#my brain might be soup for the rest of the night

[jade-jini]

soft dom kazuha hehehehe wheeeeeeeen jade 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲

(My baby Zuha is so gentle, almost makes me doubt she can dom sometimes)

tw: idk if it counts as ed, there’s a little part where reader ain’t big on eating but Zuha helps her with it. Just putting it here in case.

I think dom Zuha is big on praising and encouraging. Both in and out of bed. Like you’d be on your desk, clearly stressing about work, and she’d walk behind you and stop to give you a hot drink, a little shoulder massage and also shake you a bit lol and goes all “you can do it let’s go!”, making you laugh at her silliness, and she’s just happy to do so, leaving a kiss on your face as she leaves you to continue your work.

Once you come back with good news about the work submitted, she’ll hug you and all you hear is “that’s my girl” “I’m so proud of you.” “I knew you could do it, you’re amazing”, etc :3

If you had a hard day tho, she’s rather a bit quiet, letting you talk as she cuddles you, just going “mhm” so you know she’s paying attention. She would try to come up with a way to fix whatever the problem is, as well as telling you that what you did was good, and that she’s sorry it didn’t go the way you wanted, sympathizing with you about the issue. Feeling heard actually helps, and the warm hugs and kisses your girlfriend gives you, as well as her sweet words in between, yeah. There’s no way you can be sad for a long time when you have her.

Gentle dominance! I personally believe Kazuha can look a little intimidating when she looks serious 😭 but let’s be honest she’s such a sweet thing ahhhh. She doesn’t threaten you with punishments or anything like that. Rather she will be kind when speaking to you, but it’s clear when she’s telling and not asking. You’ve gained better habits thanks to her though.

“I’m not hungry, Zuha.” You’d say, but your girlfriend knows you haven’t had anything that day, and it’s past lunch time. Kazuha looks at you with a calm expression, but her tone is different from the cute voice she uses with you sometimes.

“You are eating, don’t argue with me.” She says, and her voice sends shivers down your spine. “It’s for your own good, my love. Can’t spend the day like that. Be good and listen to mommy, yes?” She whispered this last part only for you to listen of course. “Here, at least try some of my soup if you’re not that hungry.” And how can you say no? Specially when she’s sweetly feeding you lol. With time, now it was you who’d ask what she’d like for lunch ‘cause you were hungry, and when you started doing this she felt so happy knowing you had a healthier meal schedule.

“Straight posture, darling.” She says with her hand on your back, and the moment you feel her touch you obey. Same could be told in bed.

You guys are in your shared room at night, her kisses making you drunk already as she takes your jacket and shirt off. Of course you help her too, almost drooling at the view of her abs even though you’ve seen them a thousand times. Kazuha loves the reaction you have when seeing her body, one of the several motivations she has to continue going to the gym. As you leave kisses on her torso, she opens the drawer of the little nightstand next to your bed, and gets one of your favorite toys, silently asking you. Excitement traveling your body, you nod and help her with the rest of her clothes, staying on your knees as she gets the strap on ready.

“Bend over for me, will ya?” She asks, and the moment you feel her touch (and the strap teasing your clit from behind) you obey:). Her hand on your lower back pushing you down. “Good girl.” The praise resonating in your brain and you need more. She knows this. “My pretty girl, so wet already. We just started.”

And as soft as she might sound, she sure knows how to fuck you hard. Grabbing your hips as she focus all her energy into creating the perfect pace. Deep. Fast. Anything that will hit those spots that get you drooling all over your pillow. As your moans get louder and turn into sobs, she stops and pulls you up by the hair, keeping you in place as she asks “You ok?” you wonder how can her voice sound so calm?? She barely lets you nod before continuing “ok good.” And there she goes again, pounding you so good until your legs burn.

“Zuha~ please… fuck!” You cried as she keeps hitting your favorite spot, tears going down your face because of the overwhelming pleasure “mommy, please.. right there, yes~”.

“There, my baby? Is my darling feeling a little too good? Look at you, you look so beautiful when I fuck you like this, princess.” showering you in compliments before, during, and after you come. You never can’t not feel loved and desired when is Kazuha making you hers like that.

Now wait. ‘Cause teasing. She’s BIG on teasing, it’ll always get a smile of a giggle out of her to see and hear your reactions. Specially in public. When she grabs your thigh and squeezes for no reason, a little gasp or even moan escaping your lips? That makes her laugh 😭 when she whispers dirty things in your ear in Japanese, knowing damn well you either didn’t understand or barely caught a few words. However her deep voice is enough to get you going, there’s just something about the way she sounds when speaking her mother tongue like that to you. Enough for desire to be written all over your face, and when you think she’s gonna take you somewhere private, she’s just holding her laugh as she walks away, making you groan in disappointment.

“Not fair, Zuha.” You tell her once you catch up with her, holding her arm. She simply laughs at you, and pats your head before kissing your forehead.

“Be good and I’ll give you anything you want at home, my baby.” She says and you know she means it, so you simply nod and hug her tight, getting wrapped in her arms as well to protect each other from the cold weather <3.

#kpop gg #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #le sserafim #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim scenarios #le sserafim x y/n #le sserafim fluff #le sserafim smut #le sserafim x fem reader #nakamura kazuha #kazuha #le sserafim kazuha #nakamura kazuha smut #nakamura Kazuha fluff #kazuha smut #kazuha x reader #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x you

[oddballwriter]

Personal Nurses

Summary: You get sick with something and need to stay home, and so your lovely boyfriends take up the job of nursing you back to health.

Warnings: Mentions of being sick (sore throat, stuffy nose, and fever). Taking medicine. Half Google translated Spanish, my high school Spanish is really rusty the grammar may be weird. Other wise a nice wholesome sick comfort fic.

Author’s Snip: Fun fact, this was originally going to be a fic where it was about Abi (the reader and system’s daughter that have a bit of an unofficial series with) getting sick. But I decided to make it about the boys taking care of you because I got a nasty cold a while ago and wanted to see this.

Notes: Again, the grammar in Jake’s Spanish speaking might be not so good because my Spanish is rusty as hell.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 692

Being sick wasn’t that great. Sure, it got you out of needing to do things, but you also had to deal with actually being sick. And that’s never great.

You went to bed last night with a tickle in your throat and runny nose that you thought would pass in the morning, but then you woke up dying for water, barely able to breathe through your nose, and now you were burning up like a whore in church.

When Steven eventually woke up and found you in the kitchen you could tell he knew. You made an attempt to brush it off by saying “I’ll just drink some tea and sit under an air conditioner today.” but you could see Steven and the rest of them in that brain vote no on even letting you get out into your work clothes.

So now you get to wallow in bed and have three personal nurses.

Since Steven was the one who woke up with the body, so he was the one who set everything up. He politely shooed you back into bed, placed extra pillows, called your work for you, made you your tea and breakfast, and brought all that to you in bed with a cold rag and medicine. He also checked your temperature which, of course earned an “Oh, love. That’s no good.” that seemed more like him thinking out loud.

Steven was the one mostly in charge of your comfort and doing things for you when you’re sick. If you wanted an extra blanket, you got one. If your fever rag got lukewarm, he made it cool again. Do you want more water or tea? You got it. Is it too bright? He’ll draw the curtains for you. If anything he was more of a bell boy than a nurse. But it still made him blush a little when you called him that.

Marc was the one in charge of making sure you got your medicine in, and he was on top of it. Apparently, when you were taking a nap after eating breakfast, Marc took the body to go to the pharmacy and get new medicine and vitamins because “The one we have isn’t strong enough.” as if he was able to tell just by looking at you. When he came back, he had you eat some bread, saying “So that it doesn’t mess with your stomach if it's empty already.” and also “It helps it stay down. It has something to stick to.”.

“How do you know all this?” you questioned, to which Marc simply said “Trial and error,”, “Now take the vitamins. It helps your immune system fight it off.” Marc orders. You just shrug and comment “Whatever you say, Nurse Spector.”.

Jake was dead set on making food for you, making Marc go to a whole different market while he was out, just to buy ingredients for the soup he wanted to make you.

“Qué no, Marc. No puedes compras los sopas enlatadas.” Jake said to himself with a laugh. “Mind letting me in on the joke?” Marc asked as he watched Jake cut up the ingredients from the reflection in the soup. “You couldn’t buy them canned soup, Marc. Canned soup doesn’t do it. You gotta make it.” Jake explained, clearly referring to the whole ‘make it with love’ thing. “Well, that’s what we would have,” Marc mentioned. “Because that’s all we got.” Jake said back, “But not for them.” he added as to pointed to where you were resting. “They’d do the same for us.” Jake stated confidently.

When the soup was settled and done, and cooled down enough, Jake brought the bowl straight to you in bed. You thought he was going to bring a little table like Steven and Marc did, but it was clear when Jake kept holding the bowl and took up a spoonful of it and held it towards your mouth. You say his name with a scoff and he smiles. “Come on, mi amor. Steven and Marc got to play nurse today.” Jake teased. You roll your eyes and decide to humor him and let him feed you.

#moon knight #moonknight #moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader

[yourlocaltreesimp]

The First to be Forsaken

been in the works for a while!! This was actually a request that got deleted.

So to the anon who requested a reader who was cursed by Hylia like Eda in the owl house, this is for you!

tw: chronic illness, death

۵♡۵

The ache in your hands never lessened and the maring cracks in your skin never healed. It made for a rather ugly sight, all considered. The creeping vine-like scars showing in rather gorey details the tainted flesh.

No medical salve nor healing spell could rid you of the malice that poisoned your blood. And according to the words of the fairies themselves, it’s latched to your very soul. It festers, feeding off of your energy until you’ll be left as a husk. A puppet with no one to pull its strings.

It’s not pleasant knowing you’re going to die, but it’s less so knowing that no matter how often you pray to the goddess it will not be fixed. The divine never needed to give reason for why they shunned that which gives them power. Still, the chain did what they could, and for that you had many thanks.

Wild always had hearty food to replace the energy stolen from you, Legend let you wear whatever charmed jewellery you wanted, Time would never let you take night shifts, Warriors would carry you on the days you were too fragile to walk, Twilight doubled as a bed and his pelt as a blanket, Four made braces for your brittle joints, Hyrule was always testing different mixes in hopes that one might lessen your pain, Sky would hold your hand and talk to you on the days you could walk to make sure that you had something to distract from the crying of your nerves, even Wind spared some of his grandmother’s soup in hopes that of it didn’t rid of pain, it might ease your distress. Your Heroes were funny like that, sacrificing whatever they had for anyone that needed it, no matter how precious their time or belongings are. Certainly not a coincidence they act this way. They’ve seen what’s become of you under the neglect of the gods. And you’ve seen the familiar ache in their eyes, the recognition of themselves within you.

The newest hero, First —well perhaps then he’s the oldest— was in many ways similar. He too would offer you stories and ballads from his time, forgotten by the time the next era rolled in. His words had a majesty that had the whole camp turn an ear to follow whatever tale he recalled. And by the time it came for you to lay your head and rest, your woes would be far off from the front of your mind.

He’d sweep you off your feet both in the figurative matter and the literal. With only the gentlest graze of your skin and only the sweetest words that could be uttered did he regard you. He did not hold you to a sense of pity, as was common among many who knew of you, but a genuine care. A care for you beyond measure that he’d shown on many occasions that he would stop at nothing to ensure that if you could not be comfortable, you could be content.

And currently you were, despite it being a bad day.

The champion watched over the cooking pot carefully and the traveller flicked through one of his journals, looking for a combination of herbs that might be of help to you. The two passed questions back and forth in an effort to find an overlap of medicinals they haven’t already tried.

You had Twi’s pelt, Sky’s sailcloth and First’s scarf to try and dull your cold flashes. You leaned back against the First hero as his arms warped around you and his face buried into your shoulder. You shiver as the next cold wave hits, wincing. The moment sits in silence before his arms around your abdomen gently pull you closer.

“I am sorry for what she did to you, My beloved.” His voice was deep and poetic as usual, the unwavering strength he displayed to the world melted to softness at your touch. Through the staticky emptiness that settled in your brain, the question stood, alone and without any real context nor answer.

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow and you look over at where he rests his head on your shoulder. He draws a heavy breath, mumbling something into your layers of clothing.

“Hylia- all of this because of her vanity. I am sorry you fell victim.” There is a pain in his voice, a guilt he’s held for long. Shackles upon his wrists that he’s not willing to let himself be freed from. You suppose it is him where their united care for the world came from, no matter how unrequited. He’d bleed himself dry for the world if it meant that it’d be better.

