#sorry if this was a heavier answer than u were after anon

[pooklet]

I love your pastel goth references! Do you consider yourself a part of any subculture?

I married into goth.

Serious answer: I think of queerness as a subculture distinct from mainstream LGBT acceptance, and queer is how I most strongly identify. The distinction to me lies in queer's intentional rejection of rigid compartmentalization of sexual and gender identity. It is impossible to sanitize queerness, and things that cannot be sanitized cannot be monetized. Which isn't to say that subcultures can't be monetized (if they couldn't there would be no Hot Topics), but with capitalism being the dominant social structure worldwide, a group with goals and ideals that aren't profitable is inherently a subculture, imo.

Btw, thank you for asking, anon! I hadn't ever rly thought abt this before but it was cool to research different opinions on how subcultures are defined.

[asapeveryday]

SWIM ★彡

Pairing: Nika Mühl x Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: shower sex

Summary: you’ve never seen Nika this mad after a game, jaw clenched shut and eyebrows furrowed. It has an affect on you that’s shameful, and she makes sure to remind you.

A/n: requested by VARIOUSSS anons. Luv u guys

THE DOOR SHUTS behind you loudly, and you can’t help but jump at the force of it. Nika almost pushes past you and heads straight for the kitchen, downing a glass of water and roughly wiping her mouth afterwards. She’s staring into nothing, mind obviously racing after a disastrous game.

You know better than to say anything to her, when she doesn’t preform how she hoped it’s best to keep a distance. Nika is usually good tempered and you’ve always loved that about her; her practicality, her levelheaded-ness. It came in handy when you were needy and exasperated, the way she’d simply purr your name and smile was enough to calm you down…even if her fingers were inside of you.

Her pent up anger was not unheard of, but still rather alien. What freaked you out more was how much of a struggle it was proving to be to keep quiet and distant.

Nika is bulldozing throughout your apartment now, throwing her jacket on the couch and tossing her shoes by the door before roughly yanking out her ponytail in a way that you know must hurt her.

“Can you stop fucking looking at me?” She snaps, her eyes narrowing at you and finally acknowledging your presence.

“Sorry.” You swallow, though you can’t help but admire her. It’s impossible to avoid the twitch in your pussy at the ferocity of her stare, her toned body slumping on the couch, or the frustrated lilt in her voice.

“Did you have fun?” She asks. “Watching me play like a loser today. Did you enjoy it?” She says now, dangerously calm compared to her earlier tone.

Nervously, you say “Of course I didn’t.” To which she raises an eyebrow.

“So it must’ve been a waste of time watching your girlfriend play like shit, huh.” Nika scoffs. “Were you embarrassed?”

“No!” You rush out, approaching her carefully. “I’m never gonna be embarrassed, Niks. It was one bad game, shit happens.”

She doesn’t have to say anything back, you already know the look on her face by heart. It’s one anyone who’s involved with an athlete knows, the look that says ‘you couldn’t possibly understand’. That expression on her face is one that you dread.

“Tell me what you want me to do Nika. How do I support you through things like this?” You sigh.

“You can support me by backing off.” She smiles, not with her usual kindness but with some sort of buried anger. “N’ stop gawking at me like a lost puppy. It’s fucking annoying.”

You cross your arms at this. You love Nika, but her anger makes her unreasonable.

“You sure you want me to back off? You’re the one who asked to come to my apartment.”

She stares at you for a moment that feels too long, the weight of her gaze growing heavier and harder to hold by the moment. You can’t read her expression anymore and it’s both enticing and nerve wracking.

“Since you wanna be smart,” she says, getting up from the couch and sauntering up to you. “I can think of something else you can do for me.”

Her tone is different now. Demanding in a way that excites you. You can’t help but squeeze your thighs together. “Anything you want.” You mumble. “I’ll do it.”

Nika’s eyes sparkle at this, clearly satisfied with your answer. “Strip.”

You’re frozen at her order. She’s seen you naked before, but not under pressure like this. She notices your hesitation and tilts her head. “You said anything, right?”

You nod slightly, slowly pulling off the top you’d worn to her game as well as your shorts before timidly un clipping your bra, leaving your breasts bare and nipples hardening from the new cold of your apartment. You try your best to hold her eye as you slip your panties down your legs and step out of them and towards her.

The feeling of standing there stark naked as your girlfriend soaks in the sight of you in silence is more vulnerable than anything you’ve felt in a long time. You can’t help but bring your hands to your breasts in attempts to cover something.

When Nika’s lips meet yours it’s languid and calculated, her hands ripping your own from your chest as she clashes teeth with you. Letting go of your wrists, she says. “Go turn on the shower.” And when you look at her inquisitively she shoots you a smirk. “I’ll be there soon.”

-

You let the water warm until steam forms to coat the glass doors of the shower, your hair now soaked through and your skin hot. The sound of the bathroom door opening and closing sends a shiver down your spine, and when the glass opens and closes you know Nika has kept her word.

Nothing happens at first, she stands under the water with you, wetting her hair and skin whilst closing her eyes beneath the shower head. You know she can feel you staring, but there’s no reason you shouldn’t with her bare body on display. Her muscles glistening and wet, her belly piercing gleaming through the steam. When your eyes part from her body, they meet her own.

