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girlboypersonthingy · 7 months ago

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Could you maybe write a Sally Face One Shot, where Sal developed a huge crush on reader. But he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way. So he writes a love letter in which he puts no hope in, but then she actually tells him she does feel the same.

Does that even make any sense?😭

Yes…it makes sense and I’m weeping over this omggggg 😭😭😭 bruh this had me screaming and kicking in bed as I wrote it omfgggggg. Sal is pretty smart so I know this mf would write some pretty, thought out, poetic type shit

Notes: gn!reader, established friendship, friends to lovers trope

TW: none, just so fucking sappy and fluffy

Sal x reader- Sincerely Sally ��

Dear (Y/N),

I want to start by telling you that you’re an amazing friend. I’m beyond grateful we’ve met. You’ve always made me feel so comfortable, so wanted, so important. No words could ever truly explain my feelings for you or the thoughts behind them, but I’m going to try.

Since we met, I’ve seen nothing but good in you and I think you’ve made me good, too. You make me feel good. You make me a better person. I don’t know who I’d be without you, but I know who I want to be now.

I want to be the one on your arm when we walk into a room.

I want to be the one you wake up to every morning and fall asleep next to every night.

I want to kiss you every time we say ‘good bye’ and every time we say ‘hello’ again.

I want to be the one you point to with a smile and say ‘him’ when talking to others.

I want to be the one to hold you when you cry.

I want to be the one to hug you when you’re excited.

I want to go every where you go.

I want to slow dance with you.

I want to head bang with you.

I want to paint with you.

I want to sing to you.

I want to hold you.

I want you.

I love you.

I’m in love with you.

And I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Sally <3

Sal felt like a total loser while sneaking over to your place, which was just down the street from Todd’s house, and slipping the letter in your mailbox. He felt like he could puke just from writing the letter, there’s no way he could ever say these things to your face. He couldn’t help but hesitate, staring at the mailbox as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. ‘They’re going to hate me. I’m gonna ruin everything. What the hell am I doing?’ Sal thinks to himself, staying frozen in place for a good few minutes as thousands of thoughts race through his mind, shaky hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

He jumps a bit when he notices the light in your bedroom flick on through your window. He ducks his head and turns to leave, not wanting to get caught lurking around your house in the middle of the night. As he rushes back home, the panic begins to set in because now he realizes he left it…he left the letter behind. It was done. No turning back. He felt sick to his stomach and like he was already grieving the loss of your friendship.

Sal tip toes back in the house, praying neither Neil nor Todd would catch him sneaking in so late and ask questions. He trudges to his room, shedding his clothes before flopping onto his bed. Sal lays on his side and after taking his prosthetic off, stares at the wall for hours thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways you could reject him, every excuse and lie he could use later to act like it wasn’t even serious, like it was a dumb joke or something. Finally, after his brain had tortured him enough, he drifts off to sleep just before the sun begins to rise.

~next morning~

‘Holy shit…’ You think as you hold the piece of lined note book paper in your shaky hands. “No way…no way!” A giddy smile grows on your face as you clumsily drop all the other mail you had in your hands, besides Sal’s letter, on the ground and take off running for him. It was early in the morning and you were in pajamas still but nothing could stop you now. His house was not far at all and you were too excited not to immediately run to him and profess your love for him.

You and Sal had been friends almost as long as he has with Larry and Todd. You’ve slowly fallen in love with him just as hard as he has with you- the issue is that you are both dummies and think the other person sees you as a friend and a friend only. You’d find yourself dreaming of Sal, not knowing he was dreaming of you too. You’d absentmindedly doodle his name on piece of paper and blush, he’d find a strand of your hair on his shirt and smile so big under his mask. You two have been pining for so long but both so afraid to wreck the relationship you already have. Eventually, Sal felt like he couldn’t get anything done, couldn’t focus on his studies or the ghosts or even eating throughout the day. His brain was full, flooded even, with thoughts of you. He just had to get it out, he had to say it to you now or he would be haunted by it forever. Unbeknownst to Sal…you felt the exact same way.

Bouncing up to his doorstep with an uncontrollable smile on your face, cheeks aching and turning red, you knock on the door and ball your fists up out of excitement. Finally, Todd answers the door, smiling at you before greeting you. “(Y/N)! What are you doing here so early? We-“ “Sal! I-I’m sorry. I need to talk to Sal.” You interrupt, your crazy smile making Todd chuckle softly just as Neil comes up behind him. “Morning, (Y/N)! Sal isn’t up yet. He’s still-“

You weren’t trying to be rude, you adored Todd and Neil but you were currently completely 100% hyperfixated on the sleeping blue haired poet behind the door at the end of the hall way and you just had to see him immediately. “I-I’m sorry…” You laugh softly as you push past them, sprinting for his door, gripping the knob excitedly before swinging the door open. The sound of the door swinging back against the door frame stirs Sally from his sleep, making him groan and glance over at the doorway. Before he can react to you being in his bedroom, in your pajamas still with bed head and an adorable love sick smile on your face, you’re jumping into his blankets with arms wide open. As you practically belly flop on top of him, he huffs softly then chuckles, groggily blinking at you.

“Uh…morning…” He mumbles just before you place the folded love letter on his chest, giving him a small smirk. His eyes open wider now, his prosthetic eye not in its usual socket. Sal scrambles nervously to sit up more, his breath hitching in his throat. He was so half asleep for a moment there, he had forgotten all about the letter he planted in your mailbox last night. “Oh I uh….yeah uh-uhm-“ Sal can’t seem to move his mouth correctly, can’t focus his brain on the words he wants to say. And he just breaks down even more when he realizes you’re in his bed, still in pajamas with the cutest messiest bed head. He can’t deal with the cuteness and his gnawing anxiety…So you speak up instead.

“I love you too.” You smile sweetly before pulling yourself up closer to his scarred face and rubbing your nose against his. Sal lets out a whiny little hum as he lets his nervous hands very slowly move up to rest on your back, smiling like a sappy dork as he hugs you softly. He’s not sure what exactly he was expecting to happen after giving you that letter but this is most definitely the best case scenario. “Let’s just…fucking kiss already.” You say with a cheeky smile, eyes half lidded as you lean in closer. Sal sucks in a breath before letting his eyes close along with yours, pursing his lips out as his hands move up your arms and to your cheeks. His big palms caress your face so perfectly, his thumbs sliding back and forth over your skin as you lock lips, gently moving your mouths together as soft sighs leave both of you.

As his hands pull your face closer, your hands wander up and down his bare arms, legs tangled up in his blankets along with him now, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh against his lips. “I’m glad you finally told me…that letter was so beautiful.” You whisper, lips gently ghosting against his now. Sal keeps his eyes closed but smiles brightly. “I wrote 153 of those letters.” He confesses, face burning bright red. “No you didn’t.” You scoff, looking down at him, finding this fact hilarious and also adorable and flattering.

“Oh yes he did!” Todd and Neil are leaning in the open doorway. Oops…you got so excited you didn’t shut the door behind you when you ran in. “Proof!” Neil laughs out loudly as he points to Sal’s trash can in the corner of the room, overflowing with balled up pieces of paper. You laugh as you look over, Neil and Todd laughing along with you. Sal drapes an arm over his face, trying to hold back his flustered smile and embarrassed expression. “Stoopppp.” He complains before you’re standing and playfully glaring at the two boys in the doorway. “That’s enough teasing. Shoo!” You grin at Todd before shutting the door on them and turning back to Sal.

“153, huh? Wow. That’s some dedication, lover boy.” You climb back into his bed, sitting cross legged beside him. “Why didn’t you just tell me in person, Sal? Would’ve been way easier.” You scoot closer to him and run your fingers through his tangled hair. “Uh, I totally disagree. I nearly had a panic attack just putting that letter in your mailbox and then having to walk away from it.” A laugh rings out from you as you toss your head back. “Ha! So, What? You’re afraid to say you love me but not afraid of ghosts or demons or cults?” You taunt him before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a second. “You’re strange. And I love that about you.” You rest there with him for a moment before a fantastic idea hits you, making you sit up and gasp excitedly.

“Can I read the other ones too?!” Before Sal can answer, you’ve jumped up and ran to the rejected pile of love letters in the corner. “No! (Y/N)! No no nononononono!” Sal jumps up and runs to tackle you, his face blushing so red from his ears and down his neck. You laugh loudly as he wraps his arms around your waist and tries to pull you away from all the other embarrassing things he wrote and considered saying to you. “They’re…in the trash…for a reason!” He laughs and huffs as you you push forward, trying to reach even just one crumpled up piece of paper. “Pleeaaassseeeee?” You plead but your strength leaves you as Sal tickles you and has you cackling on the ground instantly.

And the next 10 minutes are spent wrestling with him on the floor of his bedroom while laughing like drunk idiots and occasionally pressing a kiss to the other’s lips. Eventually, you do get ahold of a few of the discarded love letter drafts and they are either like Shakespeare poetry type shit, or so fucking dorky and corny, full of puns and shit. Larry probably tried to help him with that one lol

#sally face x reader #sally face fanfic #sally face fanfiction #sal sally face #sally face sal #sally x reader #sal x reader #sal fisher #sally fisher #sally face #sal fisher x you #sal fisher x reader #sf sal #sally face fluff #sal fisher x y/n

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bumblequinn · 1 year ago

Text

hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.

as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)

but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:

changing expectations

the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!

my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.

when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.

so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?

with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.

with that in mind:

#1: work slower

when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.

instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.

i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!

now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.

doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.

however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:

#2: switch projects

sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.

this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.

the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.

what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.

but it doesn't have to stop there.

#3: switch focus

maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?

let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:

what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today. okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now. alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily? what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?

and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?

what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for? what if i try sampling something obscure? what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?

any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.

or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.

but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:

#4: learn something new

when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.

for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴‍☠️)

it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)

that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:

music theory and composition music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang

mixing and production dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix

general inspiration nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!

