#truly the patience of a saint

[yuwuta]

nurse bf yuuta and his soft touches when you get a check up at the doctor, one of his palms resting on your lower back while he checks your heartbeat, insisting on giving you one of the silly kids bandaids after you get a shot, sneaking in quick kisses because it will make you feel better!!! doctors orders!!!!

oh pls you get sick/come in to wherever yuuta works and conflict of interest be damned, he is going to be the one in that room with you. the provider that’s around just lets it happen too bc yuuta is capable, but it’s also very clear that he will not let it happen any other way 

he also (1) forces you to get checked out in urgent care even if you’re sure it’s just a cold and then (2) coddles you like crazy once you’re home. yeah, he’s a nurse and rationally, he knows this will pass, but he’s also your boyfriend and that comes first. you nap every other hour bc your meds make you drowsy and yuuta is so bad at trying to be stealthy to check your heart rate and change the cold towel on your neck, and you always wake up to him like inches from your face giving you a deer in headlights look before he smiles and pats your head and tells you to go back to sleep :( 

[ratatatastic]

½ of the Sunrise Welcome Committee found pushing erod around... more news at 11

[sivavakkiyar]

I am humbled daily by seeing what frequent desiblr engagers deal with. god bless you all and that’s honestly not a joke.

[dave-me0wstaine]

How was Dave able to snag Pamela though

i read dave’s memoir and i actually kinda know!! they met at a bar and it was history from there :)

but honestly dave got incredibly lucky with her!! he met a woman who was willing to put up with his shenanigans in the 90s lmao

[petit-papillion]

Charles with a fan at the airport after arriving in Brazil | 31 October 2023

📸 ifstargaryen

[queenofbaws]

heyyy queenie hope ur doin well!! bit of a curveball but im Curious since ive been brain rotted with it lately, so could i ask for whump prompt 13 for the scream franchise?? any characters/movie u want, but id love u to take a stab (tee hee hee) at it :]

not-quite-six sentence weekend :P

There were a lot of emotions playing across Mindy's face as Amber pulled the knife out: doubt, intrigue, disbelief, something that could only be described as pre-schadenfreude...but worry wasn't among them. Neither were its closest cousins, concern and fear, so Tara had to figure the sudden uptick in her pulse was, in fact, solely her issue. If Mindy wasn't worried, then there probably wasn't anything to worry about. Period.

Probably.

Probably.

"Sick, right?" Amber flicked her wrist, a flourish that immediately came across as practiced even to her untrained eyes, and the butterfly knife click-click-clicked around her fingers before snapping back into place. "Copped it at a gun show this weekend with my dad. Guy running the stall said I was a natural."

"Why am I not surprised?" Tara snickered, then feigned a frightened little noise and pulled away when Amber turned, holding it out towards her. "You know if anyone catches you messing with that thing, like, right outside of school, they're gonna take it, right? You do get that? It makes sense to you? In your brain?"

She pulled a face, scrunching her nose up. "Uh, no they won't."

"Uhhh, why not?"

With another click-click-clack, she spun the knife around. "How're they gonna take it from me? I've got a kniiife."

Before she could pull away, Amber took one of Tara's hands in hers, laying it flat on the table they were sitting at. She laid her own hand perfectly on top of it, lining their fingers up until Tara's hand disappeared entirely.

"Want to see the coolest trick?"

"Uh." That was it. That was all she had time to say before Amber flexed her hand - both their hands, really - and their fingers spread wide, and...and she understood what she was about to do. Her eyes widened. "Hey, wait, nononononono!"

"Chillax, I've been doing it all week and I've still got all my fingers. You're in good hands."

"Famous last words." Though she'd been going on quite the face journey across the table, Mindy had been awfully quiet until then. Now, as Amber switched her grip on the knife, holding it more like a caveman getting ready to strike, she leaned forward with her elbows on the table, pointing her phone down at their hands.

Pre-schaudenfreude. Yeah. Tara had been right on the money with that one.

"Seriously?" Amber scoffed, "What? You think I'm gonna get performance anxiety or something?"