When your lips clash again it’s sensual and charges with a force you can feel deep in your core. Her hands are quickly on either sides of your head when your back hits the cold tile of the bathroom wall, and you let yourself grasp at her tan flesh while she explores your mouth.

“What do you want me to do, Niks.” You huff out between kisses.

“Be quiet.” She says in an instant. “N’ let me fuck you.”

You nod fervently at her request, allowing her to suckle your neck and chest until you’re painted pink and purple. You know she loves to mark you, to have a remnant of her on your body is like a dream come true for the both of you.

As her mouth latches onto your tit, her fingers begin to tease at your pussy. She just barely rubs your clit, smiling at your whines and pleads.

“You don’t even deserve this.” She sighs. “You don’t care if I win or lose, you jus know you’re getting fucked anyways.”

She’s still teasing you, applying pressure and then taking it away at every breath you take. Your hips are beginning to buck at the stimulation or lack of thereof.

“Please, baby.” You beg, throwing your head back. “Please just touch me.”

Nika clicks her tongue before slipping two fingers inside of you. “Keep looking at me or else I’ll get out of the shower.” She grunts.

You hurriedly shift your gaze to her, and the sight is mesmerizing, her tongue swirling around your nipple while her fingers pump in and out of you slowly. Her hair is wet and spread out down her back and over her breasts, her cheeks are pink from the hot water.

Your legs begin to shake when she quickens her pace, watching her digits disappear and reappear into your heat as she innocently smiles. The sound of your slick is just barely covered by the loud noise of the running water that drenches both of you. You reach a hand out to the glass that encloses the shower, leaving a handprint. Nika notices this and immediately has an idea.

In an instant you’re shoved against the glass, and you gasp at the sudden contact all while her fingers are still inside you. “Nika!” You exclaim. “Careful, the glass might-”

“Shut up,” she murmurs, head now resting on your shoulder. She’s pressed flush against you as she stretches you out. “You won’t break anything.”

You trust in her words and allow yourself to loosen up again. The sight from the other side must be immaculate, your breasts, face and hands pressed against the steam covered glass. If your roommate was to need to use the washroom for anything, she’d surely never be able to look you in the face again.

Nika rubs the condensation from a spot in the glass so you can see outside, directly into the mirror that faces you. The scene is so lewd you can feel your orgasm building.

“Look at you.” Nika coos. Her own eyes are also trained on the mirror, on your face screwed up in pleasure, on your pussy sucking her in. “How slutty is this?”

“Nika.” You cry, moaning a mess of words as your stomach gets tenser by the minute. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it.” She orders, and as if clockwork you climax all over her fingers. She presses a harsh kiss to your cheek and releases you from the pressure against the glass shower wall.

You hug her underneath the stream of the shower and she laughs. “Are you feeling better?” You mumble into her neck, and she nods. “Much better.”

“Good.” You smile. “Now clean me up and take me out of here.”

[ickle-ronniekins]

on rainy days, george x reader

request: anon: Erica! can i request a George x reader with loads of angst and maybe some fighting?? can i submit my own prompts? Maybe like “we’re not just friends and you know it” and “why don’t you tell me why you really came here tonight” and “don’t you love me” OMG sorry this is long thanks girl i need some hp angst | another message per anon: actually wait can you take out the whole “friends” prompt i don’t like that thanks | omg stop i love this so much, sometimes we need some ruff stuff yaknow? like it can't all be makeout sessions in broom cupboards and fluffy “love u forever”s and shit like that so i am totally game to write this babe but dang hope it lives up to your expectations...kinda nervous now

prompt(s): “why don’t you tell me why you really came here tonight” / “don’t you love me”

warnings: um angst? fighting? maybe mention of war or something?

On rainy days, you think of him—the way his hair is always slightly messy, the way his eyes light up whenever a new invention makes its way into their shop, the way he’s always bloody happy and goofy...but soft, like his mother, and was not afraid to show it.

Today was one of those days.

You walked slowly through the light falling rain, careful to breathe in the beautiful scent of the earth mixed with rainwater. It had always been one of your favorite smells. You loved when it rained. Or, you used too. The last rainy day you could remember was the day he left, the day he told you no, the day the world seemed to come to a slow.

“You cannot do this,” he’d pleaded with you. His eyes were worried and tired, the same way your body felt in the heat of the moment.

“I’m going,” you’d told him, “and you can’t stop me.”

The impending war, and fighting in it, was never a discussion—it was always an argument. It was always too dangerous, too risky, too this, too that—but you were a grown woman and no individual would make decisions for you. He looked at you once more with begging eyes, but all you did was squeeze his shoulder.

“Then I’m sorry,” he said and moved slowly towards the door. “I can’t be here to watch.”

It was the price you chose. The love of one, or the love of many? Truthfully, you were doing this for him and all of your loved ones, but he just couldn’t see it that way. He wanted you safe, at home, holed up, away from the danger. But what good would that do if the danger would just find you there?

A few months after he’d left, death eaters stormed your home. Alone, terrified, and almost unprepared, it could have been awful—but somehow, someway, you’d managed to escape—your house burning to the ground, your Muggle parents, far away and safe somewhere, you’d hoped, nowhere near the war...nowhere near here.

You guess you understood where he was coming from. You’d shipped your parents off as quickly as you could. “For your own safety,” you’d told them. “I can take care of myself.”

