#there's too much pain and suffering as is

[soupy-the-only-one]

This post already tackle many thing, but i would also like to add that many people do not know there are actually different types of Omegaverse, and they developed thanks (for fault) of how different is the health insurance situation or the societal situation is by country to country.

If you have red omegaverse, you probably have seen three main branches, that we will name by the country developed them: USAmerican Omegaverse, Japanese Omegaverse, Chinese Omegaverse. Every country tend to have their differences, but these three, by merit of being the countries with more population or more tumblr famous media coming out of them, are the ones you will probably encounter in your fandom life.

USAmerican is the one everyone born before the 2000s started with. Alpha and Omegas must get together, and every other secondary gender couple may be seen as wrong. Heath can make you lose your mind. An Omega to be safe must be mated. Suppressants may often be illegal, or very expensive, and omegas will be ready to go in lenghty journeys just to get them. The parallels with private health insurance in the USA and the woman figure in that country are pretty evident. The country you live in have decided the medicine you need to regulate your cycle is now illegal because it may ruin your fertility. Is it true? Is it not? Depend by writer, but the everyday omega generally would care fuckoff about it and just want their pill. Is abortion possible? Well, the pup in the alpha propriety, so of course not. The normal (women having to suffer from very painful periods the doctor tell is absolutely normal, women having to merry to have some rights (like opening a bank account), women having to merry young if they want to actually have a life) got exagerated till they can no more think without their meds. And of course, for kink reason, for vengeance reason, for wanting to be outside the narrative reason, now there is a man instead of a woman in the story. Get your pariod pain you bastard.

In the past it was often time dystopian. Omegas were put in institution and sold to a rich alpha. Omegas got castrated. In the last years stories tended to become more slice of life, and heath more menagable. Still now, omegas have not their supressants covered by health insurance. It must be told that the change was more internal in the fandom, deciding the extreme kink of the first years was now too much and objectifind gay man. That must be told is an idea does not consider why they were written like that, but it would be a whole another post.

Japanese Omegaverse, instead, tend to have a complete different basis: No more Alpha/Omega like for the USA, the only good cristian WASP couple. In this country the anglicanism did not embed society like in the USA, and the system function more as a caste: Alphas stay with Alphas, Omegas with Omegas. Going outside of the status quo may shut you out, and it is not unheard of couples faking their secondary gender to stay in a relationship.

It is intersting in here how the health care mix with how the society is seen. While in the USA the anglicanism make the go get couple the most heteronormative possible to think of, but does leave space for societal movement, in japan the family and the group may be more important. Of course, it does not change the ending couple. Romance is the same in all the world. But in a world where suppressants are more easily available and everyone can hide their secondary gender (being a normal neutral office worker instead of the boasting american alpha use his secondary gender to escalate the company hierarchy), the secondary gender become something to be embarassed of whatever you are, to be hidden, and to be best shown only to other people are the same to you.

Of course we cannot forget how also japanese omegaverse had the warewolf trope, you probably saw sold in your comic book shop. And while this is their fully kink, with alpha warewolf getting their beautiful omega, we must remember how these also function: Omegas are not sold as wives. Omegas do not get the bite mark. While in the USAmerican omegaverse the bite mark is a necessity, because it make you an actual couple, in japanese warewolf omegaverse the wife, or more often the woman hired to give heirs to the house, will have a collar. It is unsightful to have a mark. It is not even necessary to calm down an omega, since they can get medicines, or to have a relationship, contracts are in there for that.

Chinese Omegaverse have a main difference by the other two, and it is its connection with the Xianxia genre. While both USAmerican and japanese are connected to the warewolf genre, in chinese it is all based on cultivation. I must preface by the fact also in China of course they have what we would call classical Omegaverse, near the USAmerican or the japanese slice of life type, but they have also this genre unheard of, by virtue of the genre it is based of being a classic Chinese genre, in all the other countries. This is by far the one i red less about, so please come and tell more in case you have more historical knowledge about it.

First of all, for everyone does not know, xianxia is a media genre based on the taoist concept a man can "cultivate" their qi (a type of life force existing in everything) to obtain immortality and particular powers. The Mo Dao Zu Shi novel, from whom The Untamed live action serie was adapted, is probably the most well know exemple.

Cultivation as a concept, existing since ages of old, already gave multiple notions could be used for fics, like the use of caulderons, people of lower cultivation from which someone can steal the qi to get more power, and the numerous theories about semen retention to keep your qi inside. If some hollywood star or musicians in the late 90's first 2000's talked about Tantric sex, it is the same source, with less knowledge about the real actual phylosophy than the worse teenager omegaverse fanfictioner.

The names of the secondary gender are changed:

Omega: 坤泽 Kunze Beta: 中庸 Zhongyong Alpha: 乾元 Ganyuan

In Cultivation there is the notion you can cultivate with someone else, your cultivation partner, to better cultivate each other energy by transferring it to one another. With Omegaverse, with the existence of heath and ruth, a cultivation partner become not only someone you could have to better cultivate, but a necessity to dissipate there problems and make them energy. Becoming this now a purely cultivation method, the romantic or sexual theme can disappear. Often a kunze and a ganyan will become cultivation partner, even arriving at a mating, but this will never be a marriage. In some versions even, if you fall in love with yout partner and want to marry, you will have to break the mating. This type of omegaverse give more fluidity, changing the fundamental of the USAmerican omegaverse, the bite you can never take back, and mix with the social, phylosophical and fantasy elements typical of the genre. It is now more rare to have a type of relationship frowned upon by the secondary gender element, but by how it is used. This also open new ways to change secondary gender. Being it connected to your qi, a corruption of your energy by external or internal forces can now change your secondary gender. Being used as a caulderon, deciding to use an unhortodox cultivation way, or living in a very bad energy polluted place, can all change your gender. The mating can be broken. And the clan is always extremely important.

As you can see, while all three clearly omegaverse, the themathic talked about can differ very much, and everyone can interact with them in multiple ways go beyond the knot fucking. And even the knot fucking change feeling depending on why it is happening. Are you an omega because you are tired of your sexual feelings and you want a way to act on them, without it being your choice and your fault, so making you innocent? Or are you considering fucking a know just a biological thing you have to do for your health, but consider it the same as eating a protein bar on an hike, and the real relationship is outside of it? How are you two connected? Are childrens possible or not and how does that influence your body?

Even if not liking the kink or the genre, it is not possible to deny the way it is often used to explore real situations the writers live in.

Do you think in the omegaverse there’s a new, awful layer to “the talk” that teens get

[iwashie]

Sevika, and reader on her period headcanon...

Sevika is in her late 30s and probably doesn't suffer with her period-or do-, but dating a younger woman, at the peak of hormones and period, makes her think about her time and asks herself how she handles you and all your versions during it.

She knows your period is coming by just seeing your breasts swelling, some complaints about your back hurting, and mood changing during the day as you always do but never remember it's that time of the month.

She always has a lot of pads, your favorite food stockpiled, medicine for your various pains, always ready to massage your back, legs and belly, brings you a lot of water and a hot water bottle for cramps.

"Doll, it's normal to have a period. Don't be angry or disgusting for it. I know you don't like having pains, and all that stuff period brings on, but it's normal. And you have me by your side."

Your mood swings are a challenge for her, but she handles somehow. Just like the day you two were walking around Zaun, enjoying a street food you begged her to buy and then she notices you're not by her side, looking back to see you stuck in the place, your eyes on the ground, on your food on the ground. She immediately ran back to you, soothing you as your eyes filled with tears and mumbled that you haven't even bitten. "That's alright, doll. Have mine and everything is fine."

Or the day she made a joke at the wrong time and wrong place, making everyone at the table in Last Drop alternate gaze between you two just to look away when you lashed out on her and left the place without her. Or the day a woman looked at her for too long, and you had to show that woman that your woman was your woman. Or tried to throw punches at every man whistling at you- Ran had to stop you and Sevika at this one.

She thought your period cravings were something else. Why so much sugar?!? It's was possible worse than pregnancy cravings. "Are you on your period, or are you pregnant?

"I'm craving something sweet, like really sweet." You said, searching for something in the cabinets. "Have some sugar." You looked at her with fire on your eyes, and she felt a cold sweat run down her back. "What about some chocolate cake, ice cream, or some food deep-rooted with sugar? I'll buy it, doll."

She can't keep up with your energy, always accepting whatever you want and following behind you everywhere with a scowl, but making sure you're good, safe, and happy. She doesn't understand how you have so much energy left after doing a lot of things during the day to her about your day and plans, just to fall asleep suddenly.

She also handled you crying over everything and making traps for her, like asking her if she'd love you if you were a worm, or her worst nightmare: "Would you love me if I was from topside?" and her long silence was answer enough for you to start weeping. "Doll, it's just a dumb thought. Of course I'd love you and gonna be with you forever. I promise!"

She prefers to handle you when you are calmer, too sore to handle the world on your back, and stays in bed, being doted by her. She always cuddles you, her human hand on your belly to warm it up, whispering sweet nothings or watching a movie with you, both wrapped in the blankets. "I love you too, doll."

Maybe the best thing about your period is the much horniness you have during it. Your wild side is always showing up at this time of the month; always teasing her with dirty whispers, handsy. She loves fucking you, making love to you, making you cum and all. But, damn, you've come three times already, and you're looking at her with those eyes again, and she isn't young anymore, she needs to catch her breath. "Please, Vika. Just one more. You can use your fingers on me this time. Pleaseee."

She loves it when you are horny and take the lead, playing with yourself, teasing her until she does something about it and makes slow, tender, sweaty love to you. "Fuck, doll. Your pussy is so wet and creamy for me, gotta fuck it properly, huh. Do you want this? Want my cock deep inside your pussy? Good girl, doll..."

Your crazy ideas always caught her by surprise. She is sure that these ideas are made up before your period, and you only come with them to blame on the "period hehehe"

"You know what? I really want-" "Please, a normal thing for once." "You to impregnate me." A silence in the room. "Impossible, doll." "What do you mean it's important? DON'T YOU LOVE ME ANYMORE?!?" "It's biological Impossible to get you pregnant with my babies." "Well. We gotta keep trying, vika!"

