#now i'm sweating fish oil

[latenightdaydreams]

Okay, imagine mechanic!Konig who fixes your car and is just you know- hot. And then as payment he wants a date. In the back of his car. Where he fucks your brains out and is just so sweet. Mutters the dirtiest things about always being able to fix your car if you give him a baby or something and is just- god I'm feral for this man. And your writing!

Anyway, sorry if it's a weird ask. I love your writing to death, it's fantastic! Make sure to eat yummy snacks and stay hydrated!

AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! That means so much to me and I'm so happy to have such great supporters like you! I absolutely LOVE this idea! I hope you enjoy! Thank you so so much for your support!! 💗

Mechanic!König x reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 2

>cw: fem/afab, sex for payment, p in v, breeding kink, dirty talk

Word count: 1.4k

For more click here✍🏽🔞

.

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You turn your car off and step out, accidently slamming the car door behind you. The ground underneath your feet is uneven as you make your way towards the open garage door. The place looks old and the location seems right out of a horror movie, but you push those thoughts aside.

Looking inside the garage you see a man bent over under the hood of a red pick-up truck. His dirty white shirt and oil-stained jeans are all you can see of him.

“Excuse me? Sir? Hi, I’m y/n, I was wondering if you could look at my car?” Your voice is small and polite, like your customer service voice.

König stops working on the truck and stands, looking over at you. His eyes roam your body, taking in your shape before his icy blue eyes finally meet yours. He looks around as if to check if you were here with anyone or if you came alone.

“What’s wrong with it?” He asks stoically not giving away how attracted to you he is just yet.

“I have trouble starting it and when it does turn on it makes this terrible screeching noise,” Your eyes scan his body, his muscles glistening from a light sheen of sweat across his body. His face is stern with scars across his cheek and upper lip, but it doesn’t take away from his handsomeness.

König stays quiet for a while before walking forward and grabbing a rag to wipe his hands off on, “Okay, let me take a look.”

Tossing the rag aside he walks forward towards you with his hand out for your keys. You place them in his palm, his eyes looking down at you as he towers over you with his 6’10 frame. You turn on your heels and walk to your car with König following close behind. His eyes are glued to the way your ass sways with every step you take.

He unlocks your car and leans in to turn the car on. His eyes watching the dashboard as the engine stalls turning over. Once your car eventually does, he hears the loud sound you spoke of and he knows the issue.

“You have a bad alternator.” He steps back and looks down at you before opening the hood of your car. “It’s an easy fix, should only take an hour, two at most.”

His eyes go back to you and his gaze lingers on your cleavage before looking back down at the car, “There are seats in the shop, you can wait there.”

“Okay, thank you.” You walk back to the garage and pull out your phone to help pass the time. You look around to see an old photo of a car and nothing else personal. The space is clean and only the sound of his radio fills the space.

An hour and a half passes by and König walks in. You put your phone back in your bag and stand.

“She turns on, no issues now.” He says as his eyes look around the shop trying not to be too intense with his gaze.

“Oh, thank you so much sir, -”

“König.” He cuts you off, his gaze going back to yours.

“Thank you, König.” You smile warmly at him. Looking down at your purse you begin to fish your wallet out, “How much do I owe you?”

König looks at the wallet in your hands before his gaze travels over your body once more. He wasn’t interested in your money. There is one thing he’s wanted since he saw you walking up to him, you. He didn’t want to be a perve and ask for it, so he just gave you a price, “$600.”

Your face drops as you only have $400 until next payday, “Can I pay $200 now, and the rest later.”

“I don’t take payments.”

“Oh...”

“But,” he walks closer to you, “I’m sure we can figure something out.” His large hand caresses the side of your face, a smirk on his lips.

.

.

You end up in the back of his SUV with blacked out windows parked behind his garage. Your clothes stripped off and thrown on the floor, your body completely exposed to him. His shirt pulled off showing you his muscular abdomen as his pants are pulled down around his knees. A soft blonde happy trail leading from his belly button to his erection. One of his hands gripping your thigh and holding one leg up as his other hand guides his condomless cock to your pussy.

He pushes in slowly at first, letting out a soft groan as he feels how tight you are. Your warm gummy walls wrapping around his cock as he bullies his way inside.

“Mein Gott your pussy is so tight Maus,” he moans as he grabs your other leg now. His lips kiss your legs up to your feet as he slowly bucks his hips forward. Your hands grasp the seat as he fucks you. Pathetic mewls leave your lips, feeling your pussy being stretched to an almost painful point.

“You’re so beautiful…” Letting go of one leg, he moves his hands down to your breast and begins to tug on your nipple, leaning in as his lips find your nipple; licking before sucking on your sensitive peak. His tongue circling around before wrapping his lips around and pulling gently, your fingers combing through his blonde hair. His mind wished you were full of milk so he could drink from you. His hands dropping down to your stomach and caressing your soft skin. Oh, how beautiful you’d look swollen and full with his child.

“You need a man to take care of you Schatzi,” he leans back and looks at your pretty pussy stretching around his fat cock. The sound of your wet cunt sounding like angels singing to him. He pushes both legs back and leans into you more as he begins to pound your pussy harder. His eyes watching your breast bounce before his eyes travel to your stomach. You’re tiny compared to his massive body, but taking his dick so well.

“I could be that man,” he groans, “you’d never have to worry about your car ever again Liebling.” His voice was laced with lust and ecstasy. König has never desired a woman so much before as he desires you.

“Just have my baby, let me fuck my baby into you.” He growls as one of his hands goes to your sopping wet pussy as begins to rub your clit.

Legs twitching, you’re lost in the euphoria of the moment. His cock filling you and making you so dick dizzy you don’t even fully register his words. “Please, yes, fuck me.”

“That’s what I want to fucking hear.” König grabs your leg and moves you on your side. He lays his body behind you on the seat and lifts your leg up. His face by yours as he gently kisses your neck and the side of your face. His cock slipped back into your wet pussy, causing your eyes to flutter. He let out a small sigh, “That’s my girl.”

König moves hair from your face as he continues to kiss all over you, “You’re so perfect Schatzi.”

His hand slowly slips down your thigh as he begins to rub your clit again, “Cum for me Liebling, cum on my cock.”

You turn your head to look at König, his eyebrows pinched together as his mouth hangs open. His eyes meet your and he leans in to kiss your soft lips. His tongue licks your lips before pushing between them. His tongue twirling in yours and tasting you, he’s in heaven. He can feel you begin to tighten around him as your legs begin to tremble. Your kiss begins to get lazy as you concentrate on your orgasm.

“Please, please, please.” You moan out, your breathing heavy. His hand rubs over your swollen sensitive clit faster making you squirm in his arms. You feel how wet you get as your pussy begins to squeeze around his cock, his balls tightening as he is eager to get off.

König’s eyes roll back as he leans his head against the seat now, his arm under you wrapping tightly around your stomach and grabs it.  “Do you want my cum?”

“Yes,” you look back still on a high and watch his face as he closes his eyes while the pleasure takes over his whole being, “please cum in my tight pussy.”

That made him let out a loud groan as he moaned your name. His cock begins to throb as he releases deep inside of you. He leans forward to kiss your neck and check, desperately wanting your lips. You turn your head to meet his lips as you both kiss passionately.

.

.

.

Nine weeks later your car is still running great, but you’re 4 days late.

Part 2

[tonberry-yoda]

Hopeful - Ramattra

Pairing - Ramattra x reader

Warnings - too much fluff frrrr

Word Count - 3,937

Notes - this fic was inspired by this post by @lady-shimada!! i am super thankful to them for allowing me to write this wonderful idea because I absolutely love how this turned out!! this is one of my longest fics yet and I cannot express how fun this was to write!! thank you again @lady-shimada and I really hope you enjoy it!!! Have a great rest of your day/night everyone and please stay hydrated!!! <3333

You wiped the sweat off of your forehead and smiled at your work. "Does that feel better?" You asked the omnic who's arm you had just finished fixing up.

She rolled her arm and practically beamed at you, if she could of course. "Thank you! Y-You don't know how much this means to me!!" She pulled you into an embrace and you hugged her back with no hesitation.

"Of course. I'm just happy to help all that I can." Nothing felt better than seeing an omnic happy. As a human, it was rare to get along with omnics, especially after the war, but you were just glad that there was some peace in the world that you could take part in. Especially thanks to your teacher, Zenyatta, who was an omnic himself. You just wanted a better world. One in which omnics were seen as more than just robots, but another half of humans.

"How much will that be?" The omnic pulled her wallet out and started fishing out cash.

"No, please, it's on me. I don't need any money."

"Please let me pay, it's the least I could do." She started shoving money at you, but you kept declining.

"Ma'am, I'm serious. Seeing you in tip top shape is more than enough payment for me."

"You're a blessing, you know that?!" The omnic threw her arms around you once more before thanking you what seemed like a thousand times before leaving.

Genji just smiled at you from across the room. "You are very talented, y/n."

"Oh, stop it, Genij." You cleaned off a couple of tools and gave Genji a playful punch on the arm.

"It's true! I don't know what the omnics would do without someone like you. I don't know what I would do without you." He pointed to his robotic body, making you giggle a bit.

"It's seriously the least I could do. They need help, right? That's what I'm here for. To provide that help." You wiped some oil off of your face and slipped off your dirty apron. "Now I'm off to go get some food because I am exhausted."

---

"Brother, I just want to know why you're not fighting for us! For the omnics! The ones who raised you!" Ramattra exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. He was on a walk with Zenyatta, as it had been years since they had last seen each other.

The two decided to get back in contact after a lot of thinking Zenyatta had done on his part. Moral of the story is: he missed Ramattra. They had an unbreakable bond that was taken away from them over a few disagreements. It's not that Zen wanted Ramattra back to change his mind. He just wanted to see him again. Without that brother-like omnic by his side, Zen was becoming a bit lonely.

"Don't you care about your people, brother?! Don't you care that they are dying?!"

"Of course I do, Ramattra," Zenyatta sat next to a nearby lake, looking up at the stars. "But doesn't everyone die?" His tone was soft and Ramattra was already getting frustrated.

"Yes! Everyone dies! But not like this, brother... not like this." He sat next to Zen, looking to the stars as well. "I just want peace for our people. I want to avenge Mondatta. I don't want it to happen all over again... especially to you." Ramattra sighed, feeling a little more at ease, waiting for Zenyatta to say something. Praying that he would agree with him.

"I understand how you must feel, brother," Zen's tone was still soft, not breaking once. "But we each have our own ways of thinking. I don't think anyone should die for the sake of others. I think in the end, we should all be equal."

"But how are we supposed to be equal when-"

Ramattra's rough tone was quickly interrupted by Zenyatta skipping a stone over the lake they were next to. "Listen, Ramattra. I invited you here because I missed you. That's all. We can have talks about war and death later, but for now," Zenyatta got up from his spot, continuing the walk. "I want to know how you've been."

---

"What did you get?" Genji walked up to you, taking a fry from your meal; the omnic he was talking to that was in recovery went back into rest mode. There were a lot of omnics that had to heal up, especially some who have seen some bad places. Your shop wasn't the cleanest, but at least you had a space for them to stay for a while.

"Well it looks like you already figured it out Mr. I Like To Steal Fries." You giggled, placing your food on a nearby table with tools strewn across it.

"Sorry, sorry," Genji put his hands in the air in joking defense. "Look, I'm just hungry too, y/n. You can't blame me."

"I thought you would be," you sighed, pulling out another bag. "So I got you some food too."

"That omnic was right... you are a blessing."

"Shut up Genji and just take the food. And you owe me a fry now!" You laughed, handing him his food.

"Do you have any more patients today?" Genji took off his mask to reveal his scar covered face. If only you could do something about that.

"I think I have one more... but it's a Junkertown patient."

"Are you serious?" Genji's mouth was full of food, shock painted on his face.

"Yeah," you said solemnly. "I hate getting those patients. Not because they're hard to fix, but because I feel so bad. The Junker Queen really fucks them up, I tell you what."

"I bet. I'm sorry." Genji looked at a patient who had been bed ridden for weeks. Another one from Junkertown, still trying to regain consciousness.

"Genji, I'm the last person you should be apologizing to." You looked down at your food, getting prepared for the patient you were going to have to help soon. You wished it didn't have to be this way between humans and omnics, but for now, this was the only thing you could do to help.

---

"Wait," Ramattra pinched the bridge of what would be his nose. "So you're telling me that you're teaching... a... human?"

"Two actually." Zenyatta said casually, watching an airplane fly by.