You’d told him that, too, but he could not understand it. You pleaded with him just the same, to allow you to fight by his side, to promise to never let go of him. But instead, he needed to leave. And so he did.

Now, walking through the rain seemed to be more of a chore than something you enjoyed doing. The cool wind hit your back and sent chills down your spine. Was it the wind, or was it something else? You pulled your hat tighter over your ears, pulled your jacket closer to your body, and turned left into the Three Broomsticks.

You thought you’d prepared for it, but as prepared as you could be, it still wasn’t enough. Seeing him sitting there knocked the wind right out of you. His hair still messy, his eyes still sparkling, his smile still soft. It was all still there. And so were the feelings, of course.

His 6’3 frame swallowed you whole, just as it always had, and it took every ounce of strength you had not to cry, not to jump on him, not to yell at him, not to kiss him. Your feelings were bubbling to the surface, but so was your frustration and anger. It was all still there, right in front of you.

He kept his distance at first—a few feet from you, but it felt like miles. Millions of miles. “Hi,” he started with a shaky voice. “...you’re here.”

You wanted to say, “I’m home,” but instead you said, “I’m here.”

Because he had always been home to you. But now...

He began to move towards you, but you slowly backed away. No, you weren’t ready. You couldn’t fall into things exactly as they’d been before he’d left, before the war began. The pub was completely vacant except for the two of you. The pattering rain sounded so loud upon the rooftop.

“I missed you,” he told you. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

You said back, “Missed you, too,” and bit your lip, trying to hide an almost-smile. He broke and gave you a nervous grin, furrowed his brow and looked as though he was about to break down and cry. “George, I—”

“I couldn’t do it,” he said. You thought you could hear his heart pounding. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. I...I know you can take care of yourself, but it was hard.”

“Then why didn’t you just believe me?” You asked, emotions running high. You tried to hold it in, but couldn’t. Months of anger and sadness and confusion were making you explode. “Why didn’t you let me be with you, with all of you? I’ve studied, I’ve fought, I’ve done my time in school. Why not let me try?”

He swallowed over a lump in his throat. “It was dangerous. You and Ginny, it was just...too much.” He looked down at the ground and you noticed something not quite right underneath his hat. When you realized that he’d lost an ear, you ran towards him, your hands in his hair and on his shoulders. “I could’ve been with you, I could’ve helped you!” You cried. “This is what happens—things like this—”

“Exactly!” George said. His emotions were rising to the surface, too—the two of you like boiling pots of tea. “It could’ve been worse, or it could’ve been you! I didn’t want that! Mad-Eye died, d’you know what I’d do to myself if that had been you—”

You pushed on his chest and backed away, eyes filling to the brim with tears. The rain seemed to be falling heavier now. “And what if it was you? You’re lucky to be missing only a small part of yourself, George. What if you’d been taken away from all of us? Do you know how that would’ve felt to me if I’d heard it while sitting at home instead of out there, helping? At least I would’ve known that I did everything I possibly could, at least I would’ve been by your side—”

“It’s more than that!” He raised his voice.

“Oh, well then enlighten me, would you, Weasley? Why don’t you tell me why you really came here tonight?” You yelled, and the pub seemed to shake in your anger. “Because if it’s to tell me, again, not to fight, I won’t have it, you do not make my decisions for me—”

He grabbed you by the shoulders and cried out, “I’m here because I love you! I love you and I can’t do this without you anymore! This war, these things happening...it’s madness without you! These past few months have been...just terrible...” his voice trailed off in the sound of the storm.

You stood, silent, frozen, still in his embrace—eyes wide and heart pounding—waiting for more.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest which seemed to intensify by the second. His eyes were pleading again, the same pain glistening in them as the day he left. “Don’t you love me?”

Your heart was beating so thunderously, it was basically screaming your answer for you. You brought your hand to his cheek and let the tears fall. You noticed scratches and bruising all over him, and your heart ached for justice. You told him, “Of course I love you,”

He wrapped his arms around you so tightly, like he was surrendering to the entire world. Your whole entire body hurt in the entanglement, but you didn’t want to let go. You pulled fiercely on his shoulders and breathed in his scent. You ran your fingers through his hair. You felt the beating of his heart, thumping dramatically in sync with yours. The butterflies in your stomach danced around quicker when you heard a break in his voice when he choked out, “God, I love you.”

On rainy days, you think of him—the way he throws his hands around when he’s angry, the way his voice still trembles slightly even when he’s yelling, the way he cares so bloody deeply, it’s almost painful...and how he’s not afraid to show it.

Today was one of those days.

The two of you set foot towards the castle, better than yesterday, but not as good as you’d be tomorrow. There were wounds that needed time to heal, discussions that needed to be had, gallons of love that needed to be shared, not hidden. His hand was warm around yours in the freezing rain, the impending war on both of your minds. But feeling his body next to yours now, at least it felt alright. If he was next to you, fighting alongside you, then you were alright. You were home.

[haikyuu-angst-station]

hey hey hey!! I really love your tumblr, if you feel up to could you write that fic you mentioned about Suga’s fear of thunderstorms?? If you put daisuga in it my heart will literally MELT. Hope u have a nice day💞

wow thank you anon!! 

Astraphobia 

WARNING PANIC ATTACKS (kinda its not really)

If there was one thing Suga hated it was storms. They were way too loud and destructive. He hated the way that thunder would shake the ground and how the lighting would light up the sky in a broken streak of light. 