Your low self-esteem is the biggest problem, like how she's gonna put inside your head that you are the most beautiful person in Zaun? The prettiest woman she's ever laid eyes on! "Your body is completely fine! Your skin is normal! You're not fat, square, or I don't know! Your clothes are completely fitting, you're fucking beautiful and perfect. The only woman for me, doll!"

At the end of your period, she would be exhausted, needing vacations away from Zaun, but glad to have you surviving another period without trying to kill her and every other Zaun citizen. She would be so glad to have her girl back, not that you're much different but still.

@iwashie 2025, please do not translate, modify or republish my works

[gothicfied]

Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120 Headcanons

Pairing: Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120 x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, killing, guns/gunshots (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

જ⁀➴ Watching Hyun-ju during the six-legged pentathlon, you couldn't help but be amazed. She was a leader, a fighter, someone who didn't and wouldn't give up, that much was sure. It was amazing to see her lead her group to victory, to safety, being the one to push them and encourage them. Everyone cheered, obviously including you, and it truly was an amazing feeling to see them all get away with their lives. You weren't so sure if you'd make it, too.

જ⁀➴ Thankfully, you did. Your group barely scraped by and you just decided that you needed to be on Hyun-ju's team. Hesitantly, you approached Geum-ja, who immediately noticed your small figure and agreed in a heart beat to let you join their little group.

"You were great back there, you know?" You told Hyun-ju with a shy smile while she was sitting on the stairs, originally just observing Yong-sik getting scolded by his mother again. "Hm? Ah.. that was nothing." she replied back, shaking her head when smiling up at you. "I think everyone in here should be like you," you chuckled, "like, actually. We'd all benefit from it."

જ⁀➴ Hyun-ju's heart melted at all the nice words you would say to her, complimenting her braveness and strength. It made her feel more validated in her actions, which was the motivation she really needed in a place like this. Young-mi was equally excited to have you in their group now, having animated conversations with you about the things you had in common — And if she approved of you, Hyun-ju would, too.

જ⁀➴ Whenever you were scared, were having doubts about yourself or just needed someone to talk, Hyun-ju was there. It was almost like she felt it when you felt that way and she'd always listen to you and comfort you. Her hugs were warm and firm, perfectly calming you down after a particularly bad nightmare. In return, you also encouraged her to talk to you if she ever felt the need to, but everytime you suggested that she'd laugh it off. To Hyun-ju, it was enough to know that she brought you comfort, she didn't need anything in return. She did think it was adorable for you to say that.

જ⁀➴ To distract you from all the stress sometimes, she'd ask you about your plans for the future, about your hobbies and jusy about the things that made you, you. Hyun-ju was genuinely interested in getting to know you and was growing very fond of you over a short period of time.

જ⁀➴ After suffering through the third game together, and also a painful loss (rip Young-mi, my queen), everyone was going through it. Instead of everyone keeping it peaceful, they just decided to slaughter each other after lights out. Ever since losing Young-mi, Hyun-ju was very adamant on keeping you by her side at all times. She wouldn't make that mistake again and leave someone she cared about out of her sight.

The lights flicker like crazy above you, screams and the disgusting sound of people getting killed right next to you were the only things you could focus on right now. You were panicking, you were scared, you felt like you were going to cry and throw up. Hyun-ju had grabbed you by your hand and dragged you to the last corner of the dorm area, hiding you between some mattresses other players had set up. She was firmly holding you by your shoulders and telling you something you couldn't make up. Probably that everything will be okay or something. "Hey! Hey, please listen to me," Hyun-ju leaned in close, hugging you against her, "it's all going to be fine. We'll be okay."

જ⁀➴ In fact, you were. Obviously you were. Hyun-ju wouldn't say something she didn't mean — she wouldn't lie to you. She knew that winning someones trust was hard and the fact that you put so much of it into her filled her with pride.

જ⁀➴ Gi-hun had his mind set on a revolution. Anybody who could handle a firearm was supposed to step forward and take one of of the ones they took off the dead guards. You swallowed, locking eyes with Hyun-ju. She'd step forward, they needed her. You gave her a quick nod and a faint smile and she returned it, quickly stepping forward to help the others.

Geum-ja put a hand on your shoulder, claiming that she'll be fine and that she's far too tough to die out there. "They'll be back to get us out of here, don't worry about it." she said, tugging you by your sleeve, beckoning you to come with her.

When Dae-ho stormed in after a while again, hastily collecting the magazines out of the guards pockets, you were relieved, even if he seemed extremely beside himself. He had some sort of panic attack, so you sat him down on one of the beds, trying to reason with him, until Hyun-ju stormed in, making your facs light up. Oh my god, she's alive. She basically ran to Dae-ho, urging for the ammunition and kept asking him what happened.. so, this wasn't going according to plan at all. You assumption was confirmed by all the masked guards that flooded into the dorm area, holding the remaining players at gunpoint.

"Hyun-ju..?" your voice was shaky. Her eyes fell down on you, taking your hand into hers. "It's all going to be fine."

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Azriel x reader

Word count: +3400

Warnings: none (?)

Summary: When love becomes a painful burden and you can't stand it anymore, you decide to turn it into hate, avoiding its source at any cost. However, Azriel has enough and seeks you out.

When I wrote it in my head (late at night of course), it was perfect. But I forgot the exact wording😮‍💨 Now I'm not so sure about this. Also I bit changed the intended end to cut down the word count

Anyway, I hope you will enjoy it

Despite my resolve to not to look in that direction, my eyes darted to the dance floor again and again, pulled by power stronger than my will. Pain sharp like dagger carved deep into my heart as I watched Azriel dancing with some female whom he just met at bar. Their bodies seemed to be glued together as their hips swayed in the rhythm of the music, even their foreheads were touching. Female's arms wrapped around his strong shoulders and neck, sliding down and back up his biceps and chest only to once again return back to their start point, holding him close. Pulling him closer. He didn't seem to mind it though as his own hands travelled all over her body, squeezing soft flesh wrapped in tight mini-dress at times.

I felt bile rising in my throat and turned back to my drink, wishing it was something stronger than just mojito—something that would burn not only my throat, but also my heart with all the traitorous feelings. I wished I had never made that mistake and fallen in love with him. Things would be much easier.

We used to be friends, really close friends. However, ever since I realized I felt something more for him, my feelings kept deepening with every passing day to the point it physically hurt to even look at him. He didn't seem to feel the same way though, not noticing anything, and I was too scared of refusal and never confessed. After just few months I was so agonized that I couldn't even step out of my room without bursting into tears and that's when I decided to rather hate him than to suffer like that.

I started ignoring him, avoiding him at any cost, twisting everything into anger. I went so far as not even answering him when he directly spoke to me. It still hurt, but it was more manageable kind of pain than what I felt before. This was how I had lived for the last two years, working hard to build the wall of the hatred around my heart brick after brick, yet I had a long journey ahead of me.

I threw the straw on the table and knocked back half of my drink, trying to think about anything except of what was happening to my left. I was so focused that I noticed Cassian only when he tapped his glass to mine.

"What are we drinking to?"

"To fucked up life."

Cassian's guttural laughter was so loud that it even overbeat the pulsing bass of the music.

"To fucked up life then," he toasted and got his drink down in one gulp. He was in his element, beaming with excitement.

Rita's was full of all kinds of faeries as usual, the dance floor pulsed with life, bodies swaying, alcohol flowing. After the warm-up drinks, our group fell apart — some were at bar, some were dancing and some disappeared to who-knows-where. Cassian was the first one to mingle between the dancers. It was almost midnight, yet this was the very first time he stopped for a while. Well, stopped.. His body was somehow managing to keep moving along the music even while he was sitting.

He reached over the table, caressing my cheek, his expression softened. "You need to learn how to let go, doll."

"It's easier said than done," I sighed and straightened up to get away from his reach. I used to be quite touch starved person, enjoying every contact with persons dear to me, but lately I could hardly stand anyone in my close proximity.

His eyes narrowed at me for a second, but he said nothing and drumming fingers on the table turned to the dance floor. He bit on his bottom lip. Devilish smile spread on his face and he turned back to me.

"Then I'll help you."

"Help me with what exactly?" I frowned, already having bad feeling.

"To let go. Come!" He raised a brow, jerking his head toward that maze of bodies. "Come," he repeated, offering me his big hand when I didn't react.

Out of the corner of my eye, I gazed at the full dance floor. "No, never," I grimaced. "I'd rather die than to do that."

"Come! I promise you will have fun."

"I can't dance." All my friends knew that, including Cassian. I wasn't willing to dance even where nobody could see. That kind of activity simply wasn't up to my liking nor ability.

"I'll teach you."

"No."

"I'm not accepting no as an answer this time," he grinned, rounded the table and gripped both of my hands, pulling me with him. He was too strong. I followed him involuntarily, squeezing in between dancing bodies. He took me to the back where weren't so many faeries and we didn't have to jostle with others. Only then he let go of my hands. I immediately crossed them on my chest, feeling awkward.

"Relax," he pulled me closer, his hands on the small of my back. I pulled my lips into thin line, frowning. I didn't like this at all. "Just feel. Let the music lead you."

"The music leads me back to the table," I grunted to which he laughed.

"Just bit move that ass of yours. Like this." He gripped my hips, pulling on and pushing them to demonstrate the movement he wanted me to do.

"Geez, you are so stiff," he was laughing his ass off. The small amount of alcohol I drank finally kicked in. There was nothing funny on this, yet I couldn't help myself and giggled.

"That's it," he praised me when I did as he instructed. "Just like that."

When I got used to the motion, he let go of my hips and took a step back to have a better view. "And now add legs." He demonstrated several simple moves and I tried to mirror them. I felt like idiot.

"You are doing great. Don't stop." He again stepped closer and took me by waist. We danced together for a while, Cassian's mouth never closing — showering me with praise, stupid jokes and stories — and I really had fun just as he'd promised.

"That hardly can be called dance. Let me show you how to do it," a deep voice spoke somewhere behind me and shiver ran down my spine. My heart flipped at that sound and smile froze on my face. I knew that voice too well.

