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#lmao and a migraine
turbo-tsundere · 10 months
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Kokichisake-onna
*Happy anime narrator voice*: “And thus, Kokichi has once again successfully evaded the dread of emotional openness!”
Also here’s a random selection of derpy concept doodles for this comic :)
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Thank you byeeeeee
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wearingmystripes · 11 months
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no offense to able bodied people, but when i say i’m tired and you say you’re tired we are NOT talking about the same thing
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every time that I think about the fact that for "normal people" normal level pain is zero pain I'm shocked, how is that even possible
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writinghotchner · 2 months
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i need more girl dad aaron before i lose it.
you and me both, babeyyy.
--
hotch x fem!reader sfw, no explicit material
you come home from work to see aaron and your 4 year old daughter having a tea party :')
you step inside your house, shrugging off your coat and toeing off your shoes. your immediately hit with your little girls infectious giggles and your husbands low voice. without even knowing what's going on in the playroom, you huff out a laugh to yourself as you make your way through the living room and down the hall to where your family is. you lean against the door frame watching their shenanigans.
aaron his basically crouched down on a toddler sized pink chair with an equally as small toddler table in between the two. he has a pink and purple tiara sitting on top of his head and your daughter has somehow wrangled a pink tutu around his waist. she is opposite him, sitting comfortably in a chair fit for her size.
"is this how i drink it?" aaron asks the little girl, holding his tea cup upside down trying to sip from the solid bottom of the cup. she is absolutely in fits over this gig. "no daddy!" she tells him through gasps of laughter. "like this!" she holds her cup right side up and takes a sip of imaginary tea - with her pink out, of course - to show him how its supposed to be held.
"oh, right, how silly of me." he turns the cup over. "so like this?" he asks, but this time he has the handle to his lips and his big fingers holding the cup by its side. the little girl erupts into breathless laughter again, nearly falling out of her chair.
"daddy!" she yells incredulously, trying to be stern through her laughter. she gets up and walks over to him and takes the cup out of his hand, turning it around the right way and puts it back into his hands. "like this!"
"okay, thank you so much for showing me how to hold it correctly." he smiles, taking a sip of air.
"you're very welcome." the little girl says back, both of them using their serious voices.
"should we be using fancy british voices for our fancy tea party?" he asks her using a vaguely bad british accent.
she tries to answer him back, copying the way he sounds but she can't and it makes her fall into a fit of giggles all over again.
"i can't do it!" she yells in hysterics.
"well why not!" aaron asks her, still using the accent.
"because i'm four!"
"oh well goodness me!" aaron says back in mock surprise. "this whole time i thought you were an old lady."
the little girl's mouth drops. "I'M NOT OLD! I'M 4!"
"4 could be considered old to some people." he tells her, back in his normal voice, and very seriously.
"who?!"
"2 year olds, probably."
"DADDY!" the little girl shrieks, her fits of giggles once again taking over her body.
"what...is going on in here!" you finally announce your presence and both of them look over at you startled - giving the same expression which makes you laugh out loud.
"mommy!" your daughter yells, flying off the chair and into your open arms.
"hi, baby. are you having a good tea time with daddy?"
she nods her head furiously and then leaves your arms to clamor into aaron's lap. you laugh again and follow her, leaning over to kiss your husband on the lips and then take a seat in the extra chair next to him.
your daughter hands you a little tea cup and you hold it upside down and raise it to your lips. "like this right?"
both of them erupt in laughter so infectious it makes you join in right along with them.
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herewegobebe · 17 hours
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Key talking about the iconic and beloved 'Lucifer' dance practice video 😅💞 [x]
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pacificwaternymph · 5 months
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HC that since Scott could see magic, walking into Sanctuary was like being on an acid trip to him.
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saphushia · 1 year
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smth different from my usual- i was taught this when i went to PT a couple years ago and i've never seen anything about it online. obligatory disclaimer i'm not in any way a medical professional and this wont cure your headaches, but they make mine a decent chunk more tolerable and sometimes that's all you can ask for
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toniyx · 8 days
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I have some angsty headcanons about Vox. These are relating to his insecurity, mainly.
First of all, I like to imagine he's EXTREMELY clingy, especially to someone who's actually nice to him. But not in an overt way, no—he would never admit it, neither to you nor to himself, but he's deeply, deeply insecure. And so he tracks you around, borderline stalks you everywhere you go, burying it in his head and reinforcing an idea that he's an important part of your life, whether you talk often or not. He's desperate to hold on to any part of you that he can.
