that at least. And he is already aware that something big and bad happened to him in his last relationship. So asking for consent is the bare minimum here.

The "consensual but not safe or sane" tag is still there tho xD.

Random headcanon of mine: idk if there are colleges in Hell, but I think Charlie has a Degree in Psychology. She may even be a certified therapist!

And oh, Vox and Alastor, Alastor and Vox... A lot to unpack there. All answers will come~

I'm working in the next chapters!

[lorddeathofmurdermountain]

So I just finished Dungeon Meshi. The manga.

I am yet again blown away by the amazing story. I am also blown away by the fanfiction fandom and it's incessant need to ship anyone and everyone. I get it. You think some of the interaction are romantic. They aren't. That's not what any of this is meant to be. But I get it. Romance ships have their own place in the ecosystem and any healthy community has a dedicated group that really likes to ship anyone and everyone.

It becomes less healthy when I go to AO3 and you can go through pages and pages only finding like two or three fics that aren't ENTIRELY "Two random characters have the sex" with occasional romantic undertones. Of those three that aren't just that, two are instead "cleverly crafted AU but the focus is still on the secks". People I get it, it's nice, it's got, and by god everyone is horny for the Faligon x Marcille ship. I get it, I do.

But the story has so many interesting aspects to it! I'd go as far as to say it's a modern day Lord of the Rings! I really fucking would, and I love LotR like no other story on this fucking planet! I'm barely holding back from gushing about it right fucking now. I'm taking deep breaths.

Look, my point is, it's an amazing story about friendship and genuine camaraderie, the sort of thing that sends the message of "people can forget extremely strong bonds without having the hots for one another." The story, beyond it's generally tasteful comedy and the repetitive but reliable skits, is chock-full of meaningful messages, pondering and it has some of the most beautiful and tasteful conclusions to story arcs I've seen in a while! I'd go so far as to say it's fairly innovative as well, not unheard of but you don't see something this good all that often. You really don't. I usually obsess over just sticking FromSoft protagonists into everything to have them fuck around and mess with everything but for once I'm genuinely unappreciative of the idea. The conclusion to the story is perfect if very traditional in a certain sense and all in all it's got very few real flaws. In the end, a very simple, kind and good lad alongside his party of misfits saves the day and everyone gets to live happily ever after.

So why the shit is almost everyone only ever thinking about hot ladies or hot men fucking each other? No, actually, forget the distinction, it's irrelevant! Why is sex with a side of corny romance the only thing everyone is doing?! Fuck, make literally anything else! I get having a niche but for Christ's sake expand your horizons or something! FF doesn't even have the damn tag for the setting yet, AO3 is just porn and SpaceBattles only has Vs discussions and one single story ideas thread that I myself also sperged out in while I was only halfway done.

Christ, there are so many ideas in my head it's actually hard to focus! What about a serious setting examining the end of the story and how it could have gone on? Remake it into a tragedy, or just a feels-good epilogue that's only slightly longer than the story. How about tossing someone you KNOW would mess up the story into the story, but have it be so messed up it loops back around to the same end? Why not just do something really stupid and see where it leads? What if Laios and Kabru switched places? What if Laios and Falin were in Utaya when they were young (they're still the same people inherently just with a more tragic backstory) while Kabru is just some country schmuck that no longer has a tragic story to spur him on to the Dungeon? Does Kabru actually become even more of a textbook hero type? Would the Touden siblings let their past bog them down and make them gloomy or would it only make them more aware of the world around them and thus more willing to look at the other? The story establishes that they're inherently selfish people - they are of course also selfless, but the initial drive for the story is a selfish one for pretty much everyone. Laios just wants to look at and eat cool monsters. Falin wants to tag along and experience new things. Marcille wants to research ancient, forbidden magic. Chilchuck... Uh... Wants to make money and not be constantly scammed at best and backstabbed at worst, I think. Senshi just kind of wants to vibe. Izutsumi wants to stop being a beast-person and is by far portrayed as the most openly selfish in everything she does and decides.

The whole story is really about people being selfish and realizing that's no good, realizing that the people around them are PEOPLE and they should maybe consider each other more. That's how Laios learns to take responsibility, for instance. Oh sure some characters end up not ACTUALLY bring selfish at all, some of them right from the start even, but narratively until told otherwise we start off thinking everyone in the main group are first and foremost in it for themselves. The unifying moment and first instance of selflessness comes when they decide to immediately go rescue Falin - well, Shuro and Namari didn't but we don't know that right away.

Look what I'm saying is there's so many fucking themes in this story and what everyone is focusing on is sex. My argument isn't "sex bad", in fact. It's that the porn with plot - or even the tasteful romance stories - would be even better if you had some other nice fics alongside them. After all, if you eat the same thing the whole time it's bound to become boring eventually, but have a good spread and every part of the meal will be all the better in combination with other parts. If I just ate soup I'd be kind of disappointed, but make some simple rice and cook some simple meat for AFTER the soup and now both the soup and rice and meat feel so much better based on the other things I ate alongside them. Fics are the same. Please. I beg you. Give yourselves some diversity.