"Two?! Have you gone mad?!"

"Perhaps a little mad." Zen giggled to himself.

"You have got to be playing some sort of sick joke on me. I can't believe you would do something like that."

"Not all humans are bad. You do know that, right?" Zen gave Ramattra a playful look, which was returned with glaring eyes.

"Yes they are. Why else would we still be going through this pain and suffering?"

"Follow me. I want to show you something."

Ramattra sighed, but didn't argue with Zen. "Fine."

"Might I ask when the last time you spoke to a human was?"

Ramattra went silent, trying to think. "I don't really... speak to them. They made us suffer, so I make them suffer."

Zen hummed in response. "I see."

For the rest of the walk, the two omnics were silent. They didn't feel like more needed to be said, so they just listened to the nighttime birds sing and the slight breeze blow onto the nearby lake.

Ramattra loved when the world was peaceful. It was rare for him. Not often did he get to just enjoy the sounds of the world, it didn't feel like he was allowed to yet. He still had things he needed to do for his people. It was like a breath of fresh air was unheard of for Ramattra.

In that regard, he was very thankful for Zenyatta reaching out again. It was like how he used to live. And even if it wouldn't be permanent, it was nice.

"Right this way, brother." Zenyatta pointed down a dark alleyway, the only light coming from a dim lamp next to a sign that said in dark colors: "Omnic Repair". Zen opened the door to a dimly lit workshop with tired omnics lying in hospital-like beds.

Ramattra looked around the workshop, his gaze finding Genji who was sitting with an omnic that was in better condition with the rest, joking and chatting with him.

"Brother, what is thi-"

Ramattra was quickly interrupted by Zen putting his finger over what would be his mouth and pointing to you, who was hard at work fixing the omnic from Junkertown.

Ramattra turned to you and felt like everything around him had stopped. Like nothing existed in the world but you.

"Not all humans wish to see us suffer, Ramattra," Zen whispered with a smile, seeing how gentle you were with your patient.

"H-How?" Ramattra's tone was almost as soft as Zenyatta's.

"What do you mean, 'how?', brother? This is what they love to do. They want nothing more than to see an omnic live out its life."

"B-But... they're human."

"Very observant brother," Zenyatta giggled, putting his hand on Ramattra's lower back. "Why don't you say hello?" He pushed him to you, but Ramattra quickly stepped away.

"Zenyatta, I can't. They're doing something important right now." His eyes stayed glued to you, watching as your eyes didn't once leave your patient. You were so focused on fixing them, on helping them not be in pain, it was admirable.

You tilted your head, fixing a screw and stood up, stretching. "I'll be back." You said to your patient, who was already more than halfway completed. "You're a trooper."

The barely conscious omnic seemed to smile at you, giving you a limp high five and saying a soft "thank you."

You nodded and turned around, almost bumping into a large... omnic?!

You apologized and took a step back to find Ramattra standing in front of you. He was taller than any other omnic you have ever seen and a hell of a lot scarier too. But he also looked so... cool. Definitely unlike any other omnic you've met.

"y/n!" Zenyatta stepped out from behind Ramattra as you took off a face mask you had on. "You're doing excellent work in here!"

You smiled and gave Zenyatta a short hug. "Thank you, master. It's been a long day, but we're almost done."

"I'd like you to meet someone." Zenyatta pushed Ramattra in front of him, revealing to you the tall omnic. He had to be way over 6ft, he was gigantic.

"Hi!" You smiled, sticking your hand out to him.

"Hello there." Ramattra just stared at your hand and you let it limply fall to your side. You gave Zenyatta a confused look.

"This is Ramattra," Zenyatta introduced him because he knew that Ramattra wouldn't do it himself. "Ramattra, this is y/n."

"Does he need repair? Because he looks just fine to me. I mean I could check a couple of his bolts and wires, but like I said, he looks in tip top condition." You took a fry from the table in the corner of the room and popped it in your mouth.

"I need no repair, human." Ramattra's tone was rough, but it didn't scare you. It was just alarming to hear someone speak to you like that.

"Alright then... What can I help you with?"

Zenyatta just laughed and shook his head. "y/n, Ramattra here is like a brother to me. We've taught each other a lot, but got separated due to differences. I just wanted to show him the work you conduct in here, perhaps show him another side."

"Nothing will change my mind about humans." Ramattra turned around and crossed his arms, looking around the small workshop.

"That's not what I said, brother. I just wanted to show you something new, that's all."

Ramattra just ignored Zenyatta, walking over to an omnic who had to get all of his limbs replaced and was clearly exhausted, but still awake.

"Why are you here, brother?" Ramattra grabbed the omnic's hand, looking at his tired figure. "Why not get repaired by one of our own kind?"

The omnic just looked at Ramattra and stretched, his eyes getting brighter. "y/n is great. They make sure we're cared for and in our greatest condition."

"Yes, but they are human."

"I've met a lot of good humans in my day. And they are definitely one of them. If not for them, I wouldn't be here, talking to you."

"I see... Well, I will let you rest now. Godspeed, brother." Ramattra left the omnic to rest and saw that you went right back to work on your patient from when he walked in.

He walked over to you and sat down, watching you as you worked, not once thinking about anything else but saving this omnic.

"How long have you been doing this job?" You jumped slightly, shocked to hear Ramattra's booming voice.

You giggled, a little embarrassed about getting frightened. "I've always been interested in repairing, but it wasn't until I met Zenyatta that I realized that I can use those abilities on omnics too. Plus, I know that you all have been through a lot and I just want to start the movement to help. It's not much, but it's what I can do."

If Ramattra had a heart, it would be pounding. Perhaps he felt the simulation of it or at least his brain was telling him that his heart would be pounding. Whatever it was... he didn't like it. "W-Well, human's have been the reason for our destroyed life. The reason we are so hurt and suffer this much. It is because of you that you are fixing us. You're not helping with anything."

You didn't know how to respond. You had never been through what he has, nor do you even know how he would feel. So you just kept working on your patient. "I'm sorry." You ended up saying. "I know a simple apology isn't enough, but I am really trying to do better as a human. Omnics deserve much more than they are currently given and how they are treated, so, I'm sorry Ramattra." You looked up at him, making eye contact. "Truly."

For the first time, Ramattra couldn't say a single word. He had no rebuttal, nothing rude to say, no singular comment, nothing. He had nothing to say to you.

So instead of words, he opted for a head nod and continued watching you work. You were so precise, so caring, making sure not to hit any vital wires that would hurt the omnic in front of you. You knew what you were doing, and you were clearly skilled.

Shortly after, you took off your mask and smiled at your patient. After a couple of hours, this poor omnic that was torn apart by the citizens of Junkertown was finally as patched up as you could get them. Definitely able to live a mostly normal life and that was all you wanted for them.

The omnics eyes lit up. They couldn't walk or move too much due to their current condition, but they could definitely feel the difference. If they could smile, they would, but you could certainly tell how happy they were. "Th-Thank you." Their voice was weak, but sounded way happier than before. "You don't know how much this means to me."

"Of course," you smiled, grabbing their hand. "I'm just glad you're all better now. Like I said earlier, you're a trooper. Now get some rest, alright?"

They nodded lightly and pulled their blanket up their body, drifting off into sleep.

Ramattra was amazed. You were so... gentle with the omnics. You really did seem to love your job.

You slipped off your mask and your apron, receiving a high five and a "good job" from Genji.

"Thanks Genji. Another day done." You stretched, a couple of bones in your body popping.

"So," Ramattra scoffed, still trying to keep his intimidating front. "How much do you get paid for this?"

"I don't," you admitted, hanging up your apron and slipping on some slippers, yawning. "Why would they have to pay to continue living? That's just not fair."

God, Ramattra hated the way you were making him feel. Humans weren't supposed to be this... nice. They were evil. All of them. Right?

"Oh shoot!" You ran up to Ramattra, gently brushing your fingers over his arm. "There's a crack."

"It's nothing." Ramattra quickly pulled away from you.

"I saw a missing screw in there, it's not nothing. Can I please look at it?" You reached out your hand to him again and he pulled away again, walking away from you.

"No. I won't let a human touch me! I-"

Ramattra was interrupted by Zenyatta putting his hand on Ramattra's shoulder. "Just let them try. I promise they won't hurt you."

Ramattra sighed, but sat down anyway. He wasn't super stoked about having to be fixed by a human, but that crack and missing screw have been messing with his ability to use his arm properly. "Fine. But if you try anything, human, know that there will be prices to pay."

You could tell that Ramattra was stiff. You realized something though, perhaps this motion he made around humans wasn't because he was trying to defend himself or wanting you to fear him... it was because he was... scared. At least it seemed that way to you. He has only seen humans as something to harm him and the people he loves. Maybe being able to see a human as an ally was frightening to him.

"You don't have to be so tense," you giggled, pulling out a bag of assorted tools. "Loosen up a bit and this might be easier for both of us."

"It's a little difficult to do that... I don't want to drop my guard."

You hummed in response, picking out the tools you needed. "I understand... It must be weird to see humans as a nice thing, huh?"

Ramattra went silent for a moment, looking at a dim light bulb above him as you went to work. "I suppose. Your race has done nothing but hurt mine."

"I wish it didn't have to be this way," your tone was gentle as you concentrated on your work.

"Me too." For the first time, Ramattra's tone dropped. He wasn't trying to intimidate you anymore. It sounded almost... friendly.

"I'm going to bed, y/n." Genji took a step away from his desk that was cooped up in the corner of the workshop and stretched. "Great job today."

"Thank you Genji," you smiled. "Get a good night's rest, alright? It's already pretty late."

"I will. Don't work yourself to the bone, got it?"

"I won't. I'll be heading to bed myself after I fix up our new friend here." You chuckled as Genji went off to his room.

"After I fix up our new friend here."

Was Ramattra really stooping so low to find a human... friend? No. There was no way.

"All done!" You put any tools away and looked over Ramattra's metal body to see if there was anything else you needed to do.

Ramattra moved his arm and was shocked. It was the best his arm has felt in years.

"Thank you." Ramattra bowed at you. "I... appreciate your efforts."

"Anytime," you cleaned up and smiled at Ramattra, your hands moving to your hips. "Just be sure to come back again if there's anything wrong, alright?"

Ramattra just nodded and followed Zenyatta to the door of the workshop.

"Oh, y/n?"

You were headed up to your room to finally get some rest after such a long day, but were stopped by Ramattra's voice.

"Yes?" You stuck your head out from the top of the stairs.

"Promise to get a good night's rest?"

You thought for a moment as a smirk painted your face. "Yes. Promise to be back?"

Ramattra thought for a moment. "...Yes."

---

Ramattra did, in fact, come back. A lot actually. More than you expected him to, at least.

At first, it was for small upgrades he was thinking about related to his body and his weapon. And then it was to just see what you were working on and to visit other omnics. And finally, it was just to see you.

It was odd building a relationship with someone who hated your kind. Someone who was afraid that you would turn your back on him at any second. But you noticed every day that he would warm up to you more and more. Even if it was just little things like scooting a little closer to you or telling you about his day.

There started to be days where you would rarely not see his face.

---

"Good morning, y/n." You heard that familiar bell of your workshop door opening and Ramattra ducking his head to get through.

"Good morning, Ramattra." You smiled, continuing to sweep the floor.

"Any big plans for the day?"

"Nope! Today's my day off so I'm going to try to organize this hellhole."

Ramattra chuckled at the sight of your messy workshop. It wasn't unsanitary by any means, just cluttered.

"Sounds good." Ramattra nodded, sitting on a nearby stool, looking giant in it.

"Do you need any upgrades or anything fixed, Ramattra?"

"No, not that I can think of."

"Then do you have any big plans for the day?"

"No. I trained with Zenyatta this morning, but that's the only plan I made for today."

The two of you did what you needed to do in silence. You cleaned up all the clutter, trying to organize it to your best ability, and Ramattra would be on standby if you needed him to reach anything.

"Can I be honest with you, y/n?" If Ramattra could blush, he knew he absolutely would've been.

"Sure, Ramattra. Go ahead." You finally got a chance to take a breather, so you sat across from him.

He cleared his throat and kept his composure. He couldn't lose that stoic posture, couldn't let his guard down. "You are the most tolerable human I have ever met."

You laughed out loud. "Thank you?"

"I mean it. You're kind, caring, and helpful. I hate to admit it, but I think I'm actually starting to like you." He laughed, not believing he was actually saying any of this to you.