She sniffed once, Mindy, then shrugged one of her shoulders. Her phone didn't budge. "Nah, I just want to make sure I get this clusterfuck on video so there's evidence in the inevitable personal injury suit Tara's gonna file against you when you slice her open like an Amazon box."

Amber raised her eyes to Mindy's, her expression inscrutable. "I'd stab myself first, duh. That's the whole point of putting my hand over hers."

"Oh yeah, totally," she nodded. "The whole point, mhm. Well this is for you too, because when you stab yourself, then, I can send it to America's Funniest Home Videos. They give out cash rewards for the really funny ones, don't they?"

"Hilarious."

Tara braced herself as Amber readjusted, rolling her shoulders and assuming her focus-face. Ooh, she didn't want to be a part of the finger-stabby-knife-game-thing, she didn't want to be a part of that at all, but what choice did she have? If she pulled away, it'd knock Amber's concentration off! If she just sat there and took it, the risk of getting stabbed was literally exactly the same! There was no winning here, no getting out it, no -

"Hey guys!"

The choice was made for her.

Wes slammed his hands on the table as he joined them, sliding up from behind to sit on her other side. It startled her so badly that she could only pull away, jolting like a cat with its tail stepped on. Across the table, Mindy groaned, and beside her, Amber similarly jumped, and while her poor, asthmatic little lungs really didn't appreciate the sudden scare, her poor, unstabbed little fingers sure did.

"What's going on? Why're we all hunched over and whispery?" he asked, but the only answer she had for him with a quick smack on the wrist. "Ow?"

"Why would you do that?" she breathed a second later, the tension leaving her in one huge whooping rush. "That wasn't cool! You could've - " But as luck would have it, that was where her lecturing came to a close. Her eyes had flicked to the side for just a second, a natural human reaction, and what she'd seen...well, she wasn't sure what to make of it. "...what?" Tara asked, glancing between Amber and Mindy.

"So America's Funniest Home Videos then, huh?" Mindy's eyebrows went up as her phone went down. "If I was a pettier person, just so you know? This is where I'd be saying I told you so. But I'm not! Lucky you."

It took her a moment longer than she would've liked to figure out what that could've possibly meant. When she did, she startled all over again, almost jumping out of her seat as she spun to look at Amber. "Ohmygod - did you - ?!"

"I'm. Fine," she said through gritted teeth, looking anything but.

She did get up then, standing from the table's bench to circle around and - the noise that came out of her was a little too embarrassing to describe. "Fine? You're fine?! You have a goddamn knife sticking out of your leg!"

Wes paled immediately, turning to Mindy with wide eyes, no doubt hoping she'd shed some light on the situation. She didn't, surprising no one, and instead glanced towards the front doors of the school, waving Chad over to join them when she spotted him across the way. "Well here's the good news, Am," she said, not even trying to hide her amusement, "I think you can definitely still salvage that psychosexual homoerotic tension you were going for with that brilliant stunt. Just yank that puppy out, let Tara stick a finger in there and wiggle it around a little. No harm, no foul. Everybody wins!" Then, under her breath but still more than loud enough for them all to hear over Amber's harsh breathing, "Especially me, once your idiot-ass goes viral."

[memekeymouse]

Don't worry, Mickey and Oswald truly embrace their brotherly relationship by repeatedly squaring off. They wouldn't be true siblings if they didn't get into petty arguments every now and again.

I mean I don’t doubt that but I’m not talking about just petty sibling arguments. I’m talking about Mickey being absolutely done with being judged by other people who don’t even know him (or care to) and THEN being expected to just be the better person and take it every single time

and imagine all of that coming from the toon he JUST found out is his brother AND the guy his no-longer-dad decided to have replaced with him 🫠

[cats-in-the-clouds]

it is unfortunate when i go to prayer and cry my eyes out and the only response i really hear is that i simply have to bear it. like usually i can get my emotions out and once they’re settled i hear a rational solution but it sucks when i don’t get the answer i want. i just have to keep waiting. like normally i hear something that gives me strength but wow apparently i’ve hit a new low

