#sure hope this doesn’t get buried because some people need to hear this

[frenzymutt]

Hold up, I just realized that watching a show shouldn’t be a chore.

Like- You’re supposed to be entertained? Every time I start a show, I see it as a task. I avoided rewatching Lego ninjago because I didn’t want something I loved years ago to become another chore.

But I’m rewatching it and- it’s fun??? I’m invested?? I’m catching myself laughing and if I try to multitask I’ll pause and focus on whats happening?

And then I realized that’s the purpose of watching a show in the first place. If you dislike something so much that your mind calls it a chore, why are you watching it?

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about John Price being a big name in the porn industry not just for his dashing looks but also for the amazing chemistry that he has with his coworkers.

Despite the varied types of content that he makes, Price is mostly known for his facials and even cream pies videos. Price is good at his job, knows how to make the viewer feel engaged in the scene and he knows how to pull a genuine reaction from his costars, unlike the majority of people in the industry.

But recently he’s noticed the declines in views, different types of comments complaining that he’s just making the same old type of videos and even a few news sources saying he’s been swapped out for someone much younger.

All it takes is one click on some run into the ground new source to find out who exactly has come to take his place, only to see that it’s you who’s much younger than him, said to have a much more varied content and with a good amount of views for someone who just started out in the industry.

The curiosity in him hadn’t found peace until he had found out what exactly made your content different from his. Porn is porn isn’t it?

However he’d quickly realized what made your content different when he’d watched a video, matter of fact, multiple videos showing men pinned under your weight as you bully your cock into their holes, men down on all four taking your cock down their throats or with your head buried between their thighs as they scream and sob from pleasure.

Price doesn’t know why but something in him made him contact his manager and request a collaboration with you.

It could be for his decline in views. It could be because he thought he needed something new, something he hadn’t shown his audience before or it could be for the way his cock twitched in attention when watching your videos.

He didn’t think he’d get a yes, pacing back and forth while nervously chewing on his bottom lip only to almost jump in happiness when he received the text saying you had agreed to collaborate with him.

However any trace of happiness disappeared when he’d received the script, because something Price hadn’t expected was to bottom in the scene, yet it said so in the script and for a second he hesitated. Price hasn’t ever bottomed before, neither on nor off camera. He should’ve realized this could happen, since you were the top in all of your videos. But he’d gotten ahead of himself, forgotten about the possibility that this could happen.

For whatever reason Price agrees to do the collab anyway, tells himself he can do it, at least to save his career.

The day of your shoot he’s nervous like he’s never been before, rereading the script over and over, constantly glancing at himself in the mirror, even going as far as praying in hopes that he won’t mess this up.

When he meets you he’s taken by surprise once again. You’re ever so charismatic, shaking his hand and giving him the very same dazzling smile you’d given the camera lens while cumming all over someone’s face.

Price thinks he can do it, takes a deep breath as he lays down onto the sheets, only to swallow hard while you crawl up to him.

He’s sure he almost faints when you grab his chin with your thumb and index “hey hey breathe” you say loud enough for him to hear but not enough for the camera to pick up on it.

There’s a flash of surprise on his face before he does as you say and slowly but surely a bit of that tension bleeds away.

“Good good” you say with a small smile on your face while leaning into his ear, gently nibbling on it before whispering “You tell me if you’re uncomfortable with anything and I’ll stop immediately alright?”

Price almost laughs. You’re the rookie here yet you’re making him seem like one but somehow he doesn’t mind it, feels butterflies in his stomach as he nods his head in response.

It all turns into a bit of a blur from there. He remembers you placing kisses all over his body, remembers his dick hard and weeping before you granted him a moment of relief, even how your velvety tongue felt buried between his legs. But what lays engraved in his mind is when he had straddled your lap, hands shaking as they adjusted their grip on your chest and thighs quaking as he lined your cockhead up with his entrance.

“Come on John, show me how well you can take my cock yeah?” You say voice breathy and strained, reading a direct line from the script while desperately trying not to buck up into him.

“Ah fuck!” He cries out, head lolling back and eyes squeeze shut as he feels your tip push past his puckered rim

“God just- just like that pretty” you manage to say through gritted teeth, thumb soothingly caressing his hip while eagerly drinking up ever small reaction he gives.

“Feels feels so- so full” he whines out as he continues to take inch by inch, completely forgetting about the cameras on him along with every line in the script.

When you finally bottom out, he’s got fat tears trickling down his cheek, bottom lip wobbling as whines and whimper escape his lips.

“There you are sweetheart” you say, going off script, as your hand cups his cheek, calloused thumb stroking his flushed skin.

In that very moment Price realizes why you’re as popular as you are. It’s not for the varied type of content that you make, it’s not for the men you got pinned under your weight but rather because of how considerate and caring you are towards your partners.

Slowly but surely he starts moving, hips setting a steady pace and with each thrust he feels jolts of pleasure coursing through his body

Fuck, why hasn’t he done this before?

It feels so fucking good, he thinks to himself but realizes he’d said out loud when you respond to him,

“Feels good yeah? Just like that pretty” you grunt out “make yourself cum on my cock”you say once again reading a line from the script and in that very moment Price remembers the two of you are actually doing a scene and not just fucking.

He’d allowed himself to get lost in pleasure but for whatever reason the director didn’t seem to mind it, if anything the director seemed to like it going by the big smile on his face as he watched Price practically bounce on your cock.

Price scours his brain for the lines he’s supposed to say, but all he can think about is how your cockhead is pressing onto the ball of nerves over and over again.

“Please please-“ he slurs out, eyes squeezing shut as blunt nails dig into your skin. Despite being lost in bliss he can’t help but notice how you’ve even got him begging, something he also hasn’t done before and if he wasn’t in the position that he was in, he’d actually laugh.

“Come on sweetheart, cum for me” you say, as if already knowing what he’s waiting for and before he knows of it, he’s tipping over the edge, buckets of sweat pouring down his spine, and ropes of cum spurting all over your abdomen.

As he slumps down next to you in the bed he can’t help but realize that you’d even made him cum without actually touching him.

Many firsts in one night, Price thinks to himself.

Needless to say there were many collabs after that and Price was more than happy to bottom in every single one.

[euno11a]

i just saw your post about reader who can’t make themselves cum and ugh i love it, especially because i feel like no one ever talks about or includes it. anyways i would love to hear your thoughts on reader who has a hard time cumming, especially during sex no matter how good it feels

I fell that it’s honestly really important to talk about it to let people know that they aren’t alone. And I’m so glad you liked it :)

It is scientifically proven that men can cum easier during sex than women. It’s mostly because women have complex bodies, what works for one person might not work for the other. So when figuring out your own body, it’s important to keep in mind that your body is unique compared to others.

this wasn’t the first time that you’d been sprawled out in bed with Simon pleasing you. He kissed up and down your body, caressed every inch of you, even stopped for a little to rest his head on your chest and make sure you were nice and relaxed. You two had been on this journey together for a little while now, trying to figure out what you like and how he can make his pretty cum. He had tried many things, using his tongue, light pressure on your clit, firmer pressure, no pressure and just stimulating your g-spot, stimulating your g-spot and your clit, adding nipple play to see if that made you more sensitive; but even if it felt good, your body wouldn’t let yourself go.

at first, Simon thought it was because he wasn’t good enough. That he just lost his touch and that he wasn’t doing enough for you. But when you comforted him and explained how you’d been like this since you could remember, it made him feel better and worse. Alright, he wasn’t a complete failure and could still make you cum…but why hasn’t he? Every time you two had sex or just did foreplay, he would make sure to take all the time in the world to get you really nice and wet for him. He would use his fingers to curl inside you and touch that spot to make you mewl and arch your back off the mattress. But you still couldn’t cum. You were in the middle of him thrusting into you, feeling how his cock would twitch gently inside you, his fingers working your clit. Left side, right side, hood of it, right on it, pinching it gently, but all it would do is make you feel more pleasure that lead to nothing but a dead end.

you buried your head into his neck and let out small whimpers as he kept his movements steady. After another 15 minutes, that’s when the whimpers turned into silent sobs. Your body jerked a little as you cried, tears gliding down your cheeks and onto his bare shoulder. His head leaned down against yours and held you tightly, gently sliding your of you to hold you in his lap. You cried softly, neither of you talking, but both knowing what was wrong. “I don’t like being broken…” you said through little cries, voice soft and hoarse. But you were cut off by Simon shaking his head and cupping your face to press small kisses against the apples of your cheeks.

“Yer not broken, love. Y’just different. Just because we don’t know how t’make you cum just yet doesn’t mean my sweet girl is broken.” His words were soft against your ear as he caressed your head, another time failed.

as time passed, you began losing hope. It’s fair, thinking you just can’t do it because something inside is wrong or maybe you just weren’t cut out to be able to feel that pleasure everyone talks about. You started to notice how Simon even began refusing any type of pleasure. Handjob? No thanks, love. Maybe a blowjob cause you had a stressful day? Nope, but I do need cuddles, sweet girl. He was refusing your love. While he sat in his home office finishing some paperwork, you walked in quietly, staring at him as he stared down at the paper, pushing up his glasses. The glasses that you finally got him to buy because he kept complaining about the television being too hard to see and the news on his phone is too small. Thank god you did though, he looked bloody hot in them. Scooting your way into his office, you stood in front of his desk, catching his attention. “Somethin’ ya need, love?”

your cheeks burned as he looked at you, but you couldn’t get distracted! “Why are you refusing my love?”

it was clear the question caught him off guard by the way he paused, mouth slightly agape as he looked at you. “I’m not refusin’ your love. What makes you say that?”