So, when in his third year of high school, he glanced out the classroom window and saw the sky turning a dark intimidating grey fear starting rushing through his veins. That one glance out the window had taken his concentration with it. Now all he could think of was the storm that was on its way. His teacher seemed to notice.

“Sugawara could you answer number four?” His head shot up from biting on his thumbnail. The anxiety and fear in his stomach doubled as everyone in the room looked at him. He attempted to stutter out an answer as a voice behind him called out. 

“It is x=27,” The teacher nodded but sent a disappointed look his way. He didn’t care though he was too busy thanking his best friend telepathically. The small sense of relief he felt faded away when he saw a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. The storm was getting closer. 

He had checked the weather that morning, as he did every day, and it had said it would rain but not storm. If there ever was a storm, he would stay home and cuddle with his dog inside his closet when it hit. But now he was trapped at school away from his dog and his safe place.  

While he was debating if he should ask his mother to leave work to come get him, the bell must have rung because Daichi was trying to grab his attention. The slightly taller boy was standing in front of Suga’s desk with a concerned look on his face. Suga looked up, with his thumbnail still in between his teeth, to meet Daichi’s eyes. Daich reached out his hand and pulled Suga’s hand away from his mouth. 

“C’mon Suga we’ve got practice,” The calming tone he spoke in made Suga feel safe. He reached down for his bag and shoved his belongings into it. The setter stood up on shaky legs. A quiet rumble from outside made his heartbeat quicken and any sort of security that Daichi’s presence had given him dissipate. Suga turned his head towards the window and the sky was completely covered by angry storm clouds. He couldn't turn his gaze away not even when Daichi had grabbed his hand and started pulling him away. 

“..wara...KOUSHI!” The use of his first name made the setter jump. Daichi looked more concerned than earlier. Guilt coiled around his spine. He didn’t want to make the captain worry, he already does enough of that. So, he threw out one of his kind smiles. 

“Sorry Dai, I’m just feeling a bit anxious. I’ll be fine,” It wasn’t a lie, he was feeling anxious. Daichi didn’t really seem to believe him but he didn’t ask any questions. The captain just continues to pull Suga to the club room. Scrunching his eyes, trying so hard to ignore it

But it started to rain

And it got harder

And heavier

And by the time they had reached outside it was pouring. Visibility is almost zero but Daichi made no move to stop. Suga did, he stopped in his tracks. Daichi turned to look at the silver haired boy. 

“Suga..?” The boy in question was trembling. His usually kind, calm eyes now filled with panic and fear. Lightning struck so close Daichi could see it’s reflection in them, the thunder followed not too soon after. A loud rumbling sound that shook the ground and made the hand in his tense ups 

Suga started shaking his head as to say no and pulled his hand away from Daichi’s. Before the latter could even say anything Suga had turned and ran back into the school building. 

Suga ran. Well maybe ran wasn’t the right word. It was more like a staggering speed walk. His legs felt like jelly, his head felt foggy. As thunder continued to stake the ground in a constant pattern his mind was telling him one thing. 

Hidehidehidehidehidehidehidehidehidehide

With his foggy panicked mind and view of the storage closet at the end of the hall, getting into there was all Suga could think of. He broke out into a run. The door handle felt cold under his shaky hands. He tried focusing on the cold feel of the tile floor once he got inside the closet. Pushing himself into the further meet corner from the door and wrapped his arms around his knees.

“Breathe Koushi. It’s going to be ok,” He spoke to himself in a way he would to a scared underclassman. Usually that tone would help calm the person it was used on but it was not working this time. His body trembled and shook with every thunderclap. Nails dug into the skin of his forearm so deep they began to draw blood. Warm tears cascaded down his blotchy cheeks. Another loud thunderclap sounded and everything that was holding Suga together fell apart. He let out a loud gasp followed by sobs that he attempted to muffle. His shaking hands tore through his grey hair. 

“Stop..please stop… go away go away,” Suga tried to plead with the storm raging outside. The door handle to the closet started to move and the door opened slowly. A familiar face appeared in the small gap that door had made. 

“Suga..” Daichi called out. The taller man crossed the small distance from the door to the corner where Suga sat. Without thinking the setter threw himself into Daichi’s arms. The latter started whispering ‘you ok’ and ‘i’ve got you’ into Suga’s hair. They continued to sit there like that for an hour until the storm calmed down. 

And if Daichi carried Suga home and stayed the night, who would know?

[emetoandotherthings]

How bout a slightly bloated and nauseous Damian getting stomach rubs and back pats from one of his mates to help him burp but ends up getting sick? Ahhh I love u and ur writing u have no idea!!! 💕💕

A/N: So! I’ve had this prompt sitting in my inbox for quite some time now, and as @its-a-goddamn-heartbreak and I were chatting about the end of Damian’s Coeliac Saga, this prompt came to mind, so I am dubbing it the epilogue as it’s set when they’re at university!! Thanks anon for the compliment - I hope you enjoy!! 😊😊