(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)

of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:

#5: consume art you love

not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.

but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.

and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.

what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.

as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.

none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.

and finally,

#6: rest, and live your life

let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?

take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).

it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.

i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.

when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)

before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:

be kind to yourself.

being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.

i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.

i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.

thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.

with care, bee 🐦

#adhd #advice #asks #from #sourpatchsquids

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heartsofminds · 5 months ago

Text

if you could see my thoughts, you would see our faces

“I do a lot of things you don’t do. Doesn’t mean you should be knockin’ yourself out to try ‘em.” or Carmy takes an impromptu smoke break and you're begging him for a drag.

A/N: just a sweet little blurb that's been sitting in my back pocket for a while. hope y'all love it as much as i loved writing it!

Smoke breaks never last forever.

The cacophonic slam of a door, the pliable edges of a pack of American Spirits, the grooves of a lighter’s spark wheel, the mix of brisk Chicago wind smacking your face, and the heat of a silently shameful cigarette caressing it in a false sleeve of comfort – The world is silent during a smoke break.

Until the door opens and someone asks to bum a light. Or until you get called back in because everyone and their goddamn mother in River North decides to come in to try the dinner special, yet pretend like they’re actually fucking curious to know what you think the best thing on the menu is. Or until the ignored panic in the back of your mind knocks the wind out of you when taking a particularly long drag that leaves you stifling a deep and hearty cough.

The small moment of peace before it all still remains good. The moment of peace is fine. The moment of peace is all you can afford to get sometimes.

A smoke break never lasts forever, but the temporary solace it provides is enough for Carmen, whose brain never seems to stop spinning no matter how fast or slow the world is turning without him.

He’s gotten better, he thinks, about voicing his discomfort and finding ways to “cope” with his feelings of metaphysical spiraling. He’s still getting the hang of this whole “finding meaning outside of the kitchen” thing, but he figures that twenty-eight years of having your worth summed up in how well something was chopped or seasoned or sautéed or whatever the fuck is ridiculously hard to disengage from.

His therapist would kill him if she knew that he credited a portion of the advancement of his well-being to you. He can hear Erin tell him that he can’t rely on people to make him feel better; that the only person who can determine Carmen’s worth is Carmen himself, but quite frankly he doesn’t give a fuck.

And then he remembers that not giving a fuck is him making his own decision about his life (which he was never allowed to do before, which is why he thinks he was damned to hell to pick the profession he has), and his heart swells a bit with pride. He cares about something for once that has all to do with him and the meaning of life and living and being alive and in charge, and that idea is no longer a room with a false ceiling that can cave in at any moment.

He doesn’t give a fuck because he does give one, and he has never known that something as simple as being loved, fully and authentically, was something that would make all the difference.

Despite not being stressed out nor having a “real” reason to smoke (except for the fact that he’s a creature of habit, and you seem to love the word “addicted” even though he disagrees), he finds himself lifting the window near the fire escape of his apartment and stepping out onto the rusted steps that are less than functional and whips out his lighter and the red cardboard package harboring his cigarettes.

The lights are off in the apartment and the soft whistling of the heater helps him make sense of the foggy window glass. Chicago is nightmarishly cold in November, yet his body doesn’t seem to mind the teen-digited temperature that plagues the indigo-hued 1 AM sky.

Carmy loved in living in the city (and the actual city of Chicago and not Naperville or Joliet or Downers Grove like all the other self-proclaimed “Chicagoan” jagoffs that littered the outskirts of the city for sleep, but polluted it for play).

He liked living in New York City but he loved living in Chicago. New York was too noisy which, he knows, is so fucking ironic given the fact he lives in the heart of all things bustling and boisterous.

But New York had the kind of noise at night that was isolating; the sounds of cars honking and the squeal of the subway telling the stories of a million different lives of a million different people that he didn’t know.

New York City is the largest city in the United fucking States, yet a twenty-two-year-old Carmen could not have felt lonelier while he was there. New York City is the perfect city in the United fucking States to go soul-searching in, and yet a twenty-two-year-old Carmen could not have been more clueless about who he was at the time.

And he’s still figuring out this “thing” called having an identity and finding peace, and he’ll never feel like he knows a whole lot about anything, but he does know two things for certain.

He fucking loathes feeling lonely and he fucking despises feeling clueless.

Chicago is noisy, but the kind of noise that sends an irritated streak of comfort down your spine; the hatred of your twin bed and its mismatched sheets in your childhood bedroom, but the comfort of knowing a refreshing and safe sleep is to follow that night. It was the kind of noise that filled living rooms on Christmas Day or the backyard on the Fourth. It was the sound of a vacuum cleaner running on an early Saturday morning during the first week of summer break and the ticking of kitchen timers and arguments and laughter and tears of all kinds.

He was always reluctant to come back. His pride is something he holds close to his chest but wears with quiet confidence. He would rather die than it seem as if he ran away from New York back home with his tail between his legs. He would rather die than admit to himself that Chicago is where he was meant to be and where he should have always been. He would rather die than admit that through his fucked childhood and even fuck-ier adulthood (Thank you Mikey and Mom and NOMA and Chef David), the city is his safety blanket.

Carmen hasn’t been back to the house since the incident five Christmases ago. Everyone mutually (and very silently so as to not piss his mom off even more than she always perpetually seemed to be) decided that Christmas Eve dinner is much better suited for Uncle Jimmy’s house. When Natalie called on the phone to let him know about the change of venue the following year, he had known from her tone that another Richter scale meltdown had occurred once their mother found out.

From then on he found ways to stay away; to stay put and to put his life on hold and it was the closest thing he could get to not breathing with, you know, still actually fucking breathing.

And it worked for a while. It worked for one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days, to be exact.

But then Mikey died and then there was a restaurant and then there was every relative that had ever known of his existence knocking down his door and begging him to let them in; asking him if he was okay and prodding him with questions about any and everything in between his mom driving her car into the fucking house and his brother deciding croaking was better than sticking around this hell hole.

And it’s crazy, he thinks, how him simply observing the weather and thinking about possibly smoking a cigarette before bed created this rabbit hole of what would usually be the beginning of an anxious spiral.

Fucking Christ, I need a cigarette.

His fingers create an unrecognizable beat on the package of cigarettes in his hand and he takes the first step out onto the fire escape.

Carmen’s body weight bares down on a piece of the wired metal and it groans in protest. The sounds of tires passing through slush on the road create soothing white noise for his ears. The thin blue henley shirt he has on does little to shield the wind from icing his skin, but he doesn’t mind.

He can’t chance going back inside to fetch his jacket. The coat rack near the front door lies at the end of a pattern of creaks from your apartment’s shitty floorboards. You’re not a light sleeper in any sense of the word (nor are you entirely sober right now), but he knows that he never places that one particularly decrepit plank of wood right, and the noise will jolt you out of your slumber.

His nimble fingers swiftly pull a cigarette out of the carton. He cups it with his left and uses his right to cradle the flicker of his lighter. The orange flame disappears as fast as it had been kindled and he inhales deeply and his exhale is shallow.

Carmen had been smoking since he was fifteen, but he never really had a reason to do it other than Mikey did, and it was a way to spend more time with him. It was their little secret; something that was his and Mike’s and something that seemed like a big deal at the time but would mean jack shit the second he turned eighteen. He never really loved the way cigarettes smelled. He could hardly stand the taste and the constant health class lectures about them being bad for your lungs freaked him out.

But now that he knows what it feels like to have no thoughts in his head and be left alone in the solace of smoking a cigarette in the dead of night, he thinks he gets it.

The silence is cut in half by the sound of the rickety floorboard groaning out in a warning. He doesn’t have to peek his head inside and look around to know that it’s you. You never sleep well after a night out and even though he had to carry you up the stairs, drag a damp washcloth over your face to remove your makeup, and bribe you to stand up long enough to take out your own contacts, he should have known better than to be anywhere but in bed next to you.

Your drunkenness has started to fade and you’ve gone down on the meter from “off your ass” to “slightly tipsy.” Him picking you up from your girls’ night at one of the clubs downtown was more than two hours ago, but he figured you would’ve came and found him by now.

You have such a fear of missing out and while it’s not Carmen’s favorite thing about you, it does warm his heart to know that you want to spend time with him or that you’re scared he’s doing something interesting without you around. He wishes your ‘fomo’ was based on some issue that he could tangibly fix and not on what he knows is your badly bruised self-esteem. It makes his chest heavy that sometimes you can’t see how great you are; that sometimes you don’t understand why he wants you around and loves you so dearly.

He can hear your footsteps approach the window ledge and he wordlessly holds his arm out for you to grab onto. Your fingers come out from under the blanket you’ve thrown over yourself like a shawl and grasp his like a lifeline.

Your body effortlessly molds to him; your front pressed to his back and his unoccupied arm pulling you closer like a seatbelt on your waist. The subtle pressure on your midsection comforts you and your body lodged into his helps alleviate some of the sting he’d been suffering from the cold.

“You’re mad at me,” you speak. Your voice is small and soft; gentle just in case he really is mad at you and this isn’t something your drunk mind conjured up as you lay in bed alone.

He sighs and turns his head to take another drag from his cigarette. He makes sure that your hair is out of target of his smoke exhale. A subtle whine leaves your throat as he steps away from you and he grins. Carmen loves when you’re like this; when you’re clingy and being near him is never enough to satiate you.

“M’not,” he says. You shift from one foot to the other and his eyes momentarily gaze down to make sure you put on socks before you come out here to join him.

Even though he can’t see your face, he knows that the corners of your mouth are posed in a frown. You hate it when he doesn’t elaborate. It makes you feel shut out. He’s not helping his case of denying your accusation. You may just burst into tears if he doesn’t provide more dialogue.

Your nasty habit of feeling like everyone is upset with you all the time is swelling. His nasty habit of smoking more cigarettes a day than he knows he needs is bulging.

Another drag from his cigarette. Another exhale of smoke. Another attempt at trying to be better for you.

“Can’t ever be mad at you, baby. Not with a face like that,” he croons. The words come out of his mouth so easily; endearment dipped in honey and love warmed by sunshine. Adoration is easy when it comes to you. He’s never known a peace like this.

“Sly dog,” you mutter. The brain fog from the four tequila lemonades you downed earlier makes you slow in finding a smartass thing to say. Carmen fights the urge to poke fun at you because he knows that you’ll take him seriously.

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” your words silently praise.

“You make it easy,” his hold on you acknowledges.