"That's actually very sweet, Ramattra. I've liked you from the beginning, so nothing has really changed over in my department." You smiled, laying your hand on the table.

"y/n? I just wanted to let you know, I hate the way you make me feel."

"Really?" You laughed. "Why's that?"

"I don't particularly enjoy conversing with humans, let alone take pleasure in being around them."

"Is it scary?" You asked, tilting your head a bit.

"To be honest with you, it's terrifying. I feel like I'm losing that hard edge. Growing softer. I'm not keen on that." He chuckled almost nervously and you slid your hand over to his.

"Well, I like guys with a soft side." You smiled and immediately made whatever heart Ramattra did have melt. How dare you!

"Don't you dare." Ramattra chuckled, giving you a playful smack on the hand.

"I'm glad I met you, Ramattra."

"I feel the same... I'm thankful that there are humans out in the world like you. It's almost making me..."

"Hopeful?"

"Precisely."

Ramattra walked up to you and placed his forehead on yours. You planted a small kiss on his cheek and he hugged you.

Yeah. You were making him feel hopeful.

~~~~~

overwatch masterlist --- pinned post

@tonberry-yoda

TAG LIST:

(these were all people i saw that were interested in this specific writing and ramattra x reader in general <3) @deepparadisesheep @tarotbonez @xoneaboveallx @snufkuluf @jinne-lee @igzsatelier

<333

[thebearme]

Got any re8 Heisenberg headcanons? (I definitely am so normal about him)

Don't worry, I'm completely normal about him too.

Ethan works with Karl to stop Miranda, but they aren't exactly friends after that, but they learn to like each other.

Chris was originally was going to put Karl into the military as a living bioweapon, but with enough convincing. Ethan got him to just let stay with him and Rose. They're roommates now.

Karl is thankful for Ethan to help him avoid that fate, but he is still frustrated on how his life is in someone's hand. Now he has to listen to Ethan or run the risk of being killed or weaponized. So the anger is the living arrangement is mutual.

Karl tends to be untrusting of everyone, like a feral stray dog. So Karl stays in the basement and minds his business.

Ethan and Mia had a mutual divorce, The relationship was built on rocky ground, and they understand that. But what Mia doesn't understand is why Ethan would have this moldy hobo live with him, and frankly- he doesn't know either.

Karl was a stinky man. His hands are rough and dry, chipped sharp nails that seem to always have something underneath them despite that fact of him wearing gloves most of the time. He covered in a layer of grease, sweat and car oil, smells like copper, gasoline, sweat, cigars, rain dew and a hint of mold and rot. LOVEY ISN'T IT! A sensory overload dream. His hair WILL make a crunchy noise if touched, and don't bother trying to comb through it.

Ethan made sure that his mf got a shower with some actual soap. He may look the same but trust in the fact if you were in a room with him, you'll actually be able to hug him without getting high from the gasoline.

Karl's hair gets so fluffy when conditioned.

It took months before Ethan trusted Karl in watching Rose or let alone hold her.

Karl LOVES sweets.

He originally didn't know about Home Depot because Ethan was worry that there will quickly be no Home Depot.

There's no longer a Home Depot.

Heisenberg will melt when he hears Rose's first words.

The day that Heisenberg finds out what a Samsung fridge is- IT'S OVER!

Heisenberg lived off of military ration meals till now, so he has to resort to the next best thing here: hungry man TV dinners. And kid cuisine when Rose goes into solid food.

HE CAN COOK! To be particular, grill. But he's kinda going through that depression that led you to not take care of himself.

Karl HATES the rain, It rusts all his metal, and he is in content risk of getting struck by lightning, He's a living lightning rod. Ethan tries to be nice and help him by giving him a rubber rain suit, leading him to wear three layers of protection: fishing overalls, rain boots, raincoat, rubber gloves, rain hat and a rubber poncho.

You can hear him from a mile away with all that rubber squeaking.

Heisenberg surprisingly was a virgin for a long time, and it makes sense. He was too busy in his factory to be with anyone romantically nor platonically, let alone get laid. He never really cared till he thought about it now, especially when Ethan has living proof that he fucked. *CUT TO FUNNY KARL SPEED DATING SEQUENCE* this is probably a very sharp contrast to others hc of karl but idc it's my hc

Heisenberg and Ethan have that opposite attract dynamic, Karl gets to teach him that life doesn't end or need to be tense just because they're mole zombies. While Ethan teaches Karl to unpack his years trauma, cuz that shit will come to haunt you.

Ethan found some room for Heisenberg to sleep upstairs instead.

Eventually Ethan gets so close with Heisenberg he actually starts calling him by his first name.

That was noticed by Mia and Chris, which made them nervous in where Ethan loyalty would lie when something were to happen.

Heisenberg never had clean water before, so just imagine him with the crisp 3am water.

Chris only allows Karl to experience the outside monthly. But Ethan sneaks Karl with him when he can. As long, he doesn't scare anyone in town.

Karl is like a caveman entering the present day, He's culture shock is out of this world.

He loves the phrase "metal as fuck."

When Karl has a nightmare he rearrange his room to push all the metal out or nap in the living room. When Karl and Ethan got closer he started sleeping in Ethan's room. Even though their hearts beat slow, the human warmth is still there.

Karl never wants to talk about what his nightmare was about or why he feels better sleeping in a room with less metal.

Here some songs that I always relate to Heisenberg:

Now I'm about to go into what my hc is for Heisenberg before re8.

tw body horror and child abuse

I have the headcanon that Karl wasn't from the village, but his family was. He was born in the states and unknowingly has the genes that make him very susceptible to the mold mutation. Eventually, after his grandfather died and passed the factory/mines to his parents, they all moved to Europe. Explaining the contrasting transatlantic accent.

But like all things, Miranda had to ruin. She noticed the newcomers of the village; she saw how they also have a child and decided to take action. Miranda killed Karl Heisenberg's parents and took him in to experiment on with the cadou parasite.

His gift was unknown till one check up later after all of his complaints of feeling of something tearing into him. Miranda realized that there seems to be scraps of metal like nuts and bolts dug and tear through into his body to his bones like a magnet.

When he's in is REM sleep, his electromagnet powers moves and attract scraps of metal to him. Leaving him to wake up with blood on his sheets, but the wound already healed like nothing happened. But Karl does know it feels harder to move every day.

Miranda made sure to test him on his gift. He looks completely human and is powerful, he was almost perfect… The one single flaw in him is the fact that even as a helpless child that had no one else to rely on but her. He still hated her.

Heisenberg was the youngest of the four lords and the favorite, and he hated it. Dude would just spend all his time by himself, leaving himself tape recorders. He eventually started to entertain himself as if he was a radio host. The theater kid possesses him.

Eventually when he got older he got into contact with The Duke and was able to purchase tapes and machinery scraps from him. The tapes turned out to be American documents of ww2, leading Heisenberg to his American freedom fighter rhetoric.

When he detransform from his big monster form, he has to go get a lil help. He has to get rid of the pieces of metal without just tearing off pieces of his flesh, That shit is hard to grow back you know!

[wonder-mei]

Tough man loves his wife (MK1 Kuai Liang)

Author's note; reminder this is not a lore accurate to the Mortal Kombat universe. I write because they're hot. I also do no have beta reader or i read my fan fic from top to bottom to see any errors. I'm lazy okay.

Everyone knows that Kuai Liang and Bi-han have similar characteristics but the younger one has sympathy inside of him,always by his adopted brother’s side and isn’t too stoic to other people. Everyone knows that Kuai Liang will have a family of his own but they never expected he will devote his life to his wife and children. 

Today he did a mission of helping the neighbouring village to slaughter invaders. He killed every invader without mercy just like they did to the innocent villagers. Covered in blood but not a single wound on him. Ever since his brother’s betrayal, Kuai Liang has trained himself to be stronger and stealthy, resulting in him not getting hurt in any battle and fights. 

Before he enters his home. He takes a shower outside the house. Washes every blood on him and wears fresh comfortable clothing for staying in his house. He has done this countless times; taking a bath from a mission and already having fresh clothes he placed every time before he went on a mission because he will be drenching in blood and sweat. He doesn’t want to enter his house like that.

After done cleaning himself. He enters his house without making a sound, thinking his family is already asleep. It’s very late at night. He slowly slid open the door to the master bedroom. His eyes land on an awakened woman sitting in front of her large cosmetic mirror carved from the finest wood in the land. She is combing her hair with the rarest jade comb he gifted from a raid he had months ago. Kuai Liang approaches his wife and sits behind her taking the jade comb from her hand then comb her hair. The wife smiles at her husband's arrival and affection which he always gives her every minute they’re together.

“Welcome home,husband-of-mine”

“I have returned,wife-of-mine. Why you’re not asleep yet?” He delicately combed her hair,admiring every strand. 

“I’m not tired yet. And” she turns to him with a smile “I’m waiting for you” she leans into her husband embracing him.

“I told you not to wait for me if i’m still not home at midnight” Kuai Liang smiles back at her stroking her hair. 

“I know but it won’t hurt to wait for husband-of-mine home right?”

Kuai Liang chuckles “Not at all. Thank you. Now turn back to the mirror. I want to continue brush your hair”

She turns back and Kuai Liang continues combing her hair. His other hand fishes hair oil out from his pocket then applies them in her hair.

“This smells new.Where did you get it?”

“An elderly woman gave this to me for saving the village. It is made from ginseng,very good for your hair” he brush her hair until the oil covers her hair 

“Oh” she holds her front hair to feel the texture “Feels much better than before. I love it”

“Really? Then i will buy this every month” 

The wife smiles at her husband’s promise. Kuai Liang swiftly wears a set of gemstones that complement her true beauty “I saw a seller in that village who mines gemstones around China. He gave me a good offer on these earrings. The second i laid my eyes on this gemstone,i think of you” 

The wife smiles more admiring the new gift her husband gave her. Tilting from side to side to admire them “They’re lovely,Kuai Liang” she hugs him tightly receiving a chuckle from him

“Let me see you” he holds her face staring at her. His thumbs strokes her cheeks admiring his own wife. The couple looks into each other eyes smiling together but then–

“Oh no. She’s awake” they both turn to a crying infant who was sleeping soundly on their bed. Kuai Liang with a big smile approaches his daughter. He gently holds the crying child but stops when she noticed her father is carrying her

“I think she’s jealous of you getting the attention” He teases his wife, “Very quick to get jealous just like her own mother”

“Hey!” she hits him pouting at him

The baby laughs at her mother hitting her father. Two sets of footsteps come storming into the room with a loud “Father!”

“Quiet boys. Don’t wake up the whole clan” their mother warns the twins but they didn’t listen. Launching themselves into their father like monkeys, “Look at these two rascals. Doesn’t listen just like their father” 

Kuai Liang laughs “I really can’t deny that”, he looks at his sons climbing on him but aware of their baby sister is in his arms asking loudly to their father about the mission 

“Boys! Let your father rest!” she warns again “Go back to your room now”

“Awww” the twins said in disappointed tone at the same time

“Let’s sleep together tonight. Sounds great right?”

The twins nod in excitement “YES!”. They both jump into the king sized bed ready to sleep. If they want to sleep

“You’re putting them to sleep” she pouts, watching their twins being hyperactive late at night. She takes their baby from him and walks to their bed. “Xiayi, Ruofei. Lay down!”

Kuai Liang watches his family being chaotic as they always are. A life he never thought he would get after years being betrayed by his own brother. His family is his beacon. To live,to fight and to have a peaceful life for them. 

a/n; my bestie wants a fan fic where there's kids. bleh here you go

[octuscle]

hey Chronivac Support! i'm a skinny, sort of feminine younger guy having trouble finding a job in a pretty rural area, is there anything you could do to help?

I have a job for you. How long have you been working as a mechanic? Eight years I think… Wait, didn't you want to be a hairdresser, or a makeup artist. Or do something with flowers? Bullshit! You've got motor oil in your blood. Trucks are your passion. Ever since you flunked out of high school at 17. So you must be 25 now. And not 18. Your facial features become more masculine. You're growing a strong beard. And your brain is filled with memories of years of hunting, fishing, fixing trucks and endless hours at the gym.

What's that about the gym? To pilates or to yoga? Hell, there are no classes like that for sissies here at the Gym. Here, iron is lifted. And lots of it. Your muscles swell up like balloons. And at the same time, there's a funny stench in the air. Your stench. The stench of sweat from hard training. And hard work. Fuck the interview. If you don't get the job because you reek like a man, you don't want the job. Same goes if your new boss has something against tattoos. But why should he. Real fellows around here are all inked. Maybe not as much as you. And not as awesome as you.