“Wha-…? Yes you are! Every time I offer you a blowjob or a handjob, you say no. Am I doing something wrong? Does it not feel good? Do you…do you not like me anymore?”

he could hear your little heart shatter in that last question, standing up from his chair and walking over to you. He grabs you hands and sits on his desk, pulling you towards him. “I fucking love you. Neve think for a minute that I stopped loving you. I’m refusing to let you do any of tha’ because I don’t think it’s fair to ye. Not fair that my sweet girl has to endure not bein’ able to cum, so m’not gonna either.” He says while looking straight into your eyes, his thick and calloused fingers pushing some hair behind your ear. “Won’t cum until you can.”

while you thought he was refusing your live, he was actually doing it because he didn’t want you to feel left out? This man looked like a scary man, but he was the most thoughtful and caring teddy bear ever. “What if I never do, though?”

“Then neither will I.” He spoke seriously. “Understand?”

the small nod you give him is enough acknowledgement for him, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Now, I was doin’ some research, and I found that most women can’t reach an orgasm without some help. So, what do ya think ‘bout lookin’ for some toys with me, eh?”

[headkiss]

I feel like I’m in withdrawal from ur Hotch stories!! I would love some sort of blurb w protective Hotch and BAU reader if ur taking requests for him!! Any scenario I honestly don’t even care I just love hurt/comfort w my guy

babe!!! not withdrawal!!!! thank u so much for requesting <3 i hope u like it | 0.7k fluff, teeny mention of blood

Hotch tries to stay calm on the job. He has to, really, to be as successful as he is. It’s hard with the things he sees, the things he hears. Even harder when you’re about to go and do something dangerous when he’s not there to help.

You’re the only one at the scene right now, and even though he’s trying to convince you not to, you’re about to go inside and catch the guy.

“We aren’t far,” he tells you.

“I know,” there’s a shout in the background, and his heart sinks ‘cause he knows what that means. “I gotta go in.”

Hotch utters your last name, concern, something like desperation buried under his firm tone.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, and then you’re hanging up.

“Garcia,” Hotch knows she’s on the other line, and he knows she’ll find him a shortcut without instruction because she’s great at her job and even better at knowing what people need.

“I’m on it,” she tells him, and then she’s rattling off turns to make through alleys to get to you quicker.

The unknown is the worst part, Hotch thinks. If he was there, at least he could be sure that you’re alright. He doesn’t doubt your skills, not for a second, but when it comes to you, he doesn’t seem to think so rationally. All he feels is the pounding in his chest that won’t slow until he knows you’re okay.

By the time he makes it, there are cop cars outside, flashes of blue and red paint the dark street where everyone’s parked. His tires screech to a stop, and he leaves the car parked and running when he gets out. There’s a cop pushing the guy into the car, another nodding at Hotch as he walks by.

And finally, finally there’s you, sitting in the back of an ambulance with a bandage on your forehead.

He all but runs over, his hands finding your jaw to tilt your face up towards him in a way that certainly isn’t professional but he isn’t really worried about that right now. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t even need stitches,” you tell him.

“You’re bleeding.”

You sort of melt at his worry, at the almost unnoticeable shine in his eyes that you only see because you’re looking so closely. Hotch doesn’t have to say it with words, because it’s written all over him, the delicate hold he has on your jaw, the way his thumb draws a small pattern over your skin. Back and forth, back and forth. He cares about you.

“I’m fine, Hotch,” you say again, because he’s still looking at the bandage on your head with a furrow in his brows.

“You should have waited.” He doesn’t mean it, but he still says it. He knows this is the job, he knows it was the right call, but he should’ve been there.

“You would’ve done the same thing.”

“I know.”

His eyes still won’t meet yours, so you grab one of his wrists in your hand, squeezing it once, twice, three times.

“Aaron,” your voice saying his name is enough, Hotch’s eyes flick down and lock on yours, “I’m okay. No stitches, no concussion, just a little cut, alright?”

His fingers are still on your skin, calluses trailing down your neck until his hands are on your shoulders. There’s a trail of warmth that follows his touch, your eyes fluttering, your breath slowing.

He nods, “you’re okay.” It’s so quiet that he’s saying it to himself, even though you catch it. He repeats it, “you’re okay.”

Neither of you are thinking about the fact that you’re in public, that the team is probably watching you both and sharing looks with each other because they can see the feelings you and Hotch both have for each other clear as day. They are profilers, after all.

Hotch is only focused on you, and you’re focused on him and his hands and the sort of affection that’s rare from him, but speaks enough volumes to last a long, long time.

“I got the guy, didn’t I?” You say, trying to lighten the mood despite the circumstances.

“You did good,” he tells you, and the praise has something soaring in your chest.

You shrug, shoulders moving under his hands. “I learned from the best.”

And when you’re back on the plane, your head resting on Aaron’s shoulder where you’d fallen asleep, he doesn’t care one bit about the smirks he’s getting from the team.

He simply shakes his head at them, fighting a smile as he turns back to his paperwork.

[sugairsstuff]

may i request general relationship headcanons for both astarion and cardan greenbriar (separate) 🥺💕 i love them both sm and it’s great to find a blog that writes for both!

it’s double trouble with this pair! i’d love to give you some fuel for your fire <3 here’s some things i think about haha, i hope you enjoy!

also i kept it sfw because i wasn’t sure!

relationship headcanons

astarion ancunín and cardan greenbriar

warnings: very brief sexual mentions

(credit to @cafekitsune for the divider)

astarion ancunín 💫

🌙you and astarion share playful banter. a lot. naturally, he’s always the winner of your little battles of wits- or so he claims- but you both leave each other laughing by the end of your back and forth teasing. it’s another way for you two to flirt with each other apart from the more traditional ways.

🌙of course, your relationship doesn’t involve sexual intimacy for however long of a time, if ever, astarion needs. but that doesn’t mean you two don’t enjoy holding each other close. after the first hug you two shared, you become able to coax him into your arms time and time again late at night when the rest of your companions are sleep (because how dare they see him get all sappy and soft, of course), engulfing your gentle lover in the warmth his body lacks. neither of you need to speak, most of the time preferring to enjoy each other’s company quietly, listening to whatever idle ambience is stirring about beyond your tent’s walls- whether that be rustling bushes in a breeze, the rushing water of river or cave, or the hoot of an owl.

🌙it’s these moments that ground you both. those quiet ones, where nothing is said but you both hear what the other is trying to anyway. astarion is both an elf and a vampire, his body doesn’t need to sleep, but he still finds his eyelids growing heavy alongside yours as you two remain tangled together, his head resting against your chest as your fingers sleepily stroke those springy cotton curls atop his head. it’s only from gale’s babbling one day that astarion learns that people feel sleepy around those they feel safe around, and that thought crosses his mind a lot whenever he gazes at you from across camp.

🌙and when he’s not thinking of these sappy, heart wrenching thoughts, he’s (im)patiently waiting for you to forget whomever you are oh so busy with and come pay attention to him- especially if it’s gale. sorry gale.

🌙his eyes are almost always searching for you, too. and yours for him, as well. whether it’s him peering up from his book just to see you stride into camp after another one of your silly little heroic side quests (or murder sprees, if you’re dark urge), or in the midst of battle ensuring you’re not caught in the cross fire- and if you are, you best bet this rogue is sweeping in to give you back up. he does remember you once told him that if he had your back, you’d have his, too. astarion learned this meant a lot more than just protecting each other from enemies as his relationship with you progressed, finding that you two could lean on each other in emotional times of back-up, too. being so vulnerable started off difficult with him, but he reminds himself that you mean safety, you mean love, and you mean happiness to him- and these reminders help him show you those pieces of him he thought cazador buried long ago.

🌙we all know astarion is not shy when it comes to his words, but once you two become something real this act of his is broken down noticeably. don’t expect him to not crack a dirty joke, though, but do notice how- since having you at his side- he has less of a tendency to flaunt himself like a preening peacock, he becomes more comfortable with casual touching and non-sexual intimacy like mentioned before, and you even are able to render him speechless time to time with your kind, honest words to him.

🌙the kisses you two share are gentle and slow. kisses on the knuckles, wrists, cheeks, and nose before either one of you reach the other’s lips. they never last long, not long enough to tempt either one of you into something more, but they’re more than enough. your little butterfly kisses seem to settle themselves in your chests and beat their wings alongside your heart- and in astarion’s case, they beat in place of his.

🌙you two become nearly inseparable. while you were close when your relationship was just a friendship, now that it has evolved into something new, rare, and hell of a lot foreign you both can’t seem to get enough of each other. more often than not, when one of you is going out for some task, the other is close behind (and only the partner with the fanged teeth is dramatically complaining about having to go). as well, you notice that astarion begins to set up his tent closer to yours as your camp begins to change locations the closer to baldur’s gate the lot of you gets.

cardan greenbriar 🐍

🪷his tail subconsciously finds any available limb of yours- preferably coiling itself around your thigh, where it’s not noticeable enough to any who spares a meaningless glance in your direction but evident enough that someone properly looking at you would surely see. he would tell you it’s simply to give a message to wandering eyes, but that would be a half truth, as the subtle touch brings the prince turned king new blossoms within him- not the ones he bleeds, but rather those of comfort.

🪷 if you are a faerie, you most likely were apart of cardan’s friend group before he became a king, and knew him since longer. lounging about with him, locke, valerian, and nicasia, the young prince was disinterested in the rest and favoured bothering you. having to be around him so often made it difficult to ignore his clear attempts in getting under your skin, and so you eventually took it upon yourself to return the ‘favours’. and as you two spent more time together- time you both claimed you despised but in actuality you both sought it constantly- your relationship slowly grew into what it is now.

🪷 cardan would not love a hero, it is too late for such a character in his life. he does not need a person to peel away the walls he built around himself which have the words ‘the cruel prince’ carved into them. he’d rather love someone who instead saw what is beyond those walls, and take it selfishly for themself alone- he’d rather not share the sweeter sides of him with anyone but you, which means those walls must stay standing. he would fall in love with you for your ability to understand him, to not expect so much from the young prince, and he would fall in love not only with your virtues (as he would not love a villain, either) but also all your flaws that make you real.