Your face is numb from the cold and the alcohol making its way through your system. The lips pecking a kiss against your temple can barely be felt, yet you contently hum once the damp seal of them releases the affection you’ve been longing for. He never makes you work hard for his undivided attention when he readily has it. Wordlessness crafts a cradle of comfort for you both. Soulmates in ways that soulmates usually aren’t.

Another drag from his cigarette. Another exhale of smoke. Another show of actually being better for you.

A beat of silence passes with the whistling of the wind.

“Can I try?” your voice is small with unacquired confirmation of what his answer will be.

He giggles and you’re mesmerized by the way the smoke exhales with each minuscule twitch of his chest. You turn around at the feeling and press your palms to his torso. It’s impossible not to admire him. You’re always starstruck but he makes it easy to be that way when he looks so peaceful and sweet and good.

Good for you. Good for your heart. Good for each other.

You make a mental note to tell him that he should wear this shirt more often but know deep down that you’ll forget to do so until it comes back clean in the laundry basket in a week. You need to work on that, you think; telling him that you love him when you feel it. Moments like this don’t last forever, and you fear for the day that the ooey-gooey feelings of love in its purest forms are fleeting. You know that Carmen makes it impossible, but you can never be sure. Much like he, you’re always half expecting the ceiling to cave in.

“Sweet baby wants to be a smoker?” he chides. He doesn’t feel bad when you flash him a pouty frown.

“Carm!” you gripe. Your cheek presses to his pec. You hate when he does this; when he can’t give a straight answer. It isn’t something that needs an answer, but the satisfaction of having one, of being connected to him and the inner world of his mind he tries so hard to keep from everyone, would feel nice.

Carmen’s tattooed hand snubs the cigarette out on the dish left on the ledge of the window. His fingers curl to let his knuckles brush the hair on the top of your head. You try your hardest not to melt into his touch. He’ll have a field day if you let him have the satisfaction of making you visibly weak in the knees.

“Didn’t even say no yet, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, but you’re being mean. Just tell me “no” instead of making me suffer.”

He quirks his eyebrow and brings a gentle hand to guide your chin upwards, forcing you to make eye contact with him.“Well, m’gonna if you don’t lose the ‘tude, baby.”

The shift in his tone of voice and the forced eye contact sends a beam of warmth down to your stomach. He has a way of leaving little leeway for negotiation and argument. It’s abstract to his everyday life, but that was complicated, you know. When it’s you and him and him and you, there is never a need for a fight for dominance or a clarification of authority. You both understand each other on a level that is molecular. There is never any need for guessing.

His finger flicks your lip playfully before swiping a calloused thumb gently on the plush of them. You had fought him so hard earlier when he tried to swipe the lipstick and liner you had put on earlier off with a washcloth. He finds it wild that you’re wide awake and coherent after witnessing the mild temper tantrum you had thrown about it not even two hours earlier.

Carmen spots the gentle gleam in your eyes and his heart instantly softens. He sighs, momentarily taking his hands off of you and reaching back in his pocket for his carton of cigarettes and lighter.

“Fine, but you gotta light it.”

The aforementioned cigarette sits unlit between his lips, the end sticking out like an invitation and the filter hid between his teeth like a dirty secret. He half expects you to chicken out when he hands you the lighter. You always freaked out a little about the flame being so close to your fingers. Something about feeling the heat so close to your hand made you insanely nervous and he could never seem to fully understand.

His expectations are exceeded when your thumbnail crafts friction with the spark wheel and the illuminated peach of his lighter of the month spurs to life. You don’t cup it with your hands to shield it from the wind. You let it grow and shrink as you lift it up to the unlit butt sticking out of his mouth.

Your eyes watch in childish awe as the wrapped paper gives way and reveals the hearty smell of tobacco and a sunburst of ashes upon making contact with the manufactured heat. You had watched Carmen smoke hundreds of times, but something about seeing it now right in front of you kindles a spark of curiosity deep in your belly.

“Can’t believe my sweet girl wants to puff on a cancer stick,” he says. You know that he’s joking, but his trying to get you to change your mind strikes a nerve deep within you.

“You do it so why can’t I?” you huff, agitated with him seemingly withholding the cigarette you so desperately crave.

“I do a lot of things you don’t do. Doesn’t mean you should be knockin’ yourself out to try ‘em.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s just one. Don’t be so mean.”

He pulls the stick from between his lips and creates a perfect “o” ring with the smoke in its wake. A dopey-eyed grin plants a home on his face and his eyes look deep into yours.

Fucking show-off.

“All it takes is one to get addicted,” he continues to smoke and the cigarette butt starts to diminish with each puff he takes, “You sure you wanna bite, sweetheart?”

“One won’t hurt.”

His gaze lowers to your lips and back up to your eyes. “Don’t wanna end up like me. All sad and addicted to cigarettes.”

“Carmen, please. I just want one,” you huff, lightly pushing his chest away. He moves slightly with your force and has to stifle a laugh.

“They ever show you Teri the Smoker in health class?” Carmen takes the cigarette out of his mouth and pretends to examine it, faux and forced curiosity at the cylindrical tube sitting between his lithesome fingers. He’s not giving into you on purpose, you know, and he’ll give in eventually, you also know, but him trying to delay the gratification of getting what you want is starting to annoy you more than it usually would.

“Yes? What does that have to do with anything?”

He pops it back in his mouth and takes an obnoxiously long drag. “Nothing,” he breathes out the smoke with his statement, “Just funny that you know that and here you are, damn near hands and knees, gagging for a cigarette.”

“Carmen.”

He laughs and you can’t help but love the sound.

“You know, it’s real fucked up of you to ask for a drag from my cigarette that I get with my hard-earned money,” he says and you roll your eyes, “You should know I love you too much to let you stick a cancer stick in your mouth.”

“It’s just one!” you plead.

“It’s never just one, sweetheart.”

“Well, who says’m gonna get addicted like – like you and Teri the Smoker?”

“The nicotine content on the carton. That’s who.”

He’s not paying you any attention and it’s starting to ache your heart a little. You know that he’s distracted; that he’s just trying to prevent the ashes from getting on your blanket and from getting the smell of smoke in your hair, but him biting at your insistence a little less than he was previously sends a pang of gloominess through your chest.

“You smoke all the time, and if you get a hole in your throat because of that then you’re so mean.”

His lips upturn in introspection.“M’mean?”

“Very,” you answer dryly.

“Humor me.”

“Because then I’ll have to live the rest of my life without hearing your voice again and then I’ll be so sad.”

He shrugs, half knowing that you’re joking but half expecting something more to come out of what you’re getting at. “Ehh, don’t think anyone at the restaurant would miss it.”

“I would!”

You smack at his chest again lightly and he remembers how touchy and wild you get after you’ve been drinking. It’s never bad or out of control, but you’re more affectionate than usual and less gentle than you normally are.

“Yeah, baby? Gonna miss my voice?”

“Mhm,” you purr, leaning up to get closer to his ear, “Gonna miss how you call me a good girl. And how you whine when I pull your hair and how you tell me that I’m the tightest and wettest little th-”

“Jesus,” he laughs, playfully pushing the side of your face away as your teeth nibble a tiny bite on the thick of his palm, “Fuck off.”

You like to play around, too. That’s also something he sees more of after a night out. He never indulges; knows you get too riled up and in your head when it goes somewhere he’s not comfortable with, but he loves it nonetheless. Being together has helped the other not be so scared of permanence. Moments like this confirm what he knows, and he realizes that you’re a saint and he wants to marry you.

The stuff that comes along with it has been plaguing his mind as of late, but he realizes how little it matters when he sees you all happy and grateful to be around him and doing the most mundane of things. He’ll get you that ring and that house and those babies and the happiest fucking life in a heartbeat, and he’s oddly comforted by the fact that he knows you’ll let him.

Carmen’s never been the best at not wearing his feelings on his face and you know he’s deep in thought when the banter dies and the whistling of the wind takes its place. You hope he isn’t spiraling. He tends to do that a lot. You tend to feel powerless when it happens.

Your eyes study his face; the lightness of his irises, the spiral of curls, the slope of his nose. The tequila from earlier remains in your system, but it doesn’t change the fact that you love him so deeply.

“You know, it’s bullshit that you’re giving me hell about putting a cigarette in my mouth.” Your voice cuts through the quiet and he starts to grin again.

“Hey, s’only bullshit because you’re sittin’ here beggin’ and then telling me I’m gonna have a fuckin’ hole in my throat from smoking too much.”

“I never said that it was gonna be bad, Bear. I just said I was gonna miss hearing your voice is all.”

His free hand comes out to sit on the base of your neck. A calloused thumb draws small semi-circles on the bottom of your hairline.

“You know, her quality of life was probably amazing,” he speaks, “Like didn’t she have kids and grandkids and friends and shit? Health class is fucked up for making her out to be the ‘throat hole lady’.”

“You shouldn’t say that,” you grimace and he plants his lips on your forehead.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

You make him softer. If it was anyone else, he wouldn’t think twice about how insensitive it had come off. His therapist is always saying people can’t make you better, but she clearly hasn’t met you.

“But that was kinda the whole point? You shouldn’t want to be like her?” you pause and the frown lines in your eyebrows write “pensive” on your face before you even realize it, “. . .Because she does have a hole in her throat. And her quality of life was just very. . .different?”

Carmen nods. “They’re fucked up for that.”

“Jesus, Carm. Do you think smoking is bad or not because you’re giving me soooo many mixed signals here,” you sigh, your forehead moving forward faster than you intended and hitting the bony composition of his collarbones.

He hums softly; part listening to what you’re saying and part acknowledging that he wants to move on from what you had said.

“Did you know that your life expectancy goes down by eleven minutes or some shit like that each time you smoke a cigarette?” he swiftly changes the subject.

You pick your head up and narrow your eyes playfully. “Oh, you don’t even love me enough to let me smoke one so I can be put out of my misery a whole eleven minutes earlier when you die from smoking a gazillion packs a day and leave me all lonely and wrinkly.”

“I think you’d be hot wrinkly,” he replies matter-of-factly.

“I think you’d be hot if you let me smoke one.”

“You’re probably not gonna like it.”