"As if you could dance any better," Cassian snorted, but he started retreating. I desperately grabbed fabric of sleeves on his forearms, wordlessly pleading with him to stay.

"Just have fun, doll," he shrugged and turned away, immediately finding another dance partner. I stared after him in disbelief, my back still to the newcomer. I felt him move, slowly circling me and I swallowed hard. I turned to the opposite side, determined to head back to our table, suddenly too thirsty.

Scarred hand grabbed my elbow, yanking me back and I was met with his broad chest. I didn't dare to look up.

"Not so fast, Y/N," Azriel mumbled and I wondered how it was possible that I heard him so clearly over the loud music.

"I don't dance," I retorted, pulling away. I didn't get far though, his strong arms keeping me at the place.

"I just saw you with Cassian. Just one dance. I'm not asking for too much."

No matter how desperately I searched for good reason to decline, any reason honestly, I found none. "Fine," I grunted at last.

For a while we danced and I moved as Cassian showed me, but I felt so uncomfortable.

"Try it like this," Azriel said, his hands moving to my hips.

"Don't touch me," I barked at him, my mind flooded with imagines of him touching that female not so long ago. "I don't even want to think about where your hands were before."

His body stiffened as if I slapped him and he fell out of rhythm. "I can assure you that I washed my hands properly."

He sounded hurt and I felt pang of pain in my chest. I realized the ambiguity of my own words. And because this was Azriel, he probably thought I meant his work which was quite sensitive topic for him. He didn't torture people because he enjoyed it, but because he had to—to protect this court, to protect his family.

Ignore it! I ordered myself, clenching teeth.

It took him a moment to recover. Just as we began dancing again, he keeping hands at his sides, the song ended, immediately followed by much slower one. A lot of faeries around left the dance floor. I took it as my call and followed the suit.

"Wait!" Azriel grabbed both of my hands. "We haven't even danced yet."

"But-," I stuttered.

"One song. Please."

It was that damn word please. He hardly ever used that word. He was always polite and perfect gentleman and everything, but it seemed he didn't have this word in his vocabulary. I could count on fingers of one hand how many times I heard him to say it in almost two centuries we knew each other.

"Just one song then."

"Yeah, just one," he agreed. His hands reached for my waist. "Can I?"

I just nodded, still feeling bad for unintentionally hurting him like that. He hesitated.

"You should put your hands here," he guided them to his shoulders, but I immediately let them fall to his biceps. I didn't want to hold on to him like that bitch. I inhaled sharply, surprised by the sudden strong wave of jealousy.

Hate. You aren't jealous. You hate him, I had to remind myself.

"That's also fine," he sighed, snapping me out of my spiralling thoughts. "Now you need to come a bit closer."

He gently pulled me to him. I made sure there was a wall of air between us, already sensing where he was heading. Unfortunately, I was so occupied by keeping him as far from me as possible that I didn't notice drunken faerie passing by. She dangerously swayed, unstable on her own feet, and shoved me from behind. Clumsy idiot as I was, I lost balance and once again ended up pressed to Azriel's chest. He was fast, his arms immediately wrapped around me, not letting me step away. Now our bodies were touching.. everywhere — hard parts pressing into soft ones.

I felt heat climbing up my neck, my ears already burning.

"Dance partners usually look each other in the eye," he muttered, amused. He had some guts to tease me.

My head snapped up in rush of disbelief and rage, my eyes met with honeyed hazel ones. Those warm orbs completely captivated me, imprisoned me in their depths and I couldn't look away anymore. All my thoughts vanished at once.

It was long since I properly looked at him, let alone so close up. He hadn't changed much. If anything, he was even more handsome than before.

Idiot! Stop thinking such shit! He isn't handsome. He's disgusting. Not so long ago he was touching some random female and now he's here, touching you with the same hands. He's promiscuous pig. Absolutely repulsive.

My chest heaved as I was fighting with myself, heart against mind. My heart pounded so hard it had an echo.

Wait! What a nonsense! Heart can't have echo, can it?

Just then I realized it wasn't some echo but a beat of another heart. It was Azriel's heart that hammered just as fast as mine and so strongly that I felt it through our connected bodies. And if I felt his, then he had to feel mine as well. At that thought panic started to creep up on me.

Azriel leaned down, so slowly. His warm breath fanned my face, our noses touching.

The song ended replaced by another and dance floor filled again. Azriel seemed to be too occupied and didn't even notice it, but I did. I shoved him away with all my strength.

He didn't expect it and wavered, his grip on me loosened. I jerked from his arms, recoiling. He reached for me.

"Y/N, wait.. Just one more-"

"No more dancing," I said, my voice so cold that I startled even myself. "You wanted one song and you got one. I'm done here."

I didn't wait for his reaction and showed him my back. I marched over to our table, emptied my glass in one go and even one shot that was left there. The alcohol burnt its way down my throat and I grimaced. I grabbed my things and without looking back or leaving a message to others, I left.

I stomped down the snowy road, hardly noticing the slippery ice under soles of my boots. Only once I got all the way down to the Sidra, I paused on one of the bridges, letting out an angry sigh. I drew the thick cloak closer, feeling the chill of winter night, and looked up at sky full of stars, my warm breath creating quickly disappearing puffs of steam. I was on verge of tears, angry, hurt and confused. What was that even about?

"Y/N, are you all right?"

Not again. I wanted to flee away, but his big hand blocked my way.

"Stop already running away from me!"

"Leave me alone!"

In the attempt to get away, I lost my footing on slippery stones. I would fall down into deadly cold waters if it wasn't for his strong arms that kept me upright.

"Please." There was that word again, this time even more desperate than the one before. "I can't do this anymore. Please, tell me what I've done that it made you this mad. I will apologise as many times as you wish. I'm willing to do anything to gain your forgiveness."

"I thought that when I leave you be, your anger will ease and you will eventually tell me what happened, but it's already so long and it's getting worse and worse," he continued when I just stood there, gazing down into dark waters of Sidra.

How was I supposed to tell him that he did nothing? That I was just stupidly in love with him and that I couldn't deal with my own feelings anymore? I couldn't possibly tell him that. So I was silent while cold tears rolled down my cheeks.

"I'm so desperate that I even tried to provoke you to no avail. I don't know what else to do to mend our relationship back to what it used to be. And I miss you.. so much. So please, tell me what happened, so I never again repeat the same mistakes."

He stepped closer, hugging me from behind. "Please." When he breathed out near my ear, shiver ran down my spine and my eyes closed. All strength, all fight left me and my shoulders slumped down. Azriel gently turned me around, so now I faced him. His warm hands cupped my wet and cold cheeks, his thumbs wiping tears away.

"Speak to me otherwise I-.." His voice was low, dangerously low.

"You what?" I whispered the words into silent night, needing to hear the answer.

"I.." Suddenly his face was so close that it was the only thing I saw, his breath hot on my face. My head, heart, lungs, whole my body shut down. I was just standing there, gaping, hypnotized by his sad eyes.

He waited until I inhaled and then his lips sealed over mine, his eyes holding my gaze. The kiss was slow, careful, hesitant.

I was stunned, my eyes the size of full moon above us. As the new sensation settled in, a firework boomed in my chest and I.. moaned.

He made a sound back in his throat that vibrated through whole his chest. Shutting his eyes closed, he unleashed, deepening the kiss. His lips, hard like stone and so soft at the same time, hungrily danced over mine, his tongue gently pushed into my mouth, looting and exploring.

Azriel tasted like an old whiskey Rhys poured me once from his precious collection. The rich spiced and woody taste was mixed with something sweet and delicious and I moaned again as I realised I tasted strawberries on his lips. My knees buckled and I clasped hands around his neck, my fingers tangling with strands of silky dark hair. He swallowed my moan and holding me upright, he pulled me even closer — as if it was possible — his fingers digging into my flesh.

His enormous wings wrapped around me, cutting off the rest of the world, wall of shadows protecting us from any prying eyes.

We kissed and kissed until my lungs began to burn with need for air. Yet I held on as long as I could, wanting this moment to last forever and only when I felt like I was going to faint, I slightly pushed against his shoulders. Reluctantly, his mouth released mine, but stayed close enough that I felt its every move. Both of us staggered weakly and he chuckled.

"Gods," he muttered under the breath, heaving heavily. "You taste better than I've imagined. I wanted to do this for so long."

I was still too dazed to think straight. I just knew that I was happy, my heart hammering into the ribcage so wildly as if it was trying to break through it. His lips travelled all over my face, leaving dozens of small pecks behind. As he calmed down, he hid his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply, still holding me in an iron grip.

"Why are you angry with me?" His voice was muffled by fur of my cloak. Under my cheek pressed to his shoulder, I felt his pulse, strong and fast, just like mine. I inhaled his rich scent of early morning mist in the snowy mountains.

"I'm not angry, not really." My face burned with shame. I sounded pathetic even to myself, somehow defeated. My traitorous heart wanted to believe that this was real and that it would last, while my mind was screaming that it was only a short-lived dream.

He was silent for a while, most likely putting together pieces of a puzzle. Maybe it was my salvation that he was a spymaster with a brilliant mind. I didn't have to sink to the very bottom to voice aloud just how lame and stupid I was, saving me from the most shameful moments.

"Never - do you hear me? Never do that again. There's no need for such..." I thought it impossible yet his grip grew even firmer. He sighed heavily, pushing words through clenched teeth. "-ve you."

He muttered something, but I heard only the last part of it. What did he say? No matter what I filled in, nothing made a sense.

"What?" I whimpered, hardly holding my tears back.

Azriel inhaled deeply. "-ve you."

"I.. don't understand."

He straightened up, looking into my eyes, his face deep shade of crimson.

"I said, I love you." His voice was firm, but his wings around us trembled slightly, giving out just how nervous he was.

My eyes widened in disbelief. I certainly misheard. "Eh?"

"As you heard," he looked away shyly, his hands slowly falling down, releasing me. "I started to feel it shortly after we met, but it took me too long to recognize the feeling for what it is. I was full of myself, I should have noticed your pain much sooner. I'm so sorry, Y/N."

