#they make me sick to my stomach sometimes and I really wanna find out the source of em

[bitchapalooza]

Researching ocd for yourself is hard to do when you’re barely sure of who yourself even is 🥴

#some more outwardly stuff really do coincide with ocd that it’s made me wonder on and off #about it for the past 6ish years #but I’m mostly concerned with my intrusive thoughts #they make me sick to my stomach sometimes and I really wanna find out the source of em #I know intrusive thoughts are normal but at what point #is it considered ocd related? is there treatment to help to ease the anxiety they often give? #idk I’m just trying to help myself feel more at ease… #talkies

[nanaslutt]

Just a funny thought that since Choso can control his blood or whatever, what if he can control his boners…😭

-🩻

I've been inspired ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

ʚ cont: fem reader, kinda sub choso, oral(m!r), edging, dirty talk, teasing, body worship(?)

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Do you really have to look at me like this? It's so embarrassing." Choso complained, holding his t-shirt over his crotch as he averted his eyes. You kicked your legs behind your body as you laid on your stomach on top of your bed, Choso standing in front of you. "Well I wanna get a good view of it don't I?" You teased, reaching out your hand and caressing his upper thigh, just under where his hands were blocking.

"Don't…" Choso whispered, feeling his face heat up at the sudden attention. "If it goes up just make the blood go somewhere else." You teased, laying your head down on your arm, your eyes staying locked on Choso's large hands that blocked his crotch. "It's hard to do that," Choso whined, gripping your wrist and pushing it back toward your body.

You retracted your arm, crossing it under your head with the other one as you laid on them. "How so?" You asked, your eyes finding his. Choso's gulp was almost audible. Your eyes looked so pretty and wide when you looked up at him from this angle. "I want to be aroused when you touch me like that… so forcing the blood away is kinda like edging myself," Choso explained, making a small smile creep onto your face.

"You're so cute Choso." You praised, watching how your words made his cheeks turn pink. "Fine, I won't touch you anymore, I'll just watch." You said, smiling up at him. Choso averted his eyes when he couldn't take your sultry stare anymore, his eyes dropping to his hands over his crotch. "You've obviously done this before, so how did you find out you could do it?" You asked, watching as Choso let his t-shirt drop to the floor as he began slowly working on his belt.

Choso's blush grew deeper at your question as he pulled the belt out from the loops in his pants. "Sometimes I'll wake up and my…" Choso cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the room, "It'll also be up… down there. It's easier to just force it down like that rather than touching myself." He explained, sliding his pants down his thighs. You listened to his words carefully as he slid his pants off his legs, his porcelain skin getting revealed to your eyes.

"Next time it's like that when you wake up just wake me up Cho, I'll take care of it." You said, slightly teasing him but you were serious with your words. Choso's eyes found yours as he stared at you pointedly, almost pouting. "Sorry sorry," You laughed, forgetting Choso was already having enough time keeping his boner down as is.

Choso hesitated before pulling down his pants, his thumbs just resting under the band of his boxers. "What's wrong? Did ur' hands stop working? Need some help?" You offered, picking your head up and resting it in your hands, elbows perched on the bed. "You've… never seen my dick soft before," Choso said, his face scrunching a bit in embarrassment as he tried to cover his crotch with his fingers while keeping his thumbs under his boxers.

You smiled before finding his eyes, waiting till he looked at you before you spoke. "I have. When you were really sick and I had to bathe you remember? I saw it then and it was perfect." You said, reassuring him. Choso looked like he wanted to say something in response, but he just pressed his lips together in a pout and looked down at himself, at the bulge in his boxers from his soft cock.

You don't know why Choso was so nervous, his cock was huge even when it was soft. He took a deep breath before sliding his boxers down, the short black hairs on his pelvis being revealed slowly, making you subtly press your thighs together. Your mouth started watering when the base of Choso's dick was revealed, he was moving too slowly for your liking, but he was extremely nervous so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Once Choso had completely stepped out of his boxers, he stood in front of you awkwardly, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. "Choso." You said softly, raking your eyes down the expanse of his body before they landed on his face. "Come closer, don't have to be so nervous baby." You teased, taking his soft thigh back in your hand again once his feet met the edge of the bed, his cock now level with your face and very close to it.

Choso caressed the side of your face, the once teasing touch on his thigh now welcoming and comforting. You leaned into his touch and kept your eyes on his, wanting him to calm down a bit before you gave any instruction. Once Choso's heartbeat had slowed, and his breathing was steady, you looked down at his cock, noticing how it twitched softly every so often, most likely from Choso trying to keep his boner down.

You smiled nice and big for him when you were ready, finding his eyes for a moment before looking back down, focusing on his cock. "Ok, lemme see it." You said. Choso released a shaky breath as he shook his head. Goosebumps ran down his back as you caressed his inner thighs, your soft, cool hands feeling calming against his burning skin. Your mouth fell open in a small O as Choso let the blood slowly flood back to his cock.

His dick was at full hardness in under ten seconds. It rested only inches from your face, twitching strongly as you oggled it. Choso watched you watch him grow hard, fighting the urge to not cover his face in embarrassment as his face flushed furiously, feeling like heat was radiating from it. Choso's hand shook against your cheek, his whole body vibrating with nervousness.

You looked back up at him sweetly, smiling as innocently as possible. Choso looked like he was holding back, but he also looked very vulnerable, making your heart swell tenfold. Maintaining eye contact with him, you leaned forward and stuck out your tongue, finding his cock with the hot appendage using your peripherals. Choso's jaw fell open as he sucked in a shaky breath when your tongue met with his hot cock, his eyes staying locked on yours as they fluttered in his head.

You giggled almost inaudibly before you wrapped your lips around his cock and licked your tongue around his soft tip, the taste of his pre-cum immediately flooding your tastebuds as he dripped into your mouth. Choso gasped quietly as you bobbed your head slowly down on his cock, taking it deeper and deeper, little bit by little bit. His eyes fluttered when you moaned around him, the sound vibrating around his cock.

You focused on sucking air in through your nose when your lips hit the base of his cock, his dick snugly in your throat. Choso weakly kept his hand on the top of your head, his body shaking as he took in how warm and tight your throat felt. Choso finally broke eye contact when you swallowed around him, your throat contracting around his cock.

His head tipped back as his jaw fell open in a groan, his eyes falling shut. You giggled around him as you bobbed your mouth on his cock hands-free a few more times, taking him into your throat each time, making his hand curl against your head, his nails raking over your scalp softly. You hummed around his base for a moment, leaving his hard cock snug in your throat for as long as you could before you needed air before you pulled back entirely, a string of saliva connecting you to the tip of his cock.

Choso's head tipped back down to look at you, your lips swollen and wet from just throating his dick. You looked up at him with a dopey smile, one full of mischievous. Choso kept his hand on your head as he waited for you to continue, only you didn't, speaking instead, "Make it go back down now." Choso swore his heart shattered in that moment as he tried to make sense of your words in his pleasure-riddled brain. "Huh?" He asked softly, his eyes half-lidded with lust.

"Your cock, make it go soft again." You instructed, nodding your head at him. Choso bit his lip between his teeth as he fought with himself internally. He didn't want to do that, at all actually, but the thought of saying no to you sounded just as bad. With a small sigh, Choso looked away and let the blood run back into his body, away from his cock.

His dick softened in front of your eyes, slower than it had gotten hard the first time. When he was fully soft, he looked back down at you, gauging your reaction. "Good boy." You praised, looking back up at him through your lashes. Leaning forward you pressed your still wet lips against his soft cock, the skin feeling much softer than before. "Thank you Choso, that's all. You can put your clothes back on now." You instructed, smiling at him innocently.

You watched the gears try to turn in Choso's head as you sat up and grabbed his face, pecking him on the lips before you slid off the bed and reached down to pick up his clothes, pressing them against his chest once you gathered them. "I'll give you some privacy to change." You said. Standing on your tiptoes you pressed a kiss to his hot cheeks before walking past him and out the door, shutting it quietly behind you.

Choso stayed still and unmoving in your bedroom for a good minute or so as he waited for his brain to catch up with what had just happened. With a sigh and a pout he started putting his clothes back on, he knew you would never leave him unsatisfied like this, he figured you had something bigger planned, a reward maybe, if he listened. So Choso did just that, keeping his boner down as he clothed himself before leaving the room to join you in the living area.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk #choso smut #choso jujutsu kaisen #kamo choso #choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso jjk #choso my beloved #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader

[againstme]

idk man i’m just thinking about against me! and transness, especially cause we’re coming up on ten fucking years of transgender dysphoria blues, on the 21st.

lyrics have been swimming in my head lately.

“what god doesnt give to you, you’ve got to go and get for yourself.”

“if i could’ve chosen, i would’ve been born a woman. my mother once told me she would’ve named me laura. i’d grow up to be strong and beautiful like her.”

“you wouldn’t think something like gender identity would complicate something like asking for some company.”

“she spent the last few years of her life running from the boy she used to be.”

“standing naked in front of that hotel bathroom mirror, in her dysphoria’s reflection, she still saw her mother’s son.”

“agitated states of amazement, never quite the woman that she wanted to be.”