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 |

“Pfffft!” Damian collapsed heavily onto the low sofa in their flat kitchen, resting his head back briefly with his eyes closed. “Alright?” Cain asked, raising his head from the doodle that he’d been staring at while he ate his dinner. “How was your medic’s function?” “Long…” Damian muttered, shifting around on the sofa as though trying to get comfortable. “And full of pompous prats floating through on daddy’s money.” “Oh dear, not worth going to then?” Cain suggested and Damian made a non-committal noise in this throat. “Where are Aleks and Zara?” “Zara was too busy drinking – free wine…” Damian mumbled, rubbing his hands across his face. “And Aleks went – to meet Murray.” Cain looked across at his friend it was unusual for him to be so quiet, and the pauses in his speech pattern only made it more noticeable. “Are you alright?” Cain asked, placing his pencil down from his doodle that had spread across his A4 sheet. “Mmmmm…” Damian hummed, wriggling around on the sofa. “Brrrrraaaaaauuuuuurrrrp!” Damian covered his mouth as a deep belch rolled out of him. “I’m gonna take that as a no…” Cain said, rising from his place at the table and crossing to sit on the sofa next to Damian, who was still shifting in discomfort around the sofa. “What’s wrong?” “Aah – oh – I’m sorry…” Damian forced out, one of his hands moving to his stomach as his face screwed up in pain. “Oh!” “Damian?” Cain put his hand to Damian’s shoulder as his friend suddenly curled forward, both of his arms wrapping protectively around his abdomen. “Okay, Damian, you need to talk to me otherwise I’m going to call an ambulance.” Concern was bubbling through Cain as Damian let out a low moan as he shook his head. “I think…” Damian started to force out, and Cain could hear his teeth grinding as he fought against the pain. “Oh God… I’ve eaten something – with wheat.” Understanding flourished through Cain as Damian rocked back and forth, trying to soothe the cramp in his stomach. “Oh no!” He exclaimed, but couldn’t help but feel slightly relieved that it wasn’t something more serious. “What can I do to help?” “There’s… There’s a hot water bottle in my room,” Damian groaned, “can you get it – for me?” “Of course,” Cain nodded instantly, springing up from the sofa. “I’ll only be a moment.” Cain practically sprinted through to Damian’s bedroom, and grabbing the hot water bottle he ran back. “I’ll fill it up… Can I get you anything else? Would painkillers help?” “N – no…” Damian shook his head, still rocking a little restlessly. “They don’t work when it’s this…” “Oh okay…” Cain was pouring boiling water into the bottle from the kettle; he felt rather helpless. Damian seemed to be in so much pain, but there was absolutely nothing he could do to help. “Here…” He fastened the lid on the hot water bottle and carried it over to Damian, who accepted it like a lifeline. “Thanks,” he murmured, clutching the bottle to his stomach. “Maybe you’d feel better if you lied down?” Cain suggested, indicating the length of the sofa, but Damian shook his head again. 