Any hint of validation you give to him is taken in ten-fold, and then doubled up against himself later, because, as many times as you say you enjoy his company, he's still going to think you're lying. And so, while you're calmly going about, (somewhat) enjoying your afterlife, he's watching you through the many cameras he has around the ring, snarling to himself any time someone interacts with you. But then, at the end of the day, he lays down to try to rest, and his mind is filled with contrasting thoughts - by all means, he's one of the most powerful overlords in Hell! He could order you to speak to him more! Of course you care about him!
...But... Do you? How could someone like you care about someone like him? And of course he's paranoid, too, wondering if all of this is some big ploy, some attempt to strip him of his power. And so, the next time he looks you in the eyes, he sees a hint of malice—malice that isn't actually there.
I also imagine that Vox would struggle with that with you, regardless. On one hand, it would seem easy to him on the surface, wouldn't it? But he's practiced his ability to feign confidence for decades at this point. He matches your energy perfectly, almost too perfectly, because he knows that the second he slips up and looks away from your eyes, it'll all come crashing down. Internally, he's fighting a battle not to glance aside just to get some relief from the pressure of your attention all on him.
And if you get angry at him, well... this struggle goes up tenfold. Vox deals with fear using anger—you confront him for something he did that both of you know is true, deep down, but he fights it tooth and claw, fully convinced that an argument is supposed to be won, not resolved. His composure slips more and more every second, in a desperate attempt to convince you that you're wrong, but soon you slip from his grasp as well.
He doesn't know how to cope with that. He spends all night at his screens, rage and despair brewing behind the monitor, watching as you spend time with other people, not him. He's desperate, desperate for you to come back and tell him that you love him, but you don't come back. He's hurt you, and now you're gone.
He knows it's his fault, but to others, he pretends it was you all along. He exaggerates how you spoke to him, playing you up as a bad person... but can't defend himself when someone disagrees. And so, on comes the self-destructive cycle again, Vox tearing himself down just as much as he does others, hoping that someday, you'll come back again to fill that empty hole in his heart so that he doesn't have to.
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tervaneula · 7 months
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POB Bitty would like to offer you some nice eggs in this trying time
(Don’t worry, the hens at base are laying more than enough to share and Uncle Raph is holding 90% of the weight for him, Bitty just wants to feel strong)
(This is just for funsies, no pressure to reply <3)
“Ohmigosh,” Michelangelo breathes out and crouches in front of the tiny red-eared slider, eyes practically sparkling with adoration. 
“You’re so strong! All of these eggs, just for us? That’s so kind of you!” 
Bitty chirps at him, trying to push the basket higher and toward the orange-scarved turtle, the snapper behind him obligingly moving half a step forward. Michelangelo giggles and takes the gift, pressing it against his chest. 
“Thank you so much! Oh, you know what?” he asks the kid, winking and offering him a chirp of his own. “We just bought fresh produce and a few dozen eggs the other day. Now I can make the biggest omelette New York has ever seen! It’ll be amazingly delicious!” 
He then looks up at Uncle Raph, eyes softening as he takes in the hulking form of his not-older-brother older brother. His smile is equally soft when he shifts to look down again, reaching to gently hold Bitty’s hand in between his thumb and index finger. 
“Your family is obviously invited, too. Please, join us for lunch? It’s the least I can do in return for such a lovely gift.” 
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(WAAAAA @beeceit you're so lovely, Bitty is so lovely, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS 😭😭😭🧡🧡🧡)
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natasha-in-space · 27 days
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Actually, now that I think about it, Jaehee probably has no idea that she can be perceived as 'pretty' or 'beautiful' by someone. She has stated multiple times that she does not care much for her looks when it comes to appearing 'pretty', she has given up on dating altogether (and while it was definitely mostly due to how busy she is, I can't help but think that, on some level, it left her feeling at least somewhat 'unattractive'), and she is very visibly stumped whenever Zen or you actually compliment her on anything besides her wits and abilities. I feel like she has come to terms with being the stereotypical 'smart reliable friend' that is there to give advice, but never actually does or gets anything for herself.
It's only when you come into her life and start encouraging her to actually seek out her own happiness, no matter how small or silly it is, does she start expressing her desires to change something in her appearance. That she'd like to grow out her hair. That she doesn't actually need glasses. That there are some clothes she finds cute or comfy.