“you want them to see you like they see every other girl, they just see a faggot, they hold their breath not to catch the sick.”

“chipped nail polish and a barbed wire dress. is your mother proud of your eyelashes? silicone chest, and collagen lips. how would you even recognize me?”

“no more troubled sleep, there’s a brave new world that’s raging inside of me.”

“all my life, wishing i was one of them. there will always be a difference between me and you.”

“what’s the best end you can hope for? pity fucks and table scraps?”

“all the young graves filled, don’t the best all burn out so bright and so fast?”

“sometimes at night, i pray to wake a different person in a different place.”

“i don’t want to hang around the graveyard, waiting for something dead to come back. i know you think you’ve got one up on me, that you can see something i can’t.”

“i wanna be so real, you can see the difference.”

“dig up your bones, early graves are not homes.”

“come on, shape shift with me! what’ve you got to lose? fuck it!”

“confessing childhood secrets of dressing up in women’s clothes, compulsions you never knew the reasons to.”

“i’m sick of feeling like i’m losing my mind. sick of doing the same things most nights after night. sick of self loathing and self absorption, self destructive narcissism.”

some of these are directly referencing transness, some just alluding to it. some are just ones that i relate to as i’ve grown up struggling with my gender and sexuality and accepting my own transness and dealing with self harm and self destruction and relying too much on drugs.

finding myself buying baggies of coke and just stuffing them in my wallet while i walked downtown, feeling this immense guilt at the bottom of my stomach for essentially just wasting 25 dollars on a drug that wasn’t doing much for me besides making me feel like i was feeling something different than what my life was. getting scared shitless while in the line at the convenience store after picking up, seeing cops come into the store, and the small tied up bag filled with what was more baby powder than coke in my back pocket felt like the the heaviest and most obvious thing in the world.

and then i’d find myself on calls with my friends, with my camera turned off or pointing at the ceiling, suddenly muting my mic holding a cut up piece of a straw in my teeth as i crushed shit up with my library card from a city i wasn’t planning on living in again. just having them talk while i was racking baby lines, tilting my head back and rubbing it on my gums after. i was sniffling all the time. sometimes my nose would bleed when i would wake up. and i wasn’t even really feeling much; i didn’t know at the time that this would be because of having adhd and just basically spending money on overpriced shit that was just like taking an adderall, but it was a drug in front of me, that gave me the idea or the false hope of running away from my life during the short lived high.

“before you know it, here i am again, fucking 6 o’clock in the morning, rolled up dollar bill in my hand.”

“what the fuck are you cutting this with, anyway?”

“how low can you go before you can’t turn around?”

i don’t think that when i was 14 and getting into against me! that i would ever actually get to a point of fully relating to those lyrics. of running away from such a huge part of yourself or your problems, trying to fill the void with drugs that you’d plow through so quickly, faster than you thought you would every time.

the thing is, was that at this point, i had already started my transition. i was already “passing.” but i never got to the root of it. sure, i’m trans, but who am i? and i didn’t know how to answer that question. so i just pushed it away, pushed it under the rug.

“you can pray all night and day, but you’ll still wake up the same person in the same fucking place.”

against me! has been there for me for ten years. throughout so many transformations of myself, so much shape shifting, so much dysphoria, so many late nights wishing i was a different person in a different place.

i found solace in their lyrics. it gave me some small bit of hope, some realization that i didn’t know that i needed; that trans people always have been and always will be here, that being able to be trans and be alive is possible, and that i don’t have to be digging my own grave, spending late nights staring at the mirror and seeing the girl who i used to be.

against me! gave me the courage to be alive.

#this is ok to rb. u can tag w drugs if u need to. #c.txt #wow after typing this it feels corny and long winded #also like it should be a journal entry. should it? maybe. do i feel like my fellow am! mutuals could relate in some way? yeah #hi if y’all are reading this #just been thinking about against me a lot lately #against me!

[runningmunson]

Like The Movies

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Word count: 1.6K Summary: Requested- Eddie is your best friend and he reluctantly asks you to prom because you want to go. He is nervous getting ready and almost cancels. However, he takes you and fulfills your lifelong dream of going to prom. Friends to lovers once he finally admits his feelings while you share a dance.

Warning: swearing, fluff

A/N: I loved this request and hope I do it justice!

Masterlist

The sound of a girl squealing and an eruption of cheers brought you out of your thoughts. You draw your gaze from your lunch tray to the table a few down from yours. There was yet another prom proposal. The 5th one in two days to be precise. 

“Of course, everyone is getting asked to prom but me…” you mumbled, hoping that the guys couldn’t hear you. However, you weren’t so lucky. 

Gareth looked at you, cocking his eyebrows, “You seriously wanna go to prom?” 

This drew the attention of everyone at the table to you. You shifted in your seat, avoiding eye contact, “Um, I mean kinda? This is my last year, and I’ve never been. I think you all forget I'm a girl. I do like that stuff sometimes.” You let out an awkward laugh, waving it off and trying to change the subject, “But it’s not a big deal. Anyways how are you all feeling about the new campaign coming up?”

Thankfully they took the bait and shifted the topic to the next Hellfire meeting. Everyone except Eddie, that was. He found it hard not to notice your longing gaze or how your shoulders slumped when someone was asked to prom. He tried to push it aside and forget it, but you’re his best friend, and he hated to see you look like a kicked puppy. Damn it, Eddie thought, I’m gonna have to ask her.

Eddie cleared his throat and took a deep breath before reluctantly opening his mouth, “I guess I’ll take you to prom if you really want.” The table fell silent. 

“Would you really?” You asked, your voice suddenly an octave higher than usual. Eddie couldn’t ignore the sparkle in your eyes and how your mouth drew back despite your attempt to stifle a smile. 

“Can’t really have you going alone and embarrassing yourself, now can I? Besides, how bad can it be?” Eddie knew exactly how bad it could be. Prom meant dressing up and dancing. Eddie doesn’t like dressing up, and he certainly doesn’t dance. But you want to go, and you always got what you wanted when it came to Eddie. 

“Thank you so much, I owe you big time!” You blurt out, not believing he would do that for you. “Oh shit, I need to find a dress and figure out what to do with my hair. I’ll see you later, guys!” You ran out of the cafeteria in a rush.

Dustin looked at Eddie in shock, “Dude, what did you just do?” All Eddie could do was shake his head. 

The dreaded day finally arrived, and Eddie was a nervous wreck. He’d already been in the bathroom for hours trying to make sure he looked good. Wayne had to knock several times to make sure he was okay. Why the hell do I care how I look. I never have before, Eddie thought.

He tried to tame his hair, but nothing was working. It was still the same frizzy mess despite his many efforts to make it look good. Wayne’s old tux felt foreign on his body. The red tie that matched your dress wouldn’t stay straight . Eddie felt sick to his stomach. He threw the bathroom door open.

“That’s it, I’m not going! I look ridiculous, and I’m just going to embarrass her. Letting her go to prom with the town freak. What was I thinking?” Eddie said, throwing his hands up.

“Come on now, son. You look fine. And you’re not gonna cancel on her now. You wouldn’t, would you? No, because you’d do anything to see that girl smile.” Wayne rolled his eyes. He walked over to his nephew and helped him fix his tie. 

Eddie let out a huff, “You really think I look okay?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you. Now go and get your girl, or else you'll be late.” Wayne said, handing him his keys and your corsage that he picked up for Eddie after work. 

“She's not my girl, Wayne. Just friends, remember?” Eddie said over his shoulder, making his way to his van.

Wayne chuckled, “Sure she isn’t. If only you saw how the two of you look at each other. Just friends, my ass.” Eddie ignored his uncle. With shaking hands, he put his van into reverse and made his way to your house.

You were on the other side of town, just as nervous as Eddie. The time it took Eddie to get ready? Yeah, double that for you. It was always your dream to go to prom with Eddie. It might not be under the circumstances you wanted, but you took what you could get. You wanted to look perfect for him. Maybe then he might see you as more than one of the guys. 

Your hair was styled perfectly, not a single strand out of place. Your dress hugged you in all the right places. Your mom was helping you with the finishing touches on your makeup. 

“You look absolutely gorgeous. Eddie is one lucky guy,” your mom had a smile on her face. She knew how much you wanted to go, especially with Eddie. She was so excited to finally send her daughter off to prom.

“Mom, stop!” You said, dragging it out. The doorbell sounded, making your mom stop fussing with you and leaving to open the door. You took one last look in the mirror, finally happy with what you saw, before making your way downstairs to greet Eddie.

You saw Eddie before he noticed you. He was talking with your mom, and boy, did he look perfect as ever. When Eddie turned his head to look at you, it was like one of those cheesy movies you always made him watch. The ones where time slows down, and it felt like it was just the two of you in the room. Just a girl and a guy madly in love, even though you didn’t admit it to each other. 

“You- uh. You look beautiful,” Eddie stuttered. His hands suddenly got sweaty. Your lips curved into a smile going all the way up to your crinkled eyes. Shit, shit, shit. How dare she wear that red dress in your favorite color and that smile. Looking so damn beautiful. You’re in some real trouble now, Eddie. “Um, this is for you,” he continued, thrusting the corsage towards you. You held your hand out and let him put it on your wrist. You shuttered when his fingertips touched your skin. 