[starscelly]

💌 if you'd like :D

!!! OF COURSE I WOULD. u r literally. amazing show stopping nobody doing it like you etc. first of all. ur gifs and everything are obviously always Insanely good like. possibly niche but I appreciate the editing on them so much they always look Amazing and beautiful. and i feel like ur always so helpful when i have a silly little question which. i cannot even begin to express my appreciation for omg . i will throw the most random question into the void abt editing and u r there like. i adore u sincerely ur so sweet. and in the least weird way possible i am Obsessed with ur mind!! i can literally scroll back like years ago probably and find msgs to my friends where im like “i want to analyze hrpf data” but i do not have the mind for that. but you do!!!! and you did that!!!!! and i think abt it everyday!!!!! like insane in but also. i have spent absurd amounts of time looking at the stats u put together even when i have no idea what theyre abt lol . like ur projects are always amazing and have so much work and care put into them and i adore them and you <3<3

[emiliosandozsequence]

ok i'm sick of carrion now 🙄

[fearsomeandwretched]

I'm gonna be honest I stopped reading the cut article about the lady who wanted to divorce her husband after she was like oh btw I also cheated on him as a random aside 3/4ths of the way in

[peachylynnie]

wine

word count: 1.3k

synopsis: in which sylus is obsessed with your lips.

contains: sylus x mc!reader (not dating because i like tormenting him like that), alcohol consumption, horny sylus (not smut tho), suggestive themes, mentions of violence and blood, and LOTS of cussing.

a/n: i told myself i wouldn't write anything until i finish finals but sylus won. i'm also avoiding his myth spoilers since i didn't pull his pair yet. enjoy reading! do NOT copy or translate my work. sylus does NOT endorse plagiarism.

sylus wants to kiss you right now. he wants to kiss you so fucking badly, it hurts. 

you can't blame the man. you looked absolutely delectable right now. hair up, ears jeweled, eyes hooded, and back bared, oh, you looked so good in the dress he handpicked for you; he could just devour you whole and leave nothing to spare. 

and he would have no remorse for doing so either. the auction you two were at was filled with fucking nobodies. how dare they look at you, let alone breathe the same air as you? he's lost count of how many times he felt the urge to just demolish this shithole of a place. 

sylus sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. he knows he's being irrational. after all, he was the one who suggested you two attend this auction. you showed interest in an old manuscript that just so happened to be available only at this auction, and he would be damned if he didn't get you everything you could ever want. hell, you could even ask him for his heart, and he would tear it out of his cold chest, deliver it to your divine feet, get on his fucking knees, and beg for you to demand more of him. 

so, actually, you can blame him for the situation he is in. he was the one who picked the set you're wearing right now oh so ravishingly. he was the one who brought you to this stupid auction that's taking so long to get on with it already—where the fuck is the manuscript? but most importantly, he was the one who made your lips look so damn kissable right now. 

he knew what he was doing when he picked your lipstick for you. deep scarlet that would match his eyes and look good on you. but he never thought it would look this good on you. sylus curses under his breath, feeling his pants tighten around his crotch after remembering you bent over the sink to gaze at the mirror and paint your lips. he recalls how it took him everything not to stride over to you, spin you around, and slam his lips onto yours, hoping to get a smear of that majestic shade. 

oh, but it wasn't just the shade of your lips that drove him crazy. it was the texture, too. you must've been feeling heated because you go to take another sip of the wine in your hand. the matted, creamy lip print you leave on the glass has the silver-haired man inhaling sharply and tightening his grip on the table. what he would give to have such a work of art printed on him instead. he wants it all over him. his face, his neck, his fingertips, his cock—everywhere until no single part of him was unmarked by your luscious lips. until there was no room to even question who he belonged to. 

that's how badly sylus wants to kiss you right now. but he stops himself using the single thread of patience he has left. yes, the two of you were technically alone, standing at the table in the far back. thank god he reserved a table just for the two of you so only he could marvel at your lip-stained glass. no one would interrupt if the two of you were to just have a full-blown make-out session right now.