🪷 perhaps that is why, if you are a human, he confuses his curiosity with disgust for you. humans, who live so imperfectly, so little, and yet so freely- creatures who do not look back before they jump because they do not have enough time to. people who live among the Folk and yet have no care for being good enough for them. and then cardan learned that he loved every single thing that made you human, every single thing about you that set you apart from those he was surrounded with- all equally as cruel and manipulative as him. every dimple, curve, scar, and line were all like breaths of fresh air for the forgotten prince.

🪷 either way, your love for each other crept up on both of you, until you both snapped and suddenly found your bodies entangled and lips interlocked as the world around you turned to a blur.

🪷 his kisses taste like fruity wine, only encouraging the dizziness you feel once he finally lets you escape his passionate embraces. and they have never been shy, and you have never cowered from them. he pulls you closer, you push closer, he kisses you hard, and you kiss him harder. you two challenge each other, relishing in each other’s playful competitiveness and bantering over who’s the better kisser.

🪷 for every important event cardan must hold as king of elfhame, you are there at his side. although the stubborn fae probably wouldn’t admit it, he wobbles beneath the heavy weight of the crown he didn’t even want, and still needs to learn to take these responsibilities seriously. you are his anchor, his partner in crime, the only second opinion he wants to hear- and also a good option for ruling in place of him when he slacks off.

🪷 if you are human, he tells you that you have somehow defied the laws of nature and glamoured him under your spell. he’s joking as usual, but there is really no other way he can explain the dizzying, storybook love he feels for you.

🪷 he will continue to bother you, tease you, and get under your skin even deep into your relationship. you learn that it stems from a desperate need to be seen and heard. you indulge him always, but not necessarily with snarky snips back all the time. whether you fight fire with fire or douse his with your water, the interactions are never serious and usually end in the two of you entangling your limbs together and lounging on some random velvet couch in an embrace.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

God, your pec vore whiting is hot as fuck man. I kinda wanna see how you'd write asgore shoving his son right on down those hefty man tits, maybe even sans could get some fun as well? I'm just absolutely Hooked on your amazing writing!

I've actually done that before once here! But honestly one is not enough. And I haven't done anything like that with S.ans soooo

“I hope I don’t end up letting myself go like you did, Dad,” A.sriel jokes, nudging A.sgore’s stomach with his elbow. He’s visiting his dad again during a break in school, and has been getting bigger while he was away. “I can see why you get called Fluffybuns with all this fluff.”

A.sgore blushes and scratches his cheek, a sheepish smile on his face. “Well...maybe I got a bit rounder in the middle in my old age. But I don’t think I’ve let myself go at all, either. Your old man’s still got it.”

A.sriel snorts at that. “Yeah, maybe a few pies ago, but you’ve gone and buried all of that.” Now he gives A.sgore’s stomach a shake, making it jiggle and wobble.

A.sgore’s blush darkens and he frowns now. “Do you really think so?” It has been a while since he’s had someone really take a look at him. Maybe he’s just not noticed. So he starts to take off his shirt to make sure.

“It’s not a bad thing,” A.sriel goes on. “You spend so much time in the shop, it’s not that surprising that you’ve--w-woah...” His eyes widen as he actually gets a look at his dad’s body. While he certainly has an impressive gut from too much snacking, it’s paired up with bulky arms and solid pecs.

A.sriel really wasn’t expecting something so built. Has his dad been hiding this from him the whole time or has he just not noticed? Without really thinking, he reaches up and gives his dad’s chest a squeeze. No doubt, that’s solid muscle. “Holy...”

“Ah...” A.sgore’s entire face is red now. Golly, he forgot how sensitive his chest could be. It’s been a while since someone has touched it like this. And that’s usually because...of what he ends up doing to people who do this. “A-A.sriel, I...”

“Do you work out in secret or something?” A.sriel asks, feeling over his dad’s pecs some more. “This has gotta be bodybuilder levels of definition. No way you get this just from the gardening, right?” He’s so busy marveling over A.sgore’s pecs that A.sriel doesn’t notice the hazy look in his dad’s eyes or the big paw coming up to his head.

A.sgore can’t help himself. His body is tingling from the attention and a need for some relief. Which comes from pushing down on A.sriel’s head. The younger goat’s surprised bleat is cut off from his muzzle getting shoved in between his dad’s thick, furry pecs. He starts to scramble, looking up at his dad with a muffled cry. But A.sgore’s eyes are closed, a pleased moan escaping him as he feels that wonderful sensation. He pushes down harder on A.sriel’s head, and the whole thing disappears between his pecs.

The muffled screaming from A.sriel as well as his wild thrashing is enough to bring A.sgore out of his stupor. At least, enough for him to recognize that it’s his own son that he’s gotten neck deep in his pecs. Not enough to actually get the goat to resist the immense desire to fill his chest. He bites his lip and moves his large paws down to A.sriel’s ass. “Sorry, Azzy...I just need this right now. At least you know how I got gains like this, right?” He smiles bashfully. He’s not able to hear his son’s response, but it doesn’t matter much. He shoves hard, forcing more of the younger goat down into his chest.

A slight moan escapes A.sgore from the sensation. It feels so good. A.sriel’s up to his waist now, legs kicking around wildly. A.sgore grabs onto the goat’s ankles and pushes down again, shoveling more of him away into those fluffy pecs. They’re bulging out more and more as they’re forced to contain live meat. Only A.sriel’s feet are left kicking around. A.sgore watches them for a second with a bit of conflict...before closing his eyes and flexing his pecs, slurping the last of his son in with a moan.

A.sgore’s pecs bulge and shift around as A.sriel struggles inside the best he can. Packed into the tight, musky space has left him nearly hysterical, but his desperate pleas for his dad to let him out was muffled. A.sgore might have been able to hear them if he really tried listening but he wasn’t trying to do that. He was completely focused on the pleasure of having live meat struggling in his chest.

A.sgore starts to grope at his own chest, feeling it flex and squeeze over his son. He knows what’ll happen if he doesn’t do something quick to let A.sriel out, but the thought of doing so is so far from his mind it may as well not exist. “Aaah...A.sriel, it’ll be okay...just let it happen...”

That didn’t seem to bring much comfort to A.sriel at all, who continued to thrash and panic.But the walls were closing in on him, each flex of A.sgore’s chest feeling tighter and more restricting. The heat is getting intense and stifling as the older goat begins to sweat a bit. It was getting difficult to struggle at all, his form bulging out A.sgore’s chest as it grows tighter.

Cracks and pops begin to ring out with each flex, and A.sriel’s muffled screams are shrill. It makes shivers run down A.sgore’s spine and he squeezes his own chest hard. He can feel his son breaking apart, his pecs finally too much for the younger goat to withstand. Every time he flexed them, more of A.sriel was broken apart and turned into protein for him.

When A.sgore actually manages to hear his son scream for him, he became overwhelmed with pleasure. He fires off a load into his pants, moaning out as his pecs squeeze down tight. A.sriel’s scream gets cut off by a very loud, wet crunch, and A.sgore could feel the smaller body fold like paper inside of him.

When he orgasm ends and he sits back, A.sgore feels exhausted. He’s panting, sweat trickling down his chest as a thick musk fogs the air around him. His face is flushed with a cocktail of emotions that leaves him feeling amazing. His pecs keep flexing, his muscles pumping up with each one as he turns his own son into mass.

He feels...sated. That’s the only emotion washing over him now. But there’s an itch in his chest now. He scratches at it, digging his fingers in between the crevice. He manages to hook onto something and pull it out. A goat skull stares up at him, missing a jaw. It’s drenched in enough sweat that it drips off of it like water with bits of yellow and white fur stuck to it.

A dopey smile crosses A.sgore’s face and he gives his chest a slight squeeze. “Golly, you made for some great gains, Azzy. Thanks for helping your old man out.”

---

A.sriel sighs through his nose as he stacks the shelves. Coming home for the summer made him think he’d be able to just kick back and relax after getting through his difficult courses. Turns out, he was basically offered to the new grocery store owner as a summer worker by his dad. It was already decided by the time he got to town.

It’d be fine if he wasn’t the only other guy working here. But that skeleton running the place, S.ans, hasn’t hired anyone else and also spends most of his time sitting behind the counter doing nothing. A.sriel’s already been at it for a week and his patience is running thin. He sets the last of the cans in place and decides he’s had enough.

A.sriel walks over to the counter and leans over it. “Hey, aren’t you going to get up and help me? All you’ve done is sit there.”

S.ans, who had been leaning back with his arms behind his head, now opens one eye to look at A.sriel. “Ah, I’d love to kid, but I’m just not as young or strong as you are. You’d get it all done a lot faster than I ever could. Besides, it’s what I pay you for.”

A.sriel’s frown twitches a bit and he leans in closer. “You’re not some feeble old man. Did you just hire me because you’re too lazy to do it yourself? I don’t need this job, I can just quit.” Though he might get in trouble for it.

S.ans sighs and sits up a bit, now closer to A.sriel’s face. “Alright, kid. I guess I can help out. But I’m going to need a hand here. A bit of a pep in my step, you know? You’re full of energy, you’d be a lot of help on these old bones.”

The skeleton really doesn’t seem that old to A.sriel, but maybe he just doesn’t get how they age. He’s not entirely sure what S.ans is getting at, either, but his fight does wane slightly seeing S.ans somewhat give in to his demands. “Alright...what do you need?”

S.ans casually lifts up his shirt, showing off his light blue body with a soft set of pecs and a softer belly. It makes a dark flush cross A.sriel’s face as he ends up staring at the skeletons’ body. “Ah...what are you--”

A.sriel cuts himself up with a yelp as he’s yanked forward by his shirt and dragged over the counter slightly. S.ans uses that chance to push down on the goat’s head and force it between his pecs. A pleased groan escapes the skeleton as he starts to drag more of A.sriel over the counter and into his chest.

The muffled screaming coming from A.sriel is impossible to parse and won’t be heard by anyone other than S.ans. The goat is flailing madly, trying to push away for find some kind of leverage. But as his shoulders and chest begin to sink out of sight, it gets hard to do that. His feet finally start to lift off the ground and kick in the air while the rest of his torso steadily disappears.