“Thank you, Eddie. You look pretty good yourself, never thought I’d see you in a tux,” you teased him. You grabbed the boutonniere from your mom, pinning it on the lapel of his tux. Your mom took several photos before you were dragging Eddie out the door, telling your mom that she took plenty and that you couldn’t be late for your first and last prom.

Eddie ran to the passenger side door, holding the door open for you, “Your chariot awaits my fair maiden.”

Your cheeks flush, and you cover your mouth as you softly laugh, “Well, aren’t you ever the gentleman.”

Your drive was short. You and Eddie made small talk until you reached the school, both incredibly nervous. The music blasting inside the decorated gym could be heard from the outside as you made your way in. You had never seen it so decorated, taking all the new sites in. It was amazing, that's for sure. 

You grabbed Eddie’s hand, lacing your fingers with his, and pulled him inside toward the bleachers. You sat together, knees touching for half of the prom while you people watched, making fun of outfits and laughing at their dancing. When a slow song came on, you started bouncing your leg. It was one of your favorites, and you really wanted to dance with Eddie but were too chicken to ask him. Eddie wasn’t stupid; he could tell you wanted to dance, so he put aside his pride and stood up.

“C’mon, let’s go dance.” Eddie held his hand out. You grabbed it, and he led you both to the outskirts of the dance floor. “I’m gonna warn you, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

You laughed. “That's okay. You’re gonna place your hands on my hips, and I’ll place them around your neck. Then we just kinda sway, I guess?” 

Eddie did just that. You swayed to the beat, with it ending way too soon. You tried to pull away from Eddie’s grasp, but he pulled you in tighter. Your cheeks turn red, turning your face to the side to hide in your hair. “Not so fast, princess. I’m not done with you yet.”

“B-but the song is over,” you struggle to get out. 

“So? I like being this close to you, and something tells me you do too,” Eddie smirked, thinking no other night was more perfect than this to let you know how he really felt about you. He gained a boost in confidence, watching you squirm in his arms. “If I were to hypothetically ask if it was okay to kiss you right now, what would you say?” 

“I- I would, hypothetically, of course, say it’s more than okay,” you were sure he could hear your heart racing. Your lips desired nothing more than to meet his.

“Well if you say so, I’m going to hypothetically place my lips on yours right now,” and with that, he leaned down and kissed you with such desperation, needing to know the way you felt and tasted.

And just like those movies, you stayed together with your lips locked. Dancing under the twinkling lights and ignoring the world around you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things

[pedge-stuff]

thermos (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked.” drop a line if you have a sug. (:

summary: sometimes, love boils on the stove. (set 2021.)

————————————————————————

It had been a long fucking day.  Delayed table read, late picks, emergency rewrites—  the perfect storm at SNL.  

The steady pressure in your temples had gradually increased throughout the day, despite the Excedrine you'd taken early on. This had morphed into an ache at the back of your throat, because of course it had— bad things always came in waves. 

Halfway through the last-minute pitch meeting post-rehearsal, you'd missed a call from Pedro. The same time he called every day,  usually timed well with your walk home from midtown. Sending him to voicemail was out of character. 

Sorry, you'd texted. Rehearsal tonight. Lightly sautéed, gonna crash after work, talk tomorrow? Love  you very much x 

He'd shot back a " :( " and then had been typing for several minutes, the little bubbles appearing over and over. OK, he finally said. Love you too. 

It tweaked your heart, a bit. The two thousand miles between your phones was hard to stomach, sometimes. Alberta felt, for reasons unknown, so infinitely farther than LA, though the mileage was comparable. You picture him, alone in his trailer, reading glasses perched on his nose as he scrolls his phone, waiting for wrap to leave and tuck his old bones into bed.

Ultimately, you are a little too tired, and achy, and frustrated with work, and maybe a little cranky, to dwell on the finality of his "OK."  There's nothing he can do for you, from Alberta; it's not worth worrying him. 

You drag yourself home, resigned to making a weak cup of tea and curling up with the dogs. (Home is your studio apartment, while he's gone, though he maintains a steady campaign for you to just move into his. You haven't yet been able to articulate how fucking lonely his Brooklyn townhouse is without him.) Politely squeeze past the elderly couple who have pushed their sidewalk table all the way in front of the door to your building. Check the mail, of which there is none. Climb the stairs, a slow shuffle, fumbling with your stupid keys, music still playing at street volume in your headphones, eyes burning, lock turning— 

Fuck, fuck. 

Pedro turns the stove off, offers you a shy smile. Your bag drops to the floor. Something inside you snaps, pulls loose. You burst into tears. 

"Oh," he says, and you forcefully close the distance, wrapping your arms around him as you try and stifle quiet sobs. Wonder, for a moment, what the fuck is happening. "Surprise?" 

You laugh, weakly. Run a hand down your face. "Sorry, sorry." 

He pushes you back, apprising you with a gentle and skeptical look. Holds your face in his hands and thumbs away the fresh tears. Frowns. Presses his palm to your forehead. "You didn't tell me you were sick."

Leaning into his hand, you shake your head. "Not sick. Just tired." You pull back. "I can't believe you're here. Jesus. How long are you here for?" 

His attention is drawn back to the stove, beside which he has set your green travel mug. He smiles sheepishly. "Was trackin' ya on Find My." The kettle spits a small whistle as he pours the water. Your heart clenches; this stupidly thoughtful man. 

"I can rally," you offer, even as he ushers you into the bedroom. There is a suddenly conspicuous absence of dogs. 

"They're in Brooklyn. Figured you'd wanna get some shit here, and then we Uber that way?"

"You really thought this through, huh?" There are clothes and toiletries at his place ("our place," he calls it, though the studio is decidedly "your place."), but you pack a few things, just in case. 

It's not a secret that he doesn't love your apartment— it's a little cramped, for two men and two dogs. Plus, his apartment is more of a full condo. And the bathroom's nicer.

He watches you pack, perched on the edge of the bed. It's hard to focus on anything other than studying the soft lines of his travel-weary face. The rise and fall of his chest. Bits and pieces of him that the front-facing iPhone camera cannot pick up over FaceTime. 

— 

In the back of the Uber, mindful of the rearview mirror, you have his left hand trapped between both of yours. The skin of his palm has toughened, calloused slightly from whatever they have him doing in the woods of Canada. It still feels the same as you press your lips to the center. 

"I'm still a little confused," you whisper, "but I'm so happy you're here." 

His steals his hand back, to card it through your hair. "Me too. Was going crazy, trying to keep it a secret. We've got the long weekend off for Veteran's day, so I thought..." 

"Mm. Do you have an agenda this weekend?" 

The Uber makes its final turn. "Yeah. I would like to sleep for one million years, in a bed, with you. And probably see Oscar and Elvira, at some point. Also maybe order Empanada Mama. I ate a Canadian empanada last week that legitimately made me sad." 

You hold onto his hand as you exit the car, cross the street, key in. The tea put you at ease, but with the shock of the surprise wearing off, the weight of the day resettles as an ache across your shoulders. 

The dogs bound down the hallway as you key in. Pedro's suitcase has not made it much farther than the front door, though it has been cracked open and partially rummaged. "I was in a rush," he said sheepishly.

"Mm. You showerin’?” 

“Probably should. We heading up?” 

You nod, kneeling to re-zip his bag; the duties of young knees. (The age gap is disregarded, unless he plays the old card to his advantage.) Edgar pounces on you while you’re accessibly low. Ten different questions die in the back of your throat. Every step between you and the king sized bed on the third floor feels impossible. 

— 

He smells clean, as he wraps his arms around you, skin still damp and warm from the obscenely hot showers he prefers. You have a long day of rehearsal ahead of you tomorrow, then an even longer show day— but none of that matters now.

"Thank you for coming." You mumble, sleepily, into the worn fabric on his shoulder. Fingers card through your hair, brush gently over your temple. You've got a hand beneath his t-shirt, splayed across the base of his ribs.

Pedro makes an indignant noise, low, from his chest. "Not a place on Earth I'd rather be."

#pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal/reader #the last of us #this man has a grip on me #the last of us imagine #the mandalorian

[ughgoaway]

Hello I've been sending you a few asks recently so I've decided to be 🎄 anon 🙂

Anyway I was thinking about how Matty would be when teacher is pregnant. Obviously she works full time so he probably can't keep an eye on her as much as he'd like to, and I bet in those early months she comes home from work absolutely exhausted and just wants to lie on the sofa all the time 😴😴

🎄

hi!!! thank you so much for sending asks, 🎄 is yours now!! :))))

as soon as matty finds out you're pregnant, he is treating you like you're made of glass. if you want absolutely anything, he's getting it for you.

"matty. I can get my own cup of tea!! the baby is only the size of a pea right now, I am still allowed to do things, " you say as matty takes the kettle out of your hand and ushers you back to the sofa.