Fuck, you hate tattoos! You're afraid of needles… Wait. What a bullshit! You got your first tattoo in high school. That was one of the reasons you got kicked out of high school. And when your interview begins, you are immediately reassured. Your interviewer is no stranger to the tattoo parlor. You're both fans of the same football team. You're both members of the NRA. And fuck, you both like dicks!

Before you even have a signed contract, you've already given your new boss a blowjob. Promising! But fellows like you always find a job here!

[comatosebunny09]

You've been putting off that oil change for far too long, sis.

You can't ignore that angry, red oil lamp leering at you from the dash much longer. So, you call a mom-and-pop shop to schedule an appointment for an oil change. And to your surprise, they have an opening right now!

Sure, you don't want to shell out the coins to keep your car running. Rather spend your money on booze, food, and whatever other oddities get you through the weekend. But you're an adult now. You've got 'sponsibilities. You want to trade that car in for a Mercedes someday.

Right?

You whip down the sunny highway, weaving through traffic. Pull up to the quaint repair shop you'd phoned earlier, still wearing your uniform and smelling like the struggle—it's inventory week. Lots of heavy lifting, sweating, and hating your life. 

It's surprisingly clean inside despite being low-key. Freshly painted, ivory walls. Glittering tile floors. Smells like bubblegum and lemon interweaved with motor oil. Warm and homely in contrast to the biting cold outside.

A neatly-arranged lobby sits on your left, two rows of chairs flanking the wall-mounted T.V., abuzz with the weather. Ceiling high windows permit sun rays to shine through. To your right is a marbled counter with a black top, unmanned, tidy stacks of paper, and intricately arranged business cards adorning it.

The door behind the counter is cracked open, a conglomerate of drilling, whirring, and shouting over heavy machinery pouring in. You ring the bell perched on the counter's edge to get serviced. Wait a few beats. Convinced no one will hear you over all the ruckus going on outside, you turn around to lean against the counter, thoroughly engrossed by your phone.

You don't notice when he sneaks in. Situational awareness has always been shit despite your profession. Hear him before you see him, his tone like static tearing into a quiet room. You flinch, spinning around to face the room's new occupant with squinted eyes.

"Good morning, Miss!" says this blond mountain of a man, throwing you off kilter. "How may I assist you?"

He's all teeth and sunshine, this guy. Towers a good foot over you. He wears sandy skin stretched over sharp features. Wiry, dark brows. Freckles stipple his nose. Dimples crater his cheeks. Wheat-colored hair bleeds into a deep crimson on his shoulders and frames his jaws. His face is smudged with what you assume is oil. But it does nothing to detract from how incredible he looks.

You can make out the virility of his body through the confines of his royal blue jumpsuit. Arms lean and bulging with veins pouring from his rolled-up sleeves. Homie clearly works out. He drums his thick fingers on the countertop. You gnaw on your lip, unconsciously imagining them wrapped around your throat...

Despite majoring in linguistics, you've suddenly forgotten how to speak. Mouth gaping like a fish. Eyes blinking rapidly. Your heart is pounding over time in your ears. You're scorching hot.

Breathe, girl.

Breathe.

When you've found your voice again, you clear your throat. Try to act all casual, like you didn't almost wet your panties. "I-I'm here for a nine-o-clock oil change."

"Ah!" he remarks as if you've unearthed the meaning of life. You resist snorting, watching this ball of electricity bounce around and fiddle with a clipboard. He passes it to you, grin never faltering, your nerves slowly draining away. "Please fill out all of the highlighted areas with your information!"

He's intense, sure. Like an ecstatic puppy waiting for its owner to toss a tennis ball. But he gives you good vibes. Smile is infectious. You can't help the ghost of one sliding past your lips as you grab a pen. Feel heat pervading your cheeks, and you glance down to jot down your info.

You slide the beach boy your documents and keys when you're done. He dangles them between you, chuckling at your choice of keychain. A gaudy, fuzzy, pink ball that's been through some things. You're suddenly self-conscious. A little more self-aware, with your hair sticking up at odd angles, your uniform coated with a film of dust, and the laces of your boots peeking out. Though, dude doesn't seem to notice or care.

He tells you to make yourself comfortable halfway out the door again. Motions to the coffee bar nestled beneath the T.V. Flashes you another thousand-watt smile. Says, "my name is Kyojuro, by the way," before going outside to bring your ride around back.

As you plop your weary bones into a chair in the lobby, you can't help wondering how someone that hot ended up working at a place like this.

But dammit, if you don't enjoy having something nice to look at while you wait.

Masterlist

[drowninginblox]

Reminders

A group of drabbles that I wrote on a whim. Enjoy!

It's been some time since Tubbo last saw the morning crew altogether. It wasn't something he lingered on, he had plenty of machines to distract himself with. Yet every so often, the thought would seep in between the brief spaces between his geers. Lingering laughter intermixed fragments of English and Portuguese. The smell of coffee and oil intermixed with wine, dandelions, and sweat. Sometimes he would space out mid-experiment only to be taken out with the howls of his business partner or the reminder of his ever-sleeping daughter.

Forexample, just earlier today, as the young satyr was reading himself for the day, he passed a loose calendar on his way to the coffee pot. Most of the time Tubbo would pay it no mind. However, a day was circled in pink marker- marking the day as one sunny made sure to remember in the case Tubbo did, which he is always one to do. Ceasing his trip mid-step, he lingered on the brief note longer than he should.

"Fit's Arm"

A few charges in his brain fire, a smile, small and tired, slowly creeps onto his face. He didn't get to ask Fit about his arm. It must've slipped by with a myriad of things Tubbo's sure to have missed throughout his life. But, with this newfound vigor, he can't help but chuckle. Maybe later today he'll stop by Fit's place. Pac's too if he can't find the Florida man. A laugh follows as he gets back to his journey to the coffee pot at the realization that he'd give up an arm and a leg for his morning crew

------

Phil wasn't that worried when he saw his children still in bed. He made sure to check their temperatures, to which both were fine, and sighed when nothing changed after three days. This isn't anything new to Phil, Chyanne and Tallulah on separate occasions have had their bouts of long rests. Yet when Bagi and Tina reported that the other eggs were the same, Phil could only fear the worst. It was one thing for the Ender King to go after him, that's fine. But children? This was a new low.

Even though he was a vessel of the gods, he could only do so much when it came to their rights. So in solidarity, he lit some incense, burned a few roses, and prayed that his anxieties weren't reality. In the meantime, making medicine for the eggs when they were lucid enough to take some.

It's been weeks now, and nothing has changed. Phil was sitting on the fishing perch with a fresh cup of green tea in his hands, contemplating the horizon for the twelfth time that week. His eyes and throat stung and exhaustion was on the cusp of his soul. Yet he remained. "Darling, please," A voice he only heard in his dreams coaxed. One that was sweat like honey and dark as night. "You know I won't go down easily love," He relented. A shared sigh followed as a light touch made contact with his shoulder. "I know."

He turns his head. A form he knew too well greets him, veiled from the sun and other's gaze. "It's been too long." She admits. Phil smiles before glancing at the door. Eyes do wide with panic. "Please don't tell me you're here for-" She puts her other hand on his other shoulder, holding him together. "No." Her hat moves with her shaking head. "No. I am here strictly for personal reasons. I have no business here, I promise you." A breath he didn't know he was holding almost took the man's soul. "Thank the gods," She slaps his shoulder. "I would never do that to you, you know that!"

"I know you wouldn't! It's just, others... have come here. 'Sinked their claim into my family, Kristen." She sighs. A tear slips though the warrior's gaze. "I'm so sorry my love." A hand holds his face as the cracks slowly grow in his guard. Who knew the reaper mourned the living?

------

The movement of his weapon carried Pac through his nights. With thoughts of his beloved haunting him in his dreams only to take up to see his sons trapped in their haze of sickness, the only thing that seemed to get him through these restless nights was monster slaying. Something about it was so cathartic. The repetitive swing of an axe, scythe, or sword and the groans of pain of those he vanquished. In a way, it was a great form of exertion. One that made his mind blur into itself while his body acted on sharpened instinct after a year of hostility.

While he replayed a conversation with Ramon in his head, he was taking out half a dozen zombies at a time. Hoards of them have turned into a nuisance more than a lingering fear. "Oi!" The break through the groans snaps Pac out of his haze, his body turning to the noise. Mike stands on a nearby hill, waving something bright in his hands. A surge of pain trails up Pac's arm, redirecting himself on the annoyance at hand.

It doesn't take him too long to clean up the group but the clearer Mike's voice became, the faster the exhaustion laced itself through his muscles. Before he knew it the grip he had on his sword gave. He could hear Mike clearly now but the words were nothing more than white noise as his knees gave into the gravity of the situation Pac put himself in.

Mike was there to catch him before he hit the ground. Concern and panic flooded his mind as he pulled out his warp stone. "Sinto muito, meu amigo. Eu deveria ter ajudado você" he mumbled through the echo of the contraption. Within moments they were at Pac's house. The sun was rising over the savannah as Mike carried his friend inside. "Há quanto tempo você é assim?" Silence was what he expected, but from Pac's position over his shoulders, he could hear the mumbling "Fitch... Why, Por que você teve que sair?" He looked down. He and Pac had been through hell together, but he knew Pac would hate to see him like this. So instead he tried to look for the secret warp to his basement and bit his lip to shush himself. The ass beating he had in store for FitMC- *"I'm so sorry my friend. I should have been there for you." .... "How long have you been like this?" *"Why did you have to leave?"

Eventually, he found it, teleporting him and his semi-conscious brother to his bedroom. "Pac, faça-me um favor e vá dormir, porra." He ordered, tossing the smaller onto his bed. A groan was all he needed to hear. "Não dou a mínima para o fato de você estar triste, você está cansado. E eu só consigo lidar com uma emoção de cada vez no momento." He waited a moment for any bitebacks but he was relieved to be met with obnoxious but believable snores. *"Pac, do me a favor and go to fucking sleep." ... "I don't give a shit that your sad, you're tired. And I can only handle one emotion at a time right now."

Whether it be out of paranoia or satisfaction, he lingers for what he hoped was only a few minutes. Eventually, he vacated the basement upstairs. There he put on a kettle to brew some tea. From there he would take the rest of the day to pick up after Pac as he slept for the first time in who knew how long. It wasn't a lot, at least to Mike but it was a good start for an overdue apology.

[thewoodbinewitch]

Sometimes kitchen witching is making a meal spicy enough to keep the demons that have plagued your bloodline at bay (also known as making sure I eat and have dopamine during a manic episode)

Bipolar Demon Buster Chili Noodles (Extra Spicy! 🌶️)

Start making noodles. Spaghetti, ramen, buckwheat noodles, whatever slurpy wheat noodles you have on hand. Make pretty hecking al dente since they get cooked more later. Don't walk away from the noodles to return to Sims 4. The demons that steal time will overcook your noodles. Focus on making noodles.

Add chopped garlic and ginger, shredded cabbage, and sliced onion to hot oil until blistered. Make sure you chop them long enough to wrap around your fork so you get even distribution through the whole meal rather than having a bunch of veg left at the end. Throw away the skins and paper of the veggies. The demons will lie and say you'll do that at the end. You will not. Don't fall for it.

Turn down heat and add broth, soy sauce, fish sauce, rice vinegar, (ginger powder if you're out of fresh in the earlier step), a little bit of sugar, and enough chili garlic sauce to make you sweat out the demons. Reduce until thickened. If it's taking forever to thicken, add some more sugar. A pinch ought to do it. Measure with your heart, you have no time for measurements with the dishes piling in the sink because the demon that says sizing up your vintage patterns is more important than washing any dishes has been winning. You're focused on putting food into your body. Put the food in your body.

Add noodles. Dish up and garnish with sesame seeds, chopped nuts, scallions, whatever. Now you have hot, salty, spicy, slightly sour noodles that will give you dopamine and nourish you while also making you sweat so much you feel the dopamine rush of early Mesoamericans defying the chili plant's defense mechanism. Get a glass of water or two because you should sweat, and the demons erased the entire concept of hydration from your mind all day

Variations include cracking an egg into it at the end, or adding nut butter before adding in noodles (but you might want to increase the chili since it makes it less spicy). And of course you can add whatever other veggies and meat you have on hand, I'm just broke and down to basics. Mushrooms and carrots would be awesome, maybe even radish

[meditating-dog-lover]

Anti-inflammatory lifestyle update

As I said earlier on my blog, I want to follow an anti-inflammatory lifestyle. For someone like me, it's absolutely possible, and I just need some fine-tuning here and there. The true area that's going to need a lot of attention, care, and modification is my anxiety. Excess anxiety and stress cause inflammation which can manifest as eczema. My anxiety is not my fault of course. The fact that I might be on the spectrum and just found that out at the age of 29 goes to show I've never knew the root cause of my random anxiety and anger outbursts and thought there was something wrong with me.