“I don’t mind being here with you all” You hear the distant rowdy laughter of Wind and Twi, and you find it in yourself to bask in this one moment, “It’s certainly worth it. To me, at least.” He grumbles happily, kissing the nearest place of unscathed skin he can find, right below your jaw.

“I am glad, Dearest. But that-“ His voice wavers as another chill wracks your body. You can only find a wince as you try to block away the ever advancing chill.

“That is not what I meant. I- It’s because of her that you cannot find rest. It is she who whittled down your bones and set alight your nerves” You find nothing to say as you stare at him, urging for more. “She thought it was wrong for me to love you, to long for your care and yearn to hold your heart. So, she tainted y-“ You wish to hear his words. A muse longing to read the poets works, and yet-

The words grow fuzzy as the gloom within you swells, gnawing painfully at your bones. It seems that you had forgotten exactly how brittle you were. It was always hubris that killed heroes, wasn’t it? But that didn’t make sense. You were no hero. How could it be hubris if you never meant to taunt the gods. How could that be- you weren’t dying, are you?

They said you’d be ok.

You’ll be ok right?

Everything will be ok?

The pressure in your head doesn’t stop growing and your stomach hurls.

The sun is so bright.

It hurts.

She’s taking you again, isn’t she?

#linked universe #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #link x reader #linked universe x reader #link x you #lu first x reader #lu first #fir’s library

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 16

Happy WIP Wednesday everyone! Sorry I missed last week, but I think I should be good to get back on track going forward. Finished making most of the baby things I want to make for my soon-to-be nephew, so I'll be able to spend more time writing than crocheting again.

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

-----

An hour later, all eight of them were ensconced in the theater in Sam’s basement with a few pizzas and salads spread around them. Wulf again refused any and the rest dug in.

“All right, Tuck, we need to figure out what Walker’s up to. Can you ask Wulf?”

Tim watched as Tucker asked and Wulf responded. Then Tucker burst out laughing and slapped his knee.

Tim’s eyes narrowed. He wouldn’t.

Sam scoffed. “You have no idea what he said, do you?”

“Not a clue,” Tucker admitted.

Tim groaned.

Bart cocked his head. “Give me five minutes, I’ll be right back!”

Before Danny could even finish asking, “Where are you going?” Bart was gone.

Conner grabbed another slice of pizza and said, “He’s off to learn Esperanto. Hang tight and he’ll be right back.”

“How can he learn a language so fast?” asked Sam.

Tim swallowed. “He’s a speedster. His normal is faster than our brains can comprehend. He slows himself down so he can interact with us mere mortals. He’ll be back.”

Sure enough, in less than ten minutes, Bart was back among them. He repeated Tucker’s question. This time, when Wulf responded, the ghost was understood.

“So, Walker is pissed at Danny,” translated Bart. “And he totally wants to ruin your entire life and drag you back to his prison in the ghost zone. Apparently he and his guards are overshadowing a bunch of the people you’re close to in the town to trap you in their web of lies.”

Danny groaned and buried his face in his hands. “How do I fight against that? I can’t just soup them all! I don’t even know who all is overshadowed!”

Cassie butt in then. “We know some of them. Dash and your classmates are definitely overshadowed.”

“Your reputation improved thanks to the other night,” commented Conner. “That might help mitigate Walker’s plans.”

“Doubt it,” said Danny. “Most people think I’m a menace. One night of good publicity won’t turn them around. Especially not with my parents there to dirty my name.”

“Let’s prepare a press release,” suggested Tim. “I bet the Young Justice team could get themselves on the local news. And if we speak up for you, it might help.”

Danny exchanged looks with his two friends. Tucker shrugged, “Couldn’t hurt, dude.”

“Fine,” bit out Danny. “What else?”

Conner looked at Wulf curiously. “Bart, does Wulf know how we can get his collar off?”

“Oooh, good question.” Bart asked, but Wulf shook his head as he answered.

“Will he let me look at it?” asked Tucker.

“I might be able to help, too,” added Tim as he stepped closer and reached out to touch.

Before he could actually touch the collar, though, Wulf snarled at him and jumped back several feet. Tim held up his hands in apology and took a step back himself. “Sorry!”

Bart grinned at him. “He said don’t touch it.”

Tim grimaced and nodded. “Think I got that.”

Tucker was already typing away on one of his devices. “I’m gonna try something. Might help.”

And that’s when Wulf screamed out in pain and fell to the floor clawing at the collar.

“Shit!” shouted Tucker as he rushed forward. He managed to plug his device into a port on the collar. Electricity arced back along the connection, causing Tucker to yelp in pain and drop his PDA.

But a moment later, there was a beep and the collar fell to pieces.

Wulf looked down in shock, then up at all of them. “Mi libras?”

“You’re free, dude,” said Tucker.

Bart added something in Esperanto.

Wulf grinned at them, sharp teeth shining in the light. “Mi libras!” Then he turned and disappeared as he jumped through the wall.

Conner groaned and collapsed backwards. “Jerk couldn’t even stick around long enough to help us after everything we did for him.”

Tim sighed and sat down as well. “Well, we’ll figure it out ourselves. Just like we always do. So, operation Fix Danny’s Reputation. We’ll start with talking to the press. What else?”

“Can we write up op-eds describing what really happened in some of his ghost fights?” asked Cassie. “Set the record straight?”

“What if we make you easier to reach?” added Tim. “Get a number the police or the mayor can reach you at so you can show them you’re willing to work with them instead of just on your own?”

“Do you think that’ll work?” asked Danny.

Tim shrugged. “Worked for Batman. Don’t see why it wouldn’t help you.”

Danny sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Great,” said Tim. “I’ll send out some emails asking for interviews. And then we can start working on the op-eds. How about we split into three groups, Danny and me in one, the rest of you can split up how we like. Then we can go over the major ghost fights that have happened and write tell-all articles that don’t run the risk of spoiling Danny’s identity.”

Conner shrugged. “Sam, wanna work with me?”

Sam grinned. “You betcha.”

Bart disappeared and reappeared next to Tucker. “Tucker and I will work together, too!”

Cassie moved until she was next to Conner. “I call working with Sam and Kon.”

“Great. Now, Tuck, do you happen to know the best contact info for local reporters?” Tim pulled out his laptop and powered it on as he spoke.

“Give me five minutes and I’ll get it for you.”

Fifteen minutes later, Tim had sent out a dozen emails asking for interviews. As he and Tucker were working, Danny and Sam had gone through which ghost fights would be the best to write about and divided up the attacks between the three groups.

Once he was ready to start on the articles, Tim sat down next to Danny. “So, what are we starting with?”

Danny grinned. “We’re going to go over my first fight. The one with Lunch Lady. She wasn’t bad, but caused a lot of clean up for the school and wasted a lot of resources. Most people still don’t even know that was a ghost attack.”

“Great, let’s get started.”

Tim had heard about most of Danny’s fights before, but being next to him in person definitely made a difference. They were sitting with their arms pressed against each other so they could both see the computer screen and add or delete bits as they went. It was nice.

They’d been working for a few hours when Sam’s parents came down.

“Children!” called her mom.

Tim wasn’t the only one to hide a grimace at the term.

Jeremy Manson continued, “The mayor has instituted a curfew for the city due to all the ghosts. No one is allowed out on the streets after nine PM.”

Pamela Manson giggled. “And it’s nine PM now! So looks like you’ll all be staying here. Tim, dear, be sure to tell your father how seriously we took your safety. I don’t want any of you leaving the house until morning.”

Tim turned on his gala smile. “My dad is in a coma, I’m afraid. But I’ll be sure to tell Bruce just how considerate all the people of Amity have been.”

Jeremy let out a forced laugh. “Of course, our mistake. We wish our best to your father, as well. I hope his prognosis is good?”

Tim blinked at him. “He’s been in a coma for months.”

Pamela giggled again. “Of course, we knew that. Right, dear?” She smacked her husband lightly on the arm.

“Sure did!” he agreed. “Well, I hope to hear news of his miraculous recovery. I’m sure he is getting the best of care.”

“Of course he is,” agreed Tim. “I wouldn’t put up with anything less.”

A few more giggles and well wishes, then Pamela and Jeremy made a hasty retreat.

Once they were alone, Conner looked at him with concern. “Tim—”

“I’m fine, Conner.”

Before anyone else could try and say anything, his email beeped. Tim took the excuse and read it over. The most popular morning radio talk show wanted to have the Young Justice on. Tim grinned.

“We’re getting up early, guys. Radio interview at six AM.”

Cassie laughed. “I can do that, can you?”

Tim shrugged. “I just won’t go to sleep. Easier to stay up that late than drag myself out of bed that early.”

Conner shook his head. “You and your family are insane, Rob.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get back to work.”

-----

Next

This is where I definitely go off the rails of what happened in the show. But that's half the fun of an AU! Hope you like it.

I no longer tag for this fic, but if you want to be notified of updates, please check out the Subscription Post.

Scroll down to the next post on my blog to see the really cool birthday comic @stealingyourbones made for me!

#dpxdc #tim drake #danny fenton #will they be able to repair danny's rep before walker enacts his plan? #wait and find out! #there absolutely wont be any long term consequences to whats about to happen #nope #none at all #*evil laugh*

[the-wip-project]

SloMo WriNo: The Writing Habit

You’re going to get tired of hearing me say this, but when it comes to finishing your writing (or getting pretty much any long term project accomplished) habit is everything.

A solid writing habit will get you through those days when writing feels boring, when you’re tired, uninspired, lost. Habit is the magic that makes the writing train go— more often than most people want to admit.

That said, establishing a new habit can be fiendishly difficult— especially if you have a neurodivergent brain. (This is coming from personal experience, as someone who took literal years to establish the habit of brushing my teeth before bed. (I still frequently have agonies about washing my face at the same time.))

So. How to establish a solid writing habit?

Step one is finding the time.

Your writing does not require large blocks of time. You can write productively in as little as fifteen minutes a day (yes, really!) but the only way that gets accomplished is by making it fast and simple to get into your writing headspace.

How though?

By making it a routine at a similar time and place each day, by creating rituals that cue you that it’s writing time, or by attaching your writing to another established habit. Ideally your writing habit will combine all three.

Yes, flexibility is important, because every routine has variations in it, so being able to write even when you don’t have everything just right is important. But if in the past you’ve struggled to keep writing as a consistent part of your life, then creating a routine is the best first step to creating a habit.

Connecting your writing to another, enjoyable habit is good first step. Writing while you take your morning coffee break, or during your headphones on commute time, or along side your lunchtime treat might be all you need to create a positive association. You want writing time to be something you look forward to, not dread.

By keeping the session short (Somehow setting a timer for a number less than thirty makes even the most scary tasks feel approachable for me.) and adding something pleasant and relaxing to the mix you can start to build that positivity. I think this is why so many writers like to write with a cup of tea, or in coffee shops. Adding a delicious beverage habit cues your mind that this is writing time, and what’s more, that writing is a pleasant time taken just for one’s self.

It also makes a huge difference to write at a time when your brain feels good.

I have tried writing later in the evening, and every moment feels like work. My brain is tired, and all I want to do is relax, not think. It feels like I’ve already used up all my energy and motivation.

Instead I like to wake early to write. This might sound like torture for all you night owls, but for me, (and plenty of other people) writing has become a keystone to healthy morning habits. Knowing that I’m going to wake by 5am in order to write is an incentive for me to be in bed by 9:30, (instead of staying up late to doom scroll, eat junk food and make other poor decisions) which helps me wake up with the right level of brain activity to write, which then makes me energetic enough to head out on my morning run directly after writing. Which means all the ideas from my writing session float around in my head in a pleasant soup, distracting me from the monotony of feet hitting ground. It’s a string of positive associations that keeps me happy and healthy.

For you the opposite might be true. Perhaps you find yourself in a peaceful writerly head space after the rest of your household is asleep, or while taking a break at work or school. The key is to find a time and/or place that’s low friction, when the obstacles to writing are less, when getting to your keyboard (or notebook if you’re old-school) feels less like work and maybe even like a reward, and then build out other positive associations around it.

If you’re used to viewing writing as something painful and difficult this might seem alien to you. So let me just add this: your words are not worth more because you were miserable when writing them. It’s not only okay to enjoy your writing time, it’s preferable. Sure you’ll connect a bit less to the writing is misery memes, but it’s worth it, I promise!