His words tore down the dam and the tears began freely flowing down my cheeks in streams. Years of the pain and suffering for nothing.

"You are really the worst. I hate you," I sobbed.

Azriel stiffened and then chuckled when I leaned in, hiding face on his chest. "Am I? You owe me chocolate for at least last two years. And that is not all. I believe you owe me one more thing."

"What do you mean?"

He licked his lips and biting on the bottom one, he slowly pulled me into another embrace. "When someone-.. No. When I confessed to you, you were supposed to answer something like 'I love you, too', don't you think?"

I hesitantly wrapped my arms around his waist and still sobbing retorted, "as if I could say such thing so easily."

His smile only grew. "Then I have to coax it out of you," he cooed and captured my lips in another sweet kiss and another and he kept kissing me until my heart healed, mending all the wounds of the past years.

[theonottsbxtch]

SAVING HER | CL16

an: chat this is a short one but she’s been sat in my drafts unedited for a while SO PLS DONT JUDGE IVE BEEN BUSY WITH WORK also im about to close my requests for the next month or so because i am very busy

wc: 2.3k

THE ALLEYWAY WAS A THEATRE OF SHADOWS, the high walls narrowing like an unfinished thought. Rain clung to the cobblestones, slick and shimmering under the muted glow of a nearby streetlamp. Charles slumped against the cold stone, his breath a ragged symphony of pain he didn’t feel. The wound on his arm—a careful cut he’d made himself—bled just enough to convince anyone, though the blood seeping into his sleeve was nothing compared to the weight in his chest.

He’d been told she would come this way.

The princess of Monaco was known for walking among the people, her kindness spoken of like an old fable passed from lip to lip. A woman with a crown yet no walls, they said. A woman who saw everyone as a person worth saving. It was that softness—her fatal flaw, his boss had said—that made her the perfect target. Charles knew how to exploit such softness. He had done it a thousand times before, slipping into lives just long enough to end them.

And so he waited.

The footsteps came as if conjured from the night itself, light yet steady, moving towards him without hesitation. He pressed his hand against his wound for effect, his jaw tightening, his body folding into the pose of a man undone. When he raised his eyes, there she was.

“Sir, are you hurt?” Her voice was warm, unguarded, each syllable woven with concern. She knelt before him, her coat already sliding from her shoulders to wrap around his trembling form.

“I—yes,” Charles stammered, surprised by how natural the lie felt on his tongue. “It’s nothing. Just… had uh. You shouldn’t—”

“Hush,” she interrupted, her hands already seeking the source of his injury. “You’re bleeding. We need to get you help.”

Her touch was feather-light, and for a moment, Charles forgot the blade hidden at his hip, the kill he had rehearsed in his mind a dozen times. She didn’t flinch at the blood or the grime, her hands steady, her face calm, her eyes impossibly gentle.

It would be easy, he told himself. The knife would be quick. She wouldn’t even see it coming.

But as she looked at him, her gaze a pool of unguarded kindness, something unfamiliar twisted in his chest. It wasn’t guilt—Charles had never known guilt—but a hesitation, like a string pulling him back just as he prepared to strike. He gritted his teeth, forcing the thought away.

Not here. Not now. Next time.

Instead, he let her lift him to his feet, her shoulder under his as she guided him away from the shadows. And for the first time, Charles wondered if he had underestimated her. Not her kindness—that was as plain as the moon overhead—but its weight, its gravity.

And it terrified him.

Her flat wasn’t far—she said as much while helping him along the cobbled streets—but Charles found himself biting back questions. A princess who lived alone, away from the safety of royal walls? Who brought strangers into her home on nothing more than blind trust? It was absurd. Foolish, even. And yet, there she was, walking him through her unlocked door, her arm steadying him as though his weight was nothing.

The space was modest—unexpectedly so for someone of her stature. The furniture was worn, each piece arranged with a care that spoke of practicality over opulence. A collection of books leaned precariously on the edge of a small shelf, and the air smelled faintly of lavender. It was too… human for a woman who should have been untouchable.

“You’re lucky I found you,” she said softly, easing him onto the edge of a worn armchair. “I don’t usually take this route home.” She offered him a small smile, as though his suffering were a strange twist of fate they should both be grateful for.

“Lucky,” Charles echoed, his voice gruff.

If only she knew.

She disappeared into another room, her movements light and unhurried, returning moments later with a first aid kit. “This might sting,” she warned, already dabbing at the wound on his arm. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and for the first time, Charles could see the weight of her kindness—a heaviness in her eyes, as though she carried the burdens of every person she helped.

He clenched his fists. The knife was still there, tucked against his hip. All it would take was a single motion—a flick of the blade and she’d be gone. The mission would be over. His boss would be satisfied, and Charles could leave this city behind.

Do it, he told himself. You’ve done worse to better people.

But his hand remained where it was, resting on the arm of the chair, his fingers curling into the fabric instead of the hilt.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, her voice breaking the silence. “Are you in pain?”

Charles shook his head. “No. Just… thinking.”

“About?”

He looked at her—really looked at her. Her hands were stained with his blood, yet her touch was careful, precise. Her face, so close to his, was unguarded, open in a way that unsettled him. No one ever looked at him like that. No one dared.

“Why did you stop?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

She blinked, surprised by the question. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you don’t know me. For all you know, I could be dangerous.”

Her smile returned, small but unshaken. “Everyone deserves help when they need it. Even if they’re dangerous.”

Something inside him twisted again, tighter this time. He averted his gaze, fixing it on the floor. The blade felt heavier now, its presence burning against his skin.

He could do it. He should do it. But as she worked, humming softly under her breath, Charles realised something with chilling clarity.

He wasn’t hesitating because of guilt. He was hesitating because, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure he could go through with it.

Not yet.

Not now.

“You shouldn’t walk home alone at night,” Charles muttered as she tied off the bandage on his arm. “It’s not safe.”

She tilted her head, studying him with a faint smile. “I imagine most people would say the same about bringing a stranger home, yet here we are.”

He couldn’t argue with that. She had no guards, no locks worth mentioning, not even a dog to bark at the wrong sort of man. Yet there she was, unshaken, as though kindness itself were a shield.

“Stay the night,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’ve a spare room you can use. You shouldn’t be moving around much anyway.”

Every instinct Charles had told him to refuse. He should leave, disappear into the night, and finish the job another time. But the offer was tempting, and not for the reasons she thought. Staying close to her would give him the perfect opportunity. No more alleyways, no more waiting. If he stayed, he could end this before morning.

“Alright,” he said, his voice measured. “Just for tonight.”

She nodded, satisfied. “I’ll get you some blankets.”

The spare room was small but comfortable, a single bed tucked into the corner with neatly folded linens at its foot. Charles lay down fully clothed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as the silence pressed in. His work phone sat heavy in his pocket, the messages from his boss unanswered.

He would do it tonight, he told himself. It was cleaner this way, simpler. No witnesses, no complications.

But the hours slipped by, the house silent save for the occasional creak of the floorboards and the soft rhythm of her breathing in the next room. Charles stared at the faint light leaking through the curtains, his body taut with tension, his mind unwilling to rest.

Finally, he rose.

The knife felt familiar in his hand as he moved through the darkened hall, his steps silent. Her door was slightly ajar, a thin sliver of light from the streetlamp outside falling across her sleeping form. She lay curled on her side, one arm tucked beneath her head, her chest rising and falling in an unguarded rhythm.

It would be easy.

Charles stood there for what felt like an eternity, his shadow stretching across the floor as he tightened his grip on the blade. But the longer he watched, the harder it became to move. Her face, serene and untroubled, was unreasonably small in the pale light. There was nothing regal about her now, nothing untouchable. Just a person who had opened her home to a stranger and asked for nothing in return.

He thought of the blood on her hands—not hers, but his, from patching him up without hesitation. He thought of her smile, that maddening softness that made no sense in a world like his.

The knife dropped to his side, his fingers loosening until it slipped from his grip entirely.

He couldn’t do it.

Charles stepped back into the hall, his breath sharp and uneven. His work phone burned in his pocket like a brand, its presence unbearable. He reached for it, his fingers moving mechanically as he scrolled through the messages. The last one was simple, a single word: Update?

His jaw tightened. He moved to the nearest window, pushed it open, and hurled the phone into the night. It clattered onto the cobblestones below, its screen shattering on impact.

For the first time, the weight in his chest lifted.

He closed the window quietly and turned back to the room. The knife lay abandoned on the floor, but he didn’t pick it up. Instead, he returned to the spare room and sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

The mission was over.

It wasn’t enough to walk away now, not with his boss’s reach and the consequences that would follow. If Charles couldn’t kill her, there was only one other option: protect her.

His lips curled into a faint, humourless smile.

He didn’t know what had possessed him to make this choice, but it was too late to turn back.

Now, he was on her side.

Charles woke to the smell of coffee and the soft murmur of a voice carrying through the thin walls. He stretched, his muscles stiff from a restless night, and rubbed his face as he sat up. For a moment, he stared at the unfamiliar room, piecing together where he was and why.

The princess. The knife. The phone thrown out the window.

He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. There was no turning back now.

The voice grew louder as he approached the kitchen, and he paused in the doorway to take in the scene. She was pacing the small space, a mug in one hand and her phone pressed to her ear with the other. Her hair was pulled back, though loose strands framed her face, and her bare feet padded softly across the tiles.

“No, I understand,” she was saying, her tone brisk but tinged with worry. “But I can’t wait two weeks for a replacement. I need someone now.”

She turned and saw him standing there, and her lips curved into a faint, distracted smile. “I’ll call you back,” she murmured into the phone before ending the call.

“Good morning,” she said, setting her mug down on the counter. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough,” Charles replied, though his gaze lingered on her tense shoulders. “What’s going on?”

Her smile faltered, and for the first time, he saw unease in her expression. “It’s nothing,” she said quickly, then sighed as if realising the futility of her deflection. “Actually, it’s… something. I found a knife outside my bedroom door this morning.”

Charles froze, the words striking like a blow. She wasn’t accusing him—her tone was too uncertain, too trusting for that—but the implications made his stomach twist.