[livythewriter]

Law School (Elsbeth x Fem!Reader)

Word count: 2689

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, extreme fluff, idiots in love who don't realize they're in love.

Summary: Elsbeth and the reader stay up late to study for a huge test the next day.

4am… 4am and I wasn’t even halfway done with my studying. Me and Elsbeth were studying for a huge test for Law School tomorrow. But we were going strong! Well, strong until around 3:30am. We were never people to stay up late partying, our latest bedtimes being around 12am, so this was an unusual change of pace for us.

On my seventh yawn in ten minutes, Elsbeth snapped her book shut, shooting upright into a standing position. “Alright, we’re both incredibly tired, what do you say we get something to pick us up?”

“LIke coffee?” I asked, rubbing my half lidded eyes.

“Or an energy drink! And definitely something to eat, drinking caffeine on an empty stomach is never a good idea…”

“We don’t have energy drinks though.” I deadpanned.

“That’s why we’re going to the gas station!” She clapped her hands together, a large smile on her face.

I groaned loudly, “I dunno… it’s so far away…”

“Aw come on, it’s less than a mile. And besides, maybe getting some fresh air will help recharge us a bit! It’ll be peaceful!”

“Alright, fine… but if we get mugged that’s on you.” I got up, my bones almost creaking as I did.

“Yay! It’s a good thing we didn’t change into our bedclothes, huh?” She nudged me.

“Yeah…” We got our shoes on and went outside.

“Sooo… Do you think we’re gonna pass?” She asked.

“You definitely will, Elsbeth. Don’t know about me, though.” Elsbeth was definitely right, the cool air was starting to wake me up as I looked up at the stars and took in the quiet nighttime environment.

“Aww, what makes you say that?”

“I don’t understand shit in that book I’m reading.” I sighed.

“Well, if you want I could help you out!” Elsbeth offered.

“Don’t you have to study yourself for the test?” I asked.

“Well… I’m almost done.” She shrugged.

“Holy shit, are you a superhero or something? How did you manage to get all that done so fast??” I asked incredulously.

Elsbeth thought for a moment, “I don't know how to explain it, but, when I’m trying to figure something out, a bunch of images that are loosely connected pop into my head, until I just have the answer. I don’t usually tell anyone this because well…” She lowered her voice, “Do you also feel like other people act weird around me? Like they think I’m weird?”

“Screw what others think. If they can’t see your awesomeness, that’s on them.” I nudged her shoulder playfully.

“You’re so sweet… If I could date a woman it would be you.” She giggled.

We entered the gas station, and bought energy drinks and a few slices of pizza. It wasn’t exactly healthy, but it was energy for studying.

We went back home and went back to studying while we ate our food.

“Gas station pizza isn’t as good as Pizza Hut, but I’d be wrong to say it’s not dang delicious!” Elsbeth remarked.

“Yeah! It is pretty good.” I opened my energy drink and began to take sips. It had that sharp, artificial sweetness that you just couldn’t find in sodas, and that made me wish I could find caffeine free energy drinks so I could drink them without feeling jittery.

After a few minutes, Elsbeth spoke up, “Hey, I finished my studying. Do you need any help with yours?”

“Yes, actually. None of this makes sense. But that could just be because of brain fog…” I said sheepishly.

“Awww, maybe you should get some sleep…” She put a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll fail my test! I haven’t even gotten halfway through this…” I groaned.

“Well.. let me help. What are you struggling with?” She scooted closer to me, looking at my notes.

“I’m having trouble understanding International Law. Like, I know what it is, but I can’t take in the words, it’s like they’re just going into my head and then falling out of it, y’know?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, sighing in frustration.

“I can explain them to you if you’d like! I’m pretty good at explaining things.”

“I’d like that, thank you.”

Elsbeth began to explain the different terms and definitions to me, and the way she worded her explanations just made so much sense to me for some reason. Soon enough, I found myself on the next part of the studying, which she once again explained with perfect wording.

“Wow, you really are good at this…” I took another sip of my energy drink.

“Thanks! You’re good at this too, y’know? You’re better at it than you think.” She winked at me.

I sighed, “Are you sure? I just had to have you explain pretty much everything to me.”

“Of course I am. Your brain’s just a little different, but it still works so well, and there’s nothing wrong with that!” Her expression just looked so sure of the words she was saying, and it made me almost want to believe them. I smiled at her, and we continued my studies.

The studies were going well, but despite me chugging down a whole energy drink, I was still pretty tired. I felt myself begin to nod off in the middle of our study, and felt a poke on my shoulder when I was falling into slumber.