So, here is your assignment for the week: Take a look at your schedule and figure out what times might be convenient for regularly scheduled writing. And then try them out and see if you can find a time and place where writing feels good. You might have to move some other activities around to find that sweet spot, (like me, moving my bed time to allow morning writing time) and expect some stalls, some fails and lack of consistency. It’s not going to feel good all the time immediately, and you will need to will power your way through at times. But overall, once you can start forming that positive habit, the writing will become far easier to get to. And much more enjoyable when you do.

—Maree

Subscribe to my substack to make sure you don't miss a post, chat with me on the WIP Project discord, and tag any posts you make about the challenge with #slomowrino if you want me to see them!

#slomowrino #writing advice #writing as a habit

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

Look….more mommy hwa and more answered asks about Christopher being possessive and freaky…

I needed this thank you 🥹

Today is very very hard and I’m feeling a lot of hard feelings and life rn so overwhelming and confusing. I’m the type of person who’s got a hard shell but it’s made of like bulletproof armor on the outside but I’m v gooey and sensitive inside. I didn’t realize I needed some good brainrot inducing delulu soup to distract me so 🤌🏻 thank you

CW: WHORNY AF HARD THOTS AND DELULU SOUP

So Christopher *sigh* idk what I want to ask just my aqua sun6h/Scorpio moon3h/Leo rising/aqua Mercury 7h/sag Venus5h/Leo mars1h ass is like…………

Imagine him like soft dom but so so so into like corruption but not necessarily always meaning inexperienced partner, but maybe inexperienced in all the kinks and little taboos. I read him as wanting to break someone who’s normally very strong minded and kept together and so like very much Brat Tamer I guess. Like after he makes you cum on his mouth and then on his fingers, he wants to degrade you in the gentlest way and praise you, his voice saccharine, while he manhandles you and fucks you hard. You’re cock drunk and starting to cry a little from how good it feels and from the overstimulation. The type to make you tell him out loud what you want and where you want him and that you don’t want him to stop and make you beg him to cum and tell him how good he feels and that only he does that to you bc he’s possessive and he’s got an ego and needs you to need him in every way possible.

something about him and his Gemini rising tells me he might be good with his hands ~that might be my hand kink tho clouding my judgement(Gemini Lilith 😅) ~ *cough*cough*

ANYWAYS

He wants to break you open and make sure you can be that vulnerable and submissive to him and him only, also to know you at a very deep level. Whether you get to know him at that deep of a level is another story and depends on how deep he is in his fuckboy ways. He wants you a lady in the streets and HIS freak in the sheets. But he totally wants to corrupt you and his sag mars: he wants to try new shit with you and be adventurous and explore new kinks etc etc.

Every break down of this man’s chart has me like “oh yes pls, 😊. yes ma’am I’ll take one, where do I purchase this?”

And everyone’s like he’s this and that and potentially toxic in these ways and idk if I’m enamored by his Libra charm or what but I’m like “I can handle him, the question is actually ‘Can he handle me?’” and it’s very delulu but also I think that thought is kinda true. (hypothetically and astrologically speaking) In my little brainrot soup for the night 🥰

I can’t even begin on mommy Hwa and the gooey lovey mess he turns my brain into. Something about him is so tender but also like so so so so so freaky but like gentle but so fucking kinky? Idk that man + mommy kink + body worship + needy/clingy doms is so so so good. You’re one of my fav fic writers, and my fav mommy hwa enthusiast. Thank you for serving and thank you for your brain and thank you for the distraction on a hard day like today 🖤

Much appreciate, have a lovely rest of your week, and as always cool pillow on both sides for you!

I CANT PUT PICS IN ANONYMOUS ASKS WTF…. Fuck it I’ll go off anon for this

This is 🖤Anon on my side blog/lurk account 😅

I am ending tonight's 2 hour post of going through my asks with this absolute banger of an ask from @youre-alittle-taste-of-hell and also hi Izzy!

I'm Ruby! It's nice meeting you *hugs*

I understand how life can feeling overwhelming and frustrating when things don't go you way. I am also a golden retriever disguised as a black cat and us fire placements want love and care too.

I hope things get better for you <3

Imagine him like soft dom but so so so into like corruption but not necessarily always meaning inexperienced partner, but maybe inexperienced in all the kinks and little taboos.

This section has me feeling shit at 10:33 pm on a Tuesday afternoon while watching Chris D'Elia 'Man On Fire' on Netflix.

I just love how Bang Chan stans have silently agreed that Chan's corruption kink is fucking massive and do we have any physical evidence?

No-

But with his massive caregiver complex and Daddy kink, it kinda goes hand in hand.

I can just imagine that paragraph so vividly just him covered in sweat, his black hair sticking to the sides of his face and his mouth all shiny with spit and your cum just smirking at how fucked out you are, your eyes are beginning to cross and there's drool against the pillow.

'Don't black out on me yet baby girl, mmmh? Daddy still needs to cum'

OR...OR!!!

You're crying and sobbing against the pillow because he's edged you within an inch of your breath and the pressure is so tight it HURTS and your legs are spasming and face contorted with need as you just beg your pretty heart out.

'Please, I can't take it anymore, please make me cum, I'll do anything, please Daddy i just need it'

And then he would hover over you, wipe the drool from your mouth and press gentle kisses across your face as he pushes himself into you.

'See, that wasn't so hard wasn't it? Daddy will always reward my baby girl when she asks for something yeah?'

I also don't know how ppl enjoy being edged so severely man, I would tap out after 20 mins.

Overstimulation all the way for me.

Yeah, his Gemini Rising means he would be an exceptional kisser and great with his fingers.

His Libra stellium also means he has amazing stroke game but moving back to the kissing.

I feel like he would be a messy kisser (in a good way) like the loud smacking noises, drool and spit, definitely makes little sighs and noises of satisfaction in between kisses.

When Chan leaves his fuckboi era, sex would be incredibly emotionally intimate because he loves and adores how he sees you in a way no one does.

I have this thought that sex with Bang Chan could be so intimate, you would both end up crying and not in a dacryphilia way but in a 'i fucking love you so much and it's so emotional' way.

As much as Bang Chan likes fucking, he enjoys making love more.

And here's the thing right, Bang Chan's frontal lobe has developed so he doesn't even has the neurological excuse of 'well his brain is not fully developed yet' because NOW IT IS.

Also, your placements are low-key intimidating because wow, they are powerful.

I think Bang Chan would like the challenge of being able to handle you.

Seonghwa is definitely freaky and kinky and is very hardcore, he likes it hard, he likes it rough, he prefers a jackhammering pace (which is a bit of an ick of me because that doesn't sound enjoyable but okay).

I think the reason why jackhammering gives me an ick is because rough and fast doesn't always mean good okay?

I think a slow but deep and firm pace is better because you can get a better angle and hit the right spot every time.

But I also understand that some ppl like being treated like a battering ram during sex and that is also okay.

He would give you brilliant aftercare and reassurance though and that's what matters.

Thank you for the thirst my sweet, I will gobble this up and use this as my fantasy thoughts for sleep tonight.

Yum yum.

#🖤 anon #answered ask #moot #anon ask #slumber party with ruby #astrology talk with ruby #bang chan x reader #bang chan hard thoughts #kpop astrology #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa hard thoughts #mommy!hwa #mommy seonghwa

[lychniis]

⚘ — I PINE FOR YOUR LAUGHTER.

i. SYNOPSIS : there were moments of warmth and softness. you might be crazy saying this, but you might be more than a little in love with them. ( submission for the genshin impact white day event ). ( cyno / wanderer x gn ! reader )

ii. WARNING(S) : no warnings, just plain fluff save for wanderer being a slight douche ( it's wanderer ) and some swearing ( it's wanderer ). sharing one bed trope, modern ! au for cyno, scara cannot braid ( he's so bad ), hair pulling because scara cannot braid ( this is the life of bougie kids ). my submission for the genshin impact white day event and gift for @asoftspotforangels. i hope you like it!!!. NOT PROOFREAD.

# masterlist

&& . cyno · ( the light flickers off ; but the tent is warm )

THERE IS LITTLE ERROR IN Cyno’s methods when it comes to camping, you learn. His judgment was reliable and his process was safe enough with a novice at his side ( he had done this countless times before, with and without you, and you try to comfort yourself with that ) and he was one of the better camping partners amongst your friends. He hardly made much of a mess or threw much of a fuss, and his presence was amicable if not distant.

“He’s alright.” you had told Kaveh when he voiced his concerns. “Cyno’s not going to leave me in the middle of the woods to fend for myself. He’s not like that. I trust him.”

You trust him.

But your hands still shake when you help him straighten out the tent ( and it feels like someone unleashed a flurry of butterflies in your stomach ), and they shake harder when a single sleeping bag is unrolled and his impassive stare trains upon it. You half assume something was wrong, that this night was a bust and an hour long trip back to Sumeru City was due.

“I forgot another one.” he states, and his brow furrows, dispelling any creeping inklings of doubt that threaten the corner of your mind. Cyno wasn’t so forgetful, so petty. He certainly wouldn’t deceive you ( right…? ).

"What?"

"I forgot another sleeping bag."

Oh...

Oh...

This was...unlike him...

“Okay…” you swallow. “I could use a blanket instead.” It's a polite offer from a friend ( because that’s what you are, you remind yourself over and over and over like a record on loop when you look at him ).In truth, the thought of sharing his heat, of his arms resting around you cocooned in a space so small — you hardly think your brain could function.

Cyno mulls over it for a moment, then another, his head tilting to the side as it always does when his thoughts fill his mind with different ideas and opinions. It was his thinking face, people state. Or his 'secretly planning a murder' face.

Finally his hands drop to his side. “Absolutely not.” he decides and there is an edge of finality in the way he speaks. The warm shade of his eyes pierce you in the spot, quietly scrutinizing you for any weak attempts of protesting. “Besides, the night is cold. I don’t want you to freeze over.”

I won’t freeze over; you’re just making excuses dammit —

He was a stubborn man, Cyno and his words were law under the ground rules of camping. It was one of his constants, something to stir up against his reliability and the safety he exudes, and after eating some canned soup and some food he brought in for dinner, you slip into the sleeping bag, with him following after.

His hair tickles the back of your neck and his breath was a warm prickle upon your chilled skin — you felt everything and nothing at the same time — from the slowly fading numbness of your fingertips, to the arm that snakes around you.

Yep, you were going to die — any second now.

“I know you feel like we’re in a tight spot right now…but I won’t do anything that would case you any distress.'' Despite the situation, the terrible joke makes you smile a bit. “Tight spot?” he tests with the driest tone in existence. “Oh wait, I think you’re smiling…you’re doing fine?”

“I'm okay.” you know you’re lying and you know Cyno can catch on to it. “I just need a moment to adapt…” 

“Are you sure — ”

Your hand moves a bit and you squirm in place till your fingers lace against Cyno’s and you let out a shaky breath. At least you could find some sense of control now and the thought makes you feel better.

Cyno lets out a strained sound as his words still and whatever sentence he was about to stutter was lost to the abyss. “You alright?” you echo his question and you feel a little bad for teasing him. But you're smiling now. You're trying not to laugh ( he'd hardly be bothered by it anyway ).

“Yeah.”

If you’d turned, you’d have seen the shy droop to his eyes and the flush on his cheeks. The flashlight lighting up the tent flickers off when your eyes grow heavy and sleep tugs at your consciousness. Cyno’s forehead pressing up against your shoulder was the last you feel when you drift off.

This is fine, you tell yourself. This is fine.

Morning is another story to deal with.

&& . wanderer · ( these hands of his ; has much to learn )

HE CURSES ONCE, twice, thrice as he combs away a few more knots, fingers bent and his brow creased. The man behind you went by the moniker ‘the wanderer’ and he refuses to peel away any more layers save for the callous courtesy and snide comments on top and that, you realize, was why you find this situation strange.

Was he a friend? Perhaps. There was an ache when you’d see him, an instinctive mix of anxiety and admiration that stems from the pit of your stomach and a place so old you doubt you remember. It was persistent, like the patter of rain and the falling of dew in the Avidya Forest, it was like grasping in the dark for a face of a voice that whispered into your ear as a babe, or the lingering warmth of a hug. 

Sometimes, he looks at you with the air of someone tired, of someone meeting an old friend . It flickers through the cracks, then it’s gone — covered up as quick as it came.

He first came to you as a stranger, his inexperienced hands teaching himself how to sew a doll and you gently guided him through. Now he teaches himself how to braid your hair, his lack of skill shining through with every absent tug and uncomfortable poke. You wince every time he swears till you pull your head away.