“Okay.”

He realizes that the cigarette has pretty much burned itself out. There’s possibly one or two more drags left before he has to ash it out completely. He debates on whether he should let you have at it or silently take the last two and usher you back inside. If he chooses the former, he knows that he’ll feel bad if you don’t like it, and he worries that your realization will kickstart the unraveling of something almost perfect he’s found for himself. He can’t bear to take another loss in his life. If he chooses the latter, he knows you wouldn’t even be aware that he had smoked it entirely by himself, and that you’ll gripe and complain for the rest of the night and table the conversation for another time when he’s in a less resistive state.

“Carm, you have to give me a puff from it,” you complain, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He’s giving in to you. He always does. He doesn’t know why he pretends like he has free will when it comes to you.

“C’mere,” he beckons your face closer, “And don’t use your hands. You have that blanket on and I don’t wanna have to call Chicago Fire tonight.”

Carmen lifts his hand up to your mouth and gently laughs when you go cross-eyed to eye the filter sitting in between his pointer and middle fingers.

“You just inhale, hold it, and then breathe back out,” he instructs. He feeds the filter to your lips before suddenly pulling it back. “Don’t choke yourself out though. That uh – that won’t be good and then you’re really not gonna like it.”

Your neck extends to get closer to Carmen’s hand and you do what he says. You inhale, hold it, and exhale. You don’t think you’re doing it right (and he knows that you didn’t, but doesn’t say anything because he knows it’ll make you whiny) but you’re satisfied that he trusts you enough to try.

“Took it like a champ, baby,” he cheers, “So proud!”

He pushes the butt of the cigarette into the dish and your blanket-covered hands come up to palm his face gently. The plush of the cover feels soft against his stubble-covered cheeks, and your gazes catch each other’s.

A moment of tranquility. A moment of peace. A moment of love.

He so desperately wants to marry you.

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za-vandal · 1 month ago

Text

Self indulgent, Pre-release Mr Reca thoughts (and hopefully prayers for me, because this man makes me salivate.)

Nsfw don't like don't read

This is filthy as hell.

Pet play, dacryphilia, and probably a few more I hadn't think of yet, this is a wild ride

I wanna make this man whimper so hard you have no fucking idea, this man makes me feral. I want to see him on the floor like a dog for me just augghhhhhhhhhh

Anyways.

Mr Reca with pet play. You saw the trailer, you will see the vision. Crazy director man who probably has a thing for controlling things because of his personality (maybe) or profession? Sign me the fuck up. I want to see this twink with a collar and leash. I want to fuck him hard and make him whimper and call him a pathetic little puppy. I want to make him wear a tail plug.

Or, alternatively, make him hump my shoe while he wears some fluffy dog ears. I see him as a dog boy, I have no idea why, but he gives possessive dog boy vibes. Bear with me here. Make him a custom collar or thigh straps with your name on it. I mean he already has them in his daily outfit, it would just make sense y'know?

Mr Reca with dacryphilia because I like my men crying and in pain. That thing about men whimpering and whining being hot is my whole personality when I'm reading fics, that is my vanilla, let's go. I want to see this pretty man crying while I suck him dry, I want to kiss his tears away while I prevent him from coming over and over. And by gods above I want to see this man full on bawling after all the overstim. Kiss away the tears because I'm soft like that.

Mr Reca but we tie him up with his straps. Why does one man need that many straps anyways? Or hell, his jacket thing works too, that shit def looks hot if he wore it without a shirt underneath like the back is 80% open, it covers nothing but it's giving everything fr. Y'all think we can hang him up with just his straps? Fuck him hard while he's up?

Mr Reca but we def filming, I shit you not that is the thing that started this post. Use his phone, your phone, do it on a private Livestream for yourself, use his freaking cameras, do it on set let's goooooooooo. I wanna watch him write his scripts as we fuck, let him sit on your dick if you can, if not cockwarm him instead. We winning no matter what. Make that man struggle and whimper, we ✨love✨ whimpering men in this house. If he feels generous maybe he'll let us wrap him up with his film tape of him being fucked and takes pictures with it. He probably won't though, but he'll probably keep them~♡ I wanna see him drool on camera so I can zoom in on his face and take pictures of it.

Mr Reca and a breeding kink???? A height difference and size kink??? I can see this going both ways. I feel like it's less breeding kink, and more he likes the feeling of cum. How to explain this? No clue. But I just think he would. Let him suck you off or eat you out, get his face wet~

For the size/height kink I think it goes both ways. I think he doesn't really care if you're smaller than him or bigger than him, he just likes it y'know? Maybe you're smaller than him but you can fuck his brains out. Maybe you're tall enough you can lift him up and fuck him against the wall without his feet touching the floor. ✨Just difference in general✨ baby. Bonus points too if you're big, I feel like he'll enjoy getting squished. Doesn't matter if you're masc or femme leaning and/or presenting, he likes getting squished.

And I hadn't really started on the real size kink idea yet, damn. Okay, size kink when he sees his stomach having a bulge as you fuck him. We love a skinny twink. I think he would see it and his mind would just go blank, like, "what the fuck, you're that big" kinda thing. Strap on or not, I think the surprise factor of seeing it is something he likes.

Mr Reca with mirrors. Listen. Trust me. Mirrors. I just love watching this unhinged man get his mind fogged by pleasure. This is a thing I love. I wanna see his face and watch him cry and watch him struggle. We've seen how deranged this man is in the trailer, now let's fuck him up literally so we can see his face more. Do it against those big, wall length mirrors you see in dancing studios if he's working on a musical or something. Do it in one of his trailers while he's out filming on set, bonus if it's not even room and we just press him against a random ahh mirror in a random trailer for costume and makeup.

I blame the unhinged energy today on my exams.

Hope you enjoyed? Well, technically I wrote this for myself but, sure. Posting this for funsies.

#bottom character #dom reader #sub character #sub hsr #subby men #sub mr reca #sub Mr Reca #does this tag exist yet?#dacryphilia #sub male character #kinktober #? probably #pwp #🐍 vandal's mangrove

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im-so-normal-iswear · 2 months ago

Note

Hi!! I love your writing!! Would it be possible for your thoughts on Ford/stan with a girlfriend who is a therapist or psychiatrist? (I’m studying psychology so this is a totally self indulgent ask!) thank you!! 🫶🏼

A/n: Ok! I'm sorry these took long

Stan/Ford pines x therapist!reader

Ford Pines:

Ford is instantly intrigued by your profession. He’s always been interested in how the human brain works, and having a girlfriend who understands the mind on such a deep level excites his curiosity.

He loves asking you questions about psychology, sometimes treating your discussions like he’s learning from a textbook.

“So, if someone were to experience prolonged exposure to isolation, how do you think that would affect their psyche?”

Ford absolutely loves to hear your insights on everything from mental health to obscure psychological theories, often adding his own knowledge of psychology.

Ford greatly values your calming presence. As someone who has gone through trauma from his interdimensional travels, Ford finds comfort in how you can guide him through his anxieties and ground him during his moments of overthinking. It’s not that he’s asking for therapy, but the way you talk and listen to him brings him a lot of peace.

Sometimes Ford gets lost in his head, overanalyzing everything or diving too deep into his research, and you’re the one who pulls him back. You know just how to approach his worries without invalidating them, and he’s beyond grateful for that.

“You always know exactly what to say to bring me back to reality. How do you do it?”

He’s particularly interested in your take on the psychological impact of interdimensional travel or exposure to anomalous phenomena.

He’ll often turn to you for discussions about the mind’s adaptability and resilience. You’ve become his go-to person for talking about the human condition in the context of the strange.

Ford is also incredibly supportive of your career and education. If you’re studying or need quiet time to work, he’ll make sure you have the perfect environment to focus. He’s always ready to offer encouragement when you’re feeling stressed.

“I know it’s a lot, but if anyone can do this, it’s you. I’ve never seen someone so dedicated to understanding the complexities of the mind.”

Ford loves sharing intellectual moments with you, like reading papers or discussing recent psychological studies. Sometimes, he even helps you with your work by giving you unique perspectives from his travels, and in turn, you help him manage the more stressful parts of his past.

Stan Pines:

Stan doesn’t fully get what a therapist or psychiatrist does at first (he’s used to handling things by “toughing it out”) but he quickly comes to appreciate how insightful you are.

“So, you talk to people about their problems? Gotta hand it to ya, you’ve got a lot of patience. I can barely deal with the customers.”

Stan is amazed at how you can listen to other people’s issues all day and still come home well. He’s constantly in awe of how much you care for others and how you help people through their darkest moments.

“You’ve gotta be some kinda saint to listen to people’s problems all day and not go crazy yourself.”

He loves that you don’t push him to talk, but when he does, you listen attentively. You’ve taught him that it’s okay to share his feelings without making him feel weak. Sometimes he’s caught off guard by how much better he feels after talking to you.

“Huh, I guess it’s not so bad… all this feelings stuff. You really know how to make a guy feel better.”

Stan appreciates your ability to see through his tough-guy act. You can read him like a book, and while it’s a little intimidating, it’s also a relief. You pick up on the small things, like when he’s more stressed than usual or when something’s bothering him.

“How do you always know what’s goin’ on in my head? It’s like you’re a mind reader or somethin’. Say how bout we put that to use in the shack? I'm joking, unless you want to.”

He loves to brag about your career, even if he doesn’t always understand it.

“Yeah, my girl’s a therapist. Helps people sort out their problems. She’s smart as hell. I dunno how she does it, but it’s pretty impressive.”

If you’re ever feeling overwhelmed by your work, Stan is the first to encourage you to take a break. He might not know all the details of your job, but he knows how important it is for you to recharge. He’ll pull you away from your books or laptop and suggest watching a movie or doing something fun together.

“You’ve been workin’ hard all day. Come on, let’s kick back and relax. You deserve it.”

He’s a little protective of you, especially if you’ve had a rough day. If you come home stressed after dealing with a difficult client, Stan will be there to comfort you in his own way, whether that’s making you laugh, cooking a simple meal, or just sitting beside you.