but sylus knew better. he knew that you were still wary of him. this, you can blame him. after all, he's not a saint. his entire being is smothered in blood, down to the very tip of his designer shoes. he built his lavish empire of protocores and guns from the taking of lives. hell, he even threatened you the first time you met. though, he only did that to push you to your full potential. he could never truly harm you. but sylus knows you. you, in your most beautiful human form, who dwells not only on the past but also on the lives of others. you, whose empathy is so strong, sylus can't help but admire, even though he sometimes wishes you would just let loose and bring hell upon all those who dare to cross you. thus, your continued, empathy-driven wariness of him. but, sylus knows how to compromise. he's okay with being the one with bloodied hands and fucked-up morals so long as it means seeing you, even if it means from afar. besides, you haven't reported him to your little hunter friends yet. he supposes that's a start, and he could settle with that. he could also settle with this: 

"is the wine to your liking, sweetie?" he asks smoothly. 

you flinch, taken aback by sylus' sudden question. you were wondering when he would stop staring at you and actually start paying attention to the auction. not that you mind having sylus' eyes on you. it's just that the borderline depraved look in his crimson eyes was making you feel all hot inside and you really wanted to stop feeling all hot inside whenever you were near him, let alone thinking about him. 

"uh yeah," you nervously chuckle, setting the glass down. "it's better than i thought." you turn your gaze to a waiter nearby, hoping to get a glass for sylus since he seemed so interested in yours for some reason. "here, let me get one for you too." 

you try to catch the waiter's attention by raising your right hand, but sylus stops you. he grasps your hand with his left and rests it on the table. you furrow your eyebrows at him, wondering why he stopped you. sylus, the man who appreciates (that's the nicest way you can describe it) alcohol passing a chance at a complimentary drink? you're utterly confused. 

"no need," sylus gives a gentle squeeze, trying to ease your confusion. though, you're not prepared for what happens next. 

sylus picks up your glass with his free hand, plants his lips on your lip print, and takes a slow sip. your eyes widen, feeling the heat that was coiling in your stomach spread all around your tense body. holy shit, did he just—? 

the aggravating godsend of a man next to you finishes your drink with a satisfied sigh, wiping the garnet droplets from the corner of his lips but not the paint left by yours. "hm," sylus drags his tongue along his lips, a smirk threatening to show. "it is better than i thought."

you flush, seeing your lipstick smudged on sylus' succulent lips. you don’t know what to say. he totally did that on purpose. there's no way he didn't. does this mean the two of you technically kissed-

you don't allow yourself to finish that last thought. you blink rapidly, trying to get your now parched mouth to say something. anything. but you can't. you're completely flustered to the point where all you can do is just gape at sylus with a blush the shade of his eyes tinting your cheeks. 

sylus grins, the tip of his canine peeking out from his now-tainted lips. this is better than he thought. perhaps, he should settle more often if it means getting to see you so cutely aroused and embarrassed like this. though, he knows he won't be able to settle for long. he knows one day, he won't be able to hold himself back anymore. one day, he'll conquer your lips for himself and relentlessly indulge in the real thing. but for now, sylus is content. for now. 

"cat got your tongue, sweetie?" sylus teases, tilting his head to meet your shaky gaze. 

you jerk your head away, trying to get the image of his lips out of your mind. "eyes on the prize, sylus." 

sylus chuckles, but not without placing his elbow on the table and propping his face on his hand to get a better look at you. "oh, my eyes are on the prize, sweetie. my eyes are on the prize." 

[howthesleeplesswander]

❛ if you fall, i will catch you. ❜ For Kaveh from Cyno

Songs from the 80s Sentence Starters | Accepting! | @luzofstars

((bless Cyno for watching out for this idiot 😂 it really is a full-time job asdlkfj))

At the sound of Cyno's very distant voice, Kaveh paused his climbing for what had to be the dozenth time. This time, however, he foolishly peered down the cliff face to where his friend waited safely at the bottom. Afraid of heights or not, the seemingly endless stretch of uneven stone below him still made his stomach swoop.