Can't help but think of her slowly finding genuine fulfillment through experimenting with her appearance. Her looking at herself in the mirror one day, after a nice and lovely shopping date with you, and, for the first time in a while, finding herself thinking that she looks pretty. Trying out new makeup looks, cute dresses, silly matching sweaters with you that will leave her giggling whenever she puts them on. And, as her hair grows longer, fiddling with all kinds of hairstyles, from quick and easy to elaborate and fancy. It's all so new, but so liberating.
I love how you can kind of see that progression in her through the CG's. Starting with her strictly professional looks and gradually morphing into more comfy and cutesy clothes we sometimes get to see on her.
Oh how I wish we could see how long-haired Jaehee dresses casually...
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pralinesims · 1 month
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the real question I have, is how many of Maggie/Aaron's followers on social media spend their time shipping the two of them together/assuming they're secretly dating/waiting for them to get together?
I've noticed people do this on tiktok with people who make content together all the time, and I want to know if people do, and how Maggie and/or Aaron feel about it if that happens lmao
LMAO you know how people are on social media, humans do really reallyyy love to speculate & project on such things, so I would say that yes, just like you've assumed, a big amount of their followers think they're actually a couple, but just hiding it + another portion hoping for them to become a thing one day. Like, if one of them would say they're not actually are a couple, it simply isn't believed, or follows with people rooting for them lol.
BUT!!! THEY'RE TOTALLY AWARE OF THAT ASPECT and also like to bait people into thinking they have a thing for each other, as after all, they REALLY like to farm for reactions. Like look, these are the kinda pics they post??? You can't tell me they don't enjoy the rumor mill.
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Which doesn't much help their allegations, or what I'd also like to say in Aaron's case, it kinda benefits him, as online he does mostly like to either hide or rather cryptically talk about the fact that he hasn't been much involved in relationship stuff yet (+ another relating fact, but Maggie DID offer him privately in a semi-joking manner to take his virginity, not because she is extremely interested in him, but bc she likes to believe this aspect is a small burden on him and she'd genuinely help him with her generous favour LMAO).
Their personal feelings? Well, Aaron usually loves the attention ofc, and Maggie thinks it's fun & hilarious to stretch it out this much.
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aroflowey · 3 months
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i'm perfectly normal and not overly caffeinated. have a zimwich
og:
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kiyoobi · 1 year
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kiyoomi sakusa takes care of you when you have a migraine
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Having migraines for YEARS, ever since you were a kid, you’ve had the pain of being shut inside a dark room hoping you’d pass out soon. So you’ve gotten used to them by now. it starts out with your vision blurring, the lights around you slowly being more and more annoying. Then the familiar dull ache behind your eyes, followed by the nausea, and so on. You’re used to it. Sometimes you wake up with a headache, ready to form into a raging migraine if you don’t reach for those pills to ease the pain.
Sakusa knows this, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling that ache in his chest when you slip on your sunglasses with a weak smile. He can’t stop the twinge of annoyance when he sees someone give you a strange look for wearing those glasses inside, he stops himself from glaring at the baby screaming not too far away. When you both are finally home, finally away from overstimulation the world brutally gave to you, he quickly flicks all of the lights off.
“‘M sorry Omi, I know you wanted to go to that new restaurant tonight-” You start to apologize, your hand massaging your temple even though it doesn’t ease the pain.
“-It’s okay. It isn’t your fault,” he softly interrupts your apology, his heart aching when he sees you slump onto the couch. He watches the way your body curls into itself, how your hands gently caress your head. Seeing you this way, he doesn’t hesitate to put down his things and make his way into the medicine cabinet.
Sakusa remembers, though, how you refused lunch early. The migraine had, by that point, been in full swing and you couldn’t even stand the smell of food. You can’t take this medicine without eating, and he knows you will because you’ve done it before much to his disdain. As quietly as he can, he takes out the emergency crackers and ginger ale. Sakusa winces at the crack of the can opening, but a quick glance at your figure reassures him. He pours the can into a glass and sets it on top of the coaster within your reach, and gently taps your hand so he can feed you a cracker. Your amused chuckle warms his chest, even in your worst pain you manage to smile. In fact, you’ve been making jokes all day despite being in this unbearable pain.
What do you want to eat?” He asks, rubbing your forehead as you nibble on the cracker.