“Stay still!” he snaps, his frustrated grimace deepening as he steadies your shoulders and holds you in place. “Give me a moment, let me figure this out — FUCK!” he pulls on your hair again and the braid falls undone, the meager progress he made now unwinding into a mess. “Dammit.”

He leans back, indigo eyes holding back an unbridled storm as the hair tie slips onto the ground and he glowers at you. “You’re the one pulling my hair.” you snap in turn, massaging the ache in your scalp. The Wanderer wrinkles his nose.

“You’re the one who asked me to braid your hair in the first place.” 

“You could have just said ‘no’. I wasn’t forcing you!” 

He looks unimpressed, tossing the hair tie your way with a huff while the few looking over the bickering seem to bend their heads down and hide their faces. An old lady does not bother, her amusement lining her face and wrinkles as she makes for the two of you, the Wanderer glancing up with a stiff set to his jaw when he notices.

( You knew the softer parts of him, where his crassness never met the ears of the children or the elderly. You wonder why he would never treat you the same way. )

“If you two need any help, I wouldn't mind lending some advice.” she supplies and the smile she wears is brilliant and it is kind. Some of your anger eases away.

“We wouldn’t want to be a bother…but thank you.” “Nonsense.” she laughs, her eyes seeming to peer at an unspoken joke she caught on to. You do not see what she sees, with your youthful gaze. “Now you there, young man?”

The Wanderer straightens his back.

“You’re too impatient. Take your time bridging their hair. It’s no wonder you keep tangling it up. Should it get too messy, comb through the ends a few times.” you listen to her instruct him, and apart from the absent pulls, he was far gentler now, careful, almost. The elder departs and the Wanderer continues on.

His touch was soft. And it was hesitant.

“How come you’ve never learned how to braid hair before…?” you finally ask.

“How come you haven’t?”

“I always kept mine short…or my parents would do it for me. I suppose I let it grow out before I even noticed…” you let out a sheepish laugh, at how stupid you sounded, at how stupid the answer even was. The Wanderer hums, seemingly taking it in.

You catch a flash of color from the corner of your eye and you smell something sweet. He lets your hair go, now braided, its messiness and inexperienced winding covered up by flowers pinned on alongside the tie. 

You fall silent. He looks at you, his indigo eyes shadowed beneath his hat.

“It’s beautiful.” you mutter, feeling your cheeks war,.

“...Right.” he lets out a soft exhale. “Well then, since you’ve just admitted to being absolutely pathetic at basic hair care…” he pauses. “I suppose you could call me again.”

“Again…? You repeat and you smile.

His ears turn pink and you think you see a flash of sadness and of longing.

“Don’t get used to it.”

❪⠀🎬⠀❫ AINE SPEAKS ;;

*lies down* i hope you enjoyed this! this is the first time i wrote either of these two characters so there was so much for me to get a grasp on kjnbvbnjk. but it was still fun writing all of this down and i hope i could dip my fingers into thinking up more wanderer and cyno content some time.

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill this form up!

taglist —@x-zho @dustofthedailylife @silentmoths @ofoceansandtombsanew @meimeimeirin @the-travelling-witch @blinkofink @thesparklingwriter, @niverine @hleb-chan-sky @genshinboys

AINE | 2023. do no plagiarize, repost or rework this piece.

#&&. my writing !! #giwhiteday2023 #astronetwrk #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #cyno x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader

[ntls-24722]

Hi hello 👋 !!!

Just wonder….

Why did Nawi almost killed sindeer when she was a baby? and why does she hate her for exactly?and why did she got pissed when sindeer said that she is dating a woman ????what got her like that????(i’m sorry for this so many questions and I just got sooo interested in sindeer mom /bw ! Nawi looks like she got blood pressure)

Oh how I wonder….

Inshallah You have a good day🤗

No problem, because so am I!!

ACTUALLY, I'll explain ALL of the lore, but the reason why Nawi used to hate Sindeer to the point of almost killing her is because Sindeer was a product of incest.

Obviously, I was very hesitant to talk about this for a WHILE (over a month) due to the subject, but this is kinda the perfect time to. Not portrayed as sexual in any way, but TW/CW for the aforementioned incest and descriptions of gore below.

Nawi's family had left the village they were in to celebrate a marriage, only to come back and see that literally nothing was left - Their home was ambushed and pillaged by a fringe group of nomadic Debu and by the miracle of not being there they missed getting completely slaughtered. [this was the "genetic bottleneck" in the alt text that i was being purposefully vague about. It was way too early in my homo mousike ramblings to be dropping this]. So, Nawi's extended family wandered together with no home to call to, on dry savanna and no cliffsides that they were used to settling on, and many of them were dying out from the exertion and the dehydration - Even if they are in their stone age, they had settled down, and suddenly adopting nomadism is as hard for them as it would be for us, especially when you have no damn clue where you're going.

They decided to marry the younger ones off to eachother in order to have a chance of a legacy, and Nawi was paired with her brother, Okwi. It was traumatic, and over the course of a pregnancy + incubation that she already didn't want, she's noticing a lot of... really weird changes within the group. They had these two beliefs of "Everything bad happened because we took our eyes off of our home", and "The outside world is evil and cannot be trusted", both very volatile, and slowly turning them into a non-religious cult with an hierarchy and entourage of men (Okwi included, being the highest ranked) who were practically worshipped because they were bringing about the new generation and founded this new, less naive way of life, unlike how they were living before.

Nawi's watching this all, obviously weirded out. "Hey guys. Why are we worshipping this way of life. This was awful. There is no honor in what we had to do. This isn't a secret society, we just have no-one else." When Sindeer was born, Nawi could not have been any less disinterested with her, with the way Sindeer was kind of the embodiment of all this and how she was been the first generation to be born under this, and was completely neglectful of her.

The final straw for Nawi was when the rest of the group is planning Sindeer's marriage before she's even able to climb off of her back, paired with Okwi as an honor for being The First and in a misplaced rage, she almost killed Sindeer one night over it, trying to justify it as saving her from her fate.

Nawi failed, mostly because she didn't have the heart to decapitate a baby, but partially because she realized that Sindeer was the only one of her kids that survived, and if SHE died, then Nawi might be expected to make more. The latter realization was what mobilized her to leave the weird cult her family had become, not just for her, but for Sindeer too. She tries to pull a "I'm going to go out for milk" (water, in her case) on her entire family, but it was late and they made her husband go with her. Awful choice!

Nawi proceeded to crack his skull open and rummage around in the cranial space to turn his brain into soup, hoping that doing so would rob him of an afterlife. Following this, she booked it out of there with baby Sindeer on her back for them to discover the corpse of the highest ranking man in the morning.

Sindeer knows about absolutely none of this.

...On a MUCH lighter note though: Nawi was mad about Sindeer telling her that she dated women because she was TRULY UPSET that she didn't think of dating women first.

If Okwi wasn't indicative enough, Nawi's love life is abysmal and even after him, she seemed to be a magnet for truly rancid men. What's funny is that Nawi actually does start dating women after this, even though she's straight, and she's having a much better time. She completely swore off men, and talks about them like a vice that she's quit cold turkey on.

#ntls-24722 #homo mousike #Nawi #Sindeer #ask #tw incest #cw incest #incest cw #incest tw #tw inc*st #cw inc*st #...gore?????? #Okwi

[britishmuffin]

Hello, Britishmuffin

I hope you are having a wonderful day/night.

Just wanted to know what inspires you to make such amazing art pieces? As well how do you deal with art block?

Im a artist myself but times get tuff and I lose motivation and start developing art block.

Sincerely, fisheggsoup :)

Morning! Love your name :D

Truthfully, my biggest motivator is born of necessity these days. I create art because I have bills to pay and family to support. My patrons are a huge driving force in all this, cheering me on from the sidelines while I work; my band of blessed saviours.

I also make sure that my social feeds are full of artists I love, who make art that makes me happy. I'm always watching films and playing games, always constantly absorbing media in this wacky age of technology-infused information. Then if I'm lucky, I get the chance to step outside for a walk in the woods with my sibling to help ground ourselves in the world and reconnect with nature, pure medicine for the troubled soul.

All of these activities serve to stir the Brain Soup and sometimes reflect in my artwork. I rarely get struck with the "fabled bolt of inspiration" these days, but I blame the current climate. I did used to.

As some of you will already know because I'm being quite open about it this time, I'm currently battling the worst bout of burnout I've had in literal years. So really, I'm not sure I'm the best person to be asking on the topic of how to deal with it, but here you go:

In my experience it’s not the best idea to wait for inspiration to strike. Inspiration is unreliable, constantly waiting can leave you anxious, and also most of us just don’t have the luxury of being able to. I kinda think we just need to create despite it (or TO spite it, or in order to spite someone who told you you couldn't, if that's your sauce).

If you feel like your art sucks, instead of expecting perfection try just giving yourself permission to be bad at art for a while, you might be surprised about how much of a relief it feels. Make a hundred terrible little sketches, doodles, scribbles, or just make marks on paper. You don’t even have to show them to anyone, they can be just for your eyes! More often than not I’ve found that the physical act of creating artwork can genuinely inspire you to make more, and better work. It flexes those art muscles and gets the creative cogs whirring. Just make stuff!!!

As a person who’s had little choice but to create for years, it can be really helpful to push through it. Not always, though.

Sometimes the art block you’re staring down actually goes layers deep into the realms of debilitating mental health and poor living status, right into dangerous burnout and breakdown territory. Some would argue that creating art in times of real pain is the best medicine, and indeed, creates the best results. I wholly disagree.

My advice is to always make art in those moments when you can, even if it sucks. And when you just can’t, then rest. Watch your favourite guilty pleasure anime, cook some delicious food, hug your pets, go exist in nature for a bit. Have you ever seen Kiki’s Delivery Service? That!

Helpful links to combat art block:

Line of Action has great learning resources, while also being a brilliant tool for a variety of speedy sketch warm-ups

Don’t know what to draw? Use a character description generator!

You could flex your figure drawing muscles with models on Figurosity, AdorkaStock, or ArtModels360 (nudity warning)

Improve your fundamental art skills with Drawabox or videos on The Fix List

Generate some colour palettes to use as a challenge. Adobe’s colour wheel tool isn’t too bad either

Other more practical tips include:

If you struggle staying motivated, try to refocus by sitting down and asking yourself "What kind of art do I really want to create?” Try to rediscover what excites you! Is your aim to work in the art industry? To be able to draw your OCs smooching? Draw beefy bara men? Do you really just wanna paint cool rocks? All valid af

Pull up images of your favourite artworks and study them. Ask yourself “Why do I like this artwork?” Are the outfits really cool designs? Is the lineart super stylish? Do you love the way they used colours? After that, think about what you need to learn to get to that point yourself, and start small. Mimic your favourite artworks in order to learn how to do it.

Example: If you realise that you want to improve at drawing hands, just spend a week learning about them. Draw pages and pages of them, find a way to make them fun and sexy to draw! I did just that, and now hands are actually one of my favourite things to draw, it works.

Warm-ups are SO important. If you just started on a piece and already feel defeated, ask yourself “Did I warm up enough first?” You can try looping fifty quick spirals in different sizes with your pen, scratch out some box shapes, doodle some funky wiggly shapes, crosshatch them, whatever you want! Just get that hand moving before you leap into your artwork of choice, it helps to loosen up to keep your lines from becoming too stiff.

If it’s just not working today, that’s okay. Take a break by filtering your creativity into another entirely different creative pursuit. You could try baking something tasty, making music, writing for your next D&D campaign, building cute houses in minecraft or the sims, painting miniatures, crafting with paper or sewing fabric, etc etc. Anything that keeps the creative brain ticking that isn’t drawing is also worthwhile.

And, mentally:

Try not to worry about what other people think of your artwork. Doesn’t matter what age you are or your background, the fact you’ve created anything at all is incredible. You brought something into the world that didn’t exist before. You’re powerful as hell.

Related: please please please don’t focus on being “successful” on social media. Even though I know it can feel awesome to post your art and get instant reactions, these things are a death spiral of addictive behaviour and shouldn’t dictate your creativity. Use sparingly.

Remember that your kid self would absolutely be losing their mind over the cool stuff you’ve made now. Same goes for your ancient ancestors who used to make those little clay animals. You’re doing great, be proud.

Don’t be so damn hard on yourself. I mean it <3

If you keep drawing you will improve. You will get your motivation back. You will make art again even if it takes you a while. And know that a muffin is cheering for you c:

#sorry this turned out kinda long wtf haha #reply #muffin tips

[blooming-violets]

🌡️

P.P being sick (and needy possibly?)