“Being upright helps more…” He replied, leaning back and drawing his left leg up so it was bent close to him. “Sorry Cain.” “It’s not a problem,” Cain gushed, “I just want to do anything to help.” “Will… you sit with me?” Damian asked. “Tell me about your day.” “Um well…” Cain tried to think of something other than the fact his friend was writhing in pain. “I’ve got an assignment to create an environmentally friendly structure at low cost that people could reside in permanently.” “Yeah? So what you – thinking?” There was a long enough pause between Damian’s words for Cain to know how difficult he was trying. “I was trying to figure out if I could do a sustainable treehouse,” Cain answered, struggling not to reach out and physically comfort his friend. “Treehouse – sounds great,” Damian nodded, one of his hands rubbing at his chest., A tight build up of pressure in his stomach made him feel like he needed to burp, but every time he tried the air snagged in his throat and wouldn’t bring any relief. “Urgh…” “Oh Damian,” Cain grimaced on his behalf. “Are you sure I can’t do anything more to help?” “I feel like – ugh – I need to burp but I can’t…” Damian said honestly, pressing harder into his stomach. “Do you want me to rub your stomach for you?” Cain offered and Damian stared across at him, his eyes wide – and for a second he looked like a little kid. “Your mum used to do that for you, didn’t she?” “Yeah…” Damian’s voice had gone weak, and his face was pale from the stress of the pain. “Would – would you do that?” “Of course, here…” Cain gently encouraged Damian to rest his head back against the sofa, then peeled away the hot water bottle that was held to his skin. “Just let me know if you’re uncomfortable.” “Mmmhmm…” Damian had closed his eyes and appeared to be fighting against the pale. Cain was cautious as he pulled up the t-shirt Damian was wearing, revealing the flesh of his abdomen, and he very gently placed his fingertips onto Damian’s stomach and began to rub a light circle. Cain could hear Damian letting out slow and controlled breaths through his mouth. “Is that okay?” Cain questioned, anxious not to cause any more pain. “Yeah…” Damian mumbled. “I’m sorry – I should have been more careful.” “Don’t be silly Damian,” Cain replied. “You wouldn’t have knowingly done this to yourself!” Damian was rubbing his own chest again, Cain was concerned by how much discomfort Damian was in. “Are you still feeling like you need to burp?” “Yeah…” Damian nodded, opening his eyes to look at Cain. “I feel like all the air’s trapped in here.” He pointed to his upper stomach and screwed his face up once more; under the palm of Cain’s hand he felt Damian’s muscles tense as a cramp wracked through him. “Mmmmmmnn…” “Let me try help,” Cain said nervously, moving his hand further up Damian’s abdomen, and putting more pressure into his skin. “Is that pressure okay?” “Brrruurp!” A short belch burst past Damian’s lips, and his cheeks went a little pink as he mumbled: “Excuse me.” “Did that help?” Cain withdrew his hand quickly, afraid that he’d hurt Damian; but Damian’s hand shot out and grabbed Cain’s wrist. “Please keep doing that – it really helps,” he asked pleadingly. With that permission, Cain put his hand back on to Damian’s abdomen and started to massage up and down its length. As Cain kneaded his fingers he could feel the bloat in Damian’s flesh, and as he pressed further he could almost feel the air moving about in his gut. “Brrrrrrrrrppp!” The deep belch forced out and Damian shifted around on the sofa. “Urgh, this really hurts.” “Is it not getting any better?” Cain questioned as Damian let out another uncomfortable groan; Damian shook his head. “I feel like – my stomach’s expanding…” He explained. “God I can’t believe I used to deal with this every day!” “It’s just a slip up, once it’s out of your system you’ll be back to normal,” Cain told him reassuringly. “I know, I just-” Damian doubled forward again. “I feel so bloated.” Damian looked thoroughly miserable. Cain frowned, trying to think of any other he could help – he had an idea, but wasn’t sure whether Damian would be happy to try. “I’d do anything to get rid of this – urghh…” “Really?” Cain asked, looking at him intensely. “Yeah!” He nodded instantly. “Come here,” Cain began to manoeuvre Damian up from leaning on the back of the sofa. “I’ve got an idea that might help…” “Okay,” Damian shuffled forward to the edge of the sofa. “You’re gonna put your head on my shoulder,” Cain told him, feeling a little apprehensive about what he was going to do, “Like you’re giving me a hug.” “Okay,” he moved so his chin was resting on Cain’s left shoulder and Cain wrapped his arms around his best friend – holding him steady with one arm and using the other to rub his hand up and down Damian’s back. “I used to do this to Jethro and Zachariah when they were little and needed to burp,” Cain said nervously, giving gentle pats into the mid section of Damian’s back. “Baaauuuuurrrp!” Almost instantly Cain felt Damian’s back move slightly as a deep belch rolled out of him, coaxed by Cain’s ministrations. “Oh that felt good… Keep going, please…” Cain smiled slightly, feeling Damian relax into him more as he moved his hand all over Damian’s back. “Buuuhhhrrp!” “That’s it,” he encouraged, running his hand up more firmly and feeling Damian’s spine. “Is this helping?” “Yes,” Damian confirmed; Cain’s hands felt like they were magic, every time they ran up and down his back he felt like another pocket of air was dislodged and pushed up, like squeezing toothpaste out of a tube. “If I’d known you were so good I’d’ve come to you before I was diagnosed…” “As long as it’s helping you now,” Cain said, glad that the laboured sounding breaths had died down and Damian no longer seemed to be experiencing such strong cramps. “Brrraaaaaap!” After this burp, Damian let out a little sound of pleasure and seemed to nestle his head further into Cain’s shoulder. 

“You tell me when you want to stop,” Cain muttered quietly, beginning the gentle patting motions again. “Mmhmm… buuuup!” Damian said, “I will.” Cain continued rubbing and patting Damian’s back, hearing occasional burps from him. After a while Cain wondered if Damian was beginning to fall asleep as his weight grew heavier, but, following Damian’s instructions, he kept going. “Buuuuuuuurrr –“ Damian’s shoulders jerked suddenly as an unexpectedly deep belch came from him, “huuuuuuurrrrrk!” Damian’s entire body tensed instantly, but it took Cain an extra second to understand why. He became aware of a warm wet sensation down the left side of his back, he could hear a gentle dripping sound, and Damian seemed to be trembling suddenly. “Damian…?” Cain started slowly. “Mmmmmm…” Damian let out a small whimper. “Did you just puke on me?” Damian drew back, away from Cain’s shoulder, his hands shot up to cover the bottom of his face. His eyes were wide with horror as he nodded slowly. “I’m so sorry!” He whispered, sounding absolutely horrified with himself. “I didn’t – god – I’m so sorry!” “Do you feel better now?” Cain asked, working very hard to keep his voice calm and measured, even though he could feel the dampness seeping through the back of his t-shirt. Damian nodded, not removing his hands from his face. “God, I didn’t know that would happen!” Damian’s pale cheeks were rapidly turning scarlet. “I’m so sorry!” “Damian,” Cain held his hand up to stop his gushing apologies, “I have four younger brothers – do you really think I’ve not been puked on before?” “No, I – oh, I’m sorry!” Damian apologised once more, lowering his hands from his face; Cain reached out and fastened his grip on Damian’s upper arms. “Do you feel better now that’s out?” Cain questioned directly. “Yes,” Damian confirmed. “Right, well stop apologising! I’m just glad you feel okay,” Cain told him. “You sure?” Damian mumbled, staring into Cain’s face like he was looking for any indication that Cain was lying. “Positive!” Cain assured, and Damian relaxed slightly. “And if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go change my shirt…”

[janiedean]

I'm the anon who said you don't glorify obesity. Look I don't know anything about that ship y'all keep referring to and I don't know who "Hunk" is or whatever, I'm talking in general terms. I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT SHIPPING OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT just to clarify. I think it's wrong that people glorify being skinny but I don't think glorifying obesity is any better (I'm talking about more than overweight - ACTUALLY OBESE)