"Ah ah ah. they might be the size of a pea, but they're our pea, and you need to relax and keep them safe. just sit and let me take care of you both sweetheart, it's my job as dad anyway"

I think that you get pretty bad morning sickness the first trimester, and matty fucking hates it. he always sits with you, rubs your back and holds your hair. he makes you herbal tea to try and settle your stomach but nothing works. its just something that happens, but he can't help but feel so awful for you, and kind of guilty it's his baby causing all the sickness.

I imagine he talks to the bump about it after one particularly bad morning, "Hey, little pea, can you please stop making your mum so sick? she's just trying to keep you growing, and it's very difficult when she can't keep anything down. " You laugh at him and stroke his hair.

"matty I don't think they get to choose if I'm sick or not" you giggle as he rests his head next to your bump and continues to try and convince your baby to stop making you sick.

if you have a craving, he's getting it. the first few months all you wanted was crackers, they were all you could stomach so you just ate them endlessly. within a week of you telling matty, he had organised a massive shipment to be delivered to the house, "so you can always have something to eat my love"

you're definitely right with being exhausted in those first few months too, working with kids all day is already tiring - let alone when you're growing a baby at the same time.

I can see you getting home and immediately passing out on the sofa, just fucking knackered 24/7. matty catches on soon enough and starts setting up blankets and pillows for you. basically creating a cocoon for you to rest in.

the fact that he can't follow you around all the time and make sure you're okay is killing him, so he'll do whatever he can.

so if he can't wrap you in cotton wool for 9 months, he'll just wrap you in blankets when you need a nap instead.

he sleeps with you when you ask, spooning you and holding your bump. even when there isn't really a bump yet.

"matty, why are you holding my stomach?" You groggily ask as he lies behind you.

"I wanna hold them!" he defends, rubbing his hands over your non-existent bump.

"There's nothing there yet. They are barely a baby at this point," you say with a smile on your face. his love for this baby was the only thing getting you through these early months, obviously you were over the moon to be pregnant but fucking hell it was hard.

"they're still in there. They've got to get to know their dad early"

Annie also joins you for a nap sometimes. She is normally full of energy after school, but every once in a while, she comes home with heavy eyes and is clearly exhausted.

Annie sees you lie down and comes up to the sofa, gently patting your shoulder to get your attention.

you open your eyes and softly smile at her, "You okay, sweet girl?" You say with a yawn, Annie rubs at her eyes with closed fists and nods slowly.

"Can I cuddle with you y/n? I don't have a baby in my tummy, but I'm really sleepy too, " Annie says shyly, fiddling with the corner of the blanket matty had draped over you.

you pull back the blanket and shuffle back on the sofa, patting the spot in front of you and saying, "Of course angel, jump up and cuddle with me. it would make me feel so much better"

Annie grins and slides into the spot you created for her, and you wrap her up in your arms, tossing the blanket over the two of you.

quickly, you both fall asleep. Soft snores from Annie caught mattys attention as he came in from the kitchen.

walking in and seeing you and annie curled up together, and knowing you were also pregnant was something he would never forget. this was his dream for so many years, and it's finally real and happening. the years of delusions had paid off. his little family was growing, and saying he was giddy was an understatement.

his daughter was always the most important thing in his life, and now he has 3 people that he would die for.

he never thought he'd get a chance at this again. he thought that once he decided to be a dad, that was it for him. no more grand romances, no more falling in love. it was just him and annie, and he was okay with that.

but when he met you, it all changed. he used to dream of you just talking to him, giving him any sort of attention. he could have never imagined that one day you would be dating him, pregnant with his child and be completely in love with his daughter.

he takes a photo of you and sets it as his background, and it stays that way until 9 months later. it finally changed when he snaps the first picture of the 3 of you in the hospital bed, with Annie's new baby brother in her arms and you watching over them with a soft smile on your face.

#omg having emoji anons makes me feel like a real blog... this is crazy #welcome my love!! thank you for sending me all your amazing ideas <3333 #now did i do them justice?? hmm... that is unknown bc i hate my own writing and can never tell <3 #but we move!!! #overprotective matty my beloved <3333 #🎄 anon #anon! #teacher au!

[softhairedhotch]

lil pre-relationship hotchgan fic that could be seen as platonic but i didn't write it with that in mind!!

comfortember day seven: sick/illness

aaron hotchner x derek morgan

jack is sick and aaron, in his panic, asks derek for help.

word count: 1k

warnings/content: jack is ill, worried aaron, derek saves the day, mentions of food and painkillers, pre-relationshup hotchgan fluff

comfortember masterlist here!

also on ao3!

spider-man and soup

Derek's phone rings in his pocket and he fishes it out, muting the song he's listening to as he checks the contact information. At the sight of Aaron's name, he almost sighs. "We got a case?" 

"What? No, no, sorry, do you think you can come to mine, please?" 

"Of course," Derek replies, stomach dropping at the panic in Aaron's voice. It's rare to hear his voice waver from its usual tone, much less sound as panicked as it does right now, and Derek feels uneasy. "What's wrong?"

"Jack's sick. Really sick. He needs, uh, some medicine, and Jessica isn't available so I guess I thought to call you." 

Derek silently wonders why he hadn't called JJ instead as he locks the front door and makes his way to his car but he refuses to voice that out loud. Now's not the time for that. "What do you need? I'll pick it up, Hotch, anything you want." 

"Cough medicine, some painkillers, cough drops if there's any available just in case, and a few snacks, if you can." 

Derek nods to himself, repeating the list as he starts the car. "Got it. Anything else?" 

"That'll be all, thanks." 

"I'll be over ASAP."

***

Finding the items for Jack proves much more difficult than he assumed it'd be. There's too many options, ones he's never even had the need to look at before, and he feels rather lost. Glancing around for a nearby employer and coming up short, he lets out a sigh and digs his phone out from his pocket, scrolling through his contacts before finding his mom's and calling. 

She answers on the third ring. "Sweetheart! Oh, what a lovely surprise." 

"Hey, mama," he replies, grinning at the sound of her voice. "Sorry for the random call, I just need some help with something." 

"Never apologize for calling me, Derek, it's always nice to hear your voice." She shuffles around on the other side of the line. "What do you need?" 

"Well, what do I buy for children? For medicine, I mean. When they're sick." 

She laughs, amused. "Derek Morgan, is there something you're not telling me?" 

"Wh– No, ma," he chuckles, "Jack's really sick." 

"Hm, you mean Aaron's boy?" There's a smirk in her voice. 

"Yes, ma, Aaron's boy. He asked me to grab him a few things and I'm a bit out of my depth here." 

"He asked you specifically, hm?" 

"Ma!" 

"Sorry, sorry, I'm just messin' with you, sweetheart. So, you're gonna wanna grab some Tylenol. Children's one, not the one for adults. The one with the oral suspension, if they have it, that always goes down much better from my experience. And then you'll want soup. Any soup will do but one without any bits in it, like tomato or chicken, also goes down better than anything else. You getting this, honey?"

Derek hums as he throws various items in his basket. "I am." 

"Good," she replies, before listing off a few more items he can grab. 

"Thanks, ma," he says once he's gotten everything he needs. "Really appreciate the help, you're a saint." 

"Takes one to know one." 

"Yeah, yeah," Derek chuckles. "Well, I have to go now, I'll call you sometime later this week, okay? I'll find out when I'm next free to visit and we'll arrange a date. That sound good?" 

"That sounds great. I love you, honey. Take care of Jack, yeah? And Aaron."

"I love you more, ma. And I will." 

He makes his way to the counter and pays for the items when his eye catches onto a mini Spider-man plush. "You wanna buy it?" The cashier asks, already grabbing it from where it's placed on display. "It's the last one." 

"Yeah, sure, why not?" 

It takes fifteen minutes to get from the store to Aaron's, fifteen minutes he's sure the poor man is stressing over in his panic. He pulls up to the apartment and parks beside Aaron's car, ensuring he has everything with him before making his way to the front door and knocking a specific pattern he picked up when he was younger that's become like second nature now.

The door opens immediately and an unkempt Aaron greets him with a relieved smile. Derek feels a flutter or two in his stomach at that but he pushes the thought away and smiles back. 

"Got you what you needed," he says, handing Aaron the bag. "You need me to do anything else?" 

"I think that's all. Thank you, I appreciate it." 

Derek nods and steps inside, ignoring the confused look Aaron sends him. "C'mon man, you're freaking out over here all alone, I'm not gonna leave you like this."

Aaron is speechless. 

"Besides, you'll need some company once Jack's settled down." 

"Will I?" 

"Yeah," he nods, heading to the kitchen and grabbing Jack's favourite bowl from the cupboard. "Don't want you losing your mind, do we? Wouldn't be good for the team's morale." Derek reaches out and takes the bag from Aaron's hand, pulling out the soup and a few more items before giving it back. "Now go be there for your kid, man. I'll make him something to eat." 

Aaron's shoulders drop and he looks like he might cry. "Thank you, Morgan." 

"Anytime, man." 

Later on in the night when Jack is fast asleep with a stomach full of soup, Spider-Man plush wrapped up in his arms and thumb in his mouth, Derek coaxes Aaron out into the living room. He forces him to relax on the couch before going back into the kitchen, coming out moments later with a tray of food. 