A few banging sounds is all A.sriel can manage in terms of noise, and it’s only as his kicking legs are dragged over the counter as he’s able to hit it with his feet. It still does absolutely nothing as he’s slowly packed away into S.ans’s chest, which is growing larger and heavier with each inch of the goat that it claims. Soon he’s up to his knees and all S.ans has to do is lean back again and watch the goat’s twitching legs slowly disappear from sight. All the way up to his feet slurping in and disappearing.

“Aaaah...” S.ans lets out a content sigh and closes his eyes. “There you go, kid. This’ll give me all the energy I need to get that work done...later.” His pecs flex and bounce, squeezing around A.sriel’s form. He’s not sure if the goat heard him, but it doesn’t matter much. He can’t make out too much beyond muffled screaming as A.sriel tries to thrash around inside.

Even without anyone to look at it, S.ans’s chest is bulging obscenely, vaguely shaped like the goat he crammed inside. Paws and a face occasionally come into more clarity as A.sriel pushes around, the blue flesh keeping his presence murky and hard to fully make out. And each flex of S.ans’s chest squeezes and smooshes him down tighter and tighter, making the bulges more defined as he’s given less space to kick around in.

When the first crack rings out, A.sriel lets out a shrill scream. His thrashing gets more intense despite how little space he has to do it with. But every flex came with another crack or crunch, forcing A.sriel into a smaller and smaller space as his body is broken down into protein. He screams all the while, at least until a wet snap cuts his voice off for good.

Now with each flex of S.ans’s chest, his body was putting A.sriel’s to use. He slowly bulked up, muscle definition adding to his normally soft body. His chest and arms especially got a lot of it, the former becoming much firmer while the later grew thick and strong. Though the same applies to the rest of his body. It makes a slight shudder run through S.ans as he feels energized by all of the new mass pumping into him. The thick smell of his own musk is wafting in the air now, too.

“Well, looks like I got all the energy I need now,” S.ans comments to no one as he gropes hsi own chest. “I could get up and get the rest of the stock set up in no time flat.” After a few seconds, he puts his feet up on the counter and leans back in his chair again. “Yep...no time flat.”

[twilight-is-dead]

Rereading chapter 62 and this is my mood

Manga spoilers under cut

God, it’s just so fucking tragic. He loses everyone he loves, he loses his name, his identity. It’s all torn away by war.

And you can see how happy he is with his friends in the beginning. He’s just a little kid wrapped up in all of the propaganda. He thinks war is just a game, because he’s just a kid. I cannot emphasize enough how I love Endo using the theme of “they’re just kids”, it just hits you right in the gut.

When the first bombing happens, the only word I can really find to describe it is horrific. Just a few pages ago, the town was full of happy people who were enjoying their lives. And just a few panels ago he was talking with a woman. One moment, she’s there, the next, she’s been crushed. And you see the town, his hometown, destroyed. You see people trying to save their loved ones. And you see [REDACTED], horrified. And it probably hits him in that moment; this is war.

And he doesn’t want to leave, he’s worried about school, and the town fair. He doesn’t realize that they can’t stay. And when he sees the destroyed building he and his friends used to play in, that he had found for them, you think they’re dead.

the scene where his mother dies is probably one of my favorites in the chapter, simply because it’s so well done. We don’t see her body, we don’t see his face. All we see are screams. All we know is that this boy found his mother’s body, and I think that’s all we need to know.

This is when [REDACTED] dies. He is buried with his mother. But his body still lives. He’s lost everything he’s ever loved, and the only reason he keeps moving is because he wants to destroy what had destroyed his life. He is not living, he is merely surviving. I hope that, when it gets adapted, the anime expands upon this part. It probably won’t, but one can dream.

When he becomes Roland, I doubt he ever accepted the name. It was just a nickname to him, not an identity. It’s just a vehicle for vengeance. He lies about his age, though my bet is that he’s at least 16, maybe even 15. And then we see him, in a tight spot. As a child, he pulled some strings to beat his friends, as a teen, we see him blow up his enemy. And don’t you think it’s haunting, to see someone alive one moment and gone the next? Even if they were a common enemy, you can remember that they were human once. Even he (Roland) was human once. But they’ve all been torn apart into beasts, beasts who want nothing but blood on their claws. And he wonders how many have to die? How much blood will be spilled before he can be happy again? How many more have to lose their lives just so he can live his?

He meets Franky, or, the man who would become Franky. When Roland hears his pleas, hears that “He’s never been with a woman”, it humanizes him. For a moment, he sees him as an equal. So he gives him a cigarette, a sort of truce. He still hates the enemy, but he learns that the enemy is the same as him. Everyone has lost someone, everyone was in it for revenge and glory. They were all told that they had a reason to fight, that they had a right to be angry at the other side.

This upsets Roland, because he wants to hold on to his worldview. It only shatters when he sees his friends, half the reason he’s been fighting. A side note, I appreciate how Endo still makes him look like an older teen here, it adds to the effect that they are still just kids.

It’s a short-lived reunion, as he finds that they die due to people’s stupidity. And he realizes: Ignorance is a weakness, Ignorance is a sin. This is probably one of the most gripping pages in the manga. It’s just so… depressing.

when he’s approached by the WISE guy, he really views it as the only chance he has, the only reason he can keep going.

The train station scene is also very important. We see the man ask why he’s doing this, and He sees a group of kids pass him. We focus on his eyes. This is why he’s doing this. He wants to make sure no child ever lives the life he had to live. He wants to make sure no child has to cry.

But he doesn’t realize it.

Twilight’s backstory doesn’t have a happy ending. Sure, the chapter ends happy, but you can’t help but feel… dark after the chapter concludes. You realize just what brought Twilight to how he is today. You realize that, deep down, he’s just [REDACTED], a small child who wants nothing more than to be comforted.

[dead-living-420]

The Adventures of a Cat and Her Stray

Ao3

Summary: Selina wants to make sure that the world doesn’t fail the stray as it had failed her. She hopes she can do better for the stray.

Danny wants a family again after having to leave amity but he is too scared of what could help to those he gets close to.

They both must learn how to accept that someone genuinely cares for them and eventually relearn how to be a part of a family again.

AN: This is inspired by a dpxdc idea/prompt that I posted on Tumblr. It came from rewatching Batman Returns and thinking that Selina Kyle is slightly ghostly it in. None of the other Tim Burton interpretations of Batman characters will be in the fic, just his version of Catwoman.

———————

Catwoman didn’t have a grave. Even if she did, there was nothing to bury and no one would visit. However she did have the spot in the alley where she had fell. It was an unmarked grave like most of the ones in gotham.

It was a simple little thing. A small cat statuette stood along the wall, occasionally a flower was left with and always some food for the alley cats. No one really messed with it, some even left little trinkets. She had no clue, the theory she thought of was that it was a way to avoid getting robbed, like an offering.

She let be it, mainly cause it was people who the world had also failed that were leaving the “offerings”. The people seemed to respect it and she quickly became as cryptic as the Bat. Speaking of the Bat, he didn’t seem to like it as much as she did but they never really did see eye to eye much.

Catwoman listened to the paranoia that ever so slightly slipped through his voice and rolled her eyes. She paid it no mind, she knew that he wouldn’t mess with it unless something actually did call for it. She just continued life as much as she could otherwise.

Selina got a new job under a somewhat better boss along with a new apartment. Robbery and knowing Bruce helped a lot when it came to money but even so, she still wanted to support herself. Life was good for a while or as well as it could be for a woman who had died multiple times.

That was until Selina had started to hear rumors that someone had stolen from Catwoman, someone had stolen from her grave. Someone had stolen her grave marker.

Catwoman had a new item to go after.

-

Danny needed to run and run he did. It would’ve been easier to fly but he needed to stay under the radar. He fled where Clockwork instructed him to. A cursed city that had ecto, not as much as Amity but just enough. Clockwork helped a bit, mainly slowing down time for just a minute, it wasn’t much but that was all he could do.

He had to say bye to his friends and sister. He couldn’t contact them, too paranoid about them being caught talking to a ghost. Danny didn’t want any of this. He only wanted to be a normal kid but he died and came back. He became his town’s hero although most just saw him as a villain because of the GIW.

Danny was now in Gotham where he didn’t know anyone and had no clue where to go from there. So he stayed in his ghost form for the most part. It was a easy way of avoiding the need to eat, the same with feeling the cold but he could only stay in that form for so long before it started to affect his human one.

Nails got a bit shaper, the same with teeth but that was less noticeable compared to how his eyes began to reflect like a cats. That was less easy to hide but everyone in Gotham seemed to have bigger problems and didn’t really do a second take when his eyes would reflect.

He kept his head down and tried to survive the streets. That’s when he started to get sent on errands for Clock Work, being told that it was just to keep him busy and said errands usually helped others as well. Danny couldn’t really argue against that plus it was an excuse to explore Gotham more.

Most errands just consisted of returning stolen things to the dead, occasionally passing on messages and once in a while; helping a newly formed ghost.

This was like any other errand. Someone stole from an unmarked grave and he was set to return what had been stolen. In this case, it was a cat statuette. Simple enough compared to others. He went out and started looking. Hopefully he could find the statuette before whoever the unmarked gave belonged to would notice.

-

The statuette was easy to find. The thief had the audacity to pawn it. Catwoman quietly entered the pawn shop. It seemed like a small business, so she planned only getting what was hers back. There were minimal security measures, just an alarm that she was able to disarm quickly.

She was in the shadows, about to pounce and take what’s hers but that was stopped when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Not in fear but surprise. A wisp of blue breath broke through the air near where her statuette was. A pair of eyes snapped at her direction, reflecting in the slight light like a cat.

Slowly, she watched as a young teen moved close to the statuette. She stepped out of the shadows, quietly watching the teenager as they watched her back. A stray probably. They held up the statuette in her direction and tilted their head slightly.