“Ugh, I don’t even wanna think about eating.” You close your eyes and groan, but the sound of your stomach loudly rumbling says otherwise.
“Right,” Sakusa rolls his eyes playfully, “Are dumplings and rice okay?”
“Since when do you know how to make dumplings?” You tease. You risk opening an eye, and despite the room not being as dark as you’d like, you can’t help it when your heart swells at the sight of your boyfriend. His eyebrows are furrowed, his dark curls frizzing from the amount of times he’s run his hands through them (most likely because he’s worried about you). It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him that it’s okay, you’re used to this, you’ll be fine, he still doesn’t stop fretting over you. With his cheeks tinged pink from being called out, he throws your a playful glare and kisses your forehead.
“Don’t be a smartass,” His lips are warm against your hot skin, and he frowns. “Do you want some ice while I cook?”
“Yes please,” you say. For the first time your voice finally gives in, and you can’t help it with a painful moan slips through you. He nods and makes a quick dive into your freezer, hoping there’s even ice to offer you.
Every so often, Sakusa glances at your figure. You look beautiful, even though you would immediately reject this thought, you do. His eyes soften when he sees the curve of your wrist, your fingers gingerly holding the ice to your forehead. It requires effort to pull his gaze away from you and back onto his cooking, but a small smile plays on his lips when he thinks of you. Kiyoomi silently prays that the smells aren’t too much for you, knowing that even if they were you wouldn’t say so.
It breaks his heart having to pull you upright, but you reject his apologizes. You lean into his body, grateful that he brought you a fork instead of chopsticks because you just don’t have the energy for it. He notices the TV is on, which at first used to surprise him, but once you explained you need a distraction or else all you can focus on is the pain, he doesn’t question you. Unfortunately, you’re not in the mood to continue the series you both have been entranced by lately. Instead, he watches you watch the bakers onscreen explain their pastries to Paul Hollywood. The light gently dances across your face, and he watches amused at how despite you barely able to keep your eyes open you still can’t stop watching.
Sakusa knows he’s staring, he just doesn’t care. You don’t eat everything on the plate, which he knew would happen, so he accepts the plate from your hand and takes the fork from you. If someone would’ve told him a year ago that he would eat from the same plate and eating utensil that another person had used, he would’ve looked at them stupidly and ask if they even knew him. It’s funny, it truly is, because yeah sometimes he gets grossed out if he thinks too much about it, but when it comes to you.. he knows you’re clean. Not just in a physical sense (although he admits you’re incredibly messy at times), but in your soul too. Everything about you is pure (even the dirty jokes and the shameless flirting you throw at him) It’s cheesy, he knows. On those early morning jogs, all he thinks of is you. He thinks of your bed head, the stretch of your body, the way you pay careful attention to ridiculous little habits and repeat them yourself (he can do without the incessant teasing though sometimes). Sakusa, is completely enamored with you.
It’s the only reason why he can eat from the same fork you just had in your mouth just now. Gently he puts the empty plate down, and pulls your head into his lap. From there, he can see you better now. Your eyes flutter shut when you feel him place the ice back onto your forehead, while the other gently strokes your cheek. Ever so often he moves the ice pack to the back of your neck, because he knows that you feel pain from there too. He knows it all, he has to, because how else will he show the same careful attention and love that you show for him?
“I’m gonna close my eyes, okay?”
“I know,” Sakusa smiles.
“I’m telling you this because I’m not gonna take a nap, Omi.” You say, still stubborn as ever. “Just tell me what’s going on, I don’t remember who gets Star Baker.”
“Are you sure? Last week you called my voice annoying-“ His body shakes from laughing, as quietly as he can, feeling the way you jab his side. “Anything for you, love.”
You did fall asleep though. Sakusa tries to engrave this moment into his heart, because even with the TV on the lowest setting and the ice pack melting on the table, he feels the intimacy and romance in this setting. His fingers still gently trace your features, the curve of your jaw and cheekbones, your soft lips. His eyes flicker to your shared bedroom, knowing that his jacket is carefully put away in the closet. Knowing that inside, is the very ring he found on your pinterest that you saved many many times. Your hands grip onto him, pulling his eyes back onto you. Whatever you’re dreaming about, you’re holding onto him tightly.