"You didn't have to do this, Morgan," Aaron says, sounding guilt-ridden. He looks down at the soup on the plate and the cheese toastie beside it. "I'm grateful, of course, but you didn't have to do all of this." 

"I know." 

"But you did it anyway." 

Derek drops beside him on the couch and grabs the remote, switching on the TV and putting on a random movie. "Of course I did." 

He misses the look of adoration that crosses Aaron's face. 

tag list: @hotchs-big-hands @criminalskies @ssahotchnerr @citrusiove

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x derek morgan #hotchgan #aaron hotchner fanfic #derek morgan fanfic #aaron hotchner/derek morgan #mortch #derek morgan #jack hotchner #sick jack hotchner #worried aaron hotchner #comfortember #comfortember 2023

[bellysoupset]

How I organize this blog.

This is a post specifically for writers and kink-writers. I'm gonna be talking about how *I* organize my stuff and a system that I feel works well.

It doesn't mean my way is the only way, but it IS a way I've found manageable and as someone with 200+ fics, being easy to navigate is my number 1 concern.

Under the cut 👇

Tagging system

This is my touchstone, my everything in this blog. I have three "categories" of tags I use.

Character Tag: So I tag my sickee in every fic. JUST the sickee/whumped charcter. I try to use the full name (Lucas Atwood) or the nickname that is easier to come to mind (Vince Monacelli).

Why is this important? One day you're going to get an anon saying "hey I'd really like to read all your fics with John". And then you'll have to go and hunt for all your fics with John. One day you'll be writing something and be like "is Mary allergic to peanuts?" and then you'll want to go back and read just the Mary fics. This WILL happen and you'll be glad you can just click the "Mary" tag and go through all your Mary fics.

Organization Tag: I use #mywriting for every single fic I write, tiny or large. Other tags I also use #myocs for all questions I get regarding them and #ocsfaces for everything I've ever posted regarding their appearance. I also use #meta for everything regarding the act of writing.

Why is it important? Sometimes you'll want to reblog other creators' works or you'll go on an answering asks spree and then suddenly, if someone was to stumble in your blog, your writing is actually in page 3 or 4. This is why #mywriting is important, so people can go straight to that, sorted by the most recent piece. Also, updating your masterlist is a pain in the ass, but tagging is easy. You WILL get asks about your OCs eye color, height, whatever, this is the reason for the other two tags.

Please Notice Me Tags: Well, I write sick fics, so everything is tagged #sickfic, #emetophilia, #flu... etc etc. This is just so other likeminded people will find your stuff in the tag! It can also serve as an organization tag if you remember that you always tag "#stomach flu", but I sometimes flip flop between how to tag each illness so in my case is not for organization, is more for marketing reasons.

Why is it important? Well, you put time and effort into this! You want people to read it <3

-

Pinned Post

This is already common practice around these lands, but here are some things I think are important.

Add your tags (character and organization, only. Not the marketing tags) to your pinned post, so you can easily find them. My pinned post has every character I have tagged, because its easier for ME to navigate my own blog this way.

Please, for the love of god, assign a name to yourself. It doesn't have to be your name, hell it doesn't have to be even A name, it can be "Book/Seven/Cool Dog Name", it just makes it so much easier to interact with other creators when I don't have to call them "kinkmasteremeto102" every time I reblog from them.

Either have your masterlist under a "read more" in your pinned post or add a link to it. I recommend having a link to your masterlist, it has worked to me and this way you can reblog the masterlist without having to reblog your pinned post with more personal info every time.

If there's something you absolutely don't write, don't want requests, this is the place to put it! Make it clear from the get go to avoid exhausting interactions.

In my case I know people mostly come to my blog for emeto, so I mark my fics that have no emeto with **, but that's just personal preference, it doesn't actually make my life easier.

-

Archive

One day, maybe next week, maybe in six months, another tumblr scare "the website is going down" will happen. And then you'll freak out and cry, if you're like me and doesn't wanna lose your fics in case this website goes up in smoke.

I HIGHLY recommend saving your fics elsewhere, as well as tumblr. Not to have a reader base there, just for safety. Here are some options:

Archiveofourown, tagged as original work: it's a fucking hassle to put up, but if you're starting to post works, it's actually very easy to maintain. In my case, with 200+ fics it didn't work bc I didn't have the patience to upload all of them there, but as a creator who still has a small number and working your way up, I think this is a good one!

Google Drive. Scary, I know, because Google is watching over you, but this is the method that worked for me. Here's how I do it: have a google account JUST for my kink stuff, that has no ties whatsoever to my real person. Not the security email, not a similar password, nothing. Only use it in an anonymous tab and then you can use the entire Drive Suite to upload your fics in a big document, your OC info in a google sheet, etc etc.

Waybackmachine. I haven't actually ever used this one, but I know its an internet archive and you can take "snapshots" of your blog, so they're saved there forever. Unsure how it works, though.

----

Oh ANOTHER thing. Always tag your anons if they sign their stuff. I know it's common practice already, but doesn't hurt to reiterate.

If you get an ask signed as - 🙈anon, tag the fic/request/answer with "# 🙈 anon" as well, this way the anon can later easily find their question in your blog. 💛

If anyone has a question regarding this in specific, my askbox is always open.

#meta #blog organization

[oatmilkappreciator]

prepare to get sick: disabled + poor edition

ok, so my boyfriend just texted from work to say that he feels warm and dizzy and has thrown up a few times already. we both suffer from health issues so it doesn't necessarily mean he's brought home a virus, but I want to be prepared. my health has been shit lately with my medical testing and migraines, so I wanna do what I can to prepare in case we both come down with something (covid). best case scenario, his stomach is acting up for other reasons and we have a bunch of food prepped anyway. worst case, I have what I need to get through, keep us fed, spend as little money as possible, and stay out of hospital.

Remember - don't over exert yourself preparing. it's better to save your energy to fight illness than have everything picture perfect.

- clean the bathroom. I'm using Lysol wipes, a multi surface spray, and toilet paper to keep it easy

- make sure you have clean, comfortable clothes available. this might mean doing or folding a load of laundry, or even just re-piling your lightly worn clothes so you can find them

- cook and prep ahead. I'm going to make soup with whatever I can find in the fridge, and possibly some kind of cookie with lots of nuts and oats and stuff. KEY REMINDER: cook stuff your sick self can handle, so no crunchy stuff if you're prone to sore throats or tough food if you're fatigued, use textures you like, and keep it plain but nutritious

- locate and take vitamins! I'm very lax about this stuff but I figure it doesn't hurt to get a multi vitamin blast now and then. you can take vitamins (I recommend D3, zinc, C, and omega fatty acids but I'm no expert), but I struggle with pills so I either use drops or fresh sources: cooking with ginger, garlic and onions if they agree with you, honey, hot peppers, lemongrass, and citrus

- prepare to rest. the most important thing you can do to decrease the impact of covid on your body is to rest. ideally, you'll rest the way you recover from a concussion: total radical rest of body and mind in the dark with no stimulus. but, I too would lose my marbles, so I recommend charging your electronics (I <3 e readers and low brightness screens), visit a library WITH A N95 OR BETTER MASK ON to pick up some books and movies or revisit some faves at home. torrenting ofc for any movies you may wanna watch

- drink fluids, definitely something more than water. I like gatorade zero and mio electrolyte drops, but watered-down ginger ale or juice can be great too. your body needs sodium and potassium to help process the liquid and your body needs all the fuel it can get when sick. a coke/Pepsi or green tea is really good for a gentle caffeine kick midday, which I find helps my pain and mental clarity when I really need to get out of bed.

anyways I hope this is helpful to even one person besides me - I feel kind of alone in preparing for battle with these viruses sometimes and being disabled is extremely isolating. so any feedback, tips and tricks, personal experiences, I welcome them 💚💚love u!!