“Gonna assume this belongs to you?”

[cerseis-fav-maiden]

A/N: I’m feelin some angst comfort today soooo I’m gonna write this tho no one asked for it lol

Oh ok….going home?

Melissa Schemmenti x FemReader

(Not my gif)

You and Melissa had been dating for about 5 months now but this was your first Valentines with her you were so excited you were gonna take flowers to her at Abbott and some pasta you made…plus you decorated the whole house…she always loved that you enjoyed cooking as well you get all dolled up and get onto your car heading to Abbott then you text her about your arrival because she hates surprises and she has a new kid who’s really rowdy so she’s most likely stressed

You: Hey mel I brought you lunch I’m almost there your in the kitchen right?

🩵mel🩵 : I am.

You: okie!!

You begin to think you shouldn’t have done this by her response..but to late now your already flowers in your purse and pasta in hand… you walk in immediately greeted by Barbara who adores you “awe you brought her food on Valentines how sweet y/n!” Melissa sits grading not even acknowledging your presence you really thought she’d be excited…you slowly walk over “hi mel…” you say timidly putting the Tupperware of food next to her on the table “hm?” She responds “oh thanks you gonna go home now? Cause I have my hands full right now and I don’t need you here right now” You’ve always been sensitive but that really hurt you you being to tear up “um yeah sorry to bother you” you practically run out of the room as soon as the door shuts behind you everyone’s eyes turn to Melissa

Then out of silence barb says “Melissa Schemmenti what in gods name is wrong with you?!” Melissa scoffs “nothing? Just busy why?” Barbs turn to scoff “PLEASE LIKE YOU DIDNT JUST ENTIRELY DISMISS YOUR GIRLFRIEND WHO DID SOMETHING NICE FOR YOU ON VALENTINES?!?” Melissa starts to think and goes “oh please I’m sure she’s fine” barb laughs “ok lemme call her” she calls me I answer clearly stuffy nose and wobbly voice “what’s up barb?” “Are you ok hunny?” “Sure, yeah it’s fine maybe she just didn’t want to talk to me on Valentines I get it it’s ok” I say crying again Mel tears up and signals for barb to hang up “ok well I’m taking her class for the rest of the day and she’s coming to you” Mel is quick out the door and in her car…

You meanwhile are at your shared home sobbing on the couch flowers on the floor in front of you you hear a car pull up and panic you don’t want her to be even more mad so you run and lock your self in the bathroom she comes in seeing all the decorations and she feels so horrible “where you at sweet girl!?” She yells into the house walking down the hall hearing you in the bathroom she stop’s outside the door “hun?” You choke out a response “yes? Are you ok?” She sighs “come out here please I’m sorry” you cry a bit “your not mad?” She tears up “no hun I’m not I promise I’ll explain I just want to hold you please I’m so sorry” you stand opening the door standing there shyly tear stained face and say “hi” she chuckles sympathetically “hi pretty girl” she reaches out but doesn’t hug you yet asking silent permission in which you nod she repeats over and over while hugging you “I’m sorry I’m so sorry” you pull away walking to the living room picking up the flowers and half heartily handing them to her she takes them “thank you baby” I smile lightly “um I hope you liked the pasta there’s more in the fridge” she tuts at you “nu uh dearie we are talking about this you can’t just let people hurt you hun” i sigh “I know Mel I just can we change into pj’s and lay on the couch first” she smiles brightly “anything you want darling”

We both change and I beat her to the couch she quickly follows pulling me into her lap “ok love I’m sorry I know I’ve said that a lot I snapped at you over stress at work something I should never do none the less on Valentines” I nod accepting her apology burying my head into her neck “ok so wanna bake together after a well deserved nap?” she asks trying to cheer you up “yes Mel that sounds perfect thank you!” You forgive her understanding her reasoning and the rest of the day is perfect…

[cheesesoda]

Hii I’m sorry if my request ideas aren’t good but I figured I’d offer you up something! Maybe something where Sanji meets a girl who even though she identifies as a girl she’s very Tom boyish and averse to feminine things not because she doesn’t like them but because growing up in an environment with a bunch of strong male pirates she didn’t want to be seen as weak or lesser. But basically this all leading to Sanji helping to show her that it’s okay to indulge in her feminine interests and not have to try and look and act like a boy as a defense mechanism?

a/n: OKAY THIS IS ACTUALLY REALLY GOOD y/n out here being a lil relatable ngl 🧍‍♀️lol thank you sm for the req! i hope u like it bae 🫶

goddess

sanji x tomboy!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

cw: some internalized misogyny, language

“they’ve been arguing for hours! ugh, would they just be quiet?” nami groans, laying back in her deck chair next to robin. “oh, my dearest nami-swannnnn~ robin-chwannnnnn~ i’ve brought you some drinks!” sanji spins onto the deck with a tray holding 2 tropical drinks. “thank you, sanji-kun!” nami smiles as she takes her drink. suddenly, a loud crash and some incoherent yelling is heard from the crow’s nest. sanji, nami, and robin all turn their attention to the source of the noise. “what’s going on up there?” sanji asks. “y/n and zoro are arguing again about who’s stronger.” robin explains, taking her drink from the tray too. “i’m not sure why she cares so much about being the strongest. i mean, her determination is admirable but why?” robin queries.

later that night…

it’s the middle of the night and sanji is cleaning up his kitchen. everybody has gone to bed. well, almost everyone. as he’s putting away the last dish, he hears some distant mumbles. he frowns and goes to investigate the noise. he finds that it is once again coming from the crows nest. he creeps up the ladder cautiously and is met with the sight of you. you’re lifting the heaviest weights you could find. he’s about to ask you what you’re doing up so late since you hadn’t realized his presence, but for some reason, he just watches. you grunt in exhaustion and drop the weight. “fuck!” you pant, burying your head in your hands. “i’m so weak. dammit! they were right, i should’ve been born a man. then i wouldn’t be so damn useless. i need to be stronger! stronger than zoro! or luffy or sanji or any other man!” you cry out in frustration. sanji decides not to say anything, knowing that you’d breakdown if anyone saw you so vulnerable, so he leaves you in the crows nest and heads to his room, still thinking about your words.

the next morning…

sanji gets up at 4AM to start prepping and making breakfast for the crew and luffy’s endless stomach when memories of what you said last night flood his mind. “i’m so weak. dammit! they were right, i should’ve been born a man. then i wouldn’t be so damn useless. i need to be stronger!” his heart churned at the thought of you thinking that way. as if on cue, you come into the kitchen to accompany sanji while he makes breakfast (as you usually do). “good morning, my lovely y/n-chwannnn~” he swoons. “morning, sanji.” she smiles tiredly. “are you alright, y/n-chan? did you not sleep last night?” he asks, when he notices the grey circles underneath your tired eyes. “i’m fine.” she responds.

later that day — 1PM

“okay so two people are keeping watch on the ship. it’s usopp and franky’s turn today so the rest of us will go explore the island. got it?” nami explains to the crew as they dock on an island. everyone agrees and begins to wander around the island. “oh y/n-chwannnn~ may i accompany you as you shop?” sanji asks. “sure.” she says. after walking around a bit, they walk past a dress shop. “nami-swan would look beautiful in that orange dress!” sanji exclaims as he rushes into the store, you reluctantly following behind him. once he finishes buying the dress, he finds you admiring a beautiful (and very feminine) f/c dress. “you’ll look stunning in that dress, y/n-chwan! you already look like a goddess though!” he says as he approaches you. “huh?! what? i wasn’t looking at it! why the hell would i be looking at a dress? what do you think i am—some girly girl? and stop calling me y/n-chan like i’m just some weak girl! don’t treat me like i’m a woman!” she stammers in embarrassment. before storming out of the store.

later that evening — 5PM

after searching for you all day, sanji finds you sitting alone on top of a hill overlooking the sea. he walks up to you silently. without turning around, you can tell he’s there. “don’t just stand there. say something. don’t treat me like i’m some fragile thing that might break.” you groan. after a moment of silence, he sits next to you. “y/n-cha- … y/n, why don’t you cry?” he asks. “what?” she frowns, snapping her head to him. “why don’t you cry? in the entire time i’ve known you, you have never cried in front of me, or any of us. why?” he clarifies. “what do you think i am? weak? crying is for the weak. crying never helped me when i was sad, so what’s the point? it just makes you look pathetic.” she scoffs. “…why do you care so much about strength?” he follows up. she looks at him in disbelief before closing her eyes and laying her head on her knees. “you’re the strongest person i know. and yes, you’re stronger than the marimo. but there’s so much more to you. why does it matter so much?” he says. there’s a brief silence before you take a deep breath. “before i joined the straw-hats, i was part of another pirate crew. the jack pirates.” [a/n: help idfk what to name it lmao] “i was with them since before i can remember. i was the only girl on the ship and that made them think of me as less. as if i could never be taken as seriously as them. they’d tell me i should’ve been born a boy, that i would’ve been useful. i would’ve been strong. but no, i was born a girl. useless. annoying. weak. i guess that’s why… i just wish i was equal to them. i wish i could be as strong as them.” you explain. you’d never told anyone any of that before. “is that why you act more masculine than nami and robin?” he asks. “i guess…” you mumble. being this vulnerable made you uncomfortable. “i see…” he whispers. “follow me.”