I’m probably not explaining myself properly but I think people should be able to ship whatever they want, the shipping was never my point. I just think the way people on the internet have been going on like “Fat women are goddesses!!! Real women have curves!!! If you don’t agree you’re fatphobic!!!” is wrong. I have been hospitalized twice for anorexia, I know how being skinny is glorified but I don’t think switching it around so it becomes “being obese is totally awesome and if you say otherwise you’re a horrible fatphobe” is any better. I’m sorry for sending you so many messages, I’ll stop now.

okay so GIVEN THAT WE ALREADY CLARIFIED OURSELVES ON THE MISUNDERSTANDING: the problem is that we were actually talking about shipping XD and the other anon decided it had to be about health but like the problem in general is that as usual (on tumblr and I guess in the US because it’s mostly US beauty standards I’m seeing thrown around) is that there’s no middle way in anything. I mean, like:

body shaming is a thing. in general. the problem is that fatshaming is, like, a thing that is more culturally spread than the contrary even if in some countries (ie italy) there’s this concept that if you’re skinnier than a size 42 (I guess it’s like an S or small M) you’re omg so unhealthy please EAT SOME PUT MEAT ON YOUR BONES WHY DO U HATE GOOD FOOD, but it’s more of an older generation thing. like, I’ve had problems with weight bc when I was in freaking elementary school people would go like ‘omg you’re so fat’ at me and I thought I was and then I looked at some pictures years later and I was like ‘… wtf I was perfectly fine what the hell’ and there’s a general implication that fat/overweight = unhealthy when it’s not necessarily the case.

the problem is that when it comes to body positivity there is like literally zero distinction between curvy, overweight, fat and obese which are not the same thing, and there is zero distinction between body positivity and promote a healthy lifestyle. I mean, according to US standards someone who’s fat would be… like… normal here? a size M is seen as perfectly regular stuff but from what I see of US sizes, M is like OMG I’M FAT already, which… like. here it’s maybe curvy. also being some 3/4kgs overweight never killed anyone. but since I see ZERO DISTINCTION here, it’s all thrown in the same bag and it’s the exact same for people who have 3 kgs more than average, 10, 25, 50 or freaking 200. which is obviously not the same.

also, there is the complete lack of realizing what it means to be healthy and to not be thin. like, as has been said already it’s absolutely not a guarantee that being thin or skinny means that you’re healthy (I had a friend who used to be chubby, then got sick with a freaking chronic disease and came out of it with a body that ended up finding her a job as a fashion model but SHE STILL WAS HEALTHIER BEFORE THE FREAKING CHRONIC DISEASE), I’ve struggled with my extra kgs all my damned life and whenever I go on vacation with friends that are thinner than me but move around less or don’t go to the gym and the likes I am the one who can walk for longer or gets tired less and I have better blood tests than my father who’s at his ideal weight and takes five pills for a bunch of different stuff. some people are just heavier as a body type but if it’s their body and it’s not due to shitty eating or lack of exercise or whatever then they’re not unhealthy. obviously severely obese people who can’t walk for more than twenty minutes without feeling like fainting aren’t in that category but like never mind that for a moment, the problem is that your size doesn’t automatically mean unhealthy and having 20 extra kgs on you makes you fat maybe but not freaking obese.

THEN, on body positivity: there is a healthy difference between NOT BEING A JERK and spreading awareness re healthy habits. like, society/media and the likes shouldn’t promote being thin, they should promote being healthy ie eating well and exercising, not THIN = HEALTHY. as stated you can be healthy without being thin. (or, as the character we were talking about that you weren’t referencing, you can be mostly muscle and have some chub over it and THAT’S NOT BEING OBESE XD at the same time, if someone is overweight or obese or whatever for any reason whatsoever you can’t go at them and tell them omg go lose some weight you loser THAT’S HORRIBLE. I mean, there’s a difference between saying that one should try to be as healthy as possible and go like OMG YOU’RE FAT YOU’RE HORRIBLE. if body positivity means not shaming someone else for their body then go the fuck for it. the problem is that then according to people saying ‘okay but if you can’t walk to the supermarket and back without feeling short of breath and you might get heart diseases maybe you should consider dropping some extra weight for your own benefit’ is fatphobic which… lolno. not everyone is fat because of bad habits and they shouldn’t have people making them feel bad even if they are but assuming that the above sentence (especially when doctors recommend you to do more exercise) is inherently fatphobic imo is ridiculous. if my doctor tells me I should lose some weight then I’m gonna consider it and I’m not gonna feel like he’s *phobic*, if someone goes like ‘omg you’re so fat you’ll never find a guy who wants you’, that is fatphobic. like, THERE’S A DIFFERENCE. (at the same time people who are skinny/thinner than average shouldn’t get told all the time OMG PUT SOME MEAT ON THAT SKELETON REAL WOMEN HAVE CURVES like fuck’s sake respect all body types. being a real woman has zero to do with how much meat you have on you.) what should be glorified is be healthy and be happy with whatever body type you have as long as it doesn’t cause you problems and at that point nicely try to make those problems right while you’re encouraged without shaming anyone in the process. (which also means: gdi don’t put other people down if they’re trying to gain weight or lose it, ffs.)