The steps to following and living an anti-inflammatory lifestyle are as follows:

Eat an anti-inflammatory diet. Eating a diet rich in berries, leafy greens, broccoli, mushrooms, sweet potatoes, fish, unprocessed dairy, sprouted or whole grains, turmeric/black pepper, nuts, chia seeds, olive oil, avocados, dark chocolate, green tea, and foods rich in fiber will do wonders. I named a few of the anti-inflammatory foods I enjoy, but there are more. Also limiting intake of sugar, processed white bread/grains, foods cooked/fried in refined vegetable oils, too much salt, omega-6 rich foods, trans fats, and processed meats like hot dogs and bacon (I don't like meat so I'm not worried about this for myself). I do want to meet with a dietitian eventually to ask about how to add on to my anti-inflammatory diet and how to indulge/eat out wisely. Because my goal is to add and not subtract, but I obviously want to limit processed foods. I notice my skin is less inflamed when I eat the above anti-inflammatory foods. My skin is not clear now, but I noticed it clear up a bit when I started drinking green tea this week.

Supplement with anti-inflammatory nutrients that are hard to get from diet alone. These include vitamin D, omega 3 fatty acids (EPA and DHA from fish), and even zinc in some cases.

Drink enough water. I already drink around 2 L of water daily. Also getting it in the form of green tea is fine (I drink plain green tea no sugar, milk, honey).

Avoid drinking alcohol. I know wine can be anti-inflammatory, but other alcohols can be terrible and I don't drink to begin with. I'm going to avoid alcohol altogether.

Avoid smoking.

Get enough sleep each night. From my experience, I need 7-8 hours.

Exercise. I walk a lot, around 8-10k steps a day. I also started exercising this week and did a no jumping HIIT workout for around 15 minutes, combined with a 5 minute warmup and 5 minute cooldown. It was a Youtube video and I felt like the difficulty was a 5-6 out of 10. I want to do some occasional workouts like this that allow me to sweat and challenge/build my muscles. But without overdoing it or experience pain. I'll go for a duration I can tolerate (15-20 minutes) and will modify, slow down on, or skip a workout I find to challenging (anything with side planks or leg circles for example). And the goal is to do these 2-3 times a week. Once again diet is way more important than exercise. I should mainly focus on my diet, and also exercise, but it's effects are not as important as that of diet. So the goal here is to exercise, but not to make it a top priority or a big challenge. I'm here to regulate my insulin/metabolic wellness, reduce inflammation, and build muscle, not to become a super athlete or power lifter.

Maintain a healthy body weight. Being in a healthy body fat/weight range maintains good health and reduced inflammation. From my experience, intermittent fasting helps so much with this. I've been intermittent fasting since last December. For 6 months straight, I want to say that out of all those days, I think I only broke my fast 4 days. A few times to take flaxseed oil in the middle of a skin flareup at night, the first few days I started IF because I got hungry in the middle of the night, on work days where I had busy mornings and couldn't eat until ~2, and on mornings where I had blood work done. Besides that I've been sticking to it for 6 months and do not feel deprived nor hungry nor dizzy at all. Even with a busy work schedule.

Stress relief. I think we all know that stress is super inflammatory. Unfortunately I do struggle with stress and anxiety and have for a long time. It's a combination of not being taught the best coping skills growing up, childhood trauma, and possible being on the autism spectrum (I'm going to do a screening for this soon). If I am autistic, then I'm going to get as much access to resources as possible so I can get the help I need. I know anxiety and stress and rigidity, social anxiety and hypochondria are going to be a normal part of my life, but I just need any help I can get.

Gut health. I've been working with a doctor to improve my gut inflammation so my eczema improves. From my experience I did notice some improvement. But at the end of the day, an accumulation of inflammation triggers it and not just 1 of these things. Gut health is one piece of the puzzle, but it is important. I'm still on the lookout for a go to routine/supplement that can help maintain good gut health. Edit: aloe juice!

Exposure to toxins. We are all exposed to "toxins" on a daily basis, including chemicals and metals. I'll speak to my doctor about this, especially in the context of liver health.

Be around those you love and avoid those who hurt and stress you out (much easier said than done and I'll add more to this).

Take steroid shots and prednisone when needed.

For now, I'll take my vitamin D, fish oil, and multivitamin. As well as the morning aloe juice.

I modified my diet this week to include more anti-inflammatory foods and am even going to try some healthy vegetarian dishes my mom and sister make. I know some people with eczema rave about elimination diets and how cutting out gluten, dairy, eggs, nightshades, caffeine, citrus fruits, and foods high in histamine cleared their skin. I know that some people out there have benefited from elimination diets, but I personally hate these diets. I would much rather focus on adding anti-inflammatory foods and limiting my intake of inflammatory foods like sugars, processed/refined oils, trans fats, and processed white bread rather than eliminating foods that random people on the internet said were "inflammatory". These foods can be a rich source of vitamins and minerals, so I'm really hesitant to exclude them from my diet. The goal is to add a lot of anti-inflammatory food sources to my diet rather than taking foods out.

There are many diets out there, but I believe an anti-inflammatory diet would be best for me to follow. Again I'm going to meet with a dietitian to get some tips and tricks on how to work with it. I've been hearing about different diets for years, but only heard about an anti-inflammatory diet last year when I went to my women's health doctor for a pelvic exam (inflammation causes bad period cramps which I used to struggle with but they've gotten better).

I already drink a lot of water daily and sleep well. I also do not smoke nor drink at all, and I'm maintaining a healthy body weight through IF and walking.

I see exercise as a way to improve my metabolic health and build muscle. It is anti-inflammatory. But it's not very high on the priority list like diet and body-weight is. But it's great for building muscle mass and sweating, both which improve overall metabolism and insulin sensitivity. I'm going to do doable workouts that are 5-6 out of 10 challenging. No jumping, no heavy weights. 2-3 times a week for 15-20 minutes including a 5 minute warmup and 5 minute cooldown.

I am susceptible to anger and anxiety, and I'm going to do an autism screening soon and will get the help I need to navigate in life. Knowing that autism may be a possibility lifted a heavy weight off my shoulders because it explains why there is something "unconventional" in the way I behave that isn't bad nor wrong nor problematic, nor is it a sign of laziness, failure, or incompetence. I know getting the help I need will help a lot with my anxiety, and therefore, inflammation/skin flareups.

I'll add more to point 12. Thankfully the people I interact with on a daily basis do not stress me out that much. And I'm happy I have a supportive community here and that I reunited with my old friends from college. I feel less lonely and empty.

My skin is getting better, and I know that adopting anti-inflammatory habits help. I know that adding anti-inflammatory foods to my diet this week (especially the green tea) and knowing that I might be autistic (lifted a huge weight off my shoulders) made me feel much better this week and my skin was less inflamed. Exercising is a great habit too. I'm going to heal and follow this anti-inflammatory lifestyle. The most challenging part will be the anxiety management and healing, which will take a lot of time. I have a lot to heal from, especially after doing a testing/getting a diagnosis. I'll be okay. My mom and sister are here to help. I also have hypochondria, which they will help with too.

[caperingcryptid]

Aw Fuck Not Another Backrooms Story

So the Backrooms, huh? That sure is a fun little internet urban tale. Sometimes you no clip out of reality and land in some mildewy office hallway, or an endless underground pool, or someplace that makes your head hurt to look at and doesn't make any logical sense. I've always heard it as the scary part about Backrooms-like areas being that it takes places that are tied so heavily to human habitation, and then twisting them.

Hallways without an end. Pools without a place to stand and dry yourself off. Endless fatigue and wandering and nothingness but the sound of your own footsteps, and the smell of mold or chlorine or your own sweat. Sometimes there's monsters, but the foundation of it's been a no-monster thing.

They're silly fun stories that are pretty much everywhere these days. You can't go anywhere on the internet without tripping over at least one during your time browsing.

I'm sorry to say that I'm here to add one of my own to the pile, because it's not like I've got anything else to do in here.

The start of my story really isn't all that special. I was up at the asscrack of dawn making myself something to eat. It was a poached egg, cause whenever I try frying something when I'm fresh out of bed I end up splattering myself with hot oil, I was too lazy to pull out the pancake mix, and I was fresh out of cereal.

The thing about poaching eggs, though, is that they're simple enough to make, but good luck trying to fish them out without making them pop like a Gusher in the pot. Then you're stuck having to deal with murky water, the stuff you do manage to fish out is all runny and watery, and it's just the fastest way to get a bad start to the day-

Sorry. Rambling. My brains've been scrambled in all this heat. Like an egg. Ha. That's funny.

Anyway, though. Enough eggsellent jokes. I was in the middle of trying to fish this sucker out, cursing it every name under the sun, when my sock slipped on the floor. Normally, you see, I would've landed against the counter and bumped my hip a little. Annoying, but nothing bad.

But now I'm here. I don't really know what I did to deserve this outside of probably ruining an egg, but I'm pretty sure this is my own personal hell.

I've seen bathroom backrooms online before. They aren't as popular as the old fashioned Office Backrooms, but there's still a nice little following out there for them. They're usually a lot nicer to look at than your typical public restroom, non-euclidian geometry aside. There's no mysterious puddles. No full toilets. Everything is clean and in this place.

I never would've thought it, but that place seems like heaven, now. Cause I didn't land in a nice, shiny little public bathroom backrooms. I landed in some warped perversion of some kind of amusement park bathroom or something, which is bad enough as it is, but- god.

I'm in hell.

It's hot. Summer hot. Not desert hot, because deserts would be dry, at the very least. The air in here is moist. It clings to the skin. It makes the air thick to breathe. Like trying to snort jello into your lungs. That wouldn't be too bad on its own, but the smell is...god. I'll just say that this place is really, horrendously filthy, and leave it at that.

Which is funny, right? I mean, in the Backrooms, despite looking like they should have people in it, there's no real sign of human life. No indication that anyone else has been there but you. It's loneliness. Uncanny valley shit going on right there.

Liminal spaces. That's what they're called.

The thing is, though. Other people must've been here, right? They must've. There's no way I can be the only one here. Especially when I can hear other people. I can't see them. But I can hear them.

I can hear the shrill shriek of kid's voices. All excited, like they just got back from a show or a rollercoaster or they're getting ready to grab a corndog with mom and dad, and they're losing their heads over it. I can smell this...eye-watering fog of unwashed bodies, but the only body in these slick, reeking, twisting halls is mine.

I'm alone, but not alone. Crowded but entirely isolated.

I can't open my mouth to speak, or scream, because the moment I do I start choking. Who would I scream to, anyway? I feel like my voice would be drowned out by this chorus of ghosts, and I think that'd cut at me worse than anything else. Which is stupid, right? I mean, I'm already living the worst case scenario. This shouldn't be happening, because this shouldn't be real.

I'm too scared to die. I keep drinking the tepid water from the taps. That's clean, at least. I feel so thirsty when I'm not. I'd kill someone for a glass of ice cold water. I had a soda in my fridge, before I fell. Sodas were just something I had. That I could buy and get whenever. I keep imagining having a taste of it. One last taste. It feels like it's heaven.

I'm too scared to die. There's no food in here. There's plenty of water, but no food. I don't want to die here, all alone but not alone. I don't want to die alone in a filthy, endless bathroom. A public bathroom, at that.

There was this one philosopher I read about before. Satyr, I think. Or Sater. Satre. Something. Said that hell was other people. Thing is, though, you also get a lot of people that argue that humans are supposed to be social creatures, and aren't built to be alone.

I think true hell falls somewhere in between.

[fly-sky-high-09]

Weeewaahwoowhummm (slight tmi bellow with more Teo stuff, it's past 5:30am and I am sweating from my warm room while cooling off)

After few days, it seems like I can tell Teo has been urinating on his own just fine now. He use to do small but multiple rounds but now he's really going and hopefully no struggle!

The slightly bad news is that, at first, he was reluctant to even enter the bathroom with the litter box inside but as soon as we changed the litter it was no issue. Strange how that works, he might have sceneted how his old pee was now astrange with a new diet or something? Because the litter was just about fresh even then, I changes it and washed the box right before he got this issue going on