We all know Peter becomes a needy baby boy whenever he has even the slightest snivel

He needs you to take care of him. Well, he doesn't need it, but he highly requests it. It starts off with a call in the morning after you text him your usual 'good morning' text.

Peter's more of a caller than a texter because he likes to hear your voice and doesn't have the patience for texting. He'd rather word vomit everything on his mind out loud to you. This morning is a little different. The call starts with heavy breathing followed by a gross coughing fit.

"Save me," the gravely voice croaks on the other end. "'m dyin' over'ere. Come to me. Hold me. Help me. I can see the light. 'm goin' into the light."

"Is this about cold from yesterday, Peter?"

"No...maybe...yes...but, I swear, I see the light. It's callin' out to me. Quickly. Come pull me back from it. This cold has mutated. It's become a beast. Takin' over my whole body. Can't function anymore. SOS. Save me. Please." -cue more horrible coughing-

"Drama queen."

You pull yourself out of bed and get ready to head over there anyway. Peter might be the world's biggest drama queen but he's extra sweet when he's sick and you don't want to miss out on that.

His apartment is really bare. He's been living here for a year and still only has a mattress on the floor for a bed. There's not even a fitted sheet on it today. The man is a mess. A pathetic mess and you take pity on him.

"Alright, Parker, get up. I'm taking you back to my place. I have some leftover dumpling soup I can make for you and a bed that doesn't look like it belongs in a crack house."

You help bundle him up like he's a toddler in need of assistance. He insists on wearing a beanie and scarf even though it's warm out. You don't fight him on it.

He moans and groans the entire way back to your apartment despite it only being a few blocks away from his. You hold the big baby's hand and drag him along behind you.

Back your place, he collapses into your bed and almost immediately starts snoring. He can't keep his eyes open. Didn't even take his shoes or jacket off. He's more sick than you thought so you let him rest.

You tuck him in, doing your best to wiggle him out of his outside clothes, and take his temperature while he sleeps. It's high but not dangerously so. You let the baby sleep which ends up being most of the day.

By mid afternoon, you decide to wake him to make sure his brain is still functioning and hasn't melted into goo from the fever.

He wakes up covered in drool and snot, his eyes are all crusty, his mouth is dry, he doesn't know where the fuck he is. He's groaning and unable to form words. His hands keeps sticking to everything like it's the first time he gained his powers all over again. A DISASTER BOY

"Where am I? Waz happenin' who's there? 'm Spider-Man, I can fight ya....'m so strong..."

You shush him, rolling your eyes, "Yes I know. You're a big, strong super hero. It's just me. Calm down. You're sick. And kinda gross. You don't smell great."

You roll his ass into the shower, letting him get cleaned off and refreshed, while you heat up some soup.

He's more coherent when he comes back and smells nice so that's a plus for you.

You spent the rest of the evening eating your soup, curled up in bed with him, and watching a movie on your laptop.

Peter refuses to let you get out of the bed for anything. He doesn't want you to leave his side. He has you wrapped up tightly in his arms as he dozes off and on.

And even though he feels like a giant, feverish heater attached to you and you're getting sweaty and will probably get sick in the next few days, you let it happen.

If you end up getting sick then he can repay the favor of getting to dote on you the entire night.

Make sure you give him all the kisses all over his fevered face so you can watch his half asleep, lazy smiles and listen to his little grunts of approval.

Because even in his sickly sleep state, he loves and craves your attention.

#tasm #the amazing spiderman #peter parker #tasm peter parker #andrew garfield #tasm headcanon #tasm imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker headcanon #tasm peter imagine #tasm peter headcanon #blooming violets #blooming-violets

[shivunin]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @greypetrel @daggerbean @ndostairlyrium @layalu!! In turn, tagging (no pressure, always): @heniareth @zenstrike @dreadfutures @pinayelf @vakarians-babe @jtownnn and you, if you have something you'd like to share! It has been a Week and my brain is soup, but here is something I wrote in companion to the piece about Hawke lost in the Fade. I got to thinking about what might lead my Inquisitor to the role she plays in that fic, and it has been eons since I've written Emma (my darling!), so:

It was always cold at night in Skyhold, even if the magic of the fortress itself held the worst of the frosts at bay. 

Emmaera stood on the balcony, looking out at the moon over the snow, and tried to decide if she was ready to cry yet. It seemed like this ought to be the right time; she was finally home, such as it was, and she’d been thinking for ages how nice it would be to get home and finally, finally cry. 

Why couldn’t she do it?

“You’re still awake?” 

She didn’t turn when the door creaked the rest of the way open, but she leaned back when Cullen wrapped his arms around her. 

“I can’t sleep. Well—that’s an understatement, I suppose.”

“Hmm,” he said, and she could feel the tension in him before he spoke again. “Adamant?” 

“What else?” 

If she strained, she could see the ravens as they flew from Leliana’s tower. Not unusual, really. The spymaster and her folk sent letters at all hours of the night. But…well. Lavellan knew exactly who’d sent the ones winging from the rookery now. 

“I should’ve—” she began, but gritted her teeth against it. 

How self-serving to pity herself over the choice now; she, who’d sent Varric’s dearest friend to her death. How could she even pretend she had the right?

“You did the best you could,” Cullen told her quietly, squeezing tighter. Emma shook her head silently and gripped the cold stone of the balustrade. 

“There had to have been another way. I could have—I could have held it back. I could have—If I’d just had time to think—”

“We have discussed what happened a dozen times,” Cullen told her quietly. “I know it doesn’t help. I know; believe me, I know. But—”

“The eluvians,” she interrupted. “There’s got to be something there.”

“Emmaera—”

“I know it,” she said, for she had spent the last week thinking of little else. She had lost her father to an eluvian most of her lifetime ago. Maybe—maybe another could unmake this wrong. Maybe Hawke was still out there to bring back. 

“If I could just go for—for a week—”

“There is no time,” he let go of her, stepping to the side so they could look at each other. “If there was some way—if anyone deserves saving, it’s her, but there is no time. We march for the Arbor Wilds in under a month and you’ve excursions planned from tomorrow to then.”

“I owe her,” she told him, her voice ragged. She pressed one fisted hand—the one marked with the Anchor—to her chest. “I owe her everything. She gave up her life for me. She was supposed to be retired; Varric told Cassandra—oh, nevermind that. I can’t just leave her there, Cullen. What if it’s me someday? What if I never get to leave this, either, and someday someone will come out of the woodwork to ask me if I might help them with one last mission? What if you were the one who had to hear that I’d been lost somewhere, that they were very sorry but I was an acceptable casualty and—”

She couldn’t go on. Lavellan pressed a hand to her mouth and turned away, willing her eyes to stop stinging. Behind her, she could hear Cullen shift and sigh. 

“I know,” he said. “I know the guilt you feel and—I wish I knew what to say.”

“Say I should go,” the Inquisitor said, back straight as an arrow, and turned to her Commander. “Say that I can leave and bring her back.” 

Emmaera sighed, slumping slightly, and reached for his hand. 

“Say that you would want someone to do the same if it were me,” she told her lover, and Cullen searched her face. 

“I wouldn’t let someone else do it if you were lost,” he told her quietly. “But—very well. I will go write a message for the others now. See what we can rearrange.”

“Thank you,” she told him, heartfelt. “Thank you.”

Cullen reached for her and folded her close, leaning his cheek against her hair. 

“Don’t thank me,” he said, and closed his eyes tightly.

#emmaera lavellan #cullavellan #shivunin scrivening #oh guilt my beloved

[therenlover]

✨TheRenLovers (Updated) Fanfic Glossary✨

Updated 9/7/23

A glossary of my past works and ongoing projects. Also comes with a handy dandy list for request guidelines! I mostly post x Reader fics, but I'm looking to branch out into established ships soon. To join my fresh, new taglist for any character, just shoot me a message. I also crosspost all my works to my Ao3, which you can find Here!.

This post is a beefy boy, so for the sake of your dash the rest is below the cut.

Red = Abandoned Project (I may eventually complete these, but I have no current plans to)

A Note About Requests

As long as my ask box is open, I am taking requests or questions! I can't promise every request will be completed, or that the ones that are requested will be finished in a timely manner. I'm an adult with a full time job, so sometimes writing takes a backseat. That being said, I will do my best to complete any requests that come my way, so feel free to ask if you're hoping to see something! The worst I could do is direct you to someone who might be able to make what you're looking for.

I am pretty open about what I write, but if a request makes me uncomfortable/isn't something I'm interested in writing, I, again, will try my best to reach out and guide you in the right direction to get that type of content. If you're worried your message got buried/forgotten, don't hesitate to message again. My brain is soup and I can be the worst person on earth at responding.

⚔️Baldur's Gate 3⚔️

Put Me Back In It (I Would Do It Again)

Synopsis: When Tav sold her soul to Raphael for Astarion's, she only hoped it would be worth the price. If only she remembered anything from before she entered the House of Hope...

Rating: E (+18)

Word Count: 40,000~ (Ongoing)

❤️Marvel❤️

Helmut Zemo 💜

One Last Night In Madripoor

Synopsis: Baron Helmut Zemo is a lonely, wanted man looking for some fun, you’re a piss-poor bounty hunter in search of a connection before leaving your life of crime behind, and fate has brought you together at a party the likes of which has never been seen before. You only have one night left in Madripoor, so why not take a chance?

Rating: E (+18)

Word Count: 4200~

Still Some Catching Up To Do

Synopsis: As a member of the criminal underworld, people walk out of your life all the time. Some are killed, others kill themselves, most get caught and only a couple get out of the life unscathed, disappearing into the world never to be seen again. Very few walk back in. So when your supposedly incarcerated ex-lover, the Winter Soldier, and the Falcon waltzed through your door and made you murder your boss, needless to say, you were surprised and more than a little bit pissed.

Rating: M (+16)

Word Count: 6800~

Nine Years Starved

Synopsis: It had been a little over nine years since Helmut Zemo lost his family, his country, and his sanity. Nine years since his last kiss. Nine years since he felt like a human man. Finally, he was ready to start over again, but first, he had to pay his penance back where it all began; Novi Grad. That’s when, by the grace of the fates, he met you.

Rating: G

Word Count: 7000~

Daddy Dearest

Synopsis: Not everyone gets lucky enough to go from being a broke college student in New York to being the sugar baby to literal royalty, but not everyone is you. Most people would be worried about messing things up or losing him to someone else, but you knew he would never find another baby just like you. Besides, you knew exactly what to do to keep him wrapped around your little finger. He may have been the daddy, but you pulled the reins.

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 8000~

In Fleeting Touches and Airy Sighs

Synopsis: As a wanted man, Helmut Zemo spends most of his time jumping from place to place in the hopes of avoiding a trip back to prison. Unfortunately, that means he can’t always be home in your arms. When he is, though, in the rare moments of calm, you’re reminded of just how worth it it’s been to wait, even if that wait was only shortened by the arrival of your enemies.

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 35,700~

Two Bodies In The Rain

Synopsis: It was raining the day you finally had to admit your feelings to Helmut. You hated to tell him the way you did, under the grey skies as your blood pooled below you, but at least you knew, in the end, he had seen the real you, even just once. That was enough.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5600~

Rest

Synopsis: Living life on the lam with your escaped super-villain lover means things rarely slow down enough for a real rest. When the exhaustion starts to take its toll on you, though, he knows exactly what to do to ease the pain. He may not be a good man, but he’s a good husband when it counts.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3200~

The Boy With The Easel

Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.

Rating: T

Word Count: 7000~

Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk

Synopsis: Helmut recalls the story of how he came to be the ruthless man he is and, more specifically, how he came into possession of his strange purple mask.

Rating: M (+16)

Word Count: 10,200~

Balm

Synopsis: Your forbidden dalliance with Baron Zemo, the lord of the house, has finally landed you in the dungeons, subject to the whims of the guards and the endless passage of time. As your sanity slips away, you wonder what will come first, your execution or the Baron's return?

Rating: M (+18)

Word Count: 5,800~

Always For A Second (Usually At The Start)

Synopsis: Leaving Helmut for good had been the biggest, most final choice you'd ever had to make. Two years later, he's in your living room again. This time, though, things are different.

Rating: E (+18)

Word Count: 8,600~

🖤American Horror Story🖤

James Patrick March 🔪

Heartsick

Synopsis: When you fall ill, James is given a forceful awakening about how he’s been neglecting your needs and what he must do to prevent harm from befalling you again.