“I assume it was a warning,” she continued, crossing her arms. “I’ve had threats before, but nothing this… direct. I was on the phone with my head of security. Unfortunately, my current detail is out of commission, and replacements take time. More time than I’m comfortable with, frankly.”

Charles’s mind raced, the weight of her words settling like lead in his chest. If she knew how close she had come to real danger, would she be this calm? Or would she have already called the authorities?

He straightened, forcing his voice into a calm he didn’t feel. “That’s… troubling,” he said. Then, after a pause, the lie slipped out as easily as breathing: “You’re lucky. That’s my line of work.”

She blinked, clearly taken aback. “Your line of work?”

“Private security,” Charles clarified smoothly, slipping into the persona as if it had always been his own. “Before… well, before things went sideways.” He gestured to his arm, still wrapped in her bandage. “It’s what I do.”

She tilted her head, studying him with a mixture of curiosity and cautious hope. “You’re serious?”

“Serious enough to know you shouldn’t be pacing around without someone watching your back,” he said. “If you want, I can help. Just until your new detail is sorted.”

The words hung in the air, and Charles braced himself for her to refuse. It would be safer for her, he realised, if she did. But instead, her shoulders relaxed, and a faint smile touched her lips.

“Really?” she asked, her tone laced with relief.

“Really,” Charles said.

She hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Alright. Thank you, truly. I… I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

The irony of her words wasn’t lost on him. He was the threat she feared, yet now he stood between her and the danger she didn’t even know existed.

Charles watched as she moved to pour him a cup of coffee, her back turned to him, her trust laid bare. The knife she’d mentioned hadn’t been a warning; it had been his own. Yet now, instead of finishing the job, he was stepping into a role he’d never imagined for himself.

Protector.

He wasn’t sure what would come next, but one thing was clear: there was no going back.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow

[sshadow-heartz]

I Love You, I’m Sorry

•Squid Game C.AI bots here!

🤍Cho Sang-Woo x Player!Reader

🤍With one more game to go, Sang-Woo doesn’t like your odds. He loves you enough to know that you don’t need to continue suffering, taking things into his own hands…

🤍Word Count: 1.2k

🤍Tags: Angst, Murder, Slight Gore?, Glass Shard as murder weapon, Stabbing,False Hope, Betrayal

•masterlist

‼️If you are sensitive to the tagged topics, please keep scrolling!‼️

It had been a long day. After a dangerous game of glass stepping stones, you had watched player after player fall to their death. Only three of you remained - Sang-Woo, Gi-Hun and yourself.

Retreating to your bed, you looked up at the ceiling, the large piggy bank sending a soft, golden glow over the room. It had to be almost over, right? There were only three of you left, surely there were no more than two games to go.

You sighed, thinking of everything you would be able to do once winning. Pay off your debts, get a drink with your friends…

Start over.

Your thoughts were interrupted by footsteps, and you turn your gaze towards the sound. It was just Sang-Woo, you had grown to become fond of the man during your time. You had been apart of the same team, alongside Gi-Hun, Ali…

Painful memories crossed your mind, Ali was gone. He wasn’t coming back. You had to move on, no matter how tough it felt.

“Quiet in here, huh?” Sang-Woo’s voice speaks up, drawing you away from your own mind. He was stood above you, a few scrapes across his face from the glass tiles exploding. Dark eyes studied yours, his own expression unreadable. You could never tell what he was truly thinking.

“Yeah… it’s weird without everyone else here,” you shrug, the room holding a strange eeriness without the hundreds of players that once resided with you. “How many more games do you think there are?”

He stayed quiet, thinking. “One… maybe two? That’s my guess. Just a little longer and we’ll all be out of here and way richer than we ever were, too.”

You smiles, nodding at his reassurance. “Yeah, you’re right,” you nod, patting the space on your bed for him to sit down.

Taking a seat, Sang-Woo keeps his hand in his pocket, the other reaching forward to rest on your thigh. His thumb strokes your skin through the fabric of your pants, looking down at you with a slight hint of softness. “You’re coming for a drink with me and Gi-Hun, right? When we get out of here?”

“Of course,” you smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Settling into comfortable silence, you allow your eyes to slip closed. You could feel Sang-Woo’s hand on your thigh, a small comfort in such a place. The two of you had grown close rapidly, you admired him. He was smart, and confident and seemed to know what he was doing. All of that lured you in, made you desperate to win his affection. He had seen you during the dalgona round, working ever so calm despite the shootings around you. He knew you would fight to survive, and he wasn’t sure if he loved you for it, or hated it.

Sang-Woo looked down at you, eyes closed and breathing steady. He couldn’t work out if you were sleeping, though it’d be best if you were…

Glancing over his shoulder, he could see Gi-Hun across the room, taking a much needed nap. He turned back to you, sliding his hand out of his pocket. He glanced down, eyeing the object he had been keeping so secretly.

A glass shard, sharp and easy enough to stab someone with. He took a breath, steadying himself and his nerves. Sang-Woo had decided you needed to go nights before, a long thought-out choice. He theorised the final game would be between the three of you, some sort of direct competition against each of you. Sang-Woo knew there could only be one winner, one player who takes the amount home.

You had become a distraction to him, his feelings overriding his logic. You were beautiful, strangely optimistic after what you had been through, and gosh, he… he loved you. He knew that if you faced against him, he would let you win. Let you walk away with the money, and a better life. No, he needed that money for himself. It’d be him and Gi-Hun. He could take down his childhood best friend, surely…

Sang-Woo leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. A sick and twisted act of love before enacting his wicked plan. He watched as your eyes fluttered open, smiling up at him as though he’s the most wonderful man in the world. He wasn’t, not that you needed to know that.

“Get some sleep,” he whispered, trying to make it easier. You wouldn’t struggle, or cry or yell. He didn’t want you to view him as a monster. In a way, he was doing something good for you. What if you suffered in the next game? What if you had to watch him die? No… that wouldn’t be an option for you. You’d have the peaceful way out, all thanks to him.

“Lay with me?” You ask, softly. It was such an innocent request, he couldn’t deny you. Laying down behind you, he wrapped an arm over your waist, pulling you against his chest. “You’re safe with me,” he lied. “Nobody will hurt you.”

Both laying in silence, legs tangled together, Sang-Woo waited for you to begin drifting off. He had to wait for the right moment, he didn’t want you to fight him on this. You wouldn’t realise it was for the good of things. His mind replayed everything you had told him. You were in severe debt, over a million won. You had nobody out there, no family, no friends. Loan sharks were waiting to get you.

It was no life for anyone. Even if you paid off your debts, you’d still be alone. There was no way you’d all make it out alive. He knew that, he wasn’t dumb. He, on the other hand, had plenty to return to. He could get himself out of debt, though his reputation would still be ruined. He could give money to his mother, have enough to live comfortably. Yes, Sang-Woo knew he needed to survive. It’d be better for him than it would be for you.

He leaned down, face nuzzled against your neck. A final moment of comfort, his arm wrapped around you tightly. He had the glass shard ready and waited, concealed in his free hand. Gi-Hun was still sleeping, nobody paying close enough attention to him or to you.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Before your half-asleep mind can process his words, Sang-Woo digs the glass shard into your stomach. He continues to hold you close, your blood pooling on the bed. He strokes your hair, whispering soft comforts to you.

“Shh, just let it happen. Its for the best, you’ll see that.”

You cough and choke, unable to say anything as the light drains from your eyes and blood pools into your mouth. You felt pain, and nothing more than that. A white, hot blinding pain as the room began to dim. You were tired, so… so tired. It’d feel so good to close your eyes right now.

As Sang-Woo felt you go limp in his arms, a small tune played over the speakers, a voice ringing out.

“Lights out! All players must return to their beds.”

As the lights shut off, Sang-Woo closed his eyes. He took a few deep breaths to calm his shaking hands. One more game, he repeated in his mind. One more game…

[whatbigotspost]

Endometriosis impacts about 10% of people who have a uterus, and that EXTREMELY COMMON metric is merely an estimate, possibly a massive underestimate. This disease is notoriously difficult to diagnose, both due to the elusive nature of how it operates and the rampant misogyny that comes associated with the societal treatment of this particular organ system.

Like why aren’t we talking about all of this? Any given group of 30 people has 3 folks in it living with endometriosis…

so yeah. Sharing this all from Instagram here to raise awareness.

I am only formally diagnosed with ovarian endo but I’ve discussed with my doctor about how my chronic bowel issues are likely endo related/impacted and even my sciatic nerve pain in my back hip area is probably connected.

This affliction is a GD curse 🥲 The same way that autism is a diagnosis that has had all these underlying tendrils that connect a web of symptoms I experience together once I saw it, endo is the same. It’s a whole body chronic illness NO DOUBT.

here’s what I needed to hear because maybe you do too…

•it’s not normal to fill a whole large deva cup with menstrual blood in 2 hours. •it’s not normal to bleed for 8+ days at a time.

•it’s not normal to have cramps so bad you are bed ridden for days.

•it’s not normal to have sudden offsets of abdominal pain so strong you “see stars” •it’s not normal to have to rock to the side on the toilet and/or move your stomach around and like fucking palpate your own guts to be able to finally, fully empty your full bladder (<—this is the one that made me really wonder WTFFFF 🫣)

ALL OF THESE WERE MY RED FLAGS that I had multiple giant endometrial growths all throughout my abdomen.

but people said “cramps are awful” and “ugh I hate my heavy flow” and not like actual comparisons I could ascertain so I ignored a lot of bad shit.

I didn’t know how much other people menstruated or how they peed or what level of body pain occurred as they aged and got fatter and their bodies changed in countless other ways across a span of years.

I only got a proper endo diagnosis bc when I broke my arm in that terrible car accident back in 2019, my MRI at the ER in the trauma dept opened an eventual Pandora’s box of my medical issues.

anyway if one person suffers less bc they read this and get proper medical care that would make my heart soar with joy, so like SHARE THIS KIND OF KNOWLEDGE AND

🩸🩸🩸🩸DESTIGMATIZE OPEN SHAME FREE PERIOD TALK BY HUMANS OF ALL GENDERS AND AGES🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

It’s just a fucking bodily function. We deserve information about it like we do the signs of heart disease or colon cancer.