Stan will occasionally ask for advice, though he’ll frame it casually. “So, let’s say someone I know has a lotta stuff from their past they don’t like talkin’ about. What’d you say to help ‘em out?” He trusts you more than he’ll admit and values your wisdom, even if he’s not always ready to face his own feelings head-on.

A/n: you give them therapy they need, the end ^^

#ford pines x you #ford x reader #stanford pines #stanford pines x reader #ford pines x reader #gravity falls #gravity falls stanford #gravity falls stanley #stan x reader #stan pines #stanley pines #stanley x reader #headcanons #x reader

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the-moon-files · 9 months ago

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Aaaaa yay, you updated for Linked Universe again! 🙏 And right when the hyperfixation was coming back for me, too 👀

I was looking over your posts for LU, and if you don’t mind, I’d love to share some of my own random thoughts with you! I hope that’s okay 👉👈

After I read your “Humans aren't just round-eared Hylians?” post I have had,, many thoughts 👀 One random difference between humans and Hylians I thought about was the possibilities of varying strength,,, You briefly mentioned how Hylians seemed lighter than they seemed to Guide!Reader, and let me tell you, it was such a small detail, but I was transFIXED. I have this image of humans/Guide!Reader just being naturally stronger than the average Hylians - and it made me think of scenarios of the Reader just effortlessly hauling around two Links on their shoulders like sacks of potatoes- And them also picking up things that are supposed to be really heavy with ease! Like, Four would make a longsword, and Reader picks it up out of curiosity, expecting it to be really heavy, but it’s actually not that bad?? (Four in the background: 🧍)

If the Reader is already pretty strong (and maybe even has a profession in fighting, like a boxer or something,, [I might be projecting slightly—]), then ooo 👀 I can see there being this one time where a bunch of monsters ambush the Chain, and as everyone is fighting with the Reader giving them advice and whatnot, a Lizalfos managed to slip past everyone and sprint towards the Reader to attack them. The others are panicking because they won’t be able to reach the monster in time, but just as the Lizalfos raised its sword, one single punch from the Reader sent it flying back into the fray, knocking it into a Moblin. Reader is just standing there with their fist still in the air like “👁️👄👁️ h u h … whY ARE YOU GUYS STARING, YOU’RE STILL FIGHTING—”

In your newest post about the Guide!Reader’s voice, you mentioned how some entities could hear them, and I don’t know if he would, but I think it’d be kinda funny if Ganon and all of his other reincarnations could hear the Reader talking to Link- I’m not sure if he remembers his past lives, but if he does and hears/recognises Reader’s voice, I love the image of him thinking “Oh god, THIS guy again??” Because Reader WILL clown on him-

Dehydrated Ganondorf: *insert evil monologue here*

Guide!Reader: Uh-huh, sure, bold words for someone whose skin looks like a prehistoric riverbed. :|

Sage: *w he eze*

As I was writing all this, I had to think to myself, “Huh,, Guide!Reader doesn’t die when they fall into lava, aren’t really affected by harsher temperatures and winds, and also can swim against strong currents. They’re environment-resistant basically. But there’s bound to be at least one weakness to it all, right?” I did come up with said weakness, and I think it’s kinda basic, BUT one idea I had was that because Guide!Reader is so resistant to the natural elements of Hyrule, they are conversely quite weak to unnatural causes in turn. If they get injured, say they get cut with a knife by a Bokoblin, then that wound would take much longer to heal than it should. Any injuries that the Reader sustains in Hyrule are harder to heal (which I feel like could make some interesting angst,, 👀); their injuries would take more magic to completely heal them, or have more healing potions to drink. I also thought of the Reader being very vulnerable to any sort of poison- Like, if they get a pinch or two (or three) of strong poison in their system, they get knocked out for like two days 💀

So basically, Guide!Reader is very resistant to the environment, possibly quite strong, but does not have any good constitution,,

[On another note, maybe it’s just a me thing, but I personally love the thought of Wind looking up to the Reader as like a big brother figure,,]

And also!! Happy birthday!! 🥳🥳🎉 As a way of procrastination, I’ve been compiling memes with Guide!Reader and the Chain because the brain rot is hitting HARD,, I can share it with you in the future if you like! /gen /pos And sorry if this is such a long post dkjfgndf-

NOT SOMEONE BEING HAPPY I UPDATED UwU

ur ideas, ur compliments, ur bday wishes, etc. hitting me like^^

Sun: Masc!Reader (he/him) this will be default unless ppl specify otherwise! , Guide!Reader, Boxer/Martial Artist!Reader

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: Most Links of the Chain mentioned + Sage (Totk Link)! No focus/centric Link

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: light cussing, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

In reference to This Post! Wait, Humans Aren’t just Round-Eared Hylians??

YOUR BRAIN>>>????!!!

This was such a yummy treat tysm for this, sharing is caring 🫶

I absolutely think Humans could be 10x stronger than Hylians, I mean if we base everything abt their universe off of Link weighing ~8 apples lmao

that means swords, armor, broadswords/claymores, battle axes, huge shields, if those weigh abt like fake swords/wooden ones back on earth to us, then i cant even imagine what canons/horses/tree trunks/boulders weigh 💀

like props on a stage weight rather than the real thing lmao

No but how many Links can you fit in one carry??

ok u got a heavier Link on your back, like Time, Twi or Wars, then Four/Wind/Hyrule/Legend (yes he’s light/smaller side, tho he may deny) in ur arms like one Link per arm, maybe 3 Links if you can like wrap ur arms around them

so like 4 Links total? well, Wind or Four r so light/small one could possibly ride on ur shoulders, so 5 LMAO??? that's like half the Chain already AHALJFAfJLL-

on another note,

I LOVEEE ganon being able to hear Guide Reader bc spent too long around them, also i originally based that off of characters who’ve shown they're meta/highly magical kinda (esp the meta part where they may have directly addressed players/broke 4th wall)

No bc Ganon would just be SO fed up by like, Wild’s time, it would literally be EXACTLY like what u said I’d imagine:

(u just playing the game and not realizing until later they can hear you)

Ganon: “ugh that blonde twink again, god when will this plan actually work-?!”

You: “eyyy, Ganon! omg, why’s he?? Hot??? damn, botw best ganon version fr”

Ganon: “you know what maybe you should just kill me right now, hero Link.”

(the thought of Ganon never being able to escape ur voice whenever Link was near him bc u didnt have a body to fight/kill, and instead he just had to deal with ur comments is SENDING ME)

changing subjects again sorry

YES!! that's the weakness/drawback I was thinking abt for Humans in Hyrule, while yes their environment isn't that effective on us, (i like to use “inside a video game�� as the reason bc i think its neat)

humans are notoriously fragile in our own world already - we get sick, we get acid-reflux/throw up from bad food/food poisoning, etc.

so it makes sense we’d be more sensitive to this new environment, but even if we got adjusted,

we’re more external-proof, not internal-proof

(u know that's another reason why it works for Hylians and not Humans, we aren’t automatically healed by food, but their world does, and even in botw/totk when u have “dubious” food, its never inedible, its just useless to eat, so technically Hylians can kind of eat most anything off of that logic, like there is no such thing as “bad food” for them)

and u could take this either way tbh,

like we’re either entirely resistant to magic/dont take to it well bc our world didnt have it so potions/fairies don't work and we have to heal naturally

or just yeah, its like ur in a new country tbh, new germs/nature/food/etc. and u def cant guarantee u wont get a little sick from that

this would definitely include genuine poison!

bro the amount of WORRY the Links would feel after realizing the human guide guy who’s physically here now can barely handle their food??

Wild’s making a thorough list of what foods work for you and what don't, like safe foods to go back on, including recipes,

the way Time/Wars would absolutely be willing to take little detours/stop by towns more to make sure you have the right food you can eat,

and even tho Wild’s cooking, Sage is constantly testing for poison, like the dish itself, the herbs/plants, every ingredient needs to be extra safe even by Hylian standards (like not eating adventurous stuff like pufferfish or smth that could possibly have poison if cooked wrong/not enough etc)

that is to say, even if Wild makes a new recipe/other meal, he always has a backup safe meal to give you instead on those nights, and just way too many in general (yes he knows it doesn't buff ur health but he cant help his Hylians instincts to stuff the hurt person’s face with food ok??)

Hyrule! Is!! Losing!!! It!!!!

he has all the healing magic in the world and the one man he wants to help the most, for keeping him from being lonely on his adventure/looking out for him/being on his side no matter what, now he finds out he can’t even help them??

mans would literally keep trying to heal u til he’s drained it all out to just try and get the wound to close, if u didnt stop him

U get injured for the first time, and while a bruise/cut taking weeks to heal (depending on how bad) is normal to you, Hyrule + lowkey everyone is Freaking Out

Wounds DO NOT take weeks to heal?? They take hours at most??? Dude, are you dying-

(Wind got elbowed for that one, purely bc he voiced Sky/Hyrule/Wild/Twi paranoia out loud lol)

that is going with the version ur mostly unaffected by magic, but u could also do the human thing where we get adjusted to things over time (at least more than nothing), including food/sickness

The way All the Links just surround you or outright don’t let you come into crowded parts of town so ur poor immune system wont make u sick again 😭

on the bright side they'd all get rlly good at preventative measures like this, and taking care of sick you lol

(yes, u bribed Wind to get little bro cuddles when ur sick, it wasn't hard, he sees u as the most genuine bigger bro probably bc ur likely hte most affectionate out of all the Links)

(should I get into cultural differences between humans/hylians like humans being more openly cuddly/affectionate? like how in humans are space orcs fandom they acknowledge its unusual for us to “packbond” so easily to so many different species? and how this could possibly apply to not only Hylians but any Friend-shaped creatures across the Hyrules?? ..nah. I’ll save that for another post)

AND YES!! feel free to shoot rambles/thoughts/not even requests my way! Id love to talk abt it or just post it for the world to marvel at too lol

ohh mY God;; YOU HAVE MEMES FOR THIS?? PLEASEEEE SHOW ME????

thank you for this, srsly /pos

Peace out,

🌙

#linked universe x reader #lu x reader #male reader #lu x male reader #linked universe reader #link x reader #loz link x reader #linked universe male reader #sinks my teeth into ur ask like a chew toy and shakes it around in excitement #on all fours like a rapid dog #ive reread this like idek how many times #anyway pls always send me stuff i love this AU #humans are not hylians au

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andhumanslovedstories · 4 months ago

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Hi dear. I saw your post about pain management - thank you so much for it, it was an inspiring read, also it made it so obvious that you are truly passionate about being a nurse or rather, helping people and being present for those who need it the most. I wanted to ask - do you feel your job as a nurse affects the care you give in your interpersonal relationships and if yes, then how? rather negatively or positively? this is something I think about a lot bc my husband would love to study to become a nurse because he has a heart full of love and care, I knew he would be so good at it, but we are also having our firstborn soon and I just worry that being a nurse might be so draining that what if there is no energy for me and the baby. I really want to support my husband and I know this might be a silly question, but having read how you think I would so much love to hear your thoughts on this topic!