Groaning against dizziness and the pervasive thought that this was absolutely crazy!, his fingers clutched desperately to sun-bleached rock. "You'd better!" he shouted, his tone mildly hysterical. "Or you'll be carrying my corpse back to Sumeru City!" Archons, why was it always him who got into these situations?

Muttering curses under his breath, Kaveh returned his focus upward to make sure the culprit he chased was still in sight. Thankfully, the sleek tail of a red vulture still flicked over the distant ledge. The strap of Kaveh's travel bag hung down just beside it—accompanied by sounds of shuffling and tearing that were arguably even more heart-sinking than the fatal drop.

In a burst of determination Kaveh managed to pull himself up onto a narrow ridge. It was just wide enough to stand on, and he took advantage to catch his breath. "Are you sure there's no safer way to get up here?" he called, desperate for Cyno's knowledge of the desert to save him from an untimely demise that seemed more likely the higher he went. "Getting my bag back won't do me any good if I'm dead!"

[veraiku]

like you mad at me, baby !

─ ➤ In which he accidentally eavesdrops on your conversation with a friend regarding your fantasies of him going rough. and as your boyfriend, who was he to deny his pretty girlfriend?

⊹˙. ꒰ featuring ─ Yukimiya Kenyu x fem! reader ꒱ .˙⊹

** warnings : fem! reader, light cheek slapping (like twice), light choking, pet names (sweetheart, love, baby), p in v, mating press I think, unprotected sex (don’t try this at home !!), mentions of manhandling, and poorly written smut hehe ૮˶´ ᵕˋ ა . .

** note : hihi !! this is my first fanfic / drabble ever so I’m sorry if it’s weird + english isn’t my first language so please excuse the mistakes that are made .. and honestly I was half asleep making this fic LOL .. buut if you do enjoy, do consider reblogging maybe ;3 ? tqq !!

** wc : 1,565 words !

໒ ; be warned ! smut below the cut. ;

Yukimiya Kenyu has the patience of a saint. he’s sweet — kind, caring, the synonyms go as long as a grocery shopping list. and oh, not to mention his respect for women. it’s truly endearing how he’s not afraid to express that to you — how he’s not afraid to make sure that you know that you’re his first and last love. by carrying your groceries, giving his jacket when it’s cold out, he truly never fails to show how much he loves you.

now, he’s also not one to eavesdrop. he finds it truly disrespectful and meaningless. he’s sure to keep his ears and mind to himself whenever a phone call or conversation is happening around him — friend or not, even if it’s just a word he had heard — he doesn’t enjoy eavesdropping, no matter who it is talking.

but now, even if he hates to admit it, he’s slightly thankful that he eavesdropped a small bit on your conversation with a friend on the other line. even if the guilt is gnawing at him — eating him alive for even thinking on invading your privacy and for him to feel somewhat glad he did, another part of him wants to make your wishes come true.

“I dunno. it’s not that he doesn’t satisfy me — hell, he’s more than enough. I just want to know what he’s like if he’s a little rough, y’know what I mean?”

oh, he knows what you mean. he’s not shaming you for it — your wishes are completely valid and understandable. he has always been rather gentle and soft during intimacy — hands interlocked as he whispers praises into your ear, thrusts slow but deep — deep enough to hit that gummy spot inside of you and have your toes curling.

he doesn’t want to overstep boundaries, or do something you don’t like. the two of you have been in love for as long as he can remember, from where he was an unknown football player to a rising star of bastard münchen. he’d honestly rather lose his career than to lose you, because what would he ever do if his other half was missing?

chained by the worry of accidentally hurting you, he’s been keeping himself on his best behavior during intimacy, holding back the urge to start ravaging you and show you what he’s been wanting to do for so long. why else do you think he laces his fingers with yours gently, caressing your body affectionately while kissing every inch of your skin? even through the temptation he gets, from the talks in the locker rooms and the videos he’s watched — he has to hold himself and his thoughts together, trying to ignore the way his dick springs up at the thought of your eyes rolling to the back of your head and nails scratching his back to leave pretty marks as he fucks the life out of you.

after all, your pleasure and comfort was his top priority, he doesn’t blame you for wanting a change of pace. but as your boyfriend, it’s his duty to make your wishes come true — right?