Rating: M (16+)

Word Count: 3700~

In Sickness And In Health

Synopsis: Normally people don’t have their wedding and funeral on the same day, but you and James don’t quite have a normal relationship, do you? Besides, you wouldn’t wanna go any other way.

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 5500~

Jimmy Darling 🦞

Red Nights In Jupiter

Synopsis: At the end of another long day, you fall into bed with Jimmy Darling. The men you served throughout the day don’t matter then, nor do the coins in the mason jar by the door, or the women scheduled to attend Jimmy’s next Tupperware party. No, in that quiet darkness it’s just you and the man you love, bone-tired and happy to be home. Who could ask for more?

Rating: M (16+)

Word Count: 3000~

#jac rambles #fanfiction

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 17 - Panties!

You and Gale chat about linguistics. Astarion has elf ears and thus, elf hearing. Ruh-roh.

Rated M for language and violence. Still not for smut, because when I said this was a slow burn, I meant it and also Eleanor is demisexual, so does not compute for her (yet).

On AO3.

You don’t make it much further before calling quits. Between your horror vomiting, Lae’zel’s brush with acid, and the rest of the party being generally wrung out from killing a wholeass owlbear, y’all are beat.

Camp is in a pretty, little clearing just off the trail. The grass is soft—and joyously free of ticks—with patches of pretty, yellow flowers. It’s a clear night; the moon is a great, big silver plate, and the spray of unfamiliar stars overhead shine bright and crystalline.

While Lae’zel scrapes the brains out of the skull of the owlbear, the others hunker down for a good and proper soup. It’s mostly vegetables, with sliced sausages, and you’re so, so fucking thankful Gale kept spices in his magical go bag. More than salt and pepper, too. You’re picking up traces of chili powder, paprika, and even a taste of cumin, you think. Not bad at all.

After your meal, y’all sit around for a bit. Astarion returns from scouting and takes his bowl back to his tent. Mr. Fancypants doesn’t like eating with commoners. It’s the first night everyone’s free, not working on spells or meditating or sulking alone. But the mood is still heavy and subdued.

Fucking cults will do that.

You wonder if your group’d listen to White people ghost stories—the Cherokee ones you do not tell at night out in the open.

You kick back and stare at the red line dancing around the edges of the embers.

Your stomach is still sore; throat still scratchy. And your headache is a constant grind. Must be the brainworm chewing on your gray-meats. The others hide their own discomfort pretty good—though that might just be the whole “not human” thing. Except Gale is human. Does he have wizard ibuprofen?

You stare into the fire some more and resist the urge to palm your right eye and press until you see sparkles.

The next thing you know, everyone has moved around the fire.

You sit up. Look around. Shadowheart and Lae’zel are arguing over the importance of keeping trophies (which Shadowheart dismisses as barbaric nonsense). Astarion is now standing outside his tent with a book propped open on one arm. You literally blinked and they all moved. What the fu—

“Are you alright?” Gale says. He was opposite you on the whole other side of the fire. Now he leans on the same fallen log you rest against with his own book sitting in his lap.

“I,” you say. You lost time. You completely lost, at minimum, several minutes. You try to breathe normal, instead of panting like a sick dog. “Yeah. I just…zoned out pretty good right there.”

Gale frowns. “’Zone?’ How would you use area as a verb?”

God, your head hurts.

You flap a hand. “Means I wasn’t paying attention, is all. D’you, you got anything for a headache? The stress has got my neck wound so tight it could crack a walnut.”

“Mmm, I don’t think so. Shadowheart may have an easier time of it. Are you…?”

He pauses. There’s more than confusion etched into his brow. It looks suspiciously like concern.

“Are you having any other symptoms?” he says in a low voice.

You look at him until it clicks. The whole face melting thing. All the stuff he’s described.

“No, no,” you say. “I don’t think it’s any of that. I woke up with this back on the butthole—I mean, the nautiloid.”

But his eyebrows have already shot up to his hairline. “The what? I’m not sure that translated accurately.”

Oh shit.

You groan. “No, it probably did. It’s what I been calling the nautiloid, before I learned its name. The doors on there looked like, well, buttholes. So I just went with it.”

His mouth opens. No words come out. You’ve shocked Mr. Verbose into silence. You almost give yourself a high five.

“I named all you’uns,” you continue, a bit more of Uncle Randy’s vernacular slipping in. It feels nice, letting your tongue slide back into that cadence. Feels like relaxing. Once you’d moved away, you tried to soften your country accent, fold it up into neat, shortened northern.

“I can only hope it was more sophisticated than your naming convention for the ship,” Gale says.

“You were mumu.” You wait. His expression doesn’t change, so the dirt potion must not’ve had a decent replacement for that. So you explain it, and by the end, he’s got a wry sort of smile.

“I can state with full confidence I’ve been called much worse,” Gale says. “Though it is a slight blow to my ego that I couldn’t impress any of my more noteworthy traits over my wardrobe.”

“It was either that or mullet.”

Having explained that, he proceeds to quiz you on the others, stumbling only over “goth.” But educated on that, he agrees with you on all counts.

“We’d been calling you Tav,” he says. At your blank face, “It’s a name used for orphans or someone whose name isn’t known, usually due to illness or injury. Quite common.”

Tav. It’s…their version of Jane Doe?

Then Gale’s face twists up. You can’t tell if it’s some flavor of perplexed, or if there’s a hint of amusement around his eyes. “Though I am curious how you’d gotten a glimpse at Astarion’s pants?”

You stare. Twist to find Astarion lounging on a nest of pillows he’s somehow managed to collect—he stole them from the tieflings, didn’t he.

“He’s wearing them?” you say and gesture with your thumb.

Gale’s whole face opens in surprise (relief?). “Ah! Another translation quirk. We call the outer garments trousers. The inner clothing is called pants, or smallclothes.”

You sit there. He’s definitely amused, now. Because you’ve been calling Astarion ‘Fancy Underwear.’ Good god. You’re so glad you figured that one out with Gale.

“Right,” you say. Your face definitely doesn’t feel warm. Not at all.

“Apologies for the distraction, and back to your headache. So you have no other symptoms.”

“I mean.” You gesture to your face, which as far as you can tell by touch is still your face. Goddamn, you haven’t had a proper bath in days. At least y’all are camped next to a stream; you can keep on dunking yourself as best you can. Still, no moisturizer or shampoo. Your elbows are getting rough.

“It’s all rather odd,” Gale says. “We should be halfway through the gestational process, yet none of us—aside from possibly you—have shown any sign of it. Either your being from a different plane has made you more susceptible, or our own physiology has shielded the rest of us. But Lae’zel isn’t a local, either, and even you aren’t following the standard process, as I understand it.”

He studies you a long moment. His lips press thin. But then he sighs and shakes his head.

“No, I don’t think you alone are going through the melt-change-condition.” You catch the vague shape of the actual word he uses behind the magical translation, but can’t suss it out. “I think it safe to assume this is merely the stress from all of this. I would suggest you find a way to relax, but, well.”

Lae’zel has finished both her scraping and her argument. She settles down next to a big, stone wheel that starts to spin as her foot taps a pedal. You watch, curiously, until she lifts her brains-scraping knife and you realize that sumbitch is a fucking grinder.

The noise shoots right through your eyeball to lodge deep in your aching brain.

“Nice talk, Gale, I’m getting out of here,” you say.

He winces next to you. Nods. “I’ll retire to my tent and see if I can’t come up with something in my stores to help with that ache of yours. In your head. That you mentioned.”

He rolls to his feet super spry for someone with gray streaks in his hair. He gives a little bow with his head, which you return with a nod as you make your way to the opposite side of the camp from Lae’zel.

Which happens to be where Astarion has set himself up for the night. Almost like he didn’t want to be around someone scooping out a dead owlbear head.

He glances up as you near. Watches you sink down into the grass nearby. You pause for a moment, considering, and flop onto your back in a full sprawl beneath the stars.

You don’t say anything. Neither does he, for a long moment. He flips a page. The pounding in your brain begins to unclench. Turns another page.

“So,” he says in a fucking tone.

“Oh god,” you say preemptively.

“You think my pants are fancy?”

Fucking elf ears. Of course he fucking heard you. Of fucking course.

You cover your face with one arm. “Would you stop if I said it was a mistranslation and I meant your trousers?”

“Whyever would I do that?”

Whyever would he. The man is a fucking menace.

Thing is, you’ve been so polite and quiet this whole time (until today, really). But Mother and the other leadership saw something in you, even as a child. And they weren’t exactly wrong about it (just the part where it was bad bad sinful bad the devil shame shame bad).

You turn to squint at him through the throbbing in your skull. “Are they?”

“Are what, dear?”

“Your underwear. Are they fancy?”

Bitch doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. He wants to give some, he better be able to take some.

You almost miss his hesitation, it’s so fast. Then his malicious smirk is back on and he snaps his book shut. Spins to face you. “They are, actually. I would ask the same of you, but I’m rather sure you’re not wearing any.”

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p” and waggling your legs back and forth in the grass. Outbrazen that, chucklefuck.

His mask doesn’t even crack. Not a flinch, not a micro expression; the man is stone cold fucking with you. “Are those not a norm in your realm, either?”

“Oh, they are, I just didn’t have them on me when I got grabbed.” Let him wonder about that. Dare him to fucking ask. The reason is you were asleep, but he doesn’t know that. “Unless we find some kinda clothing store soon, I think I’m gonna have to make some myself.”

He leans forward to rest an elbow on his bent knee. “I could help you with that, you know.”

You…can’t tell if he’s being serious.

“I ain’t wearing your drawers, fancy man. You only got the one pair anyway, unless you’re walk around with spares in your pockets.”

To this, he grimaces. “I didn’t need the reminder. All the material we’ve come across has been roughspun, mildewed, or both. Not a scrap of silk to be seen anywhere.”

You turn your head to frown at him for a long moment. Because yeah, that tracks. Of course this floof-haired, ridiculous city man wears silk drawers. You should not be so surprised at this. But also…

“You expecting to find you some silk out here in the boonies?” you say.

Now it’s his turn to frown. You watch his lips form the word “boonies.”

“Outside the city,” you say. “Back woods, back water, the sticks, wilderness, middle of fucking nowhere.”

“Hmm. No, I suppose I didn’t. People travel through here, but not the sort to own any apparel worth salvaging, would they? No, you’re correct.”

You say nothing to that. Content to lie beneath the moon and let the conversation about y’all’s panties die a quiet, natural death.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch his head tilt. He’s watching you.

“That was a clever little plan, back there,” he says after a moment. “I dare say, you thought further ahead than any of the others regarding those cultists. And regarding how to deal with them. It was very clean—efficient, even if their deaths were very much not. It’s a shame you had to leave us so quickly back in that den.”

To vomit.

You’re not gonna out-edgey the edgelord here. Simpler to go for the boring answers. “Ain’t used to seeing something like that. Horror is a normal response to people getting torn up back where I come from.”

“Mmm. Sounds terribly dull. And yet, for someone so inexperienced,” he makes some gesture that either their version of air quotes or him just being a theater kid, “you came to that conclusion quickly and you saw it through. Against some objections, even.”

Objections from half of them. Or only Gale, really, as the only part Lae’zel hadn’t liked was the sneak factor. She seemed pleased as punch when then owlbear turned on y’all and she got to hack it to pieces.

And Gale got over it all well enough to come hang out with you at camp.

These fucking people.

And goddamnit, you’re fitting in.

You find him with his chin propped up, his gaze fixed on you.

“I have never, in my life, had to deal with this kinda shit before,” you say. “I’m just…getting ideas as we go along and trying not to die.”

“Quite vicious ideas.”

Your neck is hot. You turn away, point your face at the sky as if the cold starlight will chill the head building over your cheeks.

He’s not wrong. You have a ruthless streak, you know. Part of your whole healing process was recognizing and accepting that part of yourself. And you had. And now, you wonder if that is part of the problem. If you hadn’t just gone down into your mental basement to feed the monsters there, but you’d pulled up that cellar door and leapt in yourself.

You feel guilt, for sure. But you already know you’d do it again. You’d put up that ruthless streak in a shoebox and set it up on a tall shelf in a back closet in your brain. But now you went and you opened that up, and it’s working for you. It’s a tool and a weapon, and it might be your best shot at surviving all this.

“Your ideas got you out of that crash,” Astarion says. “They kept you with all of us, saved you from that bandit, and effectively took control of our little band of miscreants.”

“What? I’m not—”

You didn’t take control. Did you? They went along with one horrible idea. Or two, actually, with Kahga. Except there were several ideas involved in that—

You’re not the leader.