“Hey, you’re really tired. You should probably go to sleep.” I heard Elsbeth’s gentle voice tell me.

“No… I’m not finished yet. I need to finish my…” I got interrupted by a yawn, “studying.”

“We barely have anything left to do, I’m sure you’ll do fine. Just, go to bed, alright?”

I nodded, reluctantly giving in, “Okay…”

“Here, let me just…” Elsbeth got up, and then wrapped an arm around my shoulder, hoisting me up and guiding me to my bed. She sat me down and I laid down, getting under my covers. I looked at Elsbeth, who was now sitting on my bedside, with half-lidded eyes. Her hand reached out to brush hair out of my face, and she looked at me with a gentle smile, “Go to sleep now, sweetheart.” She used a nickname on me that caused a slight explosion of butterflies in my stomach for some reason, and the last thing I felt before dozing off into slumber was a pair of lips on my forehead.

I got woken up by my alarm, one that I set to a song I didn’t particularly care for, because I knew that if I used a song I did like, that it would ruin the song for me. I was surprised to feel something splayed across my midsection, and looked down to see an arm. I looked to my left and saw Elsbeth laying next to me, starting to wake up from the alarm. For some reason, I felt something strange. I felt light and airy, and a little nervous. My heart couldn’t stop pounding in my chest. I wondered if it was just pre-test nerves.

“Hey there… I don’t want to get up.” Elsbeth said in a tired voice, “I could lay here forever… So cozy.”

I gulped nervously, “We uhhh- we have to get up, though. The test, remember?”

“Oh crap! Sorry for my language, it’s just I completely forgot about that.” She quickly got up, and started getting ready, styling her hair, brushing her teeth, putting on a bit of makeup, all that. I just laid in bed, waiting to wake up fully.

Suddenly Elsbeth was next to me, shaking my shoulder gently, “Come on… gotta get up now.” I groaned loudly, covering my eyes with my arm. Out of nowhere, the covers were ripped off of me, and I glared up at Elsbeth. She just shrugged, giving me a guilty smile.

“Fine…” I got up, and got ready for school myself.

“Are you excited for the test?” She asked, a large grin on her face.

“Honestly, I’m very nervous.”

“You’re gonna do great.” Elsbeth put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it.

“Thanks.” I gave her a grateful smile, and finished getting ready. We drove together to school. We typically carpooled because Elsbeth couldn’t afford her own car, and neither could I but I used my parents’ old car that they lent to me.

We went to our respective classes, and then finally came time for the class we had together. The one with the big test happening today. I gulped nervously as I entered the room, seeing a couple of people, including Elsbeth, sitting down. I sat at the back of the class, right next to Elsbeth.

I looked over at Elsbeth, and she gave me a reassuring smile, and I returned it with a nervous one of my own.

The teacher came in and explained the basics of the test, and then started handing them out to us. When he came around to me, he smiled at me. “You must have been studying hard, huh?” I nodded, slightly embarrassed that my tiredness from studying was that obvious.

He gave me my test, and I began to fill out the first set of answers. It was pretty easy so far. During the test, I found myself wanting to look over at Elsbeth, but I didn’t want to be suspected of cheating, so I kept my gaze on my test. It was starting to get a bit harder, and I was getting worried, but then before I knew it, I was done without anything too hard.

I, along with Elsbeth, were among the first to turn in our tests, me nodding a hello to her as I passed her by.

I waited for everyone else to finish their tests, and then finally class was over, and I left. It was my final class, so I just walked to my car with Elsbeth, driving back to our dorm.

“So, how do you think you did?” Elsbeth asked once we were back in the dorm.

“Honestly? I think I did pretty good. Questions weren’t too hard, and I knew pretty much all of them. You?”

“I’m sure I did alright… I usually do okay on these things, you know?”

“Just okay? Elsbeth, you get straight A+’s. That’s more than just okay.” I said, laughing.

“Oh, stop it…” Elsbeth waved her hand dismissively, a large grin on his now red face, “I do what I need to do, that’s all!”

“You’re so humble it hurts!” I fell back dramatically onto the bed, my hand on my head like I was fainting.

“Well, in a world where you gotta tear yourself down before anyone else can, humility is kind of expected, you know?” Elsbeth said sheepishly.

“Yeah honestly, I get it. People suck.”

“Some people are pretty great! Also, if people underestimate me, I can surprise them when I show them what I’m good at! Does that make sense?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’d say that’s a pretty good tactic honestly.” I got back up.

“People have never taken me seriously really, so I figured, why not use it to my advantage, y’know?” The words honestly made me sad, but she said that with a grin on her face. 

I nodded sympathetically, “Well, I’ll take you seriously. If you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here alright?”

“Oh, thank you, but it’s really okay. Elementary school years were the worst, but we’re past that, and now people say mean things behind my back instead of saying them to my face, so yay!” She chuckled as if she didn’t just say the saddest thing I’d ever heard.