Anyway, he is doing better now, still shying from the bathroom due to probably traumatic experience of me "wrangling" him to open and close the catheter while peeing in pain but he has to get use to it being safe again

So he did started entering the bathroom more bravely and he does use his litter... To poop in it. But when it comes to peeing, as good as he got with it, he's either missing the box or pissing right next to it. I can't teally tail him to see, especially since he absolutely dislikes having me around close to the bathroom after all that catheter mess and connecting me letting him pee on the bathroom floor while he's yelling in pain when pushing the urine out

Traumatized boy... :( I hope he will trust me again with time but even if he doesn't it's ok, understandable, have a nice day

What's important is that his urine is much clearer now and he has no issues peeing. The only obstacle seems to be the bathroom lol but I don't want to bother him about correction on where to pee just yet. I'm just really glad that he can ;w;

The luck in bad luck is that the blockage happened earlier while his struvite crystals were still not as dangerous of a level but still making an issue so this quick shift in diet seems to be doing wonders!

It's pricy food because it's medical but the good bit is that he's not demanding more than what we give him for various parts of the day when he usually eats. With his old food, he always seemed to yell for more and eat more until he felt full. I don't really understand the whole nutrition value with cat food but I'll assume the old bad food wasn't as helpful as I thought... Which is a shame, I wish I knew it sooner.

The worst bit is that when ever I was looking up locally sold brands of cat food everyone claimed different shit about different brands! And I complained about this to the vet and she rolled her eyes like "trust me, I know" then explained to me that majority of the brands here commercializating so much are usually the not good ones but also that they can't be fully blamed as proper cat diet is not something that can be packed with what they usually need.

Cats both feed and hydrate on kills originally and unlike with dogs, they still retain that need for their physiology to maintain itself, they aren't bred out of it so technically no cat food will be able to replace that. She said it's one of the main reasons why cats suffer with crystals and stones so much that it's potentially lethal: cats lacking hydrating from killed food and drinking water instead, as well as oats filled mixes to make them full instead nutritioned like real meat

Realistically, making your own food for cats it the best option but it's not something everyone can do or afford (<- she didn't say that but I assume since I noticed a lot of folks in yt videos with cats actually do make their own cat food for their cats resembling fresh meat and such)

Anyway, Teo is on anti-struvite food for the rest of his life. Which is great, since now I'm sure he both loves this food and is keeping him healthier than before! Reading the ingredients inside it's a decent mix of various poultry meat and oils, fish and such. Frankly it smells tasty! No oats!

He has to go for an ultrasound soonish to check back on the amount of crystals inside him

As for me, I still have some heart palpitations and nervous stomach every now and again during the day :') the stress got me really good this time around I am a little concerned but also know this happened before and will probably stop once things get fully back to normal and I stop over worrying (I am anxious snail I can't help myself)

Which, idk how long will last because august is so soon and mom was still suppose to check in for the pace maker implant... If her doctor would actually call her back for a check up and process results to the committee before then... But it's been two months so.... Idk wtf is going on :I she still has hospital surgery consultations scheduled for august so... I guess we'll see?? Sigh

[user2939839]

Model photoshoot

POV: The photographer is eye fucking you.

Part 1

Context: You have been participating in a modelling competition and you meet a sexy photographer who is one of the judges in the competition.

I don't know how the rest of the girls do it.

They can strut around in 6-inch high heels, keep a straight back and maintain a radiant smile all the while without breaking a sweat.

I felt like an ogre standing next to them. I'm 5-feet-4, way shorter than their 5-feet-8 stature and they have curves in all the right places.

I shook my head, causing these thoughts to dissipate into thin air. I can't overthink this because the more I do, the more I am likely to fall into the koi pond next to me.

We were walking in a single file along the koi pond next to the penthouse we were supposed to stay in for 5 weeks. That is of course, if I make it into top 5.

I looked at my own reflection at the pond. The person staring back at me seemed pale with a noticeable crease in between her eyebrows. Guess I have to start frowning a little lesser.

A koi fish emerged from the depths of the pond, causing a ripple across my reflection. Instantly, I broke free from my trance and I stared straight ahead...

Straight into obsidian dark eyes.

A gasp crawled up my throat and broke free from my mouth. His eyes were like bottomless pits, the kind of eyes where the second you stare a bit too long in you would no longer be able to find your way out. The kind of eyes you get lost in.

My 6-heels nearly plunged straight into the water to join the koi fishes. In other words, I nearly lost my balance.

Then my eyes began to scour, not missing the finest detail about him.

Feathery raven hair fell out in tussles, framing his chiselled face. Peach plump lips were pursed on his angelic face as if he were deep in thought. His jawline was defined, made to make paper cuts on fingertips if one was not careful.

I could feel the blush creeping up my neck and onto my cheeks. Instantly, I lowered my gaze. Suddenly, the koi fishes splashing around in the pond looked freaking appealing.

"Hello models!" Greta Sinclair, the main judge, bursts in enthusiasm.

"Hello Greta!" We all chorused like a well oiled machine.

"Are you ready for your first challenge in week 1?" Greta boomed with her all of her straight teeth on display.

Someone replies something. I don't know what she responded though because when I looked up to face Greta, I was immediately distracted by the 6ft4 man towering above everyone else.

He was no longer looking at me(thank god I think) and was fiddling with the camera on the tripod. He was so tall he nearly stood out like a sore thumb.

Not going to lie I nearly drooled at him as his muscles flexed beneath the tight black shirt he was wearing as he fixed the cameras onto the tripods. God damn this is one sexy man.

Suddenly all the girls erupted into a chorus of cheers and claps which startled me out of my daze.

I think I looked pretty shocked because the girl beside me nudged me before screaming in my ear over the noise, "WE ARE GOING TO DO A PHOTOSHOOT WITH THAT GUY IN BLACK OVER THERE!"

I turned to face her and again I was starstruck by how beautiful she was. She is a ginger with freckles splattered all over her face.

"Which guy?" I shouted.

She points at the tall muscular man who is now holding a camera up to his eye. He must be a professional to be taking photos in that angle.

I swallowed deeply. Uh oh, this might not end well for me. I am probably going to melt into a puddle of goo when I am around that kind of hotness. It is like standing next to a heater on full blast.

"I am Stella by the way," the ginger said, stretching out her hand.

"Delilah." I said, shaking her hand.

When I looked over to the sexy photographer, he was no longer there. Disappointment hit me like a truck. Shit, I might be in way more trouble than I realised...

[hjbender]

I’m confused, if during my time with researching on animals, don’t sea animals lay eggs in their egg sack like serpent loki?

I think most oviparous (egg-laying) sea creatures use the egg sac method of laying eggs, especially invertebrates like squid, snails, jellyfish and octopi. (Want to see something incredible and possibly horrifying? Norwegian divers come across a massive squid egg sac.) It kind of makes sense, keeping all the little ones together where they stand a better chance of survival, but I think there are quite a few sea creatures who lay eggs individually, like sea turtles, and bury them in holes.

Some sea snakes do this. Reproduction varies widely among the species, with some sea snakes birthing live young while others lay eggs. Here’s an excerpt from this article on sea snakes, which is a fascinating read even if you’re not doing research for a merfolk AU:

The true sea snakes may be oviparous (lay eggs) or ovoviviparous (live birth from fertilized eggs held within the female’s body). The Laticauda is the only oviparous group of true sea snakes. These snakes lay their eggs on land.

All sea kraits mate on land and lay their eggs (oviparous) in rock crevices and caves on shore. A female krait may deposit from 1 to 10 eggs before returning to the water.

For sea serpent Loki (and my whole #merthorki AU), I made him ovoviviparous, meaning that his babies hatched from individual eggs inside his womb and were then born live, one at a time. (Most types of sharks and rays have babies this way, too.)

While I personally like to base my fanfiction and headcanons on facts as much as I can, at some point I–and by extension, everyone who reads my stuff–must sometimes just suspend disbelief and embrace the fantastic. After all…

HEY, IT’S FICTION, BABY

[if-mirrormine]

i'm not at all sorry for this one 🤪

nora finds demetri in the garage, his legs poking out from beneath his car and she smiles to herself when he hears him hiss and cuss. she steps further into the garage, coming to a stop in front of him and she softly taps her foot on top of his to get his attention.

"excuse me, sir?" she starts. "can you help me? i'm looking for my husband."

the sound of a metal tool hitting the floor echoes throughout the garage and a moment later, he slides out from the car, the wheels of the creeper squeaking slightly. shirtless and covered sweat and car oil, he grins at her. "you just missed him; he stepped out for a meeting."

"that’s too bad..." she pouts at him. "i had something really important to tell him."

"i can take a message if you'd like?" he climbs off the creeper and makes a show of walking across the garage to a work bench where a marker and handheld white board sit.

she steps closer to the car and leans her hip against the bonnet. "like i said; it's very important that he gets this message."

"as soon as i see him," he affirms with a wink before he picks up the whiteboard with one, the marker with the other, pulls the cap off with his teeth and gestures for her to speak.

she clears her throat and speaks slow, punctuating each word as she says them to make sure he hears them clearly. "i am pregnant."

she watches him begin to write 'nora is' with a look of intense concentration on his face before he stops. he slowly looks up at her, his eyes widening. "you're..."

she smiles at him. "you heard me."

before she has time to react, he's dropped both the board and marker, and closed the distance between them to sweep her into his arms. he lifts her off the ground and spins her around, the sound of her laughter filling his ears.

"i'm gonna be a dad!" he cheers and she laughs again at his reaction. he lowers her to the ground but keeps his arms around her.

"and i'm gonna be a mom," she says and as the words leave her lips, the amused expression own her face morphs into one of horror. "oh god, i'm gonna be a mom!"

he leans to pepper her face in kisses. "you're gonna be the best mom this world has ever seen."

she rolls her eyes at him but her smile slowly returns. "you have to say that."

between a kiss on her cheek and kiss on her temple, he mutters out a defiant, "nuh uh."

"and what makes you so sure?"

"well, you're already the best wife this world has ever seen."

"i'm not sure those skills translate. try again."

"what about that pot plant we had? you kept it alive for a good six months at least."

"we should probably aim to keep our child alive a lot longer than that, demi," she chuckles. "what else have you got?"

he pulls back slightly to grin at her. "now you're just fishing, dear wife of mine."

"maybe a little," she says, glancing up at him with a shy smile.

"trust me, doll; you are gonna be such a perfect mom, our kid isn't gonna know what hit 'em!"

she arches an eyebrow at him and taps her fingers against his chest. "how are you so confident about this?"

he rolls his eyes at her as if that's the dumbest question she could've asked him. "because we're amazing," he scoffs. "and because i have a faith in us; i have faith in you." his face suddenly lights up like a kid on christmas morning. "let me show you just how much."

he tries to lean down and kiss her when she laughs and pushes his face away. "shower first!" she slips out of his grasp then and darts for the door. "you absolutely reek, renfield!"

he stands for a moment, his mind processing last few moments before he dashes after her, a grin on his face.

"i'm gonna sue."

nora rolls her eyes as she continues flipping through her magazine. "don't be so melodramatic," she says, skimming over some article about a new movie. "the doctor said i'm fine." she briefly glances up at demetri, where he paces at the foot of her hospital bed. "will you sit down? you're giving me a headache."

he mutters an apology before hurrying to sit in the chair next to her. out the corner of her eye, she watches him bounce his leg - violently almost - and she rolls her eyes again.

"i just think she should be here doing something," he huffs. "not flitting about the hospital doing god knows what."

"she can't do anything until i'm fully dilated," she replies, her voice monotone. "i thought you passed sex ed."

"i can't help that i'm stressed," he says with another huff. "you're my wife, doll; i don't want you to be in pain."

"and yet you knocked me up anyway," she deadpans as she flips the page.

he pauses and for a moment, she relishes in the silence before he speaks again. "i'm not gonna take that personally because i know this isn't easy for you."

"whoopee..."

he stands up suddenly and she glances at him, vaguely alarmed at the hopeful look his face. "what can i do, doll?"

"about what?"

"to make this easier for you."

"you can sit back down and stop talking."

he gives her a flat look. "i'm being serious, nora."

"so am i." when he doesn't budge, she heaves a sigh and sets her magazine down. "fine; i want you to go home and bring back that stuffed dinosaur you put in the nursery."