He debates on whether or not of asking you the question when you wake up. Knowing you, you’d feel bad that you had him cancel the reservations because of your cursed migraine. Sakusa smirks, imagining the way you’d scold him for canceling his romantic gesture. He doesn’t care, all he wants is to be there for you. Through sickness and in health.
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a/n: i wrote this almost two years ago, and it started my journey. i wanted to repost and share again :) im not going to edit since i want to keep it as original as possible. this is dedicated to the moots i met through my writings
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rustyreveries · 25 days
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yet another kris redraw !!
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zhooniyaa-waagosh · 10 months
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You can really tell who has and hasn't dealt with regular migraines by how they react when you mention self-medicating with soda.
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painted-bees · 11 months
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[edit: this is a bit outdated, now! You can read the full narrative of these events over here!]
The water between the Discovery Islands, off the coast of British Columbia, is perhaps the sleepiest, most uneventful little corner of the entire Pacific Ocean. It’s a perfect little cradle for the marine life that abundantly lives there. And so, when something peculiar does occur within the tranquil archipelago, it is never to be dismissed.
Which is why, when an enormous bubble that rose up from the depths between Vancouver Island and Quadra Island went wholly unreported, locals were easily persuaded into believing that their memories of the sudden tidal swel--which swallowed their shorelines in the middle of the night and claimed no victims--was a phenomenon of mass delusion.
With little to nothing in the way of consequence following that strange night, it was easy to fall back onto the knowledge that things such as tsunamis simply cannot occur in isolation among the dense cluster of quiet little islands. Magritte and Rafael, however, were not so unchanged by the events that took place.
Magritte remembers how the icey bite of the water numbed her oyster-torn palms. She remembers imagining the finger of a monkey paw curling when she finally got to see the dorsal fins of the orcas that everyone but her had been so fortunate to spot from the Smelt Bay shoreline. They were close enough to touch, but she could not bring up her arms. She remembers singing, in poorly ragged notes, to Orion who remained aloof and uncaring among the rest of the stars in the sky.
Whether Magritte’s memories of being swept out to sea that night are real or hallucinatory in nature, life in their little island cottage was never quite the same afterwards. Magritte had spent the following week in bed, recovering from a fever–and all the while, Rafael would frequently hear her calling his name in a hoarse, tired voice from the yard outside. Her silhouette could, for fleeting moments, be seen breaking up the moonlit boughs of the evergreen forest bordering the property. And, she would sing…a ragged, slightly nonsense song which sounded as though it had been composed as a futile weapon against a fading consciousness.
It should have been unnerving. In fact, it could have been wholly upsetting. Though it sounded perfectly like her, Magritte was not out there beckoning him. She was upstairs resting, safe and cozy. Still, the doppelganger called and crooned. It met Rafael’s consciousness not as an ill omen, but as a wandering curiosity. His name met him as an inquiry, the ragged singing as an attempt at conversation. He responded by leaving an offering of tea and cookies at the foot of the porch steps leading into the side yard, where thought he had occasionally caught a glimpse of her inconsistent contours against the foliage of the forest.
He didn’t wholly believe that the phantom Magritte outside actually existed. In the mornings, the mug of tea would be tipped over, and the cookies taken away by the local wildlife. But, that empty plate was encouragement enough for him to keep up the little ritual, at least until Magritte–the real Magritte–was back on her feet. And indeed, once Magritte had returned to her energetic self, the shadow of her that lurked by the treeline every night prior…fell silent and unseen. 
Until Magritte invited it inside.
It did not speak, but held them with a swallowing gaze. So slender, so gentle mannered. It had approached Magritte with an armful of fish; an apology. Magritte invited it in, and Rafael prepared a late dinner for the three of them.
 It became the new evening ritual; it would arrive at the cottage with a fresh haul from the sea, Magritte would invite it inside, Rafael would make dinner from whatever it had brought them. Each night, its appearance changed little by little into something less vaguely otherworldly. Or, perhaps, they were simply growing more familiar. It taught them the song that Magritte had sung to Orion (she had, herself, forgotten the lyrical genius of her delirium), and they recomposed it into a jovial, drunken shanty together. They introduced their peculiar houseguest to mp3s, fleece-lined sweaters, and strawberry rhubarb ice cream, and in exchange, it brought them uniquely shaped shells and foraged trinkets from the bay.
These nightly visitations continued until, at last, it–she adopted a name she had heard and liked; Cortes.
And, she stayed that night until morning, and until the morning after that, and the morning after that, and…so forth.
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