#chronic illness #chronically chill #disability #disability tips #covid #emetophobia TW #long post #... I don't usually share stuff like this but I'm trying to share more of my life and this is part of it!! 🥰

[contentconsumer]

Hi! Can I request number 28 with Steve buuuuut maybe reader saying it? If not totally fine, thank you!!!!!

heya, here it is! i wrote this in about 30 mins so i do apologise if it's lacking detail or proper scene setting but i just thought it was cute.

if you wanna request a blurb, you can find my prompt list here and send me an ask! gif not mine but the shitty writing is <3

the house was positively shaking as the bass of the music flowed through it. the shaking mixed with the heat from other peoples bodies began to make you feel nauseous, definitely nothing to do with the copious amounts of alcohol you had drank hours earlier. you were standing with a friend, around the edge of the living room as the wave of sickness came over you, immediately pressing your body back to a standing position to see if that would help, when it didn’t you mumbled a small, “i’m gonna throw up” before fleeing to the upstairs bathroom. once in there with the door locked you produced your stomach’s contents into the toilet bowl. after sitting against the cool tiles you began to feel a lot better. it then dawned on you that you had just projectile vomited into a toilet belonging to a boy you shared a math class with, in your drunken state you couldn’t even remember his name. figures. it was at this realisation you decided you didn’t really want to be at the party anymore, the friends you came with had all wandered off with others and you began to miss your boyfriend steve. you begged him to come to this party tonight but he firmly rejected your offer, opting to instead hang out with robin at his. for the first time in the night you kind of wished you had chosen the same option. despite this, you decided to make the best out of your night, forcing your wobbling legs down the stairs and back to your friend who was waiting for you, holding two red solo cups. 

she waves them in your face before asking, “feeling any better?” “you wouldn’t believe how sometimes a good puke is'' you laugh, “perfect, now lets dance common” your friend pulls you by the wrist into the makeshift dance floor, while you throw out some apologise to the people she’s swinging in to. once situated in the middle of the floor, you began to dance. 

before you knew it, an hour had past as your friend was talking about going back to some boys place, it was at this moment you concluded was the right time to phone steve to pick you up. moving through the house, with a new found excitement, you reach for the landline - dialling the number you had memorised for times like this. “hello?” steve’s voice rings through your ear, silencing any background noise, “heyyyyy steve” “y/n?” he questions, confusion evident in his tone, “everything okay?” the confusion quickly shifts to concern, “yeah all good here but i was wondering if maybe just maybe you could come pick me up? i’m drunk” your words accidentally slur slightly, “i thought y/f/n was dropping you home?” you can hear him start to move around, getting his wallet and keys, “she’s running off with some stranger in approximately 15 minutes so i thought it would be best if i found my own way back” you start to wrap the telephone cord around your finger, “sure no worries, i’ll be there in 10. but y/n?” “yeah?” you hum, “whats the address again?” shit. “one second,” you trail off, eyes desperately looking for your friend, once they land on her you beckon her over, “what?” “where the fuck are we?” “1123 sickamore street, tim’s house” tim. ohh- that’s his name. “did you catch that?” you bring the phone back to your ear, all you can hear is steve’s deep chuckle from the receiver, “yeah i got it. i’ll be there soon” 

you’re waiting outside by the time steve’s car pulls up, the cold slightly nipping at your cheeks as you slide into the passenger seat, a lazy smile across your face, “drunk huh?” steve teases, “shut up and take me home harrington” you place kiss on his cheek, “no way y/n” steve laughs, “no way what?” you pout, “no way am i dropping you home, obviously drunk-” “i’m not obviously drunk” “you almost fell twice walking from the curb to my car. anyway as i was saying, no way am i dropping you home to your dad who doesn’t really like me when you’re meant to be staying at a friends house and your drunk.”but-” “no buts” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, “you can stay at mine and i’ll drop you home tomorrow. sober.” “but what about your movie night with robin?” “babe it’s 2am, movie night ended 3 hours ago when i dropped her home. look we’re almost here now anyway” you take note of how close you are too steve house before you feels your eyelids start to droop.

steve sighs as the sight of your sleeping figure, after parking his car he goes round to your side and reaches across you to unbuckle your seatbelt, taking you in his arms bridal style he mentally curses his parents for putting his bedroom up so many flights of stairs. upon reaching his room, he quickly gets you changed into your favourite shirt of his and tucks you into bed. he laughs to himself at the fact you didn’t even stir once. he shakes his head before going to lock the front door. once he returns, he slides in next to you and even in your sleep you stretch your arm across his torso, pulling your body into his. his fingers thread through your hair as he looks at you with admiration and mentally makes a promise to himself to remind you of this in the morning. but right now, he feels himself relax in his favourite place - by your side. he may of told you he wasn’t dropping you home due to your insobriety but part of it was actually because he loves laying here, with you tucked into him and his arms protectively around you.

#steve x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington one shot #stranger things ship #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things masterlist #stranger things imagine #contentconsumer #minx answers #x reader

[bee-dot-exe]

Soldier Poet King SBI

I was sitting in bed, probably with my cat, watching I wanna say a birthday celebration stream with Karl, Foolish, Tina, and Brooke one year ago tonight. I was laughing and stimming and getting some screenshots, it was great, then a notification popped up. "Technoblade uploaded a video."

I quietly but audibly apologized for having to leave because he never uploads, even if the title did make me a little confused and nervous.

I thought it was a joke until about halfway through the letter. I kept saying "wait." I took it off full screen and refreshed the comments, saw curses and apologies and condolences, then refreshed again just in case. I heard "because I love you guys" and I couldn't hear anything anymore.

I cried so hard I felt sick. I couldn't catch my breath. I could see my iPad on the bed in front of me still playing the video but I wasn't watching or listening.

I have several stuffed animals, and I've just never named them or associated them with anything, with all but three. A septiceye from Jack's merch, a grey sheep named Friend, and a pink and white Squishmallow rabbit that makes me thinks of Origins. I don't really remember anything from that night after except holding that rabbit.

Grief is such a weird thing. There are so many good moments where I laugh until my stomach hurts. But there's also moments where I just emotionally and sometimes physically freeze. Watching videos, stims I've picked up from or because of him, seeing fanart.

It's beautiful and it's weird, that there will continue to be things, not directly from him, but about him, and I feel honored that these things happened at all, before and still.

I didn't think that would be so long, sorry about that, but thank you for letting me write it, and sorry if it made you emotional in any way, but thank you for reading it.

See you later, Techno, we miss and love you so much, we'll be alright, I hope you're resting easy out there.

Now then. Something I've wanted and been meaning to write for a long time. I'm quite proud of this, I had a lot of fun making it, it's so soft, I hope you enjoy.

Based on the song Soldier Poet King by The Oh Hellos

975 words

I mean a couple curses cause Tommy's in it if you care but no other warnings

The dull creak of wooden porch breathing then settling as the rocking chair I sat on lulled above it. A soft medley of chirps and trills from a variety of birds in the surrounding trees, an array of stark browns and calming greens, or high above in the sea of cerulean and cornflower with candy floss dots of porcelain. The occasional mumble or soft grunt of moo's from fenced in landscape. The gentle rush and subtle scent of a nearby stream. My personal symphony.

The sound of metal against metal brought me back.

"What the fuck, man, can't let me have one win, can you?"

"Afraid not."

"Come on, dude, I'm trying."

"Get better."

"What do you think I'm doing!"

"Not being better."

"Wiiiiiiiiiiiil!"

Wilbur was sitting under a tree and started playing his guitar louder as a response.

I saw Tommy move to tackle the older in my peripherals, but Techno moved to the side, before pinning his opponent to the earth with his slightly dull blade, blonde curls bouncing slightly as they peeked from beneath his helmet as he landed, the victor's own a color not unlike bubblegum or strawberry ice cream in wisps beneath his own, slightly unkept from the activities.

"Alright, settle down, be nice." I said in the direction of those dueling, rocking chair creaking slightly from the pressure of standing up, moving in the direction of gentle guitar strums.

"Come over here with Wil and I, I have something to show you."

"Whatcha got there, Dadza?" Asked Tommy, head tilting forward in question towards the slightly fraying book.

"Come over and find out, mate." I pat the ground at either side as a gesture to join.

Tommy sat at one end next to Wilbur, who promptly pulled him into a side cuddle, Techno sat at my other side, a bit more reserved on affection, but leaning in a tad to see the book in my hands, the cover read "making memories."

I opened to the first page, which held a photo of a small boy, hair mostly straight and dusty brown, about ten years before becoming the color it is now, he was holding a sword someone helped make out of cardboard, making a face as intimidating as a toddler could manage.

"Look at the little Technoblade!" Wilbur cooed in a higher octave. Techno began to curl into himself and his face slowly deepened in a shade of embarrassment.

"None of that, mate, because you see, that weapon of cardboard would become one of metal in a short matter of years, he would become a soldier in a sense, protecting the ones he holds closest to his chest, verbally and physically, a hero in and out of his home."

He adjusted himself to sit straighter, and brushed the pieces of hair from the front of his face, a whisper of a smile found itself on his features as I turned the page.

A boy, with a pile of muddy colored curls, mostly brushed to his right side, and wire rimmed glasses just on the side of being too big, smiled with closed lips and shining dimples.

"Wilby!"

Tommy stated brightly, Wilbur brought him into a closer cuddle.

"Right you are, and those glasses would soon come to fit him, and he would really start to find his voice, metaphorically, not long after this was taken if I'm correct. His already strong and bright imagination would scream and run and paint the world. He will be a poet, a musician, a singer, the list keeps growing, he knew then and knows still how to slay one with his tongue, an artist from the day he entered this earthside."

He adjusted the same shape of glasses he's grown attached to since the start that sit on his face, and brushed slender fingers along the neck of his instrument lightly, I turned the page again.

A boy, a mop of curly hair like sunshine and dandelions, blooms of freckles on his nose and cheekbones, a smile so bright and brilliant it reached the corners of his eyes, a gap indicating a missing tooth on display.

"You were so proud, runt." Techno stated. Wilbur reached to ruffle the still unruly curls of the boy the conversation surrounded.

"Course I was, bitch, now I've got these bad boys." He grinned and pointed to the tracks of metal across both rows of teeth.

"Give it time, Toms, you'll be rid of those in due time. This kid with hair like gold and gaps in his teeth will become a ruler, a glue of sorts to those who have the honor of becoming close with him, his spirit as bright as the sun and energy magnetic, can only continue to grow and roam wild and free."