at that, he frowns. "i don't see how that could help -"

"who's having a baby here?" she says, glaring at him. "you or me?"

he holds his hands up. "dinosaur, got it."

she smiles sweetly at him and he's only slightly concerned at his wife's abilities to switch between demeanours. "good... and i don't want to see you for another half hour at least." he opens his mouth to object but she cuts him off. "the doctor said we'll be here for hours before the baby gets here."

he nods, unconvinced. "okay, but no longer than that."

she rolls her eyes and begins to reply when she gasps, her hands going to her belly as she's overcome by a contraction. before he can move to comfort her however, she points to the door. "go!"

demetri tears through the house looking for that dinosaur. he was certain he'd placed it on the dresser in the nursery but when he finds it stuffed in the inner bowels of the cabinet under the kitchen sink, he knows nora hid it for this exact purpose.

admittedly, he took longer than she'd asked, arriving back at the hospital after his grueling fifty minute search.

but when he arrives at her room and sees the sleeping baby bundled in her arms, the dinosaur becomes the least of his worries.

"what the fuck, nora," he says as he rushes to her side, depositing the stuffed toy on the chair. "you said we had time!"

she avoids his eyes and shrugs. "i severely overestimated how long this would take."

"why didn't you call me?" he asks, pouting as he sits on the edge of the bed.

she looks up at him finally with tired eyes. "i'm sorry; i was little busy, demetri."

"sorry, doll," he says quietly before he looks at the baby - their baby! - and a small smile touches his lips. "can... can i hold them?"

immediately, all her annoyance at him flies out the window and her face softens. "of course."

she gently places them in his awaiting arms and he stares down at them wonder. demetri thought that he'd never be able to love anything more than he loves nora but as he holds his sleeping child in his arms, he now knows that to be wrong.

he looks up at his wife to find her watching him, a tired smile on her face. "you're amazing, doll," he says softly. "look at what you did; all your own."

"not entirely; you helped at the beginning."

he chuckles. "yeah but beyond that... you don't need me."

"of course i do," she scoffs. "who do you think i'm putting on diaper duty?"

"that all i'm good for, huh?"

"pretty much."

he shakes his head, smiling at her. "i love you, nora."

she smiles back. "i love you, demetri."

nora wakes with a start and reaches for demetri, only to find his side of the bed cold and empty. her eyes still heavy with sleep, she looks around the darkness of their bedroom and finds that empty as well.

with a sigh, she drags herself out of bed and out the bedroom. clad only in one of her husband's shirts and a pair of sleep shorts, she shivers slightly in the chill of late night, early morning as she shuffles down the passage. her feet carry her to the nursery, the soft glow of the night light pouring through the crack in the door, and she peeks inside.

demetri sits in the rocking chair in the corner, rocking softly as he stares at the sleeping bundle in his arms in awe. after a moment, she realises he's singing softly to them and a moment after that, she realises what song.

sex on fire by kings of leon.

she smiles and pushes open the door to enter. "a little inappropriate for an infant, don't you think?"

he pauses mid chorus and looks up at her, a smile of his own forming on his face. "i tried keeping it pg, i swear."

she hums. "i bet."

he carefully adjusts the baby in his arms and makes room for her to sit on his lap. she rests her head on his shoulder and together they stare at their child in wonder.

"can't sleep?" she asks after a while.

"i don't know," he says honestly. "i just can't stop looking at them. is that vain? because they're half of me?"

"no." she kisses his cheek. "i like looking at them too."

he smiles at her. "we made a cute baby."

she grins back. "my half is cuter."

"you know what? i think i agree."

she playfully hits his chest. "suck up."

"jokes on you, nora; i did all the sucking up i needed to years ago! you've already married me and had my baby, you're stuck with me now."

"forever?"

"and ever," he adds, nodding resolutely.

with a smile planted firmly on her lips, she looks back at their baby and runs her fingers through the soft hair on their head. "what band's music do you plan on ruining our child's innocence with next?"

demetri beams. "i was thinking acdc... highway to hell?"

"you take the verse, i'll take the chorus?"

"sounds perfect."

callie is fast asleep in the car seat. mc sits next to them, their eyes on the window as they watch the world fly past. demetri's driving, the music's on low.

they spent the day at the theme park, the three of them. they went on every ride, filled up on junk food and even swung past the petting zoo. it's long after six o'clock but the sun shows no sign of setting any time soon.

despite the fun of the day, demetri's been tense since he woke up. he's nervous, fidgeting, he can't sit still even behind the steering wheel and it's obvious even to mc that something is wrong.

"dad?" they say quietly as they pull their eyes from the window.

"yes, love?" he says, clearing his throat as he glances at them in the rear view mirror.

"are you okay?"

he hesitates before answering. "i am." he reaches into the backseat to offer them his pinky finger. "pinky promise."

they reach up to wrap their pinky around his and he gives them a tight-lipped smile in the mirror. they let go after a moment and mc looks out the window once more. when they don't recognises their surroundings, they look back at him with a frown. "where are we going?"

he adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, tightening and loosening his fists before clearing his throat his again. "we're going to see grandma and grandpa." he meets their eyes, licks his lips. "you're excited to see them, right?"

they nod.

"good," he says softly, his eyes going back to the road. "good..."

the rest of the drive passes by in silence and even when they arrive, demetri says nothing; wordlessly carrying a sleepy callie out the car and holding mc's hand as they walk to the front door. he knocks and it opens a few moments later.

the elderly woman blinks in surprise. "demetri?" her eyes fall to mc and callie and she beams. "and you brought the kids; what a surprise!"

she ushers them inside and mc makes a beeline for grandpa, who sits at the dining table building a model aeroplane. he smiles a them as they hop into the seat next to him. "hey, kiddo," he says, his voice deep and gravelly. he holds up the plane for them to get a better look at it. "what do you think? better than the last one, huh?"

they nod eagerly and watch as he goes back to assembling it, happily listening to the old man's ramblings. in the background, they see demetri talking grandma and after a while she frowns but nods her head. he then passes callie to her and she turns to walk down the passage. he closes his eyes and stands there for a long moment, breathing deeply, before opening his eyes and making his way over to them.

"hey, dad," he says vacantly and the old man grunts in greeting, his entire focus on the model, whereas as demetri's looking at them. "come here for a moment, mc," he adds and they do as told.

they stand in front of him and he kneels on the ground. taking their face in his hands, he gives them a soft, yet uneasy, smile. "you know i love you very much, right?" they nod. "and you know i love callie just as much?" they nod again. he opens his mouth to continue but he stops himself, his eyes becoming glassy. "i want you to always remember that."

"i will," they promise.

"i have to go now," he says, taking a shaky breath. "there are some things i need to take care of."

"where are you going?" they ask.

he swallows. "far... far away."

"how long will you be gone?"

"i don't know, mc."

"will you come back soon?"

a tear finally slips down his cheek and they reach up to wipe it away. "sure," he says, his voice breaking slightly."

"why are you crying, dad?"

he attempts to give them a smile but it seems forced, even to them. "i'm just going to miss you and callie while i'm gone."

"okay," they say. "i'll miss you too."

at that, he pulls them into a hug and squeezes them tight against him. they remain like that for as long as demetri can bear before he's pulling away, kissing their forehead and getting to his feet. then, without a second look, he strides across the room and out the front door.

it's been three weeks and nora's spent every day in front of their living room window, watching, waiting. she hasn't heard from demetri and she knows she probably won't. the police said it's not a missing person's case; there's no sign of his phone, wallet, car keys, even some of his clothes.

no, the man left willingly.

a tug on her sleeves pulls her from the depths of her thoughts, from the pain and resentment crowding her chest, and she looks down to find callie staring up at her.

"what's wrong, cal?" she asks.

"mommy, i'm hungry," the six year old replies.

she nods, an okay leaving her tongue as she takes their hand and leads them to kitchen. she picks them up, setting them on the counter and they watch with fascination as she cuts up some fruit for them.

"mommy?" they say softly.

"yes, cal?" she asks as she puts all the fruit in a bowl.

"where's daddy?"

she pauses, diced strawberries still in hand as she thinks about the answer. "i don't know," she says softly, eventually and finishes plating the fruit. she hands them the bowl and a fork before kissing them on the forehead. "you'll see him soon."

it's a blatant lie but it's one she's been telling herself as well. the thought circulates her mind no matter how many times she tells herself it's not true.

callie eats in silence and she lets her eyes drift to the window above the sink. mc and grayson are in the backyard, playing on the swingset. the words echoe in her mind as she watches them, as loud as the day they were spoken and she feels her heart shatter.

you have me until the end of time.

[masterwords]

“I’ll do it for you”

Make it hotmontagne. Do it. Please.

Your wish is my command! Now I need more excuses to write them. I've done it, I broke the seal. I'm in it now. (1053 words about Hotch and Will at a cabin. On AO3, if you prefer.)

Want me to write something quick and fluffy for you?

**

Less of a cabin, more of a shack on stilts at first glance. Will's family had owned it for generations, barely used it anymore. It had fallen into a state of disrepair and Will intended to start some renovations during an attempt at a vacation. Neither man was much accustomed to taking time off.

“No one wants to come out here much these days,” he'd said as they hauled their bags inside and Hotch listened to the high-pitched squeal of a mosquito near his ear. The cypress trees wept thick over the water, roots twisting and gnarled along the kudzu drenched banks. A willow draped herself over the place they parked their car, long tendrils fluttering in the gentle warm breeze. “Watch for gators.” Will winked at that and Hotch glared. He knew. He and Jack had been reading about this ecosystem for the last two weeks in preparation for this trip he was taking, and the more he learned, the more he understood why Will's family might choose somewhere else for vacations.

It wasn't the alligators he needed to contend with, though, it was the mosquitoes. They hovered in thick clouds above the still water and swarmed his sweat slicked skin without mercy. He smelled like citronella, so strong is made his stomach ache, which only seemed to incite the anger of the indignant little beasts...they came anyway, and Will sprayed him down again and again to no avail.

“They don't seem to want anything to do with you,” Hotch grumbled, scrunching his nose as he smacked another one and was left with a small spot of blood on his forearm. Hopefully his own, though he doubted it very much. It itched immediately. He wiggled, shimmied his shoulders to stop his shirt from tickling his itchy back. Trying to arch his arm up over his shoulders to reach the spot didn't work, and going from beneath was even worse, each time just barely missing the spot. Watching Will cook, he leaned against the corner of the doorjamb, ramming it between his shoulder blades to cut off the misery at the source. It held momentarily so he could watch Will cook the catfish he'd caught earlier with his bare hands, slicing and seasoning and breading it the way his dad taught him. Without thinking, Hotch began shifting from side to side across the edge like a bear, scratching his miserable spine against the wood.

“Why would they want me when they got you?” Will asked his question without even turning around. His fingers were caked thick with wet, seasoned flour, red and black and white goo dripping into the hot oil behind lumps of the fish. Once the fish was in, hissing and popping in the oil, he washed his hands and set to throwing together their salad.

The cabin smelled like hot peppers and fish while they ate, and the angry bites gave him a brief respite in which to enjoy the fruit of their labor. He had helped find the greens for the salad, but he'd only watched from the shore ankle deep in thick gray muck while Will waded into the water and plunged his arm in at the exact moment to come up with a catfish wrapped around his fist. It's not exactly legal, Will had mentioned as he tossed the now dead fish into their cooler of ice. Not expressly illegal either, Hotch replied with a smirk. The meal was important to Will in ways Hotch could sense in every bite, this was his childhood in a snapshot.

After dinner they set up the outdoor shower, just a hose hooked up to the kitchen sink and run out through the window. Moths fluttered against the porch lights, tiny furry bodies smacking against the bulbs eagerly. Will insisted that showering this way was the best way...the cabin had a very nice indoor shower, a new addition in the last decade or so, but Will was adamant. It was the way he and his cousins showered off after a long day fishing or playing in the mud and climbing trees. While he would have just preferred to be stark naked right there on the groaning deck, he threw a tarp up on some hooks for Hotch's sake, the man's modesty extended even to being in the middle of nowhere with no one around. Afraid the owls are gonna say somethin'? Will had asked, tying up the last corner of the tarp. Hotch frowned and folded his arms over his chest, preferring the chorus of the frogs to Will's ribbing.