You’re not.

“And even now, that mind of yours is plotting out our continued survival, isn’t it?” he says. “You might be a useful person to know.”

“Well thank you, darlin,’” you drawl.

He makes a sound that forces your attention back to him. You catch his eyebrows raised, eyes round. The laugh is more of a snort, and he seems as surprised at it as he does at…whatever caused it.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

“That’s just a saying,” you start.

But he’s already waving it off. “Not to worry. I believe I’ll leave you to your little respite away from that cacophony. Take a walk and get some air, myself.”

Oh shit, you weirded him out. It’s just a phrase. Old, southern ladies you’ve never met call you “sugar” and “honey” all the time.

He stands. Sweeps the wrinkles out of his clothes—mostly his silly, frilly shirt. Then he gives you some ridiculous, over-the-top, one-arm-in-the-air courtly bow. “Do sleep tight, darling.”

He wanders off. The wind hisses in the trees. Lae’zel’s grinder screeches like a thousand souls of the damned, and your brain worm nibbles contentedly at a piece of your pre-frontal cortex.

“Jesus christ,” you say and roll over to lie face down in the grass.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #fanfic #astarion #astarion x tav #it's a goddamn isekai #i'm not sorry #no betas we die like men #feeding alligators fic #tavstarion #plus size tav #demisexual tav

[cerealandchoccymilk]

Trigun Bookclub: Trigun Vol.1-2, Chapter #09

previous | all | next

I’m doing a deep-read of the Japanese original print (reread) and Overhaul 1.0 (first read) side-by-side, and writing down everything I notice from small details, version differences, translation differences, etc.

The volume numbers will be mismatched for most of the remainder of Trigun, since the Japanese first edition is 3 volumes while all later versions are 2 volumes.

As always, here are the non-analysis panels:

And the rest is under the cut.

[link for if the images aren’t in horizontal rows]

To start off, we have Meryl talking about buying designer handbags. This part was very confusing in Japanese because even though I could recognize Prada, the two other brands she named were completely bogus to me. What the hell are エピピ(Epipi) and NCM!?

So I asked my mom about it last night (she knows a decent amount about brands popular in the 90's, since she was still living in Japan back then). She was also stumped for a bit, but after a while she asked to see the way "Prada" looked. She noticed that it was written like プラーダ(purāda) rather than the correct プラダ(purada). I didn't notice because I don't know shit about fashion... but she suggested that maybe all of these were slight variations on real-life brands. She said that NCM is probably based on MCM Worldwide.

Epipi probably took a solid 20 minutes to figure out.... We were naming every brand on earth searching for anything that could even vaguely sound like "epipi." Right when we nearly ran out of ideas, she thought of googling just part of the name, like "epi brand," and voila, apparently there's a line of Louis Vuitton leather called Epi.

Epipi (and brain soup) is an inside joke between us now btw.

The chapter cover!! Everyone here is so damn cute... also I'm sitting almost exactly how Vash is right now.

This is the second appearance of Vash's shades. I can't see the details, but the design looks the same as the one before.

I'd completely forgotten how tiny Kaito is??? Literally half of Vash's height.

Vash's response to Kaito's insult(?) is「お前そりゃないだろ…」and is something more like "C'mon, man..." or "Seriously?"

big eyes vash big eyes vash i want to scoop him up and put him in a jar with holes in the lid

It's so cool how Vash immediately understands exactly what's going on through what he's overhearing, thanks to his childhood on the spaceship and his time at Home. How can this man not drive

I think the engineer is talking about the Plant here, so it should be "The shock could kill it." (although the Plant dying would also kill everyone else. ykwim)

Didn't know that guy was called a helmsman.... In Japanese, the word for helmsman, 操舵手 (the scan is super blurry and looked like 士 but the correct word is 手) was written as ライツ(raitsu) with 操舵手 written in the ruby. Maybe raitsu was the name of the helmsman? Or it might be something else boat-related that I don't know about.

Vash's silent reaction to Kaito's words say a lot. This behavior is nearly identical to Vash's (again, more so in Maximum, after Vash remembers the events of July and gets even more depressed). He understands Kaito's pain and guilt, and worries for him, but he also can't help but see himself in the boy... however he feels about that. This gets a bit more into theory territory, but I think Vash doesn't want Kaito to turn out like himself. Of course, he wants everyone to strive for peace; he wants people to be like that part of himself, in that regard. However, he doesn't want people to act self-destructive like he is. One obvious reason is that Vash genuinely doesn't want Kaito to be hurt, especially when he believes that people always deserve to start over and live a happy life.... But another underlying reason could be that he doesn't like percieving parts of himself in others, out of self-hatred.

One of my favorite lines ever!!!!! (has 50 favorites)(its not my fault trigun/trimax is so constantly banger) While humans views the Plant as a tool and an incomprehensible being, Vash simply views them as just a girl that needs calming down—"people" just like him and everyone else. He has a familial relationship with every Plant, which I absolutely adore. And!!! I will expand on this bit in the next(I think) arc and beyond, or maybe even make a separate post!!! I have so many thoughts surrounding this and it's a core theme to Trigun as a whole.

Noting some SFX since some non-Japanese readers may not have noticed - the plant is making a high-pitched scream from here on. Also, Kaito says that it's a "voice," not a "sound."

More Plant object-person dichotomy!! This unfortunately gets lost in translation, but it's a very neat storytelling trick. In Japanese, This is written in an interesting way:「プラント――　それは『造りだす』もの」 with もの(mono) having dots above them (in this context acting like italicization for emphasis in English). Usually, this もの would be more specific. There's 物(mono) which means "object" or "thing," and there's 者(mono) which means "person" or sometimes "being." The narrator intentionally leaves the identity of the Plant vague. Again, in humans' eyes, Plants are machines of production. In Vash's eyes, Plants are full-fledged people.

I would write that line closer to the original format, with quotes around "creates" and leaving it at that.

A longer translation correction—just going to transcribe it here:

水 紫外線 酸素 そして微電力を与える事によって物理法則を超えた『生産』活動を行う生体システムである They are organic systems that, when fed water, ultraviolet light, oxygen, and a bit of electricity, can "produce" things in a process that surpasses all physical law.

The sound effect here is loud footsteps on metal. I think it's neat that Nightow showed Vash running up the stairs with just onomatopoea and a shot of the stairs.

In Japanese, Vash says that he's counting on/leaving the rest up to the engineers/the others on the ship, after telling them to deal with it.

Again, Vash considers the Plant his family, a sister. He is talking directly to them and treating them with respect. The word used here is actually 兄弟(kyoudai), which means "brother(s)"/olderbrother-youngerbrother, where in this situation with a brother and sister of unspecified age/order it would usually just be きょうだい(kyoudai, spelled out)... it may be that back then, people didn't really specify or mix-and-match sibling gender (姉弟 兄妹 etc) in writing as much as we do now.

The first appearance of feathers on Vash!! During my first read, I was absolutely mesmerized by this page. Mannnnnnn the angel imagery....

Also bonus reaction from my dear friend from my Instagram liveposting back in April (yeah. my first read was only a bit over 2 months ago). booty CRACK

This is the "beeeeeeep" sound of a flatlining heart monitor. Until now I thought it was more of an imaginary thing to show that their hearts have stopped, but I just realized that it may also be a real sound of the Plant's vital monitors. Could be either, to be honest.

Apparently "yards" are normal? In Japanese it's written as ヤーズ(yādzu, yards) instead of what would regularly be just ヤード(yādo, yard), so that may be the subtle miles-iles change?

This line would be "The pipes are stuck! They won't even budge!"

And the SFX here is a distant chattering and cheering crowd.

And here is the last scene, with Kaito humming Rem's favorite song. Idk, this just gives me a raw emotional reaction... I can't really analyze it lol. Rejoicing that you've survived through hardship. That while things still aren't perfect, this imminent danger has passed. That you still get to enjoy being alive. The same song of humanity still sang. Something something....

Anyways that’s it for Chapter #09! As always, the Japanese annotations are in the reblogs.

#mother comes to the rescue once again #'how can this man not drive' i say...not having a drivers license #actually yknow its the passenger princess swag. chauffeur for me boy #also finally installed a browser extension to store my em dashes and macrons 💪 <-was googling it every time until now #ik alt codes exist but they dont work on my puter. probably bc its bootcamp (windows on a mac) #we should probably use the macos side more buttttttt all our files and games are on windows :/ #trigunbookclub #trigun annotation #trigun #trigun manga #hopeposting...(clenches fist) #ok time to cry myself to sleep now goodnight yall i hope the best for each and every one of yougjhfkhbm....(sobbing) #like actually im tearing up typign this at 1:30am #anyways anyways nighty night

[sickiebabytae]

If your requests are still open and if you have time, can I request a scenerio where a member eats something way too late at night (like ramen or something) and wakes up in the morning really nauseous? My brain is screaming either Jungkook or Namjoon but I’ll leave the sickie up to you! ❤️ thanks in advance!! I love your writing

thank you so much for the request, anon!! I'm so so sorry it's taken me literally forever to get to this, and that I kind of derailed a bit when it came to the original plot 😭😭 I hope this is still to your liking!

sickie: jungkook

caretaker: namjoon

word count: 2125

jungkook knows this will be a bad idea the moment he sets out the (six) ramen cups neatly on the table, but rational thinking isn't really in his ballpark right now. he's been feeling stressed out from their tour lately, and feels as if he hasn't been performing as well as he should be, so he thinks he needs a good stress-eating session to get his mind off of things. 

but as jungkook takes a step back and looks at the ramen cups laid out, he can't help but laugh to himself. "this is so stupid." he murmurs, pulling out his phone. this is something he thinks army might enjoy. plus, he's been trying to be more active on Twitter recently. he captions the photo with something funny and his hashtag before setting his phone down and beginning.

just as he finishes getting through the first cup and a half, lips already zinging with spice, he feels his phone vibrate against the table. he picks it up and sees it's a message from namjoon.

rapmon hyung: jungkook what the hell are you doing

rapmon hyung: I saw your post -_-

jungkook feels a sheepish smile spread across his face.

jungkook: … I'm eating my emotions

jungkook: :D

rapmon hyung: good god jungkook

rapmon hyung: this screams bad idea, you know

rapmon hyung: your stomach is going to hate you tomorrow :/

jungkook: ill be fine hyung dw

jungkook: we've got a off day tomorrow anyways, it'll be fine

rapmon hyung: you know jimin wants to go sightseeing tomorrow

jungkook: yeah, I know, I'll be okay for it :)

jungkook: please don't worry hyung, it cant turn out THAT bad

jungkook can practically hear namjoon sighing from his hotel room a few doors down

rapmon hyung: okay fine

rapmon hyung: I trust you

rapmon hyung: but don't say i didn't warn you

jungkook: ay ay captain

with that, jungkook returns to his food.

this was definitely a bad idea, jungkook thinks to himself when he's all done. well, mostly done. by the last two he couldn't bring himself to finish off the soup at the bottom. his stomach is already bloated and full beyond belief.

he decides to make light of the situation and posts an update to twitter with one photo of the (nearly) empty ramen cups and one selfie of him looking, very rightly, in pain. his lips feel swollen and his nose won't stop running and itching from the spice, eyes watery too. he throws all the cups away and shuffles into the bathroom, washing his face down and stifling a burp into his hand. he shudders and sighs. "you idiot, jungkook," the singer whispers to himself, voice thick. he pushes himself back out to his room and gets into bed. maybe lying down will help him digest, he thinks, all lessons he's ever learned in his entire life failing to come to him as his eyes start drooping closed. he feels like he's going to be sick already and he doesn't like it. maybe he'll just… rest his eyes for a moment. let the world fall silent around him. yeah, yeah that's what he'll do. 

against his will, jungkook begins to fall asleep, and he drifts off before he's even able to stop himself.

jungkook wakes up in the middle of the night, sweaty and stomach cramping. he winces and sits up instantly. "oh god- fuck-" he swings his legs over the side of the bed, but that alone forces stomach acid up that burns his throat as he burps. he places a hand over his mouth and cringes, swallowing. "shit-" he freezes in place with no idea what to do. how did this happen? he feels so much worse than when he did when he-

he fell asleep. a groan leaves his lips. he just had to have fallen asleep. his stomach is killing him, bubbling and churning. he thinks he's going to throw up. 

moving slowly, he shuffles to the table and grabs his phone. more stomach acid burns up his throat, swallowing again. he goes to text namjoon since he seemed to be the only one who was caught up with his shenanigans the night before and sees that he missed a message right before he fell asleep.