“Jeez, I’m gonna go back in time and beat the shit out of everyone who said those things to you.” I groaned.

“It’s no big deal. Sticks and stones, you know?”

“You’re a lot stronger than I am, I couldn’t handle that. Back in the day I’d just cry when people were mean to me.” I said.

“Awww thank you. But you’re strong too. Hey, you’re still here, right? Stronger than ever. That’s something!” She nudged my side playfully, and I giggled. “You wanna watch some television?” She asked.

“Yeah sure!” I turned on the TV, and we huddled close together while watching. Eventually, nighttime fell, and we went to our respective beds, but for some reason a part of me wanted to sleep in Elsbeth’s bed. But I shook off the thought as me being tired, and tried to fall asleep.

The next day, I woke up early as usual, and got ready for school. Elsbeth was awake too, but she was invested in her usual routine of listening to music while getting ready for school.

When we went to school, we went our separate ways to go to classes. All I could think about was my test. I didn’t know why, but I was feeling nervous today. Like maybe I didn’t really do good on that test. Like I failed, and was just overconfident. But finally the time for our class came, and we entered, me giving Elsbeth a nervous look when she waved at me. She tilted her head in confusion, but gave me a reassuring smile.

The teacher came in, and told us that it was now time for us to get our test results, and that we could have a free day today since we had such a big test yesterday. I waited with bated breath as he passed around the tests, and eventually got to me. I took the test, afraid to unfold it and look at it. But I got up the courage. This was the big moment, the moment where I’d see how I did on the test. I unfolded the paper, and took a look at the results while my heart pounded in my chest.

A. I got an A. I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding, trying to hold back from breathing a loud sigh of relief.

I looked over at Elsbeth, who had a large grin on her face and was shaking with excitement. I couldn’t stop my smile as the thought crossed my mind of how cute she looked. I wondered where such a thought came from, but didn’t mind it particularly.

“Hey.” I whispered, getting her attention. She looked over at me, nodding to ask me to continue.

“Look at this!” I showed her my graded test, and if it was even possible, her grin got a little bit bigger and she gave me a thumbs up.

“Knew you could do it!” She whisper shouted back. She showed me her test and I gasped. She got an A+. Why was I even surprised? I gave her a smile and a thumbs up, telling her how proud I was of her.

We went home, and the rest of the day went by like a breeze, with us chattering and laughing. Whenever she laughed though, I felt my heart flutter. She’s so pretty, I thought, her laugh is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.

When it was time for bed, the feeling of wanting to sleep next to her came back, and I decided I didn’t want to just say nothing about it. “Hey, um, Elsbeth?”

“Yes?” She asked.

“Do you think you’d like to sleep in my bed again tonight? I really liked it when we did that the other night.” I found myself avoiding her gaze, a little nervous to look directly at her.

“I liked that too, actually… So sure!” She said, a hint of hesitation in her voice. Was she feeling the same way I was feeling?

“Alright, awesome.” I got ready for bed, and laid down next to her. I wondered what I was going to do now, but then she poked my shoulder, and I looked over, “Yes?”

“Can I uh.. Wrap my arms around you? Like I did before…” She asked.

“Yes, of course!” That may have come out a little too eager, but oh well. Her arms wrapped tightly around me, and she nuzzled her face against my shoulder.

“Goodnight, ___.” She said drowsily.

“Goodnight.” I closed my eyes, relishing in the feeling of her warmth as I fell asleep.

[aceofbooks-creative-anthologies]

Happy Selfshiptober Prompt #25: Rest and/or Bandages

selfshiptober masterlist

I promise Mikey comes in eventually. I just needed to set up the contrast between the two relationships.

Background: Mikey and Ace have been fighting for a few days. When he crashes on the racetrack and needs stitches, instead of letting Kenny help him, or going to the hospital, he calls his favorite delinquent nurse, despite her being on a date with her ex-husband.

TW: non-explicit/implied physical and emotional abuse. It's mutual. I will never pretend that they have a healthy dynamic. They're also kind of into it in their own weird, fucked up way.

wc: 3246; written from Ace's POV in first person

The appetizers were being delivered to our booth when my phone buzzed on the bench beside me.

Rindou Haitani and I were at one of our favorite diners, very 1970s Americana. Giggly and tired from our dance lesson, I had kicked off my heels and hiked up the skirt of my dress so that I could sit cross-legged on the bench. Rin had given me his rehearsed, half-hearted lecture about over-extending the joints and mobility stagnation before mirroring me on the other side of the table. He opened up his suit jacket and loosened his tie before removing his glasses and running a hand over his face.

A clock over the soda counter read 10 PM. "We really need to stop extending practice after lessons are over." My ex-husband sighs before throwing his head back over the top of his bench.

"You are the one that wants to start doing dance-themed nights at the club. We can't teach people how to 'Swing'," I put the dance style in air quotes like our instructor, "without knowing how to do it."