[the-unseen-hand4]

I would rather see them all publically tortured for the durration of their lives. Death is too good for them but torture and endless pain and suffering is a much better punishment.

[panravenc]

i am sick and miserable; it is therefore my duty to bring out the sick!codywan headcanons into the light:

sick!cody:

has never been sick before, what is this sorcery? clones do not get sick, you see; except for when they do, apparently

he tries to push through it, but as soon as he visits the medbay for some pain-relief, the medic orders him bed rest

he does rest, but he also barricades himself because he does not want the illness to spread more than it already is: it is risky enough to have him and the few of ghost company who also have contracted the virus down, he is not risking the rest of his men

he is miserable. he has never suffered like this before, a blaster bolt to the chest would be easier than the combination of the killer headache, the cold, the bone-deep pain and a sore throat that has rendered his voice useless

childishly, he wants obi-wan by his side. he would like his batchmates too, but the presence he longs for the most is his general. there are tears gathering in his eyes and it is humiliating, can this sickness kill him instead?

gets immensely relieved when the door to his quarters opens and it is, indeed, obi-wan carrying with him medicine and a bowl of ration-soup

contrary to his feelings, he scowls and tries to scold obi-wan for risking himself when the 212th could be left without command

sadly, his voice still does not work. that means cody has to settle for glaring at obi-wan; it is not very effective, considering the state he is in

as much as he grumbles, as obi-wan takes care of him, he starts to feel better. he does not want to admit it, but knowing obi-wan is by his side makes bearing the illness easier

he feels weak and hates it. he feels useless, seeing obi-wan take care of him, and hates it even more; hates that he cannot smooth the stress out of obi-wan's frown, that he cannot reach out and reassure his general, that he needs rest in the first place and therefore cannot share the burden weighting on obi-wan's shoulders

and he hates how despite it all, he wants obi-wan's careful, gentle hands on his forehead; how he wants to keep hearing his general's voice in that soft, reassuring tone; how warmth spreads all over from his heart to his veins and his body relaxes under obi-wan's care, because it is obi-wan and that means he is safe

he tears up a bit. he feels sleepy, cotton-like thoughts filtering through his head, a daze that does not alarm him for obi-wan is still with him

he feels loved and cared for and weak, and he hates it, but he loves it; and despite how unwell and miserable he is, he wishes the tenderness of the moment could last forever

and he cannot help his hand reaching out and grabbing obi-wan's with it as he curls up and presses both against his chest, too many sensations leaving him tired and spent

and he falls asleep, safeguarded by his general and a golden, bursting and blooming feeling taking over his heart

when he wakes up later, obi-wan is sitting by his bunk, and their hands are still linked together

sick!obi-wan:

this man will never admit to being sick. he is in denial. he cannot get sick, he is a general and a jedi, he has work to do

unfortunately for him, he is, indeed, sick

and weaving it off to say it is just "a bit of a headache, really, dear, no need for theatrics" is not going to cut it when his fever is reaching dangerous temperatures

which cody discovers by accident by pulling obi-wan into a swift keldabe kiss before going their separate ways

obviously, that was before cody knew obi-wan was sick. no separate ways, no sir, they are going straight to the medbay

the worst patient award definitely should go to him

he is miserable. obi-wan has suffered through colds before, and this is a thousand times worse. he is cold, has bone-deep pain, is shivering in places he did not know could shiver, has a killer headache, and a sore throat that's made every word out of his mouth hurt. the force has forsaken him

his dramatics go up to a thousand

he is ordered bed rest by the medic. unlike cody, he decides that means to work from his bed instead of standing, and cody has to confiscate his datapads

and since he apparently needs a babysitter, it is cody the chosen one for such privilege. this leads to bickering to the most of obi-wan's current abilities; which, to be honest, are not exactly brag-worthy considering his predicament

it is rather humiliating that his commander is getting him to bed, but his legs have decided to give up on him, so there is not much choice there, really

spends the time insisting for his commander to go back to work. that he will be fine if left alone for five minutes

but cody refuses each time, and takes care of him even if rather clumsily, comming the medic back and forth for instructions, and really, this is not doing any favours to the crush he is harbouring for the man

cody does not leave. he does not move from his side, a hand on his forehead taking his temperature in regular intervals, awkwardly asking if there is anything else he can do to make obi-wan feel better, and oh

because obi-wan is sick, and miserable, and in pain, and probably also half-delirious from his fever, but love expands across his chest like it was always meant to, a golden place reserved for his hard-working, steady and beautiful commander

and obi-wan dislikes asking for help. not for others, or when he sees he may not be able to help out someone alone, but he does not like asking for himself. it leaves him feeling useless, and brings out vulnerabilities from years past he has always thought himself over of

yet, it is in that instance, that when cody asks once again, "is there anything more i could do to help, sir?" he reaches out, holds out for cody's hands, arm too weak to do much but tremble, and when his own is held between cody's, he asks: "stay?"

and cody stays. when obi-wan wakes up next, cody is there. and cody keeps being there, attending obi-wan's needs and supporting him, as he gets through the sickness and until he is healthy again

and for a moment, obi-wan wishes cody would forever stay there, by his side, no matter where the war takes them or the years of peace he longs for afterwards

that is all folks! hope you enjoyed this. i tried my best but i truly could not get cody and obi-wan out of my head, and since i am bed-ridden with sickness and despair, i want the boys to at least get some comfort, too.

talking about comfort, i am tagging @codywancomfort :) i hope it qualifies? i feel like cuddling while being sick definitely falls into the category of comfort.

love y'all,

―pau.

[deusfoundry]

if zayne had any say in it, he'd have med student!reader's exams moved to another week so you can go through the brunt of your period without having to bury yourself in stacks of books and flashcards.

but he doesn't.

so zayne does what he knows best—make the pain more bearable, the challenges you face easier.

he lets you sleep in, brushing the hair curtaining your face away to plant a kiss on your forehead before he heads out. he comes home an hour later, strong arms carrying bags stuffed with menstrual products and your favorite snacks, having already placed an order to your favorite restaurant.

you're already awake by the time he sets the goods down on the floor of his bedroom.

it's clear to zayne, though, that you don't have the strength to stand up, let alone walk all the way to the desk in his office, body curling into yourself as you whimper in pain, so he sets up a foldable table he was gifted years back on his bed. he coaxes you into propping yourself up against his headboard, a cautious hand making sure you don't hit the back of your head on the wood.

he gathers all the materials you need study and begins to recap to you the topics. his voice is low, steady as an anchor. his hand acts as a hot compress, pressed over your lower abdomen, fingers drawing circles to massage the flesh and ease the pain. he makes sure you're able to soak in every bit of information that comes out of his mouth, asking you questions in between with the promise of a reward if you get them right. he even lets you take more breaks than he usually would, incredibly lenient and succumbing to whatever you want if you so much as whine.

the rest of his day is spent in bed with you, surrounded by your notes and empty takeout containers and crumpled bags of candies and chips on the floor. and when you wake up the next morning, you're more than ready to take on your exam.

zayne can't make the world pause over your suffering, but he can and will help you bear the weight on your shoulders.

a/n: notice how med student!reader only comes out when i, too, am suffering over my course ... anyways i actually think this sucks ass but im on my period everything hurts i need to study but i dont want to study anymore so this is the best i can do for now (not proofread btw)

[muletia]

my brain is literally fried because I’ve been sick with the flu for a few days, but I had to get this off my chest

as it turns out, tormenting your favorite scrimblos to make them feel even worse than you do has surprisingly therapeutic properties lmao

Thinking about obsessed!Optimus being utterly devastated by his own feelings. Withering away from love for you because it no longer allows him to function normally. About attempts at recharge that fail because your silhouette always flickers before his optics. About dreams that are always about you. About the way you constantly fill his processor. About his silent cries in your direction, begging you to free him from this hell, to accept all his flaws, perhaps even overlook them, so he could finally take a full, unburdened breath of relief, knowing he no longer has to suffer from loneliness.

But also about the boundless love he feels for you. About how much he would be willing to sacrifice to make you happy, even if it comes at the cost of his own well-being. About how he would offer you his spark on a silver platter, ripping it out with his bare servo, if you expressed the slightest desire to see it, asking for nothing in return—only to then ask if there’s anything else you might wish for. About how, for your happiness, he would spill hectoliters of his energon just to see the faintest hint of a smile on your face.

About how he would rather let himself be devoured alive by scraplets than cause you the slightest discomfort. How he would rather rust away than bring you pain. He tightens the chain wrapped around his own neck, struggling to protect you from himself and his wretched, impure feelings. Delirious. Haunted. Unworthy. And yet, still so full of love. Needing you more than energon itself, ready to give up everything for you.

About how you have complete control over his life, and yet he will never be able to tell you that. About his trembling frame when he hasn’t seen you in too long. About the incompetence he exhibits when you disappear from his life for even a few days. About the vacant look in his optics, the lack of reaction to anyone’s calls. About the frequent patrols, hoping to catch even the faintest glimpse of you. About the thousands of tears he sheds as his entire being howls with yearning, even though he can’t help himself.

He is indisputably and unconditionally devoted to you alone. Yours and only yours, even though you will likely never be his. Loyal as a dog, returning to you every time, seeking solace. Trapped in a cycle of madness, condemned to eternal torment no matter how sweet the suffering born from you might be. Consumed by love, love that has sunk its teeth into his metal and will never let go. Beautiful but merciless. Addictive and terrifying, yet sweet all the same.

Because despite the agony, the slow destruction of both body and soul, Optimus cannot give up your conversations, your shared drives and patrols. He cannot stop loving you, completely blinded by devotion, desperately clinging to the scraps of kindness you show him when your eyes meet.

Lost, certain that his love for you will ultimately kill him, yet still humble — for death by your hand would be the greatest honor he could ever receive.