“where are you taking me?” you protest. “don’t worry, my love! it’s a surprise.” he smiles back at you, holding your hand. the pet name makes you blush but you brush it off. finally, you reach the ship again. “why couldn’t you just tell me we were going to the ship?” you ask. “i have a surprise for you on the ship.” he grins.

he leads you to his room and hands you a bag. “what’s this?” you raise an eyebrow. “just open it.” he urges you. sighing, you pull out the item from within the bag. it’s the f/c dress you were gawking at earlier. “sanji, you don’t seriously think i can wear this-“ you groan. “being feminine doesn’t make you any less strong, y/n. everyone else is still gone and brook and usopp fell asleep. please, try it on.” he says softly. you contemplate what to do until you get up silently and walk into bathroom. after a few minutes (a few = 10) you come out of the bathroom nervously. sanji’s jaw literally hits the floor, but he composes himself. gorgeous was practically an insult if he were to describe you. you were more beautiful than a goddess. “for lack of better words: you look beautiful, y/n.” he whispers as you both look at you in the mirror. “beautiful…” you repeat under you breath. the compliment was one you hated to hear, but for some reason, you didn’t hate it as much anymore. “you’re beautiful in this dress and without it, just like how you can lift the heaviest weights on this ship whether you’re wearing a dress or not. you’re so beautiful and strong. you’re a goddess, my love. if only you could see that.” he says genuinely. you turn around and face him. you had always had a massive tiny crush on the cook, but you’d never say it because love is for the weak. “call me y/n-chan…” you breathe. “y/n-chan…” he smiles, matching your soft tone. “my perfect, strong, beautiful y/n-chan… my love…” he whispers so softly that nobody could hear it except you because of how close you were. he brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear and cradles your cheek. ever so slowly, you inch towards each other more, glancing at each other’s lips every few seconds. your lips meet in the softest of kisses but filled with so much love. when you pull away, his hand stays on your face and somehow your hands made their way on his chest. “i love you, y/n-chan, i love you so much. just as you are.” he whispers to you. and then it happens. a tear rolls down your cheek. a part of you that you never were allowed to embrace was finally released at the hands of the man you love. you wrap your arms around him as you softly cry into his dress shirt. he reciprocates the hug. “i love you too, sanji. i love you so much.”

[daemour]

Pairing: Choi San x f!Reader

Genre: light angst, fluff, non-idol au, roommate!san, f2l

Word Count: 1818

Warnings: Cursing, an aggressive ex but it ends quickly

Summary: You’ve known San since the beginning of college and you’ve had a crush on him since your second year. But you’ve been obvious and he’s done nothing about it so all your hope is lost.

Happy Valentines Day! Thanks to @defwoodz​ for reading this through lol go check out Long Kiss Goodnight!

-

When you wake up, your back hurts. Of course it would, having fallen asleep at the coffee table while trying to finish an essay. The end of the semester is near so you’ve been working extra hard to complete everything you need to, but you’ve been wearing yourself thin. It doesn’t surprise you that you’ve fallen asleep at your laptop, but the blanket around your shoulders does surprise you.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Your roommate’s voice makes you spin around in your chair, definitely 100% awake now.

“Were you just sitting on the couch and watching me?” you ask, affronted, but all Choi San does is laugh and point at the muted TV playing an anime. “Oh. Sorry, I’ll go in my room so that you can put the volume up.” You shoot him a quick, apologetic smile, and escape to your room.

When the door is shut and locked and you’re sure he won’t come to ask you something, you immediately bury your face in your pillow and scream. You’ve had a crush on San since you shared a class with him in your sophomore year and because of your mutual friends. When he and you became flatmates your senior year your feelings only amplified.

You’re sure you’ve been so obvious that San must know and just chooses to ignore it because he doesn’t want to make things awkward.

But alas, being roommates and one of his best friends, avoiding him is not an option. The only peace you have from your blooming feelings is during exam season when both of you are far too tired and brain-dead to even say hi to each other most mornings.

Unfortunately, life is not in your favour and exam season has passed and all you have left to do is sulk about your unrequited crush on a boy who thinks of you as just someone who is his best friend’s girlfriend’s best friend.

A knock on your room door startles you out of your funk and you sit up quickly. “Come in!”

San pokes his head around the door. “Hey, I’m going to run to the store down the street and grab some ramen. Do you want anything?”

“Mmh, can you get me some iced tea? I don’t care what flavour.” San nods and you roll off your bed. “Lemme give you some money for it, hang on.”

San shakes his head. “No need, it’s literally only 1000 won. Save that money for your next pack of gum that you chew on unhealthily much.” You throw one of your hats at him and he annoyingly catches it and puts it on, winks, and ducks away before you can throw another thing at him.

As soon as you hear the apartment door click you groan loudly and slam your head on the floor. You have absolutely no game so no matter how hard you try and flirt, it just doesn’t work. What the hell are you supposed to do now? Your best friend, Karina, has tried to get you to meet other people, but none of them were a good match. Her boyfriend Wooyoung (San’s best friend), has tried to hint to San himself, but to no avail.

In the end, all you do is get up off your floor and move back into the shared living space. As you’re getting a glass of water, you can hear a knock on the door and you laugh at the sound. San forgot his keys once again. It’s almost a weekly occurrence by now, and he’s lucky all your classes are in the morning.

“Man, you’re almost as forgetful as me,” you joke as you swing the door open but your words die in your throat. Standing in front of you is your ex, Jaebyeong, with a smile you never thought you had to see again on his face.

“Hey, (Y/N),” there’s a drawl to his words and you can smell a hint of alcohol on his breath. “It’s been a while.”

You grimace. “And there’s a reason for that. Why are you here?” You lean away from him but as drunk as he is, Jaebyeong doesn’t seem to notice and instead takes a shaky step forward.

“I missed you,” he says, his smile widening. “Why did you even leave me in the first place?”

You take another step back into your room, but that proves to be a mistake as he follows you forward. “You left me, remember Jaebyeong?” you ask under your breath. “You left me for Saeyeon.”

Jaebyeong waves his hand. “Ah, that was so long ago. Aren’t you over it? Don’t you like me anymore?”

He leans in as if to kiss you but in the corner of your vision, you see a hand land on his shoulder and pull Jaebyeong away so harshly that he almost slams into the doorframe. “Get away from her, asshole.”

San is standing there, plastic bags at his feet, and you’ve never been so excited to see him in your life, and that’s saying something. Jaebyeong looks your roommate up and down, and although your ex is almost a head taller, he notices the strength in San’s arms and the unbridled anger in his gaze and he turns and leaves without another word.

As he moves out of sight, San sighs and moves forward, grabbing your shoulders. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head. “Yeah, he just…rattled me. I haven’t seen him in two years and now he decides to come crawling back?” You force out a laugh but it sounds fake even to San’s ears judging by the look he gives you. “Did you get my tea?”

It’s the saddest effort you’ve ever had to change the topic but San takes pity on you and drops it. “Yeah, is peach all right?” You nod and he goes back into the hallway to retrieve his groceries. “Go sit on the couch and relax. I’ll pop on a movie and we can have a roommates only movie night. No arguments.”

He fixes you with a look but to be honest, he didn’t really need to because you want to forget about that encounter, and you’d also love to spend more time with him anyways.

—

“(Y/N) I’m so happy for you!” Karina runs up to you, big eyes shining excitedly. “You and San are finally going out!”

“What?” You’re confused. At least three other people have congratulated you and Wooyoung winked at you just this morning so when Karina drops this huge bomb on you, you’re understandably a bit stressed out. “We’re not?”

“But Mina heard it from Jisoo, and Jisoo heard it from Irene, who heard it from Baekhyun who heard it from Mark who heard it from Jaebyeong. You’re with San!”

Your mouth drops open as it all comes together. “Oh, no, no, no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “San and I are not together.” You explain the situation to her and Karina’s face falls.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” she says, more miserable than you are right now. “You were so in love with him.”

“I am not!” you exclaim a little too loudly.

“You’re not? That’s too bad cus I was going to ask you out.” A familiar voice makes you freeze in your tracks and you slowly turn around to face Choi San himself, a smirk on his face.

“San! Heyyy,” you say slowly, drawing out the vowel, and Karina makes her quiet escape. “So about that…”

San steps closer and you take one, tiny, tiny step back. “So. About that,” he mimics and you groan and roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from your usual banter. He giggles along but then becomes serious. “So you love me?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” you mumble out, twisting your fingers together, but one look from him and you crumble. “Okay, maybe I am in love but I think I did a good job of being subtle.”

From the laugh that comes out of San’s mouth, you realise that he, in fact, is not as oblivious as you thought but just didn’t do anything about it. “Subtle to who?” Your frown deepens.

“Okay, well, if you’re going to be a dick about it, I’d rather you just reject me so I can get on with life and find a new roommate,” you grump. “I’m not in the mood to get my heart broken so do it as gently as possible.”

San’s expression immediately becomes serious. “Wait, I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I don’t mean to make fun of you and I definitely don’t want your heart to break.”

Your face scrunches you and you have to will yourself not to cry. “Well then. I don’t know if I want to pretend this never happened cus I will inevitably get hurt.”

You’re just about to start sobbing and you really don’t want that to happen. You turn away and start to walk, but strong arms wrap themselves around your waist and San’s face appears in your peripheral vision. “No, I don’t want that either. What I’m trying to say…is that I love you too.”

You bite your lip. “If you’re joking I might have to kill you, San, and I don’t want that to happen.”

San can’t help but chuckle but soon buries his face in the crook of your neck. “I don’t want that to happen either. How else will I get to hold my favourite girl?”

You let a sigh escape and you slowly relax in his hold. “I’m your favourite?”

San laughs at how cute you look right now. “Mmh, who else would it be? I’ve loved you since you bumped into me four years ago.”

You slap his arm but butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words. “Why didn’t you do anything about it then?”

“Mmh, I kinda thought you were cute trying to be obvious but I was going to tell you before finals ended,” San teases and you can feel your face grow hot but the feelings you have for him only intensify after his confession.

“I love you” you can’t help but murmur to yourself.

“I love you too,” San hums back, turning you around so that he can look into your eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

You don’t speak in fear of not being intelligible and instead just nod. San smiles the biggest you’ve ever seen and his hands move from his shoulders to your face and you close your eyes in anticipation. And when his lips touch yours you swear you would’ve melted on the spot if his touch wasn’t grounding you.

“You loved me first,” you murmur against his lips, and you can’t help the smile from spreading across your face as you lean back for some air.

“And you loved me next,” San responds, pulling you back in with another kiss.