My big disclaimer for this is that I'm currently on medical leave for depression that wasn't CAUSED by my work but was definitely exacerbated by it and definitely worse when I was on shift. I've also been dealing with depression for a long time, and it's always interfered with my jobs at some point. The main problem is that it's a lot worse to have brain fog at a hospital than it is at an ice cream shop. I consider nursing to be a protective factor for my mental health SOMETIMES. It is work that I find meaning in and makes me proud. It can be an exhausting job but also a rewarding one. Extra compassion is also a double-edged sword: it can make you a better nurse, and it can also drain you that much faster because you get invested. Self-care is a part of the nursing code of ethics because the job in part because compassion fatigue is so easy to get if you aren't careful with your limits.

It is a draining job. I've begged off lot of things due to my schedule and feeling exhausted (but I am a homebody hermit). It's also a job a lot of people balance with raising children. My mom (who was already a nurse when I was born) liked the flexibility of the schedule. I work with dozens of nurses who have children. Many are mothers who are still breastfeeding infants. Some actively participate in their family life, some don't, and I don't know how much that has to do with their specific job. You know your husband. Does he already struggle to balance work/school/responsibilities and personal life? That's an issue with any career, but I do think healthcare is a profession where it can get even harder.

oops another nursing essay under the cut

(Plus, in terms of timing in with your newborn, congrats btw, your husband will have to go through nursing school first if he decides on this track, and minimum that will take like 15 months if he has all the pre-reqs and gets into an accelerated program. When it comes to dealing with a newborn, schooling might be more of a stumbling block than the job itself. I know a lot of people who consider nursing school to be one of the worst times of their lives. He might be able to do LPN [licensed practical nurse] instead of RN [registered nurse]. RN requires a bachelors and has a larger scope of practice and generally higher pay. I know almost nothing about getting your LPN license so he'll have to investigate that himself. I'll say the hospital systems that I've been in not only prefer RNs but often have requirements that people without a certain amount of experience MUST get their bachelors after X amount of time.)

I would also say not all nursing jobs are created equal in terms of labor, emotional and otherwise. My first job was in home health which got me somewhat emotionally enmeshed with the family I primarily worked with, but it also wasn't emotionally distressing. Nurses on our oncology floors and the ICU have a different experience than nurses who work in elective short-stay surgery. And different people find different things draining. I find working with end-of-life patients to be energizing in my work; a lot of people don't. My aunt worked pediatrics because she found working with children must less distressing than working with a geriatric population. Some people thrive in the chaos and speed of the emergency room, while I find it to be a tremendously depressing place that I hate floating to.

I think you'd have to ask my loved ones if really if it affects how much I care for them. Speaking personally for myself: I think it is overall positive for my relationships. I like the rhythm of nursing, I like the philosophy of nursing, I like who nursing makes me be. I like that nursing work is impossible to bring home. You can bring the emotions home, but you leave the patients at the hospital. It's simple for a bedside nurse to keep a strong division between their work self and their home self, but it's not necessarily easy. And again, I'm off work right now and probably will be for a bit longer so. yknow. He should make sure he's got a good support system in place.

Also some states and cities are far, far better than others when it comes to nursing regulations. Are there legally mandated staff ratios where you work? How many hospitals are in the area? Are any of them union? What does the compensation look like? What is the turnover rate? Nursing could be a great profession in general, but it might not be great in your particular location.

My last point would be that working in healthcare can make you feel...disconnected, I guess, from people who don't. Healthcare is such a culture unto itself. Sometimes I'd be like that meme of guy at party hanging out in the corner thinking, "they don't know yesterday I took care of a patient in a situation so fucked and depressing that it's now an ethics case." Or on the other hand, "they don't know that a patient called me their guardian angel and cried while they thanked me." The fact that healthcare is a different world is neither a pro nor a con, but something to consider. Depending on how you spend your days, his life might start to have parts that look very different from yours. I loved having a nurse as a mother and listening to her stories. My father banned all anecdotes involving poop and gore from his presence.

I hope you and your husband figure out the best way possible for him to use that compassion, which might be nursing or might not be. Either way, good luck to you guys!

#nursing tag

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ifitmeanslosingyouthenno · 2 months ago

Text

the hardest part's the awful things that i've seen

day 8 whumptober prompt: sleep deprivation | "leave the lights on"

mary would be fucking pissed if he ever saw him like this, huddled in some corner like some useless child, all the lights in the dorm turned on so that he could trick his brain into thinking it was day and he didn’t need to sleep

he doesn’t need to sleep

sleeping meant dreaming, dreaming meant nightmares, nightmares were watching his friends and family die in the hands of the butcher of baltimore and waking up covered in sweat, screaming and crying

or if he took the pills abby recommended, sleeping meant dreaming meant nightmares meant watching his family being murdered and not being able to wake up despite the horrors

so no

he doesn’t need to sleep

“neil”

right, the problem

“go away betsy”

she sits in a desk chair, probably his, since he hasn’t seen robin or his other two roommates in– days now

not that he blames them

“you need to sleep, neil”

“what’s the saying? sleep is for the weak?”

from the corner of his eye, he sees her smiling, but it lacks any real humor. interestingly enough there wasn’t any pity there either.

“yeah, i know that makes it easier to not sleep, but sleep is meant to let your mind and body recuperate from the day’s stress, both physical and mental, and it’s been proven that waste product produced by brain cells are eliminated only when one is sleeping, so if you don’t sleep well or enough, no waste product is eliminated, and the brain can’t work the way it’s supposed to.”

he has no reply to that, nor does he care about why his body might need sleep

sleeping brings nothing but trouble

it was okay, he could go days without sleeping, mary made sure of that

after a few days he can just crash and burn and be so utterly exhausted that he won’t actually dream

so he will sleep, eventually

just not now

bee remains patient and so does he

he needs to stay active if he means to stay awake a few days more, he can go for a run, maybe he can sneak into the court, run a few drills–

“won’t you tell me why you don’t want to sleep? you look exhausted”

he feels exhausted

but she wouldn’t understand and he tells her so

“why don’t you try me?”

he knows it’s a bait, and he doesn’t quite fall for it

he might be tired, but he’s still aware enough not to fall for it

“can you tell me then why you’ve left the lights on?”

“it helps me stay awake”

“why do you need to stay awake, it’s–” she takes her phone from her pocket and checks the time, “– 2:13 am, there’s no reason to stay awake neil”

he still refuses to reply, he’s got nothing to say to her

“david is worried about you, you know? about the effects this can have on your health, more than outside of the court before my words can get misinterpreted”

“i know coach cares, you don’t need to clarify yourself”

“then you know it’s a reasonable concern”

“i know it’s above his paygrade”

she snorts lightly, before composing herself, “maybe now, but when it starts to affect your game it will be”

“it won’t affect my game”

“it’s bound to”

“i know myself better than you do”

“i’m sure of that, but there’s only so much the human body can handle”

“i’m more resilient than most, i have survived days without sleeping before”

“when you were on the run?”

neil shuts up then. he slipped, but it will not happen again

betsy sighs, “my apologies, i don’t mean to push your boundaries”

“really?” he makes sure his tone is sarcastic enough for her to get it

“yes, i know my job requires me to push past your boundaries, but i know when something is a hard limit and when it isn’t”

“good for you”

“why don’t you collaborate with me neil?”

“you’re a shrink”

betsy sighs, “if you won’t let me help you because of my profession, then there has to be someone who can help you or well, give you some support”

that’s a low blow

of course she knows exactly who can help him

she knows he can’t just go running for andrew everytime he breaks down

andrew deserves his own life, without worrying about his stupid fucking boyfriend with his stupid fucking issues

he pressed his forehead to his knees

“just go away betsy”

she sighs a sad little thing, before pushing back her chair and standing up from the sound of it

“you know i’ll be here when you’re ready to talk”

“leave the lights on on your way out”

she shuts the door quietly, but the click sounds like a bullet firing from a gun and he flinches

it’s okay, he’s fine, this is all fine

if he doesn’t sleep he won’t get nightmares, he won’t see andrew dying

he doesn’t need to sleep

fun fact! originally neil was going to break down and tell betsy what was going on, and she would help him, but where’s the fun in that?

#aftg #neil josten #all for the game #aftg fic #aftg hc #aftg headcanon #betsy dobson #whumptober #whumptober 2024

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ghulehunknown · 1 year ago

Note

Can I ask for papas seeing their s/o jealous for the first time? (Let's say they were married/in relationship for years and somehow papas never 👀 jealous s/o)

Sure thing, I’ll do my best! I decided to write both sides of the jealousy coin.

Papa Headcanons - Jealousy

(Rated PG-13; mild NSFW)

Primo

Reacting to you feeling jealous:

Would immediately assure you that you have nothing to worry about (though he is hiding a slight sense of ego, afterall it’s quite flattering that you’d be jealous of someone else that might want him)

Asks what the root of the issue is - it can’t just be jealousy, can it? You wind up telling him about your childhood trauma and where this all stems from

He nods patiently and assures you that you’re in a safe space; he’s a judgment free zone

A very therapeutic conversation, actually and you leave feeling better than before

Feeling or showing he’s jealous:

He doesn’t react much; he’s too old to play games and if you are sneaking around on him he’ll eventually find out, but he trusts you

Very calm

Asks you questions about the situation to get a better understanding before jumping to conclusions

Does not treat you any differently TBH

Secondo

Reacting to you feeling jealous:

Approaches it logically; he knows this is bound to happen in any long term relationship but you’ll face it together head on

Presents the facts to you and lets you decide on your own from there; he won’t try overly hard to convince you of something when there is evidence in front of you to see you have no reason to be jealous

Tells you all the reasons he loves you

Feeling or showing he’s jealous:

Has a twinge of internal struggle

Ultimately he knows logically you do not belong to him, and therefore can do whatever you like - so there is no need for him to worry

However if you are doing something behind his back he won’t hesitate to leave and cut you off

Terzo

Reacting to you feeling jealous:

Slightly annoyed/defensive at first - how could anyone possibly think he’s done anything wrong when that was never his intention??