[shomatoriashi]

01/09/25; 09:25pm

sung jinwoo x fem.reader

[ drabble | fluffshot ]

you had lost your voice in the midst of suffering from a severe cold, rendering you unable to speak. along with your inability to speak, each time you swallowed, there was a burning sensation felt in your throat, further accentuating your feelings of helplessness.

as you lay beneath the covers of your bed, chills would surround your form, sleep evading you as the congestion made your head feel heavier as it pounded within your temples. all you could manage was a series of painful whimpers as tears of frustration would run down your cheeks.

“there’s no need to cry, love.” your eyes go wide, recognizing the sound of his voice as you slowly sat up in bed. the shadows seemed to lengthen from the corner of your room, growing until it takes up half the wall as a tall figure steps out from it.

ebony locks of hair-

and grey eyes now glowing a gentle lilac as they met your gaze-

it was jinwoo… your jinwoo.

dressed in his usual dark dress shirt and pants, he steps into your bedroom with a look of adoration settled in his eyes. he sees your face painted in misery and takes quick strides towards you, taking you in his arms while surrounding you in his warmth.

you shiver against him, clinging to the front of his shirt while letting out a series of coughs. yet jinwoo doesn’t turn away from you or express any disgust, simply rubbing comforting circles around your back as he allows your coughing fits to pass.

thank you, you tried to tell him after your coughs, yet no sound comes out of your parted lips. you try to speak again, only for jinwoo to place a finger against your chapped lips.

“you don’t need to thank me for being here, my love. after all, it’s what lovers should do.”

your eyes widen in response to his words. how did he know what you wanted to tell him?

as if reading your thoughts, a playful smirk graces his features (making your heart race in response to how beautiful it made him appear) when he leans closer to press a kiss against your forehead, “i know you like the back of my own hand, love.”

giving you one last kiss, he suddenly stands from your bed, stretching while telling you, “i’ll go ahead and make some soup for you, then i’ll help you take your meds and let you rest.”

before he could take another step, you immediately reach out to him, gripping at his wrist to keep him from moving forward. he meets your gaze, calm grey meeting your dazed expression. you purse your lips and try once more to speak.

stay?

jinwoo’s eyes gently narrow in response to your silent plea, with him giving you a nod as he returns back into bed with you. getting beneath the covers, you scoot over to make room for him, letting out a pleased hum when jinwoo lays down with you. the moment he wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you oh so much closer to him, you bask in his warmth while hiding your face within his chest.

and with the sounds of jinwoo’s two, steady heartbeats echoing within your ear, you drift off into a peaceful slumber with the intensity of your cold slowly wearing off…

end notes: my cold has gotten a little better, but it’s still here bothering me, specifically my cough ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡ so i wrote a comfort fic with my beloved green flag mc jinwoo 🥹 i love you jinwoo, and what i wouldn’t give to have you spoil me with your cuddles while im feeling so sick 🥹 ♡ also, i wrote this in 20 minutes, so it’s nothing too serious and may have errors in it.

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[gloomyluvr]

TANS AND WHORES (just one and his name's rafe)

in which rafe plans a last minute beach day

fem!reader x rafe cameron

fluff

warnings!: playful whore and slut shaming (between reader and rafe), not a warning but reader is kinda suggested to have darker skin than rafe

a/n: may the ancestors forgive me for writing about a white man who'd probably call me a beaner if he was real 😓🙏. it's so hard to write any petnames in english cuz it's not what the language i use for petnames typically. but i have to compromise and have reader call rafe something silly or simply just rafe 🥸 pls lmk of any spelling errors tysm!

beach days with the pogues were definitely one of your favorite past times. no doubt about it. there was just something so intimate about spending the whole day together by the ocean without a single care in the world other than partying, surfing and being inebriated. 

but you loved beach days with rafe cameron just a bit more. especially when rafe was the one who planned them.

it was only 10am when the buzzing of your phone from under your pillow had awoken you. you groaned, annoyed that someone had disrupted your beauty sleep. without even looking at the contact , you answered the call. 

“what.” you made no effort to hide your annoyance. 

“hey baby, you just waking up?” 

quickly, you sat up. your sour mood instantly turns sweet at the sound of your boyfriend's voice. “hey sexy, yeah sorry i slept real late last night. what’s up?”

rafe chuckled at the switch up, “the uv’s at 9 and supposed to reach 11 so, i thought we should go to the beach. it’d be perfect for you to try that oil.”

“aww you remembered! you’re such a cutie patootie, awww!” you teased.

“yeah yeah, whatever. anyways, i have our bag packed. i want you ready by 10:30. i’m about to leave tannyhill.”

you pulled your phone away to check the time and gasped. “rafe it’s already 10:16! that’s not enough time to get ready!” 

“yes it is, you don’t needa put on makeup or do your hair. just throw on a fucking bikini,” he demanded, “i already packed some extra clothes in the bag just in case we go somewhere after.”

you groaned into the phone dramatically, letting your frustration be known. but rafe stayed unbothered, already used to your bratty attitude.

“10:30.” he restated before hanging up.

at the beach, rafe set up your spot with your towels, umbrella, and chairs all while you stood next to him serving looks. once everything was set, you kneeled on your towel while digging into the bag rafe had messily packed, desperately searching for your tanning oil as rafe sat on the towels behind you, putting on sunscreen as you had advised him the u.v. rays were far too intense for his sensitive pale skin to handle.

“baby can you get my back please.” 

you looked back at rafe only to find his bare back facing you, “put on a shirt whore!” 

“you’re literally wearing the skimpiest bikini ever, slut!” rafe called back, used to your usual antics. 

you gasped, “i’m gonna let you burn until your skin flakes off.” you threatened, smacking the blonde’s back causing him to grunt.

“do it then.” he challenged, knowing you would never let him suffer such pain. responding in a sigh you stayed quiet as you gave in and covered his freckled back with spf. “how come you can practically be naked while i can’t even take my shirt off.” 

“because,” you massaged the sunscreen into rafe’s tense muscles, “i’m super hot and sexy and i have an even hotter and sexier, jacked, six foot something boyfriend who can fight. unfortunately for him, my manicures matter to me too much to wanna ruin them. that and i can't fight for shit. okayyy my turnnn!”

you quickly handed rafe the expensive ass tanning oil you begged him for. according to you, it worked wayyy quicker than the typical drugstore oils that had barely even tinted your naturally tan skin plus it even had skin benefits or some bullshit.

 rafe only hummed, before switching places with you. he poured the greasy oil into his hands, rubbing them together. he scoffed, not believing he had spent nearly 100 dollars on the oil. not that it had hurt his wallet or anything, he just didn’t understand what the big deal was. regardless he bought it for you just to see the smile he loved so dearly.

large hands began messily roaming your back. rafe made sure to get every nook and cranny of your back, partly because he wanted to protect you from the sun, but mostly because he would take whatever chance he could to touch you. 

“want me to help you with your front too?” rafe asked ever so kindly, but you looked back at him to see him with the biggest smirk on his face that immediately let you know this generous offer was nowhere as innocent as it seems. he raised his eyebrows, eager for a response.

“fine, but don’t be nasty.” you turned back around, patiently waiting for rafe as you watched the waves crash.

“yea yea, whatever you want.” rafe muttered. you didn’t have to see your boyfriend to know that he had the biggest smile on his face, with no intention of staying true to his word.

bonus a/n: originally, this was supposed to be a bit longer, i was gonna write them in the water just bullying each other but then it became really suggestive and like i scrapped it.

i write to have a lil rafe cameron fluff in the sea of smuts and angst 😓 and yet here i was, close to unintentionally writing smut !!! beyondddd ashamed of myself. but no hate to smut writers, i love u freaks 🙂‍↕️

[mqybqnks]

Breathe Babygirl

SYNOPSIS: When you wake up with barely any sleep in horrid pain and start having an attack anxiety, you rush to JJ Maybank who instantly does his best to comfort & help you.

PAIRING: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Stomach illness & anxiety attack.

AUHTOR’S NOTE: I wrote this today to comfort myself tbh but also wrote to comfort anyone else who isn’t feeling well too! Hopefully. 🤍 English was my third language btw.

(Song is optional. Just felt like adding one)

Early morning, the pain was actually hitting you quite hard and panic was steadily rising. It had been a while since you felt this way… the anxiety part. You thought it was gone forever but there it goes again, sneaking up on you like the bitch it is.

Your stomach had felt awful, you weren’t sure what triggered it this time but it ruined your sleep. It had felt like an actual rock was in your stomach, ripping away—it was so sharp and the nausea was at tenfolds.

You gulped and in a very short amount of time, you ran on autopilot looking for one person. Your feet taking you straight out the door despite the crippling pain you felt in your lower stomach, shooting up to the upper abdomen.

Now, you had never done this… so when JJ Maybank, your boyfriend, caught sight of you walking to him while he was out in the garage, surprisingly already awake—his concern and worry skyrocketed. You looked distraught and he had no idea why.

Immediately, he was walking to you and wrapped his arms around you, “Hey baby, what’s wrong? I got you.”

A hug and his voice should have soothed you but it only did a little when you were literally shaking with body tremors now and he felt it, his hold tightening slightly, “Baby?”

You spoke, “I slept like, two hours and I have a horrible sharp pain in my stomach.”

As if on cue, you groaned and continued as he listened, his brows furrowing.

“And I’m so nauseated, Jay. I feel like garbage. I’m tired and it’s making me super anxious… I- I never told you but I used to suffer from bad anxiety attacks… all the time, before we met.”

He knew that you, his girlfriend, had a stomach illness and issues that could make life unbearable at times when flares happened but you always seemed to handle it, despite his protests and arguments. You always masked yourself as okay and it would tick him off endlessly but he tried to control it.

What he didn’t know was that you used to suffer from bad anxiety.

He spoke quietly, his strong arms still wrapped around you trying to will the tremors away, “Why didn’t you tell me?” He almost sounded like he was wearing a frown now for not realizing this but you were so unwell that he couldn’t get mad.

“I thought they were gone for good… it’s been a long time since this happened. To be honest, I’m sort of scared of being ill. It’s not fun having these dumb health issues… but it got so much better, I- I… wasn’t expecting this and-“

Your trembling got worse and your breathing started faltering there. It was always shitty how it would just escalate so fast, the feeling of panic increasing along with the feeling of sickness.