[footballffbarbiex]

player: John Stones words: 712 request: John Stones - you / your - 500 - 750 words - Going gift shopping with him while you are pregnant so you end up buying things also for the baby, all so sweet and fluff please

“We could just get everything online, you know?” John says as he pulls up his hood a little more and tweaks his beanie beneath it. 

It was cold in Manchester. Freezing perhaps. And it wasn’t even winter yet. The icy wind doesn’t help, creating a colder environment than it is because of it. Frost lays thicker on the ground, giving the illusion of a thin snowfall. It was still slippy as hell and John made sure that you remained standing upwards. 

“It’s not the same. We get enough deliveries on a day to day basis. Christmas should be more personal.” You counter, and pull out your phone to check, once more, which store was next. It’s a list you’ve checked far too many times that you should have memorised by now but it’s always best to look again. You’d hate to leave anyone off and ideally, you’d like to wrap it all up today if possible. 

One of John’s bodyguards has taken care of one lot of bags, taking them back to the car so that you two can concentrate on remaining on your feet and not having to worry about leaving some items behind or struggling with too many. John has shown a little enthusiasm when entering certain stores but for the most part, he’s hoping not to be noticed and trying to get through this with minimal damage to his bank account. 

You pause outside Next, noticing that they have a Next baby section in this one. “I didn’t realise the baby is on your list.” 

“You of all people should know that the baby is always on the list.” you reply and wiggle your shoulders in a happy dance while throwing signals with your thumb as you walk in backwards while grinning and John follows obediently while shaking his head. 

He knows as well as you that this is going to be one of the times that you drop the most amount of money. Though you do try to be smart about it, you’ve been around enough babies to know how quickly they grow and so know how pointless it is to drop too much money on the early stages of their life when they outgrow the clothes far too quickly. Newborn and first sizes should really be kept to the bare basics. Plenty of vests and baby grows. Anything over a month to 3 months you can have a little fun with but this stage will also be outgrown far too quickly. 

Quite a few people you know, including several brands thanks to John, have already bought and sent quite the haul of newborn clothes, so that’s one less stage for you to stockpile. With Christmas sales in full swing, you fully plan to utilise them for the upcoming year, buying quite a few for the age groups past 3-6 months. You didn’t want to be caught short but were happy to pick up a few extras if needed. Of course, the sales wouldn’t count for certain seasons and they would be picked up at a later date. 

You scan the rows and tables of clothes, eyes searching every different set as you pick up a few and hold it in the air to examine. 

“I prefer that one,” you hear John say and watch as his arm extends past you to touch at the fabric of the one he’s chosen. 

“Yeah, me too.” you nod in agreement as you turn the item this way and that to get a better look at it. 

“I still can’t believe that she’ll be this size.” There’s a softness in his voice as he takes it from you with one hand and drapes it over his other as he tries to envision a very real, squirming baby in it. You turn to face him and grin as he holds it up to your bump, an action you do frequently when hanging up or folding the clothes in her nursery as you put them away. She’s not due for another month and nesting is well and truly kicking in now for you. Sometimes you find yourself sitting on the floor, burying your face into the soft fabrics and taking in the smell of the baby softener. 

Unbeknown to you, so does John. 

[granulesofsand]

Hello

We have been wondering, how does one look into RAMCOA and programming safely? We hear a lot about making sure you are careful when doing this, and having safety nets in place, but we are not quite sure what that looks like. Would you be willing to give some examples of how that would play out, with one having or putting safety measures in place? Or what kinds of things would be considered a safety net? I hope this makes sense

Safety Nets

I’m sorry if this is aggressive, it has nothing to do with you or your questions, just my general attitude.

🗝️🏷️ RAMCOA, programs, sui/sh

One of the strongest indicators of whether a event will be (re)traumatizing is connection. It has to do with feeling recognized and being able to process what happened. Dissociated memories intrude because they haven’t been processed.

Having supportive people means getting the attunement we need to avoid shame and confront the overwhelm.

Supportive people can be therapists, counselors, or consenting friends. You need to build trust before disclosure feels okay, but you will have to disclose some things. One person can’t handle everything, a network with people can.

Survivors of RAMCOA are likely to be destabilized be consuming information. Programmed survivors may deal with suicide and self-harm, reporting back to abusers, or the emergence of unknown alters. All of this is backed by trauma, and moving through it requires either processing or putting away.

When you need someone to keep your knives away from you, or prevent you from driving back to your hometown, or sit with you through some flashbacks and big emotions, you have to be able to communicate what’s happening and how to help.

Other non-people tools are comfort items or grounding exercises. Brains reallocate resources when they sense danger, so thinking logically becomes harder. Having bins of safe objects or a notebook with safe contacts and worksheets is easier than having to figure that out in the moment.

You might have techniques you know are helpful, but sometimes even trying those is too much. Practice makes for better recall once you’re in survival mode. In systems, every member might have to go through that process of finding useful information and doing it enough to make it automatic.

Other things might be more practical, like money saved up for bad times or easy meals when you can’t get out of bed.

Our Example

When we had our first undeniable memories, we had a therapist who would listen. They acknowledged that they didn’t know how to tend to us, so they referred us to another therapist who specialized in what we needed.

We had a school counselor who was not great, but kept us from having to us up therapy time for academic concerns. At our next meeting for accommodations, we added some things to let us turn in work later and walk out of class when we had to. Those transferred easier when we started college.

We had been hospitalized before for suicide attempts, so we already had a set locked place for dangerous materials.

It still hit hard. Hits hard, you’re only done once you’ve healed everything. We have a meal plan with our dorm, so on days we can go out we bring food back and refrigerate it. We have a friend who we talk to regularly, and we’re learning how to make more.

When you have supports together, the devastation is less final. You can get back up, make some progress with old trauma, keep going with daily life. Sometimes you have to make some lifestyle changes.

Decisions

It’s a can of worms hardly anyone is ready to open. You look into it because you need resources, and you only find out if there are consequences after the fact. Having preparation keeps you alive. I don’t know if anything keeps you stable.

It’s a matter of risk vs reward, because if you do have that history it doesn’t disappear by burying it. You have the opportunity to decide how to pad that landing, but you’re still flying blind.

Idk how to make this softer. It does get better, apparently. There are people who did this before we were ever hurt, and some of them healed with next to nothing. It’s possible, you just have to do your best to keep moving once you’ve begun.

Good luck if you choose this. Prepare anyway, you might not have the choice.

[supernovaa-remnant]

I heard about this Shubble person recently, I stayed out of drama as much as I could but, what happened now??? You even wrote this in one of your tags "#I really did love him a lot (parasocially)". I was busy this week so I don't know what is happening now.

I highly recommend people watch Shubble’s vod on her twitch channel (I don’t have a link but I can’t imagine it’s that difficult to find). Be mindful though as the vod does talk about abuse which is a very triggering topic, so make sure to be taking care of yourself. I’m gonna put the rest of the post under the cut, so people can easily scroll past this if they want to.

As a little summary, Shubble streamed yesterday and talked about her abusive ex. She didn’t name anyone, but she also wasn’t hiding who it was, and contrary to what some people may say, a lot of the dots being connected are stuff we know from past streams and comments from friends and not leaked info.

So, the incredibly most likely case is that it was Wilbur. I’m not gonna get into everything Shelby said because she said it on her stream, but the signs do point to Wilbur, and you’d have to reach significantly further to claim she was talking about someone else. There’s not a lot of British male ccs who have a bigger audience than her who have a history of biting people and have reason to be going on long travels (tour) where they wouldn’t see each other often.

Listen. I was a certified dreambur blog, okay? Everyone who glanced in my direction knew that I was a Wilbur fan. Everyone knows that I loved him so fucking much. But that’s not an excuse to bury my head in the sand and ignore everything, y’know?

Anyway, this is gonna be the last time I talk abt this publicly (I’m sure my friends will hear more in DMs though sorry <3), so I’m gonna throw a bit more stuff here abt my blog going forward.

I will eventually talk abt c!wilbur again. I’m still gonna write my silly little c!dreambur aus, I’ve just put them on the back burner. regardless of cc actions, I genuinely do love so many of the characters on the dsmp. I’ll probably be focused on some other fics for a while, but c!wilbur’s my cat and I don’t think he’s leaving my brain soon. I just need a little time.

I think cc!wilbur is someone who needs help. and I genuinely do hope he gets that help. but having mental health struggles isn’t an excuse. and I just can’t see myself engaging in his content in the foreseeable future. you’re not gonna see me post neg about him. you’re just likely not gonna see me post anything about him at all.

I’m happy to know Shubble has an amazing support system. I’m so sorry she had to go through something so horrible. I’m wishing her nothing but the best, and everyone should check out her YouTube channel!! I haven’t watched her newest video yet, but I did watch Lizzie’s pov of the collab, so I know it’s a fun concept

If people have questions that this post doesn’t answer, then I’m happy to answer them in DMs, but I don’t wanna talk abt this publicly anymore. (I reserve a right to change my mind though if I for some reason feel the need to post abt it again)

Anyway, take care of yourselves. Love is never ever wasted, okay? And all that love belongs to you. And it’s always a good thing to put more love out into the world. Never feel guilty for loving, okay? 🫂

[samriddhikatariya]

The Weight of Metal (EXERCISE 2 DRAFT 1)

Year: 2104

Location: Norilsk, Former Russian Federation

They say the war began over something simple: land and airspace. But it never stays simple, does it?

The world was changing, again. The ice that once covered the far north had melted, revealing vast stretches of land no one had ever walked on. People said it was rich in minerals—things the world needed. Other places had long since exhausted their resources. Here, in the frozen north, there was still hope for new wealth, new power. The war wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this. It was supposed to be fought in courtrooms, over treaties and digital signatures. But greed has a way of turning everything into violence.