"We should've started with something easier. Like.... Disco, or the Foxtrot."

Our waitress drops off our usual drinks, a strawberry lemonade for me and a Coke for him. He'll switch to their special offer beer of the night halfway through our main course. She doesn't speak, because she doesn't need to. We've been coming here long enough to start ordering the same things every time, except for his beer and sometimes our dessert. This is the one place where he'll entertain me and eat fatty food. "Part of the American experience," I kept telling him when we had initially found the place—and several subsequent dates after that, as we moved through the menu, trying everything before settling on our favorites.

"Keep complaining, and I'll put you and Ran into a J-Pop bootcamp and clean my hands of the whole thing."

My phone buzzes again as Rin starts portioning our mozzarella sticks. "If it was Ran, he would've tried reaching out to me if he couldn't reach you the first time."

I push the phone further away without looking at it and take my plate from him. "Which really leaves only one person who would be trying to reach me at about this time, and I'm not letting him take up space in my head."

"Was it bad again?" He pulls a mozzarella stick apart, getting a really nice cheese pull before dipping one half in marinara and twirling the cheese around itself, before popping it in his mouth.

"Well, neither of us ended up in ER, so it wasn't that bad." If we were younger, I would be feeling his eyes rake over me looking for the bumps and bruises, cuts and friction burn. Maybe a sling or a brace, but those are more obvious. He'd be running through his memory, thinking of the exposed skin he saw during our lesson, and trying to remember if there was something there that is now hidden.

But we are not so young anymore. We all have demons from our delinquent days that we can not let go of, no matter how hard we try.

So he just gives me a passing glance before dipping the other half of his marinara stick into the sauce. "And your therapist?"

"They were the one to suggest we take some time apart."

"But you haven't been at the house...?"

"Staying at the office." I say before attempting my own cheese pull. I'm less successful.

"Ace...."

"We have that huge contract from Spain that we're workshopping. I'd probably be there anyway, 'cause I'm having to pull odd hours—time difference and all."

My phone buzzes again, three times in quick succession.

And then Rindou's cell rings as a call comes through.

The car service drops me off right outside the gates of the stadium. I give my driver a cash tip for driving me so far outside the city, and wait for the actual payment to go through on our phones.

"You're sure you don't want me to stick around? This place looks pretty deserted." His hand is on the gear shift. We both know he wants to head back into the city, where he can get a couple more rides in before his shift is over at 12 AM.

"I'm sure. There's at least two people in there that can give me a ride home." I place a hand on the hood of his car while I put my heels back on so that I can walk across the pavement. It's too dark in spots to know if I'm about to step on broken glass or not. "Thanks though." I give him a smile and wave him off before squaring my shoulders and marching towards the stadium doors.

I text Rin to let him know I arrived as Draken Ryuuguji pushes open the door for me.

"I was in the middle of a date, Ken." I'm kicking off my heels and padding down the hallway in bare feet before the door is fully closed behind us.

"I know." It only takes a few strides for him to catch up to me.

"Date night doesn't end until midnight, per my contract."

"I know." He hands me an open-front sweater that he had been holding, and I shrug into it as we keep walking. They always keep the A/C cranked too high in this part of the stadium.

"We're supposed to be taking time apart."

"He did mention that, but also said that it didn't matter."

"We both know that's not what he said." I pause, hand him my purse, and flip my head upside down before gathering and tying up my hair into a high ponytail.

Draken shrugs, already over it. He had been dealing with a brat for several hours already; he wasn't about to start letting another bait him.

I straighten myself, retrieve my purse from his hand, and take a few deep breaths before resuming our walk.

We only have to walk for about another minute before we reach our destination.

"How bad is it?" I ask, steeling myself for whatever was on the other side of the locker room door.

"Lots of road rash, but the thing to be worried about is the gash on his cheek. He has a busted lip too, but Shin was at least able to talk him into letting us check and make sure he hadn't knocked out any of his teeth."

"Jesus Chr—that dumbass motherfucker." I run a hand over my face, bumping my glasses, and then take a moment to straighten the skirt of my dress.

"He agreed to go to the hospital after, if you deem it necessary. But only if you patch him up."

"Of course he did." Another deep breath. "If you hear screaming, it's just me killing him."

I don't have to look at Draken to know that he's rolling his eyes. We only ever make empty threats.

"I didn't even get to eat my dinner." I mutter under my breath as I turn the handle of the door.

"Manjirou Sano." My voice is stern as the door latches behind me.

My husband looks up from the couch he's sprawled across, a bundle of ice pressed to his face. "Hey baby." His smile is infectious and intoxicating. And I relish in the pain that cuts through it as he stretches his cheek muscles.

I move to one of the cupboards of the private locker room, zeroing in on where I knew the medical supplies were kept. Because I put them there. I pointedly ignore him.