rapmon hyung: jungkook you look terrible-

rapmon hyung: did you really eat all of that??

jungkook sighs before reluctantly sending a text of his own, deciding to ignore namjoon's. he only hopes that namjoon is either still awake or won't wake up from the message notification. he just wants someone to know what's happening

jungkook: I feel sick

jungkook: really sick

jungkook: I'm really sorry :( 

jungkook shuffles back to bed and sits down, not wanting to lay back in case it makes whatever acid reflux is going on worse. he jolts with a hiccup and grimaces, untucking his shirt from the jeans he'd forgotten to change out of that keep digging into his stomach. he slips his hand in between the hemline and his abdomen to give it some leeway, sighing when it provides the slightest bit of relief. he knows he should get up and change, but he doesn't want to risk it. he feels like the tiniest movement will set his stomach off.

his phone vibrates in his other hand to jungkook's surprise and he lifts it to look at the screen to see namjoon having responded to his message.

rapmon hyung: god kid I told u

rapmon hyung: hold on

rapmon hyung: I'm coming over

jungkook's eyes widen, mortified already. namjoon cant come, he knows he looks a mess.

jungkook: no no no-

jungkook: hyung it's fine really

jungkook: I just felt like someone should know

jungkook: hyung-

as jungkook types out his next text, he hears knocking at the door followed by a hushed, "jungkook? are you in there?"

jungkook suppresses a groan and slowly pushes himself to stand, stifling a low whimper when his stomach churns in protest. he makes his way to the door, unable to straighten properly from just how full and in pain he is, and opens it with cheeks flushed with both shame and the beginnings of what might be a fever. jungkook doesn't know at this point. "hey, hyung." he murmurs. he can't bring himself to meet namjoon's eyes.

he hears the leader sigh and make his way in, warm hands coming to rest by jungkook's sides. "you idiot, come on. let's go back to bed. I'll grab you some clothes."

jungkook manages a few short nods, trudging his way back to bed and laying down in a curled up position, fighting back a grimace and laying his hand back over his stomach. he can vaguely make out namjoon shuffling around the room, grumbling under his breath. probably something to do with jungkook's clothing organization. or lack thereof; jungkook has always had a bit of an unorthodox way of storing his clothes while on tour. it's just how his brain works, okay?

still keeping his gaze averted, jungkook feels the bed dip next to him. he allows himself the smallest of glances and notices the clothes on namjoon's lap. jungkook can't help but smile; those are some of his favorite pyjamas to wear on hard days. he didn't know that namjoon had picked up on it.

"arms up." namjoon orders gently. jungkook reluctantly complies. he can't help but blush when namjoon pulls his soiled, sweaty shirt off, feeling embarrassed that namjoon has to deal with this. to top it off, jungkook shivers when the air conditioning hitting him, realizing belatedly that his bloated stomach is now on display and painfully obvious. jungkook finds himself wrapping his arms around it as quickly as possible and curling in on himself. 

namjoon sighs. "jungkook-ah, look at me please." 

jungkook shakes his head stubbornly. but before he knows it, namjoon's hand comes up to his cheek and tilts his head up, their eyes meeting. jungkook finally clocks just how welled up with tears his are, and he can see it when namjoon clocks it, too. "jungkook, are you crying??"

at that, jungkook feels his bottom lip quiver. a sob bubbles up out of him, unexpectedly. "fuck, I'm sorry-" he tries to look away again, but namjoon doesn't let up. 

"hey hey, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like such a big deal I just-" namjoon sighs again. "you're feeling really sick, huh?"

jungkook manages a pathetic nod. another sob. 

namjoon gives a nod back. "okay, that's okay." he says; it sounds like he's talking more to himself than jungkook, but the maknae is too caught up in his self pity to notice it all that much. "we can get through this, not the first time one of us has gotten knocked down."

"but… the sightseeing… the others-"

"will understand if you can't make it tomorrow." namjoon promises with a gentle smile. "now let's finish getting you changed so you don't get more sick from the cold hitting you." 

it's been an hour and jungkook has yet to fall asleep. namjoon lays next to him, having already drifted off a while ago, snoring away without a care in the world. jungkook is extremely jealous. his stomach is still gurgling and churning and it doesn't seem to want to provide him with any relief any time soon.

slowly, carefully, jungkook pushes himself up into a sitting position, afraid that he might choke on the productive burps that keep crawling up his throat. he worries at his fingers. his breathing feels short and heavy and jungkook swears under his breath. he hates this. he hates being sick. arguably more than anything in the world. he hates feeling so gross and out of control and-

great, he's crying again. jungkook shoves his head into his hands and tries not to make too much sound. this is all his fault, and he knows it, and that makes the whole situation so much worse somehow; this disaster is a product of his own making.

jungkook's head continues to swim and swirl with thoughts, and before he knows it, something heavy rushes up his throat. his mouth waters dangerously, a sour feeling coating the back of his tongue and weighing it down. he's definitely going to throw up. he feels it coming on, and fast.

throwing the sheets off himself as quickly as he can, jungkook hurries to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, hand clamped over his mouth. he crouches in front of the toilet with a few heavy pants, white-knuckling the sides of the bowl. the first wave of vomit comes out of him with a guttural gag before jungkook can even fully process that it's happened. and then another wave comes out. and then another. and then he's rolling; more specifically, his stomach is rolling. agonizingly so. 

jungkook tries his hardest to be quiet. he really, really does. but it's difficult to do so when each round of puke rips his breath from his chest and burns the way up his throat, eliciting involuntarily whimpers and groans and pants.

he feels a warm hand on his back before he registers the fact that someone has joined him in the bathroom; namjoon. jungkook can't help but give a choked sob. "i-i'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, I-"

"shh," namjoon hushes. "it's okay. just get everything up, it'll help you feel better."

namjoon's calm, deep voice helps some of the tension leave jungkook's muscles, but they quickly seize up again when he has to throw up once more.

after another five minutes or so go by, the last few filled with nothing but weak, unproductive gags and pants as jungkook tries to regain his breath, namjoon decides to make the executive decision that jungkook is done. the leader reaches over to flush the toilet and helps jungkook to his feet. "come on, let's wash out your mouth and go to bed."

jungkook gives a weak moan but lets himself be dragged to the sink, pliable. now that his stomach is left with nothing more than a dull ache, and waves of relief continually washing over him from the nausea finally being gone, jungkook is tired. so, so tired. he barely feels it as namjoon guides him through washing out his mouth and leading him back to bed, helping jungkook sit on the edge as namjoon shuffles off to grab a new shirt, jungkook having soiled the one he'd changed into from sweat. 

the boy is practically already out cold by the time he's been changed and tucked in. the last thing he registers is a gentle touch brushing back his hair and the familiar voice of his leader whispering for him to "sleep well, jungkookie."

#hello..? #😀😀😀 #im here! #its been so long im SO sorry #please forgive me 😞😞 #but im back!! (hopefully) #i really want to try to get more fics out after this because i really do miss writing #until then tho #emeto tw #emeto #sick!jungkook #caretaker!namjoon #(ive also never really written joon before so this was fun for me) #okay bye! 💗 #i also havent completely proof read this so please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes 🙏

[traayaa]

Mushy May - Day Six & Eight

Snow day & Sick fic - Rain & Swiss

Finally got this one done. It did not want to work its way out onto the paper (or word doc in this case). It was time for some Rulti love. Nothing explicit, but you know where it's going at the end. One day I might come back to this and write what happens next. Thanks to @xohmegax for making sure my mumbles made sense. For our dear @askingforthesun, I cannot think of Rulti without thinking about how much you love these two.

Word count: 1020

“RAIN! RAINY LOOK!” They had always struggled waking up in the mornings, having an overexcited fire ghoul crawling over them was not a favourite way to wake up, they preferred some cuddles or lazy sex with his love if they were honest. Those quiet, intimate moments that stuck in the brain for the rest of the day, those were their favourite. “Rainy, look, it’s snowing.” They didn’t understand Dew’s love of the snow, it was cold, and it seeped into every fibre of ones being no matter how many layers they bundled up in or how little they spent outside.

They were about to speak up, tell Dew that they didn’t want to go out into that frozen mush, but before the words were formed, Mountain had walked in and told Dew that he needed breakfast and layers before he was going anywhere and he would make sure Rain was bundled up but not to expect the water ghoul to be outside for too long. Rain reached out, pulling the tall ghoul into the warmth of the bed, earning a quiet chuckle. Rain knew they wouldn’t have long, but they weren’t ready to be awake let alone spending time with an excited fire ghoul out in the cold misery of the fresh snowfall.

Mountain and Rain were the last ones outside. Rain ended up getting one of Mountain's winter coats to go over what they already had on in the hopes it would help them stay warm in the blasted snow. Stepping out into a sea of white, Rain wasn’t willing to admit how beautiful the abbey looked covered in a soft blanket of snow. By the time the two had joined the others, the ghoulettes had started making some snow demons, horns and all. Rain snorted at that little detail. Swiss joined them, giving Rain a sweet kiss, Mount and Swiss were talking about something Rain wasn’t paying attention to while they all walked around, watching the others when Mountains head snaps forward, shaking his head to dislodge the snow that got caught. Rain turned enough to see the look on Dew’s face, it was clear he was aiming at Aether who had, unfortunately for Dew, ducked in time. Mountain slowly reached down to collect some snow, and took his time shaping it before turning and launching it, hitting Dew square in the chest. After that, chaos broke out, there were ghouls scrambling to hide behind anything they could. Snowballs flying, a few hitting the odd Sibling that got too close. Somewhere along the way they ended up on teams, Dew, Aether, Sunny and Cumulus against Rain, Mountain, Swiss and Cirrus. 

The more responsible among them - Aether, Cirrus and Mountain - called the end after Dew got hit with a rather well-placed snowball from Swiss that knocked the small ghoul down, face-first into the snow. Probably just as well as Rain was starting to feel the cold seep into their bones. By the time they got back into the common room, they were shivering and their teeth were chattering. Swiss was quick to get some soup and tea for Rain, making sure they had something to help warm him up from the inside, although the damage was already done. They all knew Rain should have gone inside much earlier than they did, none of them would be surprised if the water ghoul woke up sick in the morning.

“Come on Raindrop, let’s get you in bed, my love.” Rain didn’t have time to comprehend what was said before Swiss was picking Rain up and carried them to their room. It didn’t take Rain much effort to convince the multi-ghoul to call it an early night and join them in bed. It never did take much convincing, Swiss would do almost anything for his Rain. 

______ Waking up Rain felt miserable. They tried to bury themself further into the warmth of the blankets and the body next to them, Swiss’ arm tightening around Rain, pulling them closer. They felt awful, still feeling cold despite the hours they had spent under a multitude of blankets and one very warm multi-ghoul. Their joints hurt and muscles ached. The water ghoul was thankful that they didn’t have a running nose or anything so far, they didn’t want to deal with the sinus infection that came after.

“How do you feel Rainbow?” Kissing the top of Rain's head, right between their horns, earning a soft purr. “Awful, but I had fun with everyone, even if I should have gone inside earlier. Dew woke me up, he looked so happy, I couldn’t say no to him.” They both snuggled further into the blankets, enjoying a lazy morning, despite how miserable Rain was feeling. The two drifted off a few more times throughout the morning. Rain vaguely heard Swiss saying something to Aether, maybe? They weren’t sure, not willing to wake up enough to check.

Rain didn’t know how long they’d slept, but from the little peek of light they could see slipping past the curtains, they could guess it was late afternoon. Usually Swiss would have woken them up by now, Rain guessed the other ghoul didn’t want to disturb them when sleep was clearly needed. They patted around the bed, trying to see if said ghoul was still there without opening their eyes. The shower shutting off registered in Rain's head, the door to the bathroom opened and out came Swiss, towel hanging low on his hips, Rain didn’t mean to stare but it’s hard to look away from the beauty of Swiss, sometimes Rain still couldn’t believe they were lucky enough to call the multi-ghoul theirs. “You good Rainbow? You’ve got a bit of drool there.” Rain’s positive Swiss could get away with murder with that smile of his. “I’m sick, you’re meant to be nice, not trying to kill me!” Falling back into the pile of pillows on their bed, Rain mutters “... or turn me on.” 

Crawling up the bed, “Sorry Rainbow, I didn’t hear that last part…” Something in Swiss’ grin shifted, Rain was wide awake now, aches and pains be damned.

#traayaawrites #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #rain ghoul #swiss ghoul #rulti #mushy may