My name is Polina. I was born in Norilsk, in what used to be Russia. I’m ten now, but sometimes I feel much older. It’s hard to stay a child in times like these. War is everywhere. I hear the airstrikes in the distance, sometimes close enough to shake our building. I haven’t gone to school in months, not since the first bombs fell. The sky is full of drones now, silent and invisible. They watch everything, controlling the airspace like ghosts that see without being seen. They say these drones can predict your movements before you even make them. Some say they can slow down time itself.

You’d think by now, after everything we’ve been through, people would’ve figured out how to settle things like grown-ups. But no. They want land. They want airspace. You know, because apparently there’s still something valuable buried under all that permafrost—well, what used to be permafrost. Now it’s just muddy, resource-rich land that’s worth fighting over. Yay, climate change. Who knew melting ice would spark a whole new kind of war?

And so, here we are. I’m sitting in what used to be our apartment, though it’s more like a bomb shelter now. The windows are cracked, the power’s gone, and the sky is full of drones. They’re up there right now, buzzing around like angry bees, waiting for someone to step out of line. It’s a lovely view if you ignore the explosions.

I have this coin. I’ve been carrying it around for as long as I can remember. It’s an old Russian ruble, made of real metal. Weird, right? It’s from when money was still a physical thing, back before everything went digital. My grandmother gave it to me, said it was for good luck. Well, thanks, Grandma, but I think the coin might be broken, because luck? Not really feeling it right now.

But the coin is interesting. Or maybe it’s just me. It’s gotten heavier, I swear. Every time I hold it, it feels like it’s absorbing the weight of everything around me—the bombs, the fear, the constant sense that nothing will ever be okay again. Or maybe it’s absorbing the stupidity of the people who started this mess. Who knows? Either way, it’s definitely not the same little coin I used to flip for fun.

It reminds me of the stories my mom used to tell me before all this started. You know, bedtime stories, except hers were about ancient wars and gods who fought over things that really mattered—like honor, or family, or some kind of moral principle. The Mahabharata. Ever heard of it? It’s this massive, epic tale from India, where warriors fight this huge war over a kingdom. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t end well for anyone. Kind of like now. Except back then, they had cool weapons that could shoot lightning or destroy entire armies with a single thought. Here? We’ve got invisible drones and time-warping tech. Same drama, just fewer gods and more gadgets.

Speaking of time, that’s another fun part of this war. Time doesn’t work like it used to. You know how people always say, “Time flies when you’re having fun”? Well, turns out, time flies even faster when you’re running for your life. Or, it stretches out forever when you’re stuck underground waiting for the next airstrike. And don’t even get me started on the drones. They can slow down time, or so people say. I’m not sure if that’s true, but it feels like it. When they’re hovering above, it’s like everything moves in slow motion. Great. Because what we really needed was more time to think about how screwed we are.

My coin, though. It’s doing something weird. It’s changing. I’ve started noticing cracks in it, like it’s about to break apart. But instead of crumbling, it’s glowing. Not like some cheap neon sign, but more like something alive. At first, I thought it was just my imagination. You know, the kind of thing you tell yourself when you’re hiding from bombs and your brain’s trying to distract you from the obvious. But it’s real. The coin is evolving, just like the war.

There’s this story from the Mahabharata about a weapon, a super-powerful one, called the Brahmastra. It’s basically a nuke but with divine flair. The heroes had to be careful with it because it could destroy the world if they weren’t careful. Well, isn’t that just the kind of thing you’d expect in an epic war? And here I am, holding my own little ticking time bomb, except it’s a coin. And I’m not a hero. I’m just a kid, trying to survive in a war I didn’t ask for, in a world that’s been turned upside down for a piece of land that no one cared about until it was too late.

The coin feels like my own personal Brahmastra. It’s heavy, glowing, and probably dangerous. But what am I supposed to do with it? Throw it at a drone? Ask it nicely to stop the war? Yeah, right. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that this coin is tied to all of this. Like it’s been absorbing the war, the conflict, the anger, and now it’s ready to burst.

We’re in a new age, they said. We’ve got the technology to fix everything, they said. But here we are, 80 years into the future, fighting over land, airspace, and resources like it’s the stone age with more pixels. What’s the point of all this tech if it just makes us better at destroying each other? Sure, we’ve got time-warping drones, but do we have peace? No. We just have more efficient ways to drag out the same old conflicts.

And as for the coin, who knows what it’s going to do next? Maybe it’ll crack open and reveal some ancient truth, or maybe it’ll just keep getting heavier until I can’t carry it anymore. Either way, it’s kind of funny, isn’t it? All this tech, all these machines, and I’m still holding on to a piece of metal like it’s going to save me.

But that’s war for you. It doesn’t matter how far we advance. In the end, we’re all just fighting over the same stupid things, using whatever weapons we can find—whether it’s a coin or a drone that can bend time. The war never ends. It just changes shape.

So yeah, here I am, a ten-year-old with a glowing coin, stuck in a war over land and air rights in the year 2104. What could possibly go wrong?

[ibuprofenking]

my sweetest downfall - chapter 2

please feel free to send me prompts for this fic!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48335212/chapters/122108227#workskin

Miorine jerks awake.

The nightmare is still fresh in her mind - snapshots - people dying, because of her. Suletta, limp and silent, floating in space -

Suletta.

She can hear soft breathing behind her and knows Suletta is still asleep before she turns to face her. Sure enough, Suletta’s face is still lax and dreaming as she lays curled on her side. Good, Miorine thinks. She’d be furious with herself if she’d interrupted the precious rest Suletta so rarely got.

And she is resting, her face unlined and lacking the subtle signs of pain Miorine can usually read there. She smiles gratefully.

It’s only been three weeks since they’ve moved into this house - three weeks since Suletta was deemed strong enough to leave the hospital. She still needs a wheelchair most of the time, but she can stand for short bursts and gains more strength every day.

Miorine feels the warm glow of pride fill her chest at the thought. To survive permet score 8, and to be recovering - Suletta breaks new ground every day.

As if she can hear Miorine thinking about her, Suletta’s eyes flicker open. Miorine can see the exhaustion still openly displayed in them.

“Mio?” Suletta murmurs. “Something wrong?”

Miorine laughs softly and reaches up to touch Suletta’s face, gently tracing the fading permet marks there. “No. Go back to sleep.”

Suletta flops onto her stomach, bringing her hand up to fold under her chin. It’s so absurdly cute that Miorine wants to bite her own hand.

“‘Kay,” Suletta whispers. “You sure?”

Her eyes are closed. She’s definitely already on her way back to the land of the dreaming.

“Yes,” Miorine whispers back. “Dummy.”

—

Miorine lets her sleep as long as she’s able - the sun is barely rising when Suletta, still on her stomach, begins to shift uncomfortably, eyebrows furrowing. She groans.

“Suletta?” Miorine doesn’t touch her, doesn’t know what level the pain might be at. Some days it’s a manageable ache - other days it’s like her skin is on fire, and even the gentlest of touches has her crying out in agony.

“I’m okay,” she mumbles. “Just sore.”

This is the permission Miorine needs to bury her hand in Suletta’s sleep-wild red hair. She lets her fingers travel to the nape of Suletta’s neck. The skin there feels a bit warm. She hopes it isn’t a sign that a fever is approaching - they haven’t had to deal with one on their own yet, and she fears she may not be up to the task.

“Do you want to sleep more?” As Suletta shifts again, she already knows what the answer will be.

“Can’t,” she sighs in resignation.

“I could get your medicine,” Miorine offers. The pain medication always manages to knock Suletta out, and though her pain may not be excruciating right now, the doctors had said rest was their most important tool, and Miorine is sure they wouldn’t judge.

“No,” Suletta grumbles. She flops onto her back and begins to stretch. “It gives me weird dreams. The other night I dreamt I was an octopus.”

Miorine lets out a shocked laugh. “What?”

“I was trying to hold your hand but I couldn’t because I had tentacles.” She pouts.

“Oh well, that does sound horrible,” Miorine says in mock horror, and before Suletta can object to being teased Miorine leans over and gives her a quick kiss.

Once Miorine breaks away, Suletta fixes her with a fake glare. “You can’t just kiss me to get away with being mean to me.”

“Can’t I?” Miorine kisses her again, first on her jaw, then on one of the permet marks on her cheek, then finally, her lips.

“Okay, fine, maybe you can.”

—

“You’re stressing me out.”

Miorine ignores the small voice and continues pacing, waiting for her car to pick her up.

From her place clipped to the bag on Miorine’s shoulder, Ericht speaks up again. “Please, stop pacing. You’re making me nauseous.”

“The car is late,” Miorine says, setting her bag on the bench behind her instead of stopping her pacing like Ericht asked. The keychain jangles softly.

“She’ll be fine,” Ericht says, because of course she knows what Miorine is really worried about.

Miorine ignores her. “First the meeting runs over, now this -“

“You prepared for this. Lilique is going to take her to her water therapy and you’ll be back in time to pick her up. And she’ll be all happy when you get there - you know how much she loves water therapy.”

All of these are indisputable facts. And yet -

“I’m calling the driver again.”

Ericht sighs as much as a keychain can sigh. “You are neurotic.”

“And you’re a keychain.”

“I resent that!”

—

As Ericht predicted, the car does come, and they do make it in time to pick up Suletta from her physical therapy - in fact, they’re a bit early.

And, just as Ericht predicted, Suletta is in high spirits and absolutely delighted to see them both.

“Mio! Eri!” She waves from her place in the pool where she and her physical therapist are tossing a beach ball back and forth. Ericht’s little keychain eyes flicker multicolor lights in delight. Miorine smiles softly and gives her a small wave.

Suletta always seems happiest here, where the water can take the strain off her body and she can stand without assistance, even walk a little. It’s the closest she can get to how things were before.

“Your girl is making great progress,” the physical therapist says as Miorine approaches the pool. “We’ve been at this for a half hour now - last week she couldn’t even do ten minutes.”

“That’s great,” Miorine says, and the words “my girl” bounce happily around in her head. Suletta beams.

“You should get in there with her!” Ericht says brightly, and Miorine finds herself grateful she doesn’t have a proper body with which to shove Miorine in.