"That dress is pretty. What's the occasion?" There's a smirk hiding in his voice. He bought the dress—a dark grey floral pattern, a circle skirt that hit mid-calf, a straight neckline with petal like sleeves, and an open back that stopped just above the bottom of my spine. The dainty chains that were draped in that open space were from Rin—and Mikey hated that they were from Rin.

Not that he could see them at the moment because of the sweater. But the cold brushes of metal as I moved served as a reminder to myself.

And he knew exactly what the occasion was for—it had been part of our fight that drove us apart five days ago.

Which was precisely why he had insisted on me coming to the stadium to patch him up instead of letting someone from the team do it—or doing the sensible, responsible, thing and going to the hospital. He wanted my attention and didn't want to share.

If I didn't know better, I would think he had staged the crash intentionally. Reckless driving, certainly; but the team was too careful—too aware of him—for him to intentionally crash on the racetrack. Which was a cause for concern for different reasons, but I knew they were all capable of handling it.

I can feel his temper begin to raise as his gaze sears into my back while I continue to putter about, collecting supplies. Bandages here, sterilizer there, towels, some fresh water..... I hope to only need to use steri-strips to close the gash on his cheek, but I grab a suture kit anyway.

Three minutes pass without either of us saying a word; waiting for the other to cave.

Not having anything else to putter about with, I finally turn to face him.

He's sitting up now. The ice is still pressed to his face, but it's melting, dripping condensation onto the carpet. There's a fire in his eyes, the same fire that I know is reflected in mine. Anything could set off a spark and set the whole room ablaze.

But he also has dark circles under his black eyes. And the faintest hint of blonde stubble growing on his chin. There's an invisible weight being carried on his shoulders. I can feel myself softening, wanting to push his black hair back off his forehead and tell him everything's okay.

Instead, I set my jaw and straighten my spine before moving and settling down on the floor in front of him. Without speaking, I dampen a towel and begin to care for the road rash on his lower legs.

I'm deliberate—delicate. It looks like one of the guys (or him) had already taken care of the majority of the debris, so it was just a matter of making sure that the raw skin was clean and sterile before applying ointment and bandages. He hissed when I sterilized the wounds, but otherwise remained silent.

I next move to the hand and forearm that isn't holding the ice pack, and repeat the process. I rise up onto my knees to roll up his shirt sleeve to work on the upperarm, but find myself eye to eye with him.

His fire has gone out.

"You haven't been sleeping." I say, finally breaking our tenuous silence. I resist the urge to place a hand on his good cheek.

"I mean, I have. But you know I don't really rest when we're fighting." His voice is but a whisper, probably worried that he'll scare me off if he speaks any louder.

The mention of our fight snaps me back into focus, and I set my jaw again before breaking eye contact. I return to my task, and roll up his shirt sleeve.

I'm less delicate with my cleaning now. He yelps in pain at a particularly brisk movement, and I try not to smile. I'm reminded of the rug burn healing on the backs of my thighs and hope that he remembers it too.

More bandages are applied, and I realize that I will eventually need to ask him to remove his shirt so that I can properly care for his shoulders.

He's been studying me as I've worked. "You haven't been getting any rest either, have you?" The concealer that I applied before work that morning and then reapplied right before my dance lesson had done enough to convince Rin that I was well. But under such careful scrutiny by someone who knows me better than I know myself, it was worthless.

"So what if I haven't?" His fire may have burned out, but mine had not. I'm still pissed as hell. "It's not like you care."

"Ace..." He trails off, trying to make eye contact, but I busy myself with securing one of his bandages. "You know that's not true."

I get to my feet, and he grabs my hand, afraid that I'm going to walk away. "Turn around and take off your shirt. I need to clean up your shoulders." I do my best to inject ice into my voice, unwilling to give in.

He does as I ask, and I immediately regret my decision. I begin to salivate, being confronted by just how much his shoulders and back affect my willpower. The urge to bite him is only slightly tempered by the sight of the dried blood and raw skin.

My hands shake as I go through the motions of tending to the wounds. And I'm repulsed by how weak-kneed I feel. I cling to that repulsion, hoping that it will serve as my lifeline until I can get out of this room.

I place the last of my bandages and realize that I need more for his other arm and a spot along his jaw that looked more like rug burn than road rash. Probably from the strap on his helmet. At least he was wearing it this time.

I spin around on my heel before stepping away. Mikey turns his head at the brush of my skirt against his spine, and reaches out with his free hand to take hold, but misses.

When I finally turn back from the cabinets, he is facing forward again and appears to be pouting. The jutting of his lower lip is subtle enough for anyone else to miss, but just as he knows me, I know him.

Fucking brat.

I decide to prolong the inevitable, and step over to the fridge and get a new bag of ice from the freezer. Or I would have, but it seems that the last one is currently on his face.