“You ready?” Cranking the faucet, Will turned on the sink and listened as the water moved though the old, cracked hose. It was cold, would only get lukewarm at best. Still far too hot outside, even in the black of night, for a hot shower. “It'll take some of that itch outta you.” Hotch shivered under the cold spray, but Will was right. It did quell the irritation.

Washing the sunscreen and citronella off while watching the fireflies dancing was like floating in a weird dream. Nothing he saw made any sense. Up was down, down was up and he was cold on a hot night. Tiny glowing balls flickered on and off, hovering over the water and creating shifting constellations no one would ever have a chance to name on the black surface of the water. Turning his face to the sky, he saw familiar shapes and clusters. Orion loomed over the canopy of trees. He was suddenly very aware of being small and unsteady in this waking dream, but then Will's hands were soaping and swirling over the expanse of his back, up his shoulders and neck, wrapping around him. Warm, wet kisses and low humming sounds joined the song of the night creatures. His pulse quickened as the intensity of the song reached crescendo.

In bed, Hotch struggled to get comfortable. His arms would itch first, then his legs and feet, finally culminating in a creeping sensation up his back. He wiggled against the sheets until Will rolled toward him and nudged him over onto his belly. “I'll do it for you,” he whispered, scratching long lean lines up and down Hotch's spine, gently grazing each miserable mound until he was comfortable enough to fall asleep.

[jimlingss]

can i request a yoongi chef au? i feel like yoongi's culinary skills are underrated, and I'm just a slut for chef aus in general

Anonymous said: Hi I saw ur request open posts for the new year!!! Could u write more yoongi stories🥺?!?! Your stories are so fantastic and i’m thirsty for more yoongi lolol🤪(hopefully u get enough votes to do more of him haha)

I feel like Jin’s the one who’s usually written as the chef, prob because he’s the better known chef in BTS, but you’re right! There’s gotta be more chef Yoongi!AUs, so here you go!!!

↳ Buttering Up

2.2k || 100% Fluff & Flirtation || Min Yoongi || Chef!AU

He clearly doesn’t know who you are.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

You hum, arms crossed as you eye him up and down. His black hair is practically a bowl cut, bangs covering his forehead. He’s in casual clothes — a taupe trench and black pants — looking like he’s ready for a trip to the grocery store rather than to cook. You wonder where this child crawled out from.

“You’re Yoongi?”

“That I am.” He approaches the door of the restaurant before plunging his hands inside his trench coat pockets. He fishes out the key and unlocks it, ushering you inside. “Hope you don’t mind that the restaurant’s closed down.”

You mind much more that he left you waiting on the cold city street for over ten minutes. You still can’t believe he was late. The audacity.

“I would’ve liked to see how you and your staff do your dinner service.”

“Unfortunately, we’re booked full for the next two months.”

You scoff — how doesn’t he know who you are? You’re a food critic who’s brought highly regarded restaurants to their knees through a review of five sentences. Your words alone has had rippled effects in the industry. Even the most talented chefs hold their breaths when you taste-test.

You make Gordon Ramsey look like Mother Teresa.

This Yoongi character is much too arrogant to not respect you. His new and upcoming restaurant might have raving reviews, but you’ll see what’s really going on.

“Sit wherever you’d like.”

There are no waiters in fancy garb, no hand sewn tablecloths made of silk. He doesn’t even pull out the chair for you. Instead, he’s off flickering on the lights of the restaurant while you choose a wooden table and chair right in front of his open kitchen — which is a horrible mistake in itself.

Open kitchens have always been a concept that has fallen short in your eyes. It’s much too noisy during dinner service and it gets smelly fast. Who actually wants to leave smelling like butter and oil?

It’s something you note as you get settled. 

Your coat drapes at the back of the chair and then you watch him. Yoongi’s taken off his trench as well, revealing a white long sleeve that he’s beginning to roll up to his elbows. He’s lean and his build is small, but somehow, he’s far from being scrawny. You gawk at the veins running up his forearm until he casually asks—

“Do you have a preference for wine?”

“I’m fine with any.”

He hums and comes over from the glass cabinet with a bottle of chardonnay and a wine glass. Yoongi pops the bottle easily and pours into the pristine glass with a mere tilt of his wrist. You watch the stream fill the glass a quarter way full.

“Is there a menu?”

“You don’t need one.”

Your brows raise. “Excuse me?” 

“If I were you, I’d put myself in the chef’s hands entirely and go with their recommendation.” He strides away, placing the wine bottle on the other table and then he turns with a glint in his eye and his mouth slightly crooked upwards. “Unless, of course, you don’t trust your chef.”

Oh. He’s confident. 

You can’t wait for his ego to blow up in his face.

“Fine then.” Your head tilts upwards. “What’s your recommendation then?”

He rounds his way to go into the kitchen that’s only a few meters away from where you sit. “Risotto with grilled chicken breast, topped off with caramelized onions, mushroom, grilled zucchini and sautéed tomatoes.”

You roll your eyes. What a basic dish. Isn’t it just rice? And with chicken breast?! Ew. It's guaranteed to be bland.

“Alright then.” You give a smile that might be more mocking than intended. “We’ll see how it tastes.”

Yoongi starts and while sipping the chardonnay, you take a good look at the restaurant from your spot. The place is rustic with a hint of contemporary. There’s exposed brick, wooden tables and chairs, and low, yellow lighting. There’s nothing particularly impressive about the place.

Soon, the sound of rapid, rhythmic chopping fills the space and then sizzling. You watch him intently. And you’re appalled. This Yoongi guy commits the worst cooking sins — his pan is cold when he starts throwing on ingredients. He cooks with olive oil. He overcrowds the pan. And he doesn’t even taste test once as he cooks.

What the actual fuck. 

There’s a line between arrogance and insanity, and he was crossing it.

You cringe when he starts using his metallic spatula on the non-stick skillet.

Is he even qualified to run a restaurant?!

Or maybe your assistant sent you information about the wrong restaurant? Or maybe this was not the guy you were supposed to be eating from. What if he poisons you or kills off all of your taste buds?! Your career would be ruined.

“Everything going okay?” you pipe up.

He glances up at you for the first time, eyes peering past his bangs. “Yep. Should be done in five.”

Food is simple. It either tastes good or it doesn’t. But the higher up you go and the fancier it gets, the more convoluted the food tastes with bland flakes of gold and the same old truffle shavings. That or it’s entirely boring and unoriginal. 

Or in this case, it might kill you. Which would be the first. And you’re not happy about it.

You feel unsettled when he plops the dish in front of you.

“Chef’s recommendation.”

“Thanks.”

You feel unsettled because it actually smells good. The aroma that fills your senses is flavoursome and buttery, and the thyme on top adds a fresh hint. You’re also unsettled because the plating isn’t actually bad. It’s been presented in a pasta bowl with wavy designs and the chicken breast is thinly and neatly sliced on top. It’s clean. It’s bright. It’s colourful.

But the most lethal poisons are the appetizing ones.

“Are you going to wait until it gets cold?”

You look up, brows raising at how he’s gotten comfortable in the chair across from you. Usually the chefs and waiters or waitresses like to skedaddle off and leave you to your own thoughts, too afraid to stand in your intense scrutiny. But Min Yoongi twists off the cap of his water bottle and casually downs it in front of you.

“I’m just looking at the presentation.”

“Tastes better than it looks,” he exhales after swallowing his water. 

Your expression becomes skeptical. But you take the silver spoon beside you anyhow and decide not to waste any more time.

The spoonful goes into your mouth. He watches you. You chew.

Instantly, you halt. 

The flavour hits your tongue. Creamy. Thick. But each individual grain of rice still has some firmness with a discernible texture. It’s been done al dente. There’s sweetness from the caramelized onions. An earthy flavour from the mushrooms. A zesty touch from the thyme. The chicken breast is somehow still juicy and the tomatoes burst on your palate. 

Suddenly, you’re thrusted back into your childhood. Those summer days spent in the cottage. Sun-kissed cheeks, dirtied knees, cotton dresses. You can hear your late grandmother in the kitchen. The way she calls out that it’s lunchtime. You can feel the comfort of family and love.

It feels like you’ve become the food critic in the ratatouille movie. 

You almost cry.

“What do you think?”

You clear your throat. You have to be honest. There’s no way you can lie about something like this. “It’s good. I think...this is the best risotto I’ve ever had. You cooked it perfectly and the toppings you chose were absolutely immaculate with this dish—”

You look up at him. Min Yoongi has an enormous, cocky smirk plastered across his stupid face.

It’s entirely off-putting. 

“But of course,” you quickly add, “there are many ways you could improve on it. You could add cilantro—”

“That would unnecessarily drown out the notes of thyme you taste,” he rebukes without a single beat and you scoff. 

“I noticed you didn’t add any pepper to it which could deepen the flavour.”

“Except this dish doesn’t need it,” Yoongi deadpans. “You don’t need to help me make any adjustments. I think I know what I’m doing better than you are. Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

You suck in your cheek and narrow your eyes on him before you take another bite of the risotto while it’s still hot. “The food is delicious, but I must say, the company really spoils it.”

Yoongi’s slumped with one cheek resting in his hand, elbow on the table. He lazily stares at you with that smirk of his. “Really? Because if I didn’t know any better, you look nervous rather than annoyed.”

You scoff for the second time. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Maybe you didn’t expect the food to taste as good as it does and that makes me unexpectedly attractive,” he states plainly. You almost choke. You hit your chest as you sputter. “Or maybe you’re intimidated by me. I’ve gotten both before.”

You wipe your mouth with the napkin. “I’m afraid you’re not very perceptive, Min Yoongi.”

“Really? I think I am.” He smiles, the corners of his mouth quirked. “I’ve read your reviews before.”

You’re unamused. “Have you now? So you must know how difficult I am to satisfy.”

His smirk is sly and it’s jarring against his softer, more tender features. He’s smaller than the men you’re used to being around, but somehow it feels like he’s taken up the entire space of the restaurant. His focus on you is sweat-inducing. Even if you don’t want to admit it. 

“I don’t think so. You’ve just been eating shit food,” he says bluntly and your brow cocks. “You just need someone good you can trust. Someone who can take care of you properly.”

You’re not sure if the double entendre is purposeful. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“And is this someone you?”

Yoongi shrugs and sits back. “It could be.”

You grab your glass of chardonnay and gulp the rest in an effort to stop the conversation before it completely derails into a different direction. Yet, Yoongi’s half-lidded and darkened eyes stay on yours with each swallow. He’s unfazed. Unbothered. And that bothers you even more — bothered in a way that makes your face hot.

There’s a clack as you put the wine glass down and gasp. 

“I’m a professional.” You won’t be swayed so easily. “I can’t be bribed.”

“Of course.” He blinks as if he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. You glare at him and he gestures to the dish. “Please. Keep eating.” 

You finish the plate.

“Do you want any seconds?” he asks as he gets up.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi lingers, all too brazen and fearless. “If you don’t get any more now, you might have to come back for more.”

This time, you don’t try to hide the roll of your eyes. “That’s a presumptuous assumption.”

Yoongi smirks and his voice is husky. “After getting a taste from me, everyone comes back for more.

You scoff.

Min’s Restaurant Review

Three nights ago, I ate at Min’s Restaurant and met the main man in the kitchen. Unfortunately, he is a difficult person to interact with. I hope no one has the disservice of having to speak to the chef behind the dishes. Doing so may as well ruin the experience. Furthermore, his cooking methods are unconventional and unorthodox. It was completely shocking to watch.

However, and what I would consider most important, the food at Min’s Restaurant is spectacular. What Min’s Restaurant lacks in likeable personnel, they make up in the served cuisine. The meal that was prepared for me not only subverted my initial expectations, but overcomes, what I consider, what the food industry is lacking in this modern age exactly. Without unnecessary garnishes and ingredients, the flavours of Min’s Restaurant are both light and deep. It was an undeniable delight to consume and for the first time, I licked my plate clean. 

It is undoubted that the man behind Min’s Restaurant has the hands of god.

You should have pride.

But you’ve always loved good food. It’s your Achilles heel. It’s the one thing you’ve been passionate about since you were a kid. The reason why you love your job.

Even after writing such a review, you find yourself booking another reservation. But as a customer instead of a critic.

Of course, they were booked full for the next six months, largely thanks to your review, and they swiftly refused you with numerous apologies. But they called back not ten minutes later. You have a feeling that your name finally sunk into them — that he had something to do with it. 

That theory is confirmed when you arrive. The person in question is next to the seemingly nervous hostess as the noisy kitchen echoes throughout the busy restaurant. 

In the low lighting, Min Yoongi stands there with a relaxed smirk. As if he was expecting you. As if he knew you’d come crawling back to him to eat out of the palm of his hand, literally and figuratively.

You hate that he’s right.

“Welcome back.”