When he sees you’re actually upset, he turns very serious and professes his love for you

After you’ve resolved this and he’s assured you properly, he gets a smug little look on his face and says “Oh you want me so bad, don’t you? You liiiiike me” even though you’ve been together for years

Chases you around the house saying exaggerations such as “Amore, I would simply die without you! How could I look at another when you hold my balls in your hand?”

Goes from defensive to serious/comforting to horny in the span of 3 minutes

Bets he can “fuck the jealousy” right out of you 🥴 (and he does)

“Amore, how could I love another? You think anyone could fuck me as good as you do? You think anyone else’s body looks as good on me as yours? You think anyone’s mouth around my [redacted] is as pretty as yours?” (said while he’s fucking your brains out)

Feeling or showing he’s jealous:

Anxious as fuck; this is his ego’s worst nightmare

Agonizes and ruminates on things that probably aren’t even happening

Woefully dramatic, to his own detriment

Uses it as a competition. “Do they love you like I do?,” “Do they remember all of your favorite things?,” “Do they make you cum like I do?”

In the following days he does way more to show his affection than usual; flowers everyday and random dates and little gifts. His feelings are hurt and he wants to remain at the top of your mind

He just needs you to stroke his ego that he’s the only one for you and that there’s no reason for him to be jealous 😌

Copia

Reacting to you feeling jealous:

“Ehh…tesoro, what troubles you?” he would ask while tapping his fingers together nervously, immediately sensing your displeasure

Flattered at first (he’s never experienced this before!) but admits that he has eyes only for you

Dying to prove his devotion to you and promises you have no reason to be jealous

Gives you a big hug and spends the rest of the day with you doing all the things you like, even watching that show he doesn’t like but knows you do

Makes love to you that night like he never has before

Feeling or showing he’s jealous:

He’s embarrassed to admit it

Explains his emotions and needs in a healthy way that he clearly got from a therapist (“I feel jealous when ___ because ___..”)

Asks you for comfort and reassurance because he’s feeling a little down (he needs constant reassurance anyway)

#the band ghost #ghost band fanfic #papa emeritus x reader #terzo fanfiction #copia is my husband #terzo #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus i x reader #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #copia emeritus #terzhoe #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band headcanons

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bad268 · 1 year ago

Text

Hungover in Love (Frog Boys X Reader)

[Blank] in Love Pt 2

Fandom: RPF/Miscellaneus

Requested: On AO3 actually...

Warnings: Sex jokes in Droid's, uses Grizzy's name (Nelly)

Pronouns: First person (I/me)

W.C. approx. 300 each

Summary: The day after Part 1

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(All pictures from vids)

<-Part 1

Puffer

I knew it was going to be a bad day for Puffer as soon as the guys said we were going out and unfortunately for me, I live with him. This put me on honorary hangover duty.

I don’t know if I was supposed to just forget what Puffer said last night. I don’t want to, but he was too drunk to remember what he was saying. Then, the voice in my head says drunk words are sober thoughts.

I was broken out of my mind when I heard groaning coming from Puffer’s room. I went to the kitchen and grabbed him a glass of water as well as meds before making my way to his room and knocking lightly as I walked in.

“Hey, party animal,” I teased, giving him the water and meds. “On a scale of 1-10, how hungover are you?”

“If I say 10, would you think I’m exaggerating?” He complained, downing the water in one go with the meds.

“Maybe,” I rolled my eyes as I took the now empty glass from him. “Is there anything you need from me? Food, more water?”

“Did I say anything stupid last night?” He asked as his cheeks grew red with embarrassment. “I remember bits, but I wanna make sure I didn’t make you uncomfortable in any way last night.”

“No, you didn’t make me uncomfortable,” I reassured, taking a seat on the side of his bed as I brushed some of his hair away from his eyes. “You did profess your undying love for me though, so that was interesting.”

“Good interesting or bad?” He questioned as his eyes widened.

“Good,” I whispered back.

“Y’know, there is one thing you could do for me,” Puffer switched topics. I thought he was just going to sweep the conversation under the rug. “Can you cuddle with me?”

Pezzy

Waking up on the couch was not something I expected when I opened my eyes. I moved to sit up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and I stretched my back. It did not take long for me to notice Pezzy already awake and cooking breakfast in the kitchen.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” he laughed. I just grumbled back before laying back down on the couch, hoping to catch some more sleep. “Ah, no! We’re going for a bike ride today! Get up!”

“Oh, you were serious?” I questioned, looking up to see Pezzy standing in front of me with a plate of bacon and eggs. I took it slowly as I sat back up and Pezzy sat next to me, eating his own plate as a TV show played in the background. “I thought you were just saying that for the chat?”

“I mean, I’d love to take you on a ride,” He responded shyly. “Only if you want to!”

“Pezzy, I love bikes,” I started in a joking manner, “Once I ride it once, I’ll want to be your backpack all the time. Is that really something you wanna handle?”

“Hell yeah,” He joked back, leaning into my side more. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my backpack.”

“Then, I guess the next question is where do you want to go?” I asked, turning toward him as I set my finished plate off to the side.

“How about you take an aspirin for your hangover and in a couple of hours, we’ll go to this cool cafe I found a while ago?”

“That sounds perfect.”

Droid

I was awoken by a multitude of messages. Do people not understand that my brain does not turn on until noon AT LEAST? Clearly not.

I rolled over in my bed to check the notifications and it was all Droid. Just as I was about to check the messages, I got an incoming call from the man himself.

“Please tell me someone’s dying,” I groaned. “Ain’t no way you’re blowing up my fucking phone at 8 am for shits and giggles.”

“I am so sorry, I swear, I didn’t mean it.” He’s rambling. He is going on and on about how sorry he is, how he didn’t mean it, how he’s an asshole, and so on. “Please, you have to believe me.”

“What the fuck are you on about, Droid?” I asked in utter confusion. What did I miss? “Did something happen?”

“Last night on the stream, don’t you remember?” He questioned back.

“I said I’d top you,” I deadpanned. “And? Is that what this is about? I swear this could have waited until-”

“No,” he replied quietly but still effectively cutting me off. “I shouldn’t have taken it that far. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t take it far? Droid, where is this coming from?” I contested, but he remained silent. “Droid, if I didn’t feel comfortable talking about sex on stream, I wouldn’t have played into it. Did the fans say shit?”

“You’re normally very private on stream, and-”

“And we got drunk and had fun!” I cut him off. “I don’t regret it. And honestly, I’d still happily top you any day, Droid.”

“You’re joking,” he chuckled in disbelief.

“I’ll be there in 20, baby.”

Grizzy

It was well into the morning/early afternoon at this point, and Grizzy had yet to come out of his room. Granted, I remember my first hangover, and I was no better. However, this wasn’t his first hangover. Probably his strongest but definitely not his first.

I was going to make him breakfast and hang out with him today, but I felt like I was just vibing in his house alone. I had watched a movie, edited a video, made a cake, and even cleaned up a few things around his living room. Yet Grizzy still hadn’t come out.

A part of me thought he was hiding. He suffered a brutal loss at the game last night, and with the reward on the line, joking or not, he might have taken it too seriously. The other reason could be that he is so hungover, he can’t get out of bed. I decided I was going to bite the bullet and check on him before leaving if he didn’t answer. I grabbed a glass of water before heading up to his door.

“Grizzy,” I asked quietly as I knocked softly on his door. I didn’t receive a response, but I still pushed the door open to see if he was okay. “Are you awake?” I set the glass on his bedside table as I took a breath. “Sometimes, I wish you were less clueless when you are sober. I can only do so much, Nelly.”

“I was scared,” his voice whispered as he turned over to face where I was standing. I didn’t even check if he was awake or not before talking, but now, he knows how I feel. “You’re too good for me, and I didn’t want to fuck up our friendship.”

“Well, you know what? Friendship is overrated,” I joked as I moved to lay next to him in bed. “I much prefer a relationship with you, Grizzy. Even if you lost.”

“Did I really lose if I have a hot person in my bed right now?”