For the first time, I find myself really wondering just how long Draken fought with Mikey before giving in and reaching out to me. Looks like I owe him one.

I grab the lone bag of frozen peas instead and toss it over my head and behind me. It lands in Mikey's hand without any audible effort on his part.

"Swap hands. I need to work on your other arm." I say as I kneel on the floor in front of him once again.

"Do you ever wonder how many times we've done this?" He asks, following my instructions. His now free hand is ice inside of my own.

"Far too many to count." I mumble, focused on my task.

"I don't ever really return the favor, do I?" He laughs, but it's cut short by a moan of pain—someone forgot about the gash on his cheek.

"No you don't." My response is harsher than I meant, but to be fair the new skin on the backs of my thighs just started to itch. "You always complain about how much effort it takes to do it correctly, so I stopped asking a long time ago. You only ever do it now if I'm literally incapable of doing it myself."

I know that our minds go to the same place. The last time I couldn't take care of my own wounds was two years ago when I hit the floor a little too hard and got a concussion. He "took care of me" by taking me to hospital. And then left me there. As my emergency contact, Takemichi still gives me grief over it from time to time. No one could track Mikey down until five days later, when he showed up at our shared apartment.

I'm still convinced Emma would've killed him then and there if I hadn't come out of the bedroom to see who was at the door.

"I'm sorry." My hands still, a bandage half wrapped around his bicep. Mikey takes the opportunity to take my chin in his hand and lift it so that I have to look him in the eye. "I know that doesn't mean a lot for us. We say we're sorry, and then we turn around and do the same thing again. But I do mean it this time. I never should have abandoned you at the hospital like that."

I yank my head out of his hand and return to my task, wrapping the bandage just a little to tight.

Of course he's apologizing for something that happened two years ago. Not for ruining my date with Rin, forcing us to breach contract, or for the injuries that I currently have. Or even for the fight that led to those injuries. No, he's apologizing for something that I had already grieved and moved on from.

I finish his arm and sit back on my heels, admiring my work. I was never interested in medicine, but you learn things when your friends and family are in gangs and can't always go to the hospital when they get injured. They all eventually picked some things up from watching me and were able to doctor themselves for the most part.

Mikey watched and learned, but almost never applies the skills. He outright refuses to take care of himself unless he literally has no other choice.

I think about how I stormed out five days ago, and wonder if he had doctored himself for once or called someone else to clean up my our mess. Any injuries he sustained then are all covered up by the road rash now.

The exhaustion from the last five days hits me all at once. I swallow around the lump forming in my throat and find myself fighting back tears. I want to make up with him and forget the whole thing, just so that I can take sanctuary in his arms and finally get some rest.

I take a deep breath and slowly get to my feet. "I—" I clear my throat and start again. "I need to take a look at that gash now. So if you could—"

"Baby," Mikey interrupts and takes one of hands in both of his, the peas displaced somewhere. "Look at me."

I can't. I know what I'll find when I look in his eyes. And I'm not ready for that. I want to stay mad. I deserve to stay mad. He was out of line. He knows it. I know it. Just like it was his right to be mad in the first place because I was out of line.

We walk an emotional tightrope together and when one of us starts to tip, we scramble to stay upright, only for both of us to fall. It's an impossibly delicate balance that we have to maintain and when we do, it's art; but when we don't, it's so horrific that the metaphor extends past being "better" on the tightrope alone—we would've been better off never being on the tightrope in the first place.

I don't realize that the tears have started to fall until Mikey has stood up and is pressing our foreheads together and cupping my face with his hands, using his thumbs to brush them away.

"I'm sorry." My voice breaks into a sob.

"I know. I'm sorry too. But let's take care of my face, and then we can yell at each other all we want. Make Kenny go crazy, yeah?" I can hear that he's on the verge of tears too.

God, I hate being married to myself. But I can't help but laugh and nod. I can feel his smile as he presses a kiss to my cheek.

"Right. Okay." I take my glasses off and wipe at my face with the sleeves of my sweater. I replace my glasses as Mikey finds his seat on the couch again.

I move the bandages and other supplies up on the couch cushions around him. As I move to stand between his legs to better view the slowly weeping gash on his cheek, Mikey tugs on my sleeve and pulls me into his lap. He grins, painfully, from ear to ear while I try to find my balance, knees on either side of his hips.

"Mikey—" It's my turn to pout, but he cuts me off with a kiss.

"Happy anniversary baby."

[bthebettababe]

Snephew Update!

Woke up yesterday morning to my sister barging into my room and asking if I wanted to see something amazing. Said yes. Got dragged into her room to look at a stick in Boof's tank.

"Do you see it?" she says.

I, still halfway asleep and not entirely sure what I'm supposed to be seeing, say "see what?"