“k-kenyu -! what’s — mmph, gotten i-into you..!”

oh, you sound and look so pretty. lips parted in ecstasy with your brows furrowed, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes as you whine and writhe — if he knew this was what you wanted all along, he would’ve done this sooner, much much sooner. his grip on your legs grow tighter, making sure they don’t fall off his shoulders as he meanly drills his cock inside of your gummy walls.

“hm? thought this was what you wanted, sweetheart.” his tone was sickeningly sweet, as if he was comforting you on a bad day — as if his length wasn’t abusing your poor, sopping cunt. his glasses were folded neatly on the bedside table, as if he’s been planning on doing this for so long, as if he’s planned this from the very, very beginning.

what a silly question — he thinks. he could practically see the gears working in your head, as you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to make out what he was trying to imply behind that sweet and soothing tone of his — even through the way he was molding your pretty pussy into the precise shape of his cock, to its tip down to its veins, through the way that he was slowly engraving his name on your brain.

“h-haah ? — what do y-you mean, Ken—”

“I overheard your conversation.”

he wastes little to no time on cutting you off of your words. he lifts your hips a little higher, angling his own to hit even deeper inside of you. to him, him overhearing your conversation was nothing more than a silly excuse to fuck you a little rougher than he usually would. he would never intentionally eavesdrop on any phone call you were having. he couldn’t bite back the chuckle bubbling in his chest as you still looked up at him, dazed and confused — trying to focus on him and his words.

“about you wanting me to go rough.”

he almost wants to laugh at the way your eyes widen, lips parting to say something to defend yourself — but once more, he cuts you off, this time — with a sharp thrust of his hips against yours, watching in amusement and pleasure as your words abruptly turn into a choked moan.

“ ‘m not mad, love.” he reassures gently, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your forehead, one hand leaving your thighs to move to cup your cheeks, his hold gentle yet firm, a huge contrast to the way the sound of skin slapping quickly filled the room. a sleazy grin tugs the corners of his lips, as he lets out a soft, shaky exhale.

“haah — though I did wish you could’ve told me sooner,” he breathed out gently, slowly finding himself lost in the feeling of your walls wrapped so snugly around him — pulling him in deeper like a drug.

“you d-don’t know how — ugh, long I’ve been wanting to do this.” his eyes take in the pretty sight below him, how your chest heaves and breasts bounce with each harsh thrust. his hand trails down from your chin to your left boob, squeezing it gently.

he snickers at the way your head was tilting to the side slowly, as if you were completely fucked out already — your vision blurry with tears.

“look at me when I’m talking to you, sweetheart.” his hand gently slaps your cheek not once, but twice — gentle but firm enough to get your full attention. “makes me wonder. do you like it when I manhandle you, then?” tilting his head to the side slightly, his slender fingers trail down once more — wrapping around your pretty neck just enough to keep your head in place, pushing it against pillows gently.

“o-oh, yes — Kenyu, right there-!”

his cock hits that gummy spot inside of you which makes you loll your head back, the heel of your feet digging into his back as wanton moans escape your throat.

His brows knit together, soft grunts escaping his throat as he could feel you clench around him. it’s like his first time with you all over again. his hips moved at an inhuman speed — a speed he normally conserved for when he was on the field, whereas his goal would be to score the winning shot, but this time? his goal was to score his load into you as deep as he fucking could.

if his memory was bound to be erased, leaving him with only one choice on which memory he would like to keep, he would definitely choose this one.

shit. he could feel his dick twitching inside of you the more he took in the sight of his fingers wrapped around your throat, tears now streaming down your cheeks as the sound of skin slapping bounces off the walls — his balls hitting against your hole so perfectly. and he’s trying not to shoot his load just yet, because God does he want this moment to last, but with the way your eyes are rolled to the back of your head? it’s proving to be much more difficult then he had originally thought.

it’s almost unfair how pretty you look. a light sheen of sweat coating your body, a few strands of hair sticking to your forehead due to said sweat. how can you expect him to last? this was so much better than his imagination, so so much better than the thoughts his mind would visualize out during those nights where he’d fist his cock tightly to the thoughts of you.