Sun glistening off braces as he smiled, eyes just as crinkled as in the photo, blossoming freckles just as apparent.

"You heard the man, kid's a ruler, think that means he deserves a crown, now if you'd be so kind as to show me where it is, Technoblade."

"Not a chance, Theseus."

"What about you then, Phil?"

"What about me, mate?"

"We all got these names and stories, what about you, why didn't you get anything?"

Wilbur questioned, his head almost touching my shoulder to admire the pages of the book in my lap, eyes sparkling with wonder and curiosity.

Time stalled in that moment, the three surrounding me having seemingly gone back in time as we huddled together and reminisced. To the days where hair looked a little different, where faces were a little chubbier, where voices were a little higher, where bodies weren't taller than my own.

"I'm more than alright being the narrator and the reader of your own stories."

We continued to flip through the album, commenting on the majority, laughter joined part in the symphony.

#mcyt #dsmp #sleepy boys inc #sbi #ph1ilza #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #technoblade #creative writing

[winterberryholly]

WIP WEDNESDAY: 2/1/23

A snippet from a NejiKank fic I have been trying to get posted for months (currently listed on my WIP list as yeah they team gay keep scrolling) This scene takes place during the reception of Gaara and Lee’s wedding. (NejiKank, GaaLee, onesided Nejiten, onesided Kankiba. M)

Note that this scene is early in the fic, so this has more of the onesided Nejiten than the NejiKank, but I promise it’s a NejiKank fic! :)

“Ah hah,” says Kankurou. He gestures between Neji and Tenten with his senbon and waggles his eyebrows in a way that makes Neji feel skewered himself. “You wanna bang her.”

Neji’s complete and utter shock at the audacity causes him to gasp mid-sip.

“I do not—“

— is all Neji can spit out before he begins fully choking on his wine.

As Kankurou shouts and whacks him repeatedly across the back, his lungs burning from the wine he’s inhaled, Neji thinks that perhaps he is in hell. It makes sense. The too-bright lights. The gaudy decor. The Kankurou.

“Easy! You don’t have to get all—“ He waves his arms wildly around. “Just because you’re into some chick. I get it, man. I was messed up over Kiba for like…whew!!”

“I’m fine,” Neji snaps.

He is decidedly not fine. He is mortified, not least of all because Kankurou is right, though Neji would never be so crass as to say it like that (despite his being “messed up” over his teammate for far longer than “whew”). Is it really that obvious?

(Does everyone know that he’s made weak just from the sliver of skin exposed by the slit of her dress, that sometimes the soft moans Tenten makes when he works out her shoulders after training echo in his memory at random, making his breath catch in his throat during the most mundane of activities...)

“I didn’t realize it was such a big secret,” Kankuro continues, making Neji all the more tempted to throw himself over the nearest balcony. “But now…y’know, that explains a lot.”

“What do you mean?”

Kankuro makes a dismissive flick of his wrist in Neji’s direction. “You. Your whole deal. Being that horny all the time must be awful. I dunno how you do it.” He grins wickedly and leans in closer. “Did it make it worse or better, being on the same team as her?”

Between her tendency towards hands-on displays of friendly affection, her cavalier attitude towards dressing and bathing in front of her teammates, the countless nights spent lying ramrod straight mere inches away from her, willing his body not to respond to her breath on his neck, or the soft moans she made in her sleep…

Worse. So much worse.

“I’m not an animal,” he spits.

“Don’t let her hear you say that, Hyuuga. What if that’s what she wants?”

Neji doesn’t know what she wants, exactly. But he can confirm that it’s not him. She’d told him as much, when he’d finally mustered up the courage to ask (“But I love you so much, Neji. I mean it. You’re my best friend in the whole world.”) And that’s okay, because it has to be. Tenten is his best friend, too, and Neji can’t dream of losing her just because he can’t get over her. Surely he’s not that pathetic.

But every so often, Neji still finds himself looking at her a little too long, or dreaming of taking her to bed, waking up both aching with want and sick to his stomach -

“Oi, you in there?”

Neji remembers to breathe; Kankuro gives a dramatic “phew” of relief.

“Thought you died, Hyuuga. Thank God. Everyone woulda blamed it on me.”

#naruto fanfiction #wip wednesday #this section is not really nejiten and not really nejikank yet either #I guess I will just tag the characters? #neji hyuga #kankuro

[elvisabutler]

considering what you wrote on how upset belle gets when people mention elvis passing away/being too sick i wondered if you can elaborate on how it would be if he were to find her crying in his office one day because she heard students saying horrible things and she’d have to be near him for that entire day as he assures her he won’t be leaving anytime soon now that he has her? 🥺 just bc when students were talking about him dying, my heart HURT

so. i'm trying to clear out my askbox a little of just random tiny things and i left this in my inbox even though i technically answered before. and i can't tell you why i left it but i think i finally might have figured out. and anon, trust me, no one's heart except- okay maybe @butlersxbirdy because she's been my brainstorm/sounding board from the beginning and is one of those people that i'll go to to literally be like IS THIS THIS THEM. see also: she's been my little belle sub drop brainstorm birdy.

so my last answer with this was really that she never takes it well, pretty much has a breakdown when she's not in any of his classes and just walks by with his students talking about him. but here's the thing, once they have kids and he's getting older and she's getting older, he- he takes better care of himself and she is mostly on a one woman mission to befriend every premed/medically inclined person she meets to find some way to make sure he'll live as long as she desperately wants him to. this continues on as she's teaching. she will not lose him before she absolutely has to. sometimes she thinks it's a little pathetic and beats herself up a little bit for it but then she looks at their kids, probably using him as a little gym or him just blowing rasperberies on their stomachs or just being a good dad and she realizes no, it's her wanting to keep the man she loves alive.

but as he gets older he has to wind down teaching a lot. goes from having multiple sections of different classes to one less each year past a certain point until he sort of settles on two sections, an upper class one and a sort of general lowerclassmen class. but because of this people know he's not maybe doing the best. or the assume he isn't based on the cane and how sometimes he has to miss class still.

and belle always hears them and admonishes them and elvis does later on the next time he sees them, "y'all wanna have me in the grave 'fore it's time for me t'go. my health ain't your concern, 'less ya really think it's hurtin' my teachin'."

and here's the thing, if belle hears it her own class, she's been known to call them out in front of everyone. "if he was as sick as all of you think, i wouldn't be here. i would be spending time with him adn our children. enjoying what time we'd have left. i don't care what you say in private but not in my goddamn class." she's gotten in trouble a few times but she manages to sweet talk her way out of things along with elvis.

though there's probably one time when elvis is having a rough week and she hears some students say it and she had to come to work because elvis basically bullied her out of the house and she just dismisses class. she just dismisses class and goes home to hold him and be held by him. unprofessional? yes. does she care? that day, god no.

#ally answers asks #professor presley #spoilers: i like answering questions like this for any verses i ever make. i really really do. #elvis presley #big daddy elvis #i realized i forgot those tags so like none of you are gonna see this lol oops.

[bi-bard]

I Wanna Love You 'Till We're Food for the Worms to Eat - Arthur Broussard Imagine (SKAM France)

Title: I Wanna Love You 'Till We're Food for the Worms to Eat

Pairing: Arthur Broussard X Reader

Based On: Everywhere, Everything

Word Count: 1,047 words

Warning(s): mentions of being overwhelmed

Summary: (Y/n) and Arthur were almost attached at the hip. What they saw as friendship was seen very differently by everyone around them. It took years for them to even consider that there may be more between them.

Author's Note: It has been so long since I've written for this character. I've been saying that a lot lately, haven't I?

STICK SEASON - NOAH KAHAN WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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I had mixed feelings about lying in silence with my thoughts.

There were times when it would be great. A time to sort through any confusion or anger. I could find my way through all sorts of problems that way.

Other times were hell. When problem-solving became fixating and I found myself dwelling on mistakes I had made. I didn't have any power over whatever stress I had.

I heard my phone buzzing. It was a collection of texts. I didn't want to answer it. As much as I despised the silence at that moment, the idea of having to explain myself made me sick to my stomach.

My phone stopped for a little while. And then, I heard someone knocking on my door. I groaned a bit, running my hands over my face.

My phone buzzed a few moments later.

It didn't take much for me to realize the sounds were connected. I reached over and checked the message.

Arthur: I'm at your door. Let me in.

I unlocked my phone and looked over the texts that he had sent me.

It was a mix of questions about if I was okay and messages about how he was going to stop by. I knew why he was worried. I had ignored him through the end of the day. It was wrong, I knew that. I had just been so stuck in my thoughts that it didn't really click until I got home.

Another message came through and I finally relented, sighing and pushing myself off my bed.

I paused right by the door, handing resting on the doorknob for a moment before pulling the door open. Arthur paused whatever message he was frantically typing when he heard the door open.

"There you are," he said, stepping forward and hugging me.

I expected a thousand questions surrounding what had happened and why I ignored him. I was already preparing answers in my mind, hoping to avoid the additional stress in the long run.

But as I hugged him back, there was only one question, "Are you okay?"