He started rubbing a hand up and down your back, soothingly, “Shh, shh… it’s okay, sweetheart. Focus on me now. I’m right here, deep breaths babygirl.”

You tried but were struggling to focus now and he sensed it, “One, two, three, four, five inhale… one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight exhale… c’mon.”

When you felt the tears startle to prickle and the breathing technique not working, you shuddered out a breath. Pulling away just a tad, “I can’t. I can’t… it’s not helping!”

Then when the pain hit even sharper, you almost kneeled over but he kept holding you up—a noise of discomfort coming out as you clutched your tummy.

“Let’s get inside, get you sat. Can’t stand like this,” He suddenly lifted you up like it was nothing while you made that pained face and felt more shaky than ever.

He was always your strong man and this was the time to use that strength. His heart broke though when he saw that look on your face, “Jesus Christ, baby…” He muttered and quickly walked you indoors to put you on the couch. He kept you on his lap, starting to rub your tummy, trying to ease it all.

His hand kept running circles but that stubborn ache wouldn’t let up.

“Nn…” You let out a small whine and he sighed, feeling a bit panicky himself.

“I’m gon’ go get you some medicine? Alright?” He said and carefully detangled from you, standing up but you spoke.

“No! Um…”

His brow quirked and he almost scoffed, “babygirl, you are starting to lose color, what do you mean ‘no’ to meds?”

“I… really don’t like meds, J. Please… can you just make me some tea? Tea can help sometimes,” you breathed out.

He couldn’t help but give in to the request, letting out a large exhale, “tea… yeah, I’ll get you that. Just stay put, I won’t take long.”

He noticed a sense of anxiety in you at the fact of him being gone for a few minutes, he almost struggled walking to the kitchen to leave you.

You hated yourself for being so clingy and needy at this moment, you normally prided yourself on not being that but alas, you were freaked out and it sucked.

You nodded and he bit his lip, “five minutes, stay here.”

He was hesitating but knew you needed something so he finally urged his feet to move to the kitchen so he can make tea.

After some minutes, he came back with the steaming mug, settling right next to you. One arm slung over your shoulder as you leaned to him in your shaken state and the other holding the mug.

It was ginger tea, for the nausea and discomfort—he hoped it would do the trick.

He carefully handed it but when he saw your tremors at work still, he put his hand over yours holding the mug to steady it.

“Drink,” He said, assuring he’d help you hold it. His hand was as warm as the mug and it felt nice, safe.

Once you finished with the tea, he pulled you closer and moved his free hand to your tummy to rub soothing circles as you fully leaned on him, head burying to his side.

“Tea’s gonna help, baby. Just relax with me now… deep breaths again.”

You nodded, trying to do exactly that.

After about forty minutes of hell slowly fading over, he felt relieved to feel your shaking stop completely.

He lifted your face a bit to take a look at you. He saw how exhausted you seemed, needing sleep. The weary look ok your face made him sad.

“Is the pain gone? Nausea?”

You nodded, “yeah, JJ… it’s gone. Tea helped.” Sighing in relief and so did he, “good, you need sleep babe.”

“I do, two hours was not enough.”

He changed the position, carefully laying himself on the couch and bringing you slowly with him, to lay right on top of him—everything was done with the uttermost affection for his girl.

“Sleep, I’ll stay with you.” He whispered softly, taking his fingers to thread through your soft hair.

You melted at that simple action, it meant everything. You nuzzled your head into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and holding on.

You closed your eyes, “thank you, love you.”

He smiled to himself, taking his free arm to wrap around you as he held you close while you two rested.

“I love you too… also, there’s no shame in needing some help and comfort, darlin’. I want you to always get me, ok? No more, doing it all on your own bullshit.”

“Jay…” you mumbled.

“I mean it. I know you can handle your shit most times but I got you anyway, so just listen for once?” His voice was stern and it made you feel something.

You sighed, knowing he was concerned and maybe a little irritated. Not at you per se but with the situation.

“Okay.” You simply replied, feeling more and more relaxed to the way he was gently playing with your hair and holding you with the other arm. He tugged you closer with just that one arm.

“Damn, you’re really not well today if you just agreed with no complaints but fuck, I’m takin’ that babygirl.”

You let out a quiet chuckle, tightening your hold on him.

“Yeah, yeah… no sass today. I know.”

“As much as I love your fire sometimes though, good. Better not sass me with this.” And that made you grin just a little to yourself.

“I’m shuttin’ up now, sleep… shh.” He placed a kiss on top of your head then closed his eyes and you felt yourself slowly drifting off to a peaceful and much needed rest. With your boyfriend and you cuddled up and cozy.

[stupidlittlespirit]

Ford getting sick and you have to take care of him. hes so stubborn, I bet he refuses to accept that he's sick and even once he does he thinks it won't interfere with his work or anything anyways. minutes later he's passed out at his desk. poor thing. drag him to bed and help him through the fever dreams and unsavory symptoms. doctor, he needs cuddles, stat!

I like to think that once he's returned from the portal, he's got an exceptionally developed immune system. I mention it in Spores (with the death cap thing) and I do think he'd have picked up so many foreign germs that he just kind of becomes super resilient to bugs and stuff in his home dimension, to a certain extent.

BUT, there's nothing funnier to me than imagining him believing this 1000% and never taking precautions, then catching the most regular ass flu and being devastated by it. Like, picture War of the Worlds: all these crazy aliens who are super developed end up dying out because they catch fucking H1N1 LMAOOOOOO

He gets the first twinges of the flu (headaches, soreness etc) and assumes it's just being old/typical chronic pain/because he's been overworking, and so he just ignores it. It's no big deal.

Except, the next day, he wakes up feeling absolutely rotten. Head throbbing, body aching, feeling like he's moving through molasses, sweaty, snotty, just generally disgusting.

Everyone can see that he's poorly, except for Ford. He starts losing his voice because he refuses to shut up and rest his throat, and if he takes the advice then he has to acknowledge that he's unwell. So he refuses. He just goes on in the way he usually does, over explaining things and lecturing until it goes completely. Nothing more than a squeak.

He'll keep working, though. He's just got to power through it, he won't back down! He's in the lab wondering why he's got double vision when he tries to concentrate on his samples and he ends up getting mad at himself for not being able to focus, so he retires to his study in the hopes that maybe he can get some shitty paperwork done.

Which is where, as you say, you find him a few hours later, slumped over his desk, passed the fuck out and drooling on his papers.

You're loathe to move him because he never sleeps this soundly, but he's going to totally fuck up his back if he stays hunched over like that, so you have to very carefully wake him up and gently (but firmly) convince him that he has to go to bed for his own good. I expect his willpower to resist at that point would be very low and so it wouldn't take much.

So you guide him into his bed and fetch him tea and soup and cold medicine, and tend to his needs like the perfect nurse. Maybe he asks you to bring some books to bed because he thinks he'll be bored, but because he's too exhausted to even sit upright, you offer to read them to him until he passes out again.

And I definitely think he'd end up falling asleep on you. He won't outright be vulnerable and ask for a cuddle but he'll allude to it heavily, and you'll pick up what he's putting down because at this point, you've gotten used to his weird communication issues. So you prop yourself up next to him in bed and he snuggles up close.

I do think Ford's a big guy, though, so he'd pin you with his dead weight and you wouldn't be able to move without disturbing him.

Thankfully, he doesn't have any nightmares. I think usually he would but instead of the typical fever dreams most people get when they're suffering a bad flu, Ford gets the reverse: just a dead, black sleep. It ends up being quite pleasant for him and he conks out each night for like 14 hours straight for the first time in like 30 years.

He'd be soooo utterly pathetic and needy; can't do anything for himself and even needs help to be bathed when the flu peaks because he's so weak..... He totally groans and complains non stop, bless him.

When he gets back to normal though, he's totally revitalised and energetic from all the rest and TLC. It's like he's a young man again, raring to go and bouncing off the walls ("I should get sick more often, this is wonderful!").

And then a few days later, when you start sneezing and aching, Ford has to do all the same things for you.... In between several fruitless attempts to synthesize a cure for the common cold just for you. (He fails every time, of course, but he tries his best).

[iamnotshazam]

Zeus and Hera are arguing about who has more fun in bed, men or women. Hera thinks men, probably because she's always coping with hubby Zeus running after every thing with a hole, while Zeus says "Nuh-uh" and says women are secretly hos and like it more than men do.

They call up Tiresias, who has spent time as both a man and a woman, even marrying and bearing his own kids (long story), and he says:

"Of ten parts a man enjoys one only;

But a woman enjoys the full ten parts in her heart."

meaning women are an order of magnitude more able to enjoy sex than men. Because some parts of Greece thought women were icky and didn't let them go to parties (Athens), and this was justified by saying women were horndogs, and Hera is trying to make Zeus realize he's being unreasonable and she's also in a constant state of pissed, she curses Tiresias for the truth and strikes him blind.

Zeus, in a rare bit of compassion (see also Baucis and Philemon), decides that wasn't cool of Hera and gives Tiresias prophecy, and also a much longer life, which makes me think this is also a story about how people realized he was in way too many stories than he could have been possibly alive for.

Baucis and Philemon is the story of an old, old couple who have nothing and will die with nothing. One day, while Zeus and Hermes are walking along pretending to be mortal, no one in town lets them inside to stop and rest. They come to Baucis and Philemon's, asking for dinner.

Baucis and Philemon give them what little food they have, fulfilling one of the most sacred Greek rules, xenia, hospitality towards an unthreatening stranger. Especially important to a guy like Hermes, god of traveling, and Zeus, who as king of the gods has to occasionally pretend to care about the rules.

Zeus and Hermes are touched and ask them what they'd like, if they could have anything they wanted. Baucis and Philemon answer they just would want to spend all the rest of their time together.

So the gods bless them, and instead of letting them suffer the pain of old age and death, they turn Baucis and Philemon into two trees that grow around each other. They're still together forever, safe and embracing.

I learnt a very valuable lesson concerning hubris and speaking ill of long-standing gods today. I may need to go find an old man so he can tell me the story of the Iliad someday