now, the problem with shipping: the thing is - and I swear to god I don’t wanna sound like a sjw now but I hope the previous essay has made clear how I feel in general on this issue - that, in my experience, fat/overweight characters especially if they’re male are seen as… either the laughing stock of the group or the harmless nerd or anyway never as sexual objects. every damned time I ship something where a guy is overweight/fat (notable exceptions jacob and queenie from fantastic beasts which tbh really was a nice surprise for the part where the fat guy who’s also a sweetheart hooks up with the bombshell and it’s THE BEST ROMANCE OF ALL good go you man) right as rain there’s rarely fic for it least of all porn, and even if there is someone will go around saying the fat character isn’t attractive or deserving of getting some. when I say ‘sam tarly syndrome’ I mean ‘fat/overweight guy is a sweetheart who has a lot of nice ships they could be in but they get thoroughly ignored or if it happens in canon fandom lols at it’. I mean, I basically had to start the jon/sam tag on my own (if you see the fics at the beginning it’s honestly sad to see TEN of mine all after the other), once on a kinkmeme I was like ‘okay doing it’ at a pwp prompt and I got as an answer OMG I WAS HOPING YOU’D SEE THIS NO ONE ELSE IN THIS FANDOM WRITES PORN FOR THESE TWO and whenever people discuss canon sex scenes…. the only one in the book that always gets lol-ed at is sam and gilly’s in spite of the fact that okay, it’s badly written, but ALL of the sex scenes in asoiaf except one are badly written. it’s not worse than the average. but sam getting some because a relatively hot girl wants him and the sex - omg! - actually being somewhat not vanilla is seen as… like… OMG HAHAHAHAHA I CAN’T BELIEVE HE’S GETTING SOME OMG HOW EMBARRASSING as if this guy being overweight means he can’t be seen as a palatable partner when it comes to having a sex life. same as the other anon being like ‘omg hunk (the person we were referring) is fat and unhealthy so he’s not good enough for the other person’ is… exactly the same. I mean, this hunk character is admittedly the one person in that bunch I’d actually date irl same as sam is the one character from asoiaf I’d date irl the others are completely out of the question, but since they’re *fat* naaaaah? and guess what sam/WHOEVER is a lot less popular than ships which make a lot less sense but are two hot characters stashed together bc they’re hot. (jaime/sansa has like 300+ fics and jon/sam is still under 100 but okay sure tell me it’s because it makes no sense. lol no. and being that the only porn around for those two was written by me and maybe two/three other people says all.)

at that point then people go like ‘well but it’s because they’re unhealthy’ and that is when it becomes ridiculous. because going with the above problem re fatshaming being a thing that happens on a societal level, it becomes IF YOU’RE FAT YOU’RE NOT SEXUALLY DESIRABLE AND NO ONE SHOULD WANT YOU BECAUSE OF YOUR UNHEALTHY WEIGHT, which mixes stuff that doesn’t even go together with being sexually desirable which is something inherently personal. as in: if someone who’s unhealthily fat for whichever reason has a significant other who loves them and their body guess what THEY HAVE A RIGHT TO HAVE A SEXUAL LIFE AND TO BANG PEOPLE/GET BANGED TO THEIR PLEASURE. because when it comes to preferences in the bedroom or loving a person, size can be a thing - some people have certain body shapes preferences and so on - or it cannot be a thing at all and anyway it doesn’t matter when it comes to your right to be seen as desirable/being desirable. people of all sizes can be desirable or sexy or definitely sexually available regardless of the size - like everyone is freaking allowed to be sexually desirable even if they don’t conform to whichever is the beauty canon around.

and given that I personally got told more than once also by admittedly well-meaning people that they wouldn’t ever consider seeing me as desirable because I was overweight or not as thin as other hot person around our class or even better, the aforementioned friend who turned out to be a fashion model using that as some coping mechanism (as in, she didn’t like being sick obv. but since she had come out of it with a scorching hot physique while I had then undiagnosed pcos so I was struggling with weight all the damned time and I was healthy otherwise... er let’s say that she used to tell me stuff like ‘ah well look at you and look at me instead how much better looking I am’ which obviously was in order to make herself feel better about her illness but sure as hell didn’t help me feeling good about myself), I’m honestly fucking tired of this whole trend in shipping where overweight/fat people don’t get any from their hot best friends with whom they’re absolutely shippable but the hot friends get shipped instead with the most improbable hot people that happens in 90% of fandoms I run into. because it’s just a reflection of how irl if you’re overweight a lot of the time people will say that your weight puts you out of the goddamned dating field and everyone deserves to be in there, damn it, regardless of their size. it has nothing to do with being healthy or unhealthy. and saying shit like ‘omg X is fat they’re not good enough for Y’ is really fucking old already. 

 tldr: I hope I made clear why I got pissed at the other anon and what I think of the whole matter. obviously no one has to glorify being *unhealthy* (extreme obesity and anorexia are both unhealthy) and no one needs to put other groups down while doing it (looking at you n*icki m*inaj - like sorry but according to my standards she’s thin, having a nice ass doesn’t make you *fat* or curvy, and going like FUCK ALL THOSE SKINNY BITCHES is the exact contrary of body positivity tbh). but at the same time everyone deserves to be seen as sexually desirable and it’s bullshit that the current narrative depicts being overweight as something undesirable. both in society and in fandom.

/peace