“I-I’m sorry,, Kenyu — d-didn’t mean it that way, I swear —“ you say in between thrusts, struggling to keep your voice loud enough for him to hear properly. you could make out the chuckle escaping his lips, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“now, what’s there to be sorry about, love?” he coos gently,

“If anything, jus’ gives me more of a reason to have your eyes rolling further to the back of your skull.”

— a/n ! : ts lowkey ass but it’ll have to do for now woopsies, hope you guys liked this !!

I do not give consent to plagiarize, copy, or translate in any form whatsoever — thank you!

[s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s]

Hi Friends. Quick update on my life. I'm very excited about having new music to share, but I just wanted to let you know that one of the reasons why I haven't been able to participate in the press and promotion leading up to the release of Javelin is bc I am in the hospital. Last month I woke up one morning and couldn't walk. My hands, arms and legs were numb and tingling and I had no strength, no feeling, no mobility. My brother drove me to the ER and after a series of tests—MRIs, EMGs, cat scans, X-rays, spinal taps (!), echo-cardiograms, etc.—the neurologists diagnosed me with an auto immune disorder called Guillain-Barre Syndrome. Luckily there's treatment for this — they administer immuno-hemoglobin infusions for five days and pray that the disease doesn't spread to the lungs, heart and brain. Very scary, but it worked. I spent about two weeks in Med/Surg, stuck in a bed, while my doctors did all the things to keep me alive and stabilize my condition. I owe them my life.

On September 8, I was transferred to acute rehab, where I am now undergoing intensive physical therapy/occupational therapy, strength building etc. to get my body back in shape and to learn to walk again. It's a slow process, but they say I will "recover," it just takes a lot of time, patience, and hard work. Most people who have GBS learn to walk again on their own within a year, so I am hopeful. I'm only in my second week of rehab but it is going really well and I am working really hard to get back on my feet. I'm committed to getting better, I'm in good spirits, and I'm surrounded by a really great team. I want to be well!

I'll keep you posted as I progress. Thank you for your thoughts and prayers. And a huge shout out to all the incredible caretakers of the world working night and day to help us heal. They are living saints.

Be well, be joyful, stay sane, stay safe. I love you.

yours truly from a wheelchair XOXOXO Sufjan Stevens

[tofics]

Comfort Has A Name

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: For you, comfort has a name: Joel Miller.

Word count: ~1.1k words

Tags/Warnings: fluff, freezing your ass off, soft!Joel, jokes about saggy balls in hot weather

A/N: Look at that, I actually wrote something. I'm literally drowning in uni work atm so I have no idea when I'll get back to my other fics, but I'm too overwhelmed with my task list tonight so naturally I had to procrastinate and think about a comforting Joel situation. This is literally no more than a drabble, but maybe it can provide some comfort for you too 🥲

Tough and gruff as he may be, Joel Miller is still your comfort person.

Occasionally, people will ask you how the hell you deal with him on a daily basis, and you never know what to reply. Where do you get the patience?

You're not a saint, by no means. Your patience does not exceed the normal amount, but you've never found Joel testing it.

It's more the opposite, really.

Where other people complain that he grinds their gears, you think of him as the drop of oil that smoothes out the kink in your own system.

Like that day him and you got surprised by a thunderstorm and had to take shelter in an abandoned building. Nothing about the complex provided a sense of comfort; bare and crumbling walls, dust and rubble-coated floors, and more broken windows than intact ones to show for. It was a miserable night. You were freezing, drenched from the downpour the two of you had gotten caught in, and the wind wasn't helping either, howling through the cracks and holes in the ceiling and walls like a wailing ghost.