See, my sister has been very worried about her dearest son boy Boof not eating the veggies she's been laying out for him. She had never seen him near the bowl she placed them in and they never had any rasp marks on them. However, he was still growing, pooping, and generally showing off healthy snail behaviors, so we knew he had to be eating something. This morning, she was able to catch him eating. And what was Boof eating, one may ask?

The stick.

Not the veggies, not the bloodworms that my sister placed out in case he was a carnivorous snail or just needed some protein in his diet (we have yet to positively ID him since he's not fully grown and also still fairly small), the stick.

Apparently my sister watched him rasp little holes into the bark of the stick for an entire hour that morning, and because his body is fairly clear she could see that he was actually eating it.

So now we know what my snephew is eating. We're going to try different veggies than what she's been offering him to see if he'll take to those for some variety in his diet, but it's good to know that there's at least one thing in his tank that he'll munch on.

💛~ B 08/15/24

[foxxdoolz]

Journal (6-10-24)

I was told journaling is good for the mind. I don't believe that steaming wad of bullshit, but here we are.

Maybe there's something to say about something. But even as I type this, my mind his blank. Blank like always. Always blank. I've given it a phrase at this point.

The Art of Destroying Your Life.

Because, truly, at this point, it's my greatest piece of work to date. Not the scripts I have written, not the films I've made, but my inherent ability to feel nothing about my life.

I'm happy sometimes, sure, sad sometimes, but I can't run away from this crippling feeling of nothingness. That I simply just exist. And I love existing and breathing and loving and thinking.

I think about how, right now, at the age of twenty-one, I live surrounded by trash. Not hyperbole. Rotting takeaway on the floor, liquor cans standing right next to it, snack wrappers taking up an entire side of my bed so no body could sleep near. I find it totally disgusting, and yet I continue to let it rot.

Living is monotonous. And I love living, but I can't help the thoughts that any time I smile or laugh, am I just sliding a mask on? Am I truly content if the second I am away from whatever is immediately making me happy, I feel nothing?

I get into these slumps where I don't feel like existing. Not that I want to stop existing, no, but I don't want to be perceived, I suppose.

I remember the first time I felt this way. Eighteen. The retail place I worked at just closed down, my stability of my favorite job ever, gone without my say. And there would be weeks that would pass where I didn't shower, ate filth, the only moments of happiness coming from fleeting moments with my friends.

And, then, I applied to a film school, halfway across the country, and I felt invigorated. I had a goal to achieve. I had something to do. And I was constantly working towards that goal.

And now, I'm at that film school, I've achieved that goal, and now it's just life. I just go to school, go to work, eat filth, and don't shower until I have to be perceived.

I wonder if these slumps existed before I was eighteen. If that's why I took my first drag of a cigarette at thirteen. If that's why I first stole a crappy seltzer from my mom at fourteen. If that's why I first coughed marijuana from my lungs at fifteen.

I no longer smoke weed, having stopped when I was about seventeen, and, though it may sound like it, I don't drink often. I like to drink socially, but the thought of drinking alone is boring. The cans on my floor are from weeks of long shifts at work.

I confided in a friend of mine recently that I want to go to therapy. Therapy costs money, money I do not have when I am living paycheck to paycheck. But, hopefully in the near future, I can take that step. I'm an open book, really, and I love talking to people.

I've been thinking about my grandma a lot recently. My dad's mom. She passed away when I was five. I only have one memory of her face, and the memories of my father's face when talking about her. I think about how my dad was barely an adult when he lost his mom, only thirty-five, when there was still so much more he needed from her. Cancer is a fucking mess, I suppose.

I also think about he was only a little bit older than I am now when he lost his own father. A good for nothing, angry drunk, but still his father. How, among the myriad of shitty stories I've been told, my dad still thinks so highly of his own father. Idolizes him, loves him, despite the bullshit.

I wonder if my dad looks at my mom's parents and feels a pang of jealousy. Still alive, still healthy, not miserable drunks doomed to cancer or psychiatries. Jealous that my mom's family, for all of the assholes and strange people, is massive, when my dad has very little.

My mom with too many brothers and sisters to remember the names of, and my father with his two sisters, and newly found half-brother. I think it meant a lot to my dad to find his family growing. It's only been a few years since he's known his half-brother, and it's only been a few times I've seen my half-uncle, but a little bit of light comes back to my dad's eyes when he's around. A light that fizzled when his mom died.

The same light that re-entered when his long-divided cousin and him got back into contact. Once again, cancer is a fucking mess-

...

I think I'll have to come back to this. I'm pretty sure something just dropped into my tub, like an alive thing.

At first I thought it was just one of my neighbors when I heard something fall behind the wall, and then I heard the unmistakable sound of something clawing at ceramic.

I went to go investigate, thought I saw something move in the darkness of my bathroom, and promptly slammed the door closed.

I need to ready myself before I can check it out. Maybe it's a rat, or a pigeon, or maybe I just need to go to sleep.

-PCD