Next Part ->

~~~~~

#big puffer x reader #pezzy x reader #elastic droid x you #grizzy x reader #puffer x reader #elastic droid x reader #elastic droid #big puffer #pezzy #grizzy #bad268 #thing268 #ship268 #bad268 [blank] in love

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joyburble · 2 years ago

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So, we see Donfang Qingcang reading on screen several times, and I think it's an important character message.

On encountering a problem, in episode 4, that can't be addressd by violence, what is the first thing our character does? He RTFMs. He sends Shanque to fetch the Fucking Manual, and he Reads It. What. In fact, they both read it, at least until they find the right bit.

Iconic. And adorable.

Definitely much less surprising in a Chinese genre than it would be in any English-language genre. But this section is so spectacular I want to give it a lot of weight.

The scroll is extremely long. He baulks, for a second, at the length,

but this, his face says, cannot possibly defeat him: he backs himself (I love it) and gets down to work.

It's illustrated. I'd love to hear from someone who can read any part of the text. He engages in detail with the content.

He continues in episode 5, having made some progress, and still backing himself to work out what it all means.

He takes it out on the balcony to study it by daylight. When his plans don't succeed at first, he doesn't reject the information, he thinks about it harder and compares it with the data.

Then something interesting happens: after making Orchid's tummyache better, he sits down, and without any stated reason tries to read something else, which looks like a completely normal book:

He can't focus because she's so sad, but we get a glimpse of the corner of a title label. When he puts it down, we can see it's a paperback stitched in the traditional Chinese manner.

It could be anything, but looks a reasonable size for a novel. There are also some other books on the table. Maybe they're technical works from Xiao Lanhua's library, and he's just bored and curious?

This wouldn't be as clear if it was the only example, or if we saw other characters repeatedly reading. But I don't think we do.

In episode 18 post-whump we learn again that what he does to relax and distract himself, when in pain and/or wanting attention, is read a book. It's a slim volume with a vertical format and a pretty, embellished cover. Perhaps a book of poems?

In Episode 26, now knowing he is loved, he is reading for fun again, with no explanation asked or given. Another sewn book, but in this case it has a hard cover with a shiny and colourful design. What could it be? Who knows? It seems to be making him smile a little.

The message we are getting, here, is that what he does when he wants to relax and enjoy life, is read. We’re supposed to understand that in his natural disposition, minus his father’s crimes and his profession of violence, he is a gentleman and a scholar. He is curious. He is capable of handling new information. He has brains and capabilities and ingenuity. He has a big ego, but he can put it in the engine room, not the driving seat. It's a gently-delivered message, but I think it contributes a lot to our perception of the character.

In dream-world episode 31, he is reading a scroll with Xiao Lanhua. Are they reading a story to each other? Doing the voices?

So apparently in his imagination it's a bonding activity too: you can read together with a person you love and share your reactions. A bit like you and I are doing now.

Finally, I think they published this behind-the-scenes shot for a reason (thank you @moonsupremesblog, and I'm sorry this probably should have been a reblog of this post but I got too far in before I remembered)

We can see it's Dylan Wang referring to a script, but we do a double-take because it's totally in character, the lighting, composition, and depth-of-field intentionally reinforce that effect, and we have to look at the plastic cover and the little place-tags to realise it isn't.

#cang lan jue #lbfad #love between fairy and devil #dylan wang #wang he di #reading on screen #cdrama #dongfang qingcang

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hanasnx · 2 years ago

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adultfilm au headcanons.

! ── he’d have a lot of videos like owen gray that’s very female centered cos thats just how he is tbh he’d make it so fun for you

! ── like i know its just a job to him and its just acting, but imagine him being delighted on being able to work with you like he’s seen your profile and he loved it. went crazy for it, probably had a phase of watching you and to hear youre interested in working with him?? he’s never felt such excitement

! ── loves the sound of your moans, the look of your body, your style of how you treat your co-stars and all your signature moves. how you commonly do titjobs and face fucks. how you squirt.

! ── he’d be torn on whether or not to tell you those secrets of his. he wouldn’t want you to think he’s trying to take advantage of you. this is just a job after all, and he expects you to treat it as such. however, his feelings on it might be compromised..

! ── you, like him, are secretly enthused to fuck him on camera. yea porn is just for show, but you know it’s gonna be fun to play pretend with him. you wonder what the scenario will be, or if your producer will let you have free reign. anakin skywalker’s famous amongst men and women in both fucking them on screen and in audience demographic. you aren’t as popular as him. but you’ve heard amazing things about him. not only is he, as expected, a wonderful and respectful coworker. but he’s thoughtful, and makes the sex worthwhile. you can hardly contain yourself

! ── you don’t get a chance to meet up before the day of shooting but you get to have a chat while everything’s getting prepared on set the outfit you chose was particularly revealing. you’d get put through costuming anyway, but you wanted to see him look at you. and look at you, he does. generously eyeing you up. “damn, am i excited to fuck you today.” the compliment would’ve fallen through if it were any other person saying it, but the man who towered over you had your body in a frenzy of thrill. you smile, bashfully, “could say the same about you.” it’s rare someone has this kind of effect on you. especially for a job of all things.

! ── you’ve never met him in person, and he’s overwhelming to say the least. his fit body translates his discipline and commitment to himself, not just for his profession but for his own personal goals. it speaks highly of him. not to mention his uncanny ability to calm your nerves with his conversation techniques. well, maybe they weren’t techniques per say, but more so he surprises you with how grounded he is. blue eyes you get lost in. kept golden brown hair in perfectly messy curls. that famed scar running from just over his brow to his high cheekbone. there’s something godly about him. divinely beautiful, as if otherworldly. you’ve fit twelve inch dildos into your ass for a video, but that paled in comparison to the challenge of speaking with anakin skywalker. you’ve seen his cock too. long, thick, and hard. watching it roll eyes into the backs of heads; mercilessly fuck various holes until it’s shooting hot spurts of milky finish inside or all over; you’ve witnessed girls fight in threesomes— or foursomes… or more— just to have a chance for his cum to paint their faces. the urge to glance down at his pants for a glimpse of his outline is a demon you fight tooth and nail to conquer. it daunts you.

! ── “have to admit, i was excited to work with you, i’ve admired your work.” “so you’re saying you’ve rubbed one out to me, right?” he stifles his snicker, having been caught off guard by your joke. “is it that obvious?” “haven’t met a man who hasn’t.” your presumptious comment was bold and his flesh hand comes up to pinch your cheek gently. your eyes widen at the brief contact, as if he’s already so familiar with you. “‘course you haven’t.” yet another compliment that heats your face. bowing your head to conceal it.

! ── “so, c’mon i gotta know. since my secret’s out, you ever…” he lets you finish the sentence, raising his brows and juts his chin, pressing his lips together (since you two are already on the subject, and you’re responding to his advances well, he wants to see how far you’ll go). “oh, to you?” a smile tugs the corners of your mouth, finding his forward question endearing. he bites his bottom lip, stifling a flirty grin of his own as he nods. like you’ve known him forever, you playfully shove at his arm. (your mind idles at how thick and strong it felt the second you touched it, but you move on quickly). you make a big show of rolling your eyes with a sigh. “i guess since we’re confessing… yeah, i have.” his gaze darkens. to think, the two of you have jerked off to the other before. and here, a golden opportunity has fallen into your laps. he’s already decided to give you the ride of a lifetime, immortalized in a dirty video.

! ── “anakin, anakin! oh, oh god…” there’s nothing like hearing his name roll off a woman’s tongue while his is buried deep inside of her. you writhe, but he’s overpowering, his hands splayed underneath your ass to lift your core to his ravenous mouth. to shut you up, his metal digits plunge into your open trap, and you welcome them, sucking faithfully. “yeah, that’s a good girl. knew you were a good girl.” his breathless words wash over your folds, and his tongue flattens to wiggle your clit side-to-side. a noise of yours is quieted by his fingertips toying with your tongue. he straightens to his full height as you remain laid out on the counter— neglecting your pussy. he dwarfs you, and when his hand slips out from under you, it fists his cock. angry, purple, and straining, no doubt searching for relief only found in your mouth or your cunt. to your disbelief, he opts for a different approach. “you want this, baby? is this what you want?” the member drums against your folds, and you can only furiously nod. he yanks his fingers from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting them to you and breaking over your naked body, adding another layer of fluid to your skin. he doesn’t grant you his notorious cock just yet, prying open your pussy lips to stick his metal digits inside and finger you ruthlessly. it’s pain mixed with pleasure, and he pets that spot inside you that he knows’ll yield a most prized result. “fuck! you’re gonna make me— oh, fuck, daddy—“ you’re whining, on the verge of tears over how he makes you feel. even something as simple as his fingers are huge inside of you, and the way he curls them is very telling as to how much he really studied you on-screen. “yeah, i know a slut like you squirts. i fucking love it, baby, give it to me.” you can’t control the sounds spilling from you as your pussy sprays around his hand, soaking his abdomen so it runs down his pubes and legs. “yes! oh, yes, princess. that’s it. daddy’s so proud of you,” squirting takes so much out of you, especially because he doesn’t give up after that, pulling more and more from you as you struggle to keep up. you look exhausted already, but he’s not done. “you want a reward? i’ve got a big, fat one right here for you, sweet girl.” his statement emphasized by his dick bullying it’s way into your cunt.

! ── he edges himself using you, and he’s got you crying from overstimulation. having put you in a million different positions, you’re his little fucktoy. your makeup staining your cheeks, sheen of salty sweat on your body. and when he slides you down onto your knees, you’re so cock drunk you obey him. “since you like my videos so much you know how much i like to finish on faces. you’re gonna suck me off ‘til i get there.” you swallow at his words, mouth watering at the thought of pleasuring him, making up for all he’s given you. “i wanna hear you say it, angel. you want my cock in your mouth, right? want me to fuck your face?” he has such a vulgar way of saying things, it put you in a trance. “c’mon, daddy,” you grab at him, fixing yourself up so you reach for him. “give it, i want it. please—?” he pinches your jaw hard, opening your mouth for you as he shoves his cock in. so deep you gag already, and he strokes the top of your head. “aw, can’t handle it? thought you called yourself whore. you didn’t mind all the other things i did to you.” fake sympathy, another signature move of his you undeniably fancied. in order to save yourself from gagging again, you push back. his response is to tame you. he palms the back of your head and forces you forward, picking up his cock so he can shove your face into the underside of it. your nose digging into the soft flesh of his balls. you lap at them, suck them into your mouth, looking up at him past his leaking cock that he leisurely jacks off. “that’s it, baby, you know just what i like…” he smiles down at you from the sight of how pretty you look on your knees. how you’ve picked up his preferences through his videos you’ve watched. when you release them, eagerly licking the underside of them, he starts rubbing them all over you. fluids making it easy to glide them across your face as you readily accept them, moving accordingly. practically nuzzling them because o your need of his approval. he loves it, and loves it even more when you take his cock back in your mouth and let him face fuck you for real this time. as he promised, he does finish all over your face. thick cum dripping down your eyes and nose, dribbling onto your hanging tongue. his hand spreads it around and pats your cheek. congratulating you for a job well done.

! ── after the cameras cut, he assists with the clean up. warm towel cleaning up his mess from your face so you could see. it was more or less apologetic. however, a little towel wouldn’t cut it. you’re excited to go home and shower and get into bed. however, something about anakin skywalker… he has the power to make you do whatever he wants.

! ── “you know, i wouldn’t mind filming a little something of our own at my place. tonight, if you’re free.”

#indy: headcanons #ch: adultfilm!anakin #adultfilm!anakin #anakin skywalker headcanons #adultfilm!reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x you #anakin smut #anakin x reader

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