Joel and you had taken cover in one corner of the building. In the dim twilight of the early night, your two cowering figures could've easily passed as two more large pieces of rubble to the untrained eye. Your soaked clothes lay strewn around, hastily discarded and exchanged for dry clothes from your backpacks in an attempt to not lose more body heat than necessary. (Joel hadn't looked, of course, and neither had you. Both of you had turned their backs to each other as you'd quickly stripped off your clothes, as quickly as the soaked garments would allow.) Still, your teeth were chattering relentlessly, adding a rhythmic element to the white noise provided by the downpour outside.

You reached for your backpack to retrieve your sleeping bag, hoping to wrap it around you like a blanket for extra warmth, but you noticed the mishap as soon as your fingers found the side compartment of your bag. The flap hung loose, and your sleeping bag underneath it was drenched.

"Fuck." You muttered under your breath.

The flap must've had come loose sometime during your sprint through the rain, which left your sleeping bag drenched and you without a plan to warm up. With a sigh, you pulled the bunched up material from its tiny compartment and rolled it out over the floor next to your drenched clothes. You were doubtful any of it was going to be dry by morning, but the chances were still higher than if you kept it all bunched up in your backpack.

You'd slept on solid ground enough to know how cold and unwelcoming any stone surface could be, but that night, you truly understood whoever had coined the term 'stone cold'. The hard concrete against your back was drawing out more heat from your limbs than you could conjure, despite your best efforts. You had curled yourself into a ball, knees tucked tightly against your arms which were crossed over your chest. Your hands, formed into tight fists, were buried in your armpits, but it wasn't helping. Frost was settling in your every limb, slowly working its way from the tips of your extremities all the way to the core of your bones.

That's what you got for getting caught in the rain in early November.

"Hey." Joel's voice grumbled next to you, barely distinguishable over the rain splattering outside. You shifted your head and squinted at him through the dark.

He too was curled up into a human ball, but he'd extended an arm to you as if inviting you for a side-hug.

"C'mon," he said and beckoned you over with a flick of his hand.

You didn't need to be told twice. With your backpack in tow, you scooted over to him, dragging both your belongings and your butt over the dusty ice-cold floor.

"Whoa." You breathed out in surprise as you tucked yourself against Joel's side. His arm came down around you instantly, locking you in place and holding you closer to him than you might've allowed yourself. Heat radiated from his center like he secretly harbored a little white dwarf in his abdomen.

Before you could even think about what you were doing, you pushed yourself into Joel's side as much as physically possible. Your arms snaked around his waist and just barely touched on the other side, while your head came to rest below his chin on his chest, your legs all jumbled up into a big knot drawn as close to yourself as possible. It wasn't really a comfortable position, and yet it was as comfortable as you were ever gonna get.

"Are you an oven or something? How the hell are you so hot?"

Joel snorted. You could feel the low rumble of laughter vibrate in his chest that followed. "Guess that's genetics for 'ya," he retorted, and you only then realized the ambiguity of both your remarks. A lazy smile formed on your lips and you softly boxed his rib cage.

"Not what I meant," you said with half a laugh and quickly wrapped your arm back around his torso. His warmth was too delicious to give up for even a second. Already you felt ten times warmer than you'd had on your own, and that was just from a few seconds of being wrapped around Joel's middle like a jacket you had been reluctant to bring and now regretted.

"I know, sweetheart," he replied and you could hear the smile in his words. "Always been warm-blooded. S' a blessing in winter and a curse in summer. Always sweatin' my damn balls off from May to September."

"Hmm." You feigned a sound of delight. "Tell me more."

His chest vibrated once more as another round of laughter rumbled through him. This time, it was him who faintly smacked your head at your jest. "I'm serious. Ain't no fun having your balls basically stick to your knees all damn summer."

Your eyelids fluttered close as you rolled your eyes. What a charming picture he was conjuring up in your brain.

"You know, when I said tell me more? I really didn't mean that." You shook your head at the picture of a sweaty ballsack stretched out all the way to the knees. "Christ."

Joel chuckled under you. "You said I'm hot as a' oven. I didn't start this."

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