I stepped back slowly, nodding to him.

He closed my front door as I walked over to my couch and sat down. He sat down next to me, frowning a bit at my silence.

"Do you want to talk about it," he asked. I shook my head. "Okay."

"Sorry," I muttered. I ran my hands over my face again. "It's just... it's been a long week. I needed time to myself. I thought I did... it didn't help much."

I always did that. Withdrew when I got overwhelmed. Part of why Arthur was my best friend was because he seemed to fight it. He got too worried to leave me on my own unless I asked. Even then he would send me messages to check in every couple of hours.

I remember my friends digging into that pattern. They would constantly say that there was so much more there than there was. Arthur was my friend. My best friend. And that was all there was to it.

And that was all I would tell them.

"Is there anything you need," Arthur asked. I shook my head. "Are you sure? I could make you something. Or just get some water-"

"Arthur," I touched his arm. "I'm alright."

He slowly nodded and relaxed a bit more.

I grinned a bit.

I wouldn't really mind having more with him. I had thought about it more than I would care to admit. It wouldn't be all that different. Just more affectionate. My skin would sometimes feel like it was begging for someone to just hold me. Having that be Arthur, someone that I knew and cared about, would be the best-case scenario.

Without much thought, I shifted so my head was resting on Arthur's shoulder. He reached out and touched my knee. Silent support when I needed it.

I'm not sure how long we sat there. I just knew the longer we did, the more certain I was that I didn't mind going through such rough moments if Arthur was waiting on the other side of them. I looked at the hand on my leg. I wanted to reach out and intertwine our fingers. I was just too scared to do it.

So, I forced myself to keep my hands in my lap. I picked at the skin around my nails instead of holding his hand like I wanted to.

"Thank you," I mumbled. "For showing up. You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did," he replied. I moved my head, so my chin was resting on his shoulder.

"Why?"

He hummed.

"Why did you have to?"

"Because I care about you," he answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I want to know that you're okay. Take care of you."

I grinned to myself.

I moved back a bit. I shifted enough that I could be face-to-face with him. He grinned at me softly. I took a moment to let my eyes bounce around his face; from eyes to cheekbones to nose to forehead to lips.

I took a deep breath before leaning forward and pressing my lips to his.

It was short and sweet and awkward. I started pulling back almost as soon as Arthur started kissing me back. He blinked at me slowly, seemingly stunned by what I had done. I bit back a chuckle at his expression.

"Woah," he muttered.

I couldn't hold back the chuckle at that one.

"Would it sound stupid to say that I've been waiting for years to do that," he asked.

I shook my head. "No... because I have been too."

He smiled at me before leaning over and kissing me again. I placed my hands on his shoulders as I kissed him back. It was like the air around us settled. I hadn't even noticed any tension or awkwardness, but I suddenly felt more relaxed. Like pieces of a puzzle were finally coming together to show the bigger picture.

I knew right then that I could spend forever like that. In that state of happiness. Of loving and being loved.

And I allowed myself to believe that Arthur thought that too.

Silence didn't need to be spent alone anymore.

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#skam fanfiction #skam imagine #skam x reader #skam france imagine #skam france fanfiction #skam france x reader #fanfiction #imagine #x reader #arthur broussard imagine #arthur broussard fanfiction #arthur broussard x reader

[amyisherenowitsokay]

Alrighty. If you’re still doing those writing prompts, all I know about your ship preferences is that you like ZaGr and Stolitz, sooo… Idk, I think 18 sounds cute? Or. 22 or 33 also interest me lmfao. Whatever you want and whoever you want since you’d be the one writing it. I suck at these, but I do like your writing so I figured I’d send one in... 😔

Paige I have chosen all of them at once because you are my friend and I am also incapable of making even the most inconsequential decisions 

This can pretty easily be read on its own, but I imagine this set in the unpublished AU I’m still writing in the background of all my other many projects. No matter what universe it's set in, it’s right in the middle of a will they/won’t phase of their relationship.

Fandom: Invader Zim

Pairing: Zim x Gaz

Words: 2200+

Prompts: 

18. “I’ve never been there. Wanna go?” 22. “You’re not going to settle for that. Not if I have anything to say about it.” 33. “I was lying earlier.”

A/N: I imagine this set in the unpublished AU fic I have ongoing, but I think you could argue this fits in just about anywhere where Zim and Gaz are bordering on the will they/won’t they line.

The air smells like gasoline, copper, and something distinctly metal that puts her teeth on edge.

The silence is disquieting. In particular, because it was only moments ago punctuated by a screaming so loud it’d drowned out any hope of thought. Gaz was smart, and intelligent, and had an eerie amount of composure for someone her age. Even still, her body physically aches from keeping so still and so tense for so long. She feels sick. It feels like she was holding a golf ball in her throat that she couldn’t swallow. It makes it hard to breathe, and the churning in her stomach threatened to send the imaginary golf ball back up the other way.

The only sound she’s able to register is her own heartbeat. She has her teeth clamped hard against one another to prevent making any noise. 

Zim still isn’t making any noise. Gaz wants to say something—anything—but keeps her mouth shut. It would be incredibly stupid to potentially trigger additional security just so she could verbalize a question that should’ve spoken for itself. Zim would let her know if it was safe, and in the meantime, she was going to stay parked in this little corner of what had once been his otherwise immaculate lab. A lab that he’s now destroyed. Thoroughly. Gaz can’t help but sneak glances in the places that the precariously dangling lights hang on (and fuck, this lab really is made of stronger stuff; most of the lights in the circle of destruction are seemingly hanging on by literal threads, but through all the violence, had only swayed, without showing any significant signs of detachment. The only disturbance was the occasional flickering.) It’s bad. Really bad. The word ‘vulnerable’ comes to mind, but somehow, looking at Zim poised in the center of it all, remarkably unscathed, the word dies, discarded in the back of her mind. 

The sudden absence of growling makes her realize that he was growling in the first place. It’d just sort of filtered out, unregistered by her ears. Now that she was paying particular attention to that portion of her senses, some of the general hustle of city noise could be heard in the distance as well. 

She makes another valiant attempt to swallow the metaphorical golf ball to no avail. Her mouth is too dry. 

Only when he takes a deep, steadying breath does she suddenly remember how to breathe. He stands up straight, fingers carding over his antennae, and turns. 

Whatever he sees in her is enough to make him wince.

Gaz’s brow rises, somehow finding the energy to be a little offended. What did he want from her? She was only human. Exceptional, but still. Sometimes a body compelled decisions, overriding the brain. In her case, and in this instance, that is exactly what had happened, and was exactly why she was curled out of the way, as far from the epicenter of violence (aka Zim) as she could manage in the confined area. Sometimes, a body screamed ‘duck and cover’ without ever consulting the brain. In this case, it felt warranted, even if it left her probably looking like some cowering idiot in front of her . . . friend. Whatever they were. 

He looks like wants to say something. She could be wrong—it’s not like she’s used to interpreting the shifts in skin and muscle on an alien face just yet—but he seems to be holding an apology behind his clenched teeth. 

Whatever he wants to say, if anything, he seems to reconsider. Instead, he makes his way over the scrap towards her. Some of it he kicks away spitefully. Most of it he just steps over until he’s crouched in front of her. One hand finds her bicep. It’s gentle, but firm.

“Up,” he coaxes.

She manages to get to her feet, but only barely, and mostly with his help. It’s embarrassing how much she needs his help. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug, and it was doing a number on the steadiness of her legs. 

“We shouldn’t have come here,” he announces quietly. 

The snort that comes out of Gaz is compulsive, and earns her a sharp, curious look that she pretends to not feel burning a hole into her cheek. She pretends to be enraptured by the surrounding mess of what was once a lab, stationed in the middle of nowhere. 

“It’s not your fault,” she says, generously. “It’s my bad.” 

And it had been. Zim had mentioned it off-handedly, in a moment of unusually careless honesty. An old hideout, in a city more dangerous and intriguing than where the two of them had been stashed away. The newness of the idea had been immensely appealing, enough where she’d pressed for details, until eventually, the words had seemed to come on their own.

18.

“I’ve never been there,” she’d said. 

Zim had turned to her with a calculated interest. His eyes had narrowed, lips pursing briefly, before seeming to decide in favor of his initial impulse. 

“Would you like to?” He’d asked. 

And now look what’d happened.

Zim sighs. The noise quickly morphs into a groan. “This will take me ages to repair.”

Gaz somehow finds herself reaching for the nearest robot. She feels Zim stiffen, but he doesn’t stop her. Not even when she picks it up—or the biggest piece of it up, anyways—and rolls it in her hand.

“I’ve never seen robotics like this,” she comments. It’s true. The robot is immensely advanced. That nerdy, secreted part of her wants to sit down with a screwdriver and better lighting and start peeling it apart. Her father would be proud. 

Zim scoffs. His toe snaps in the direction of a chunk of leftover, once-hostile robot, sending it bouncing off into the dark. “Tch. This is hardly impressive,” he grumbles. “This lab is more the Empire’s than mine—including its laughably outdated security. I could show you much better inventions. Things of my own design that would put this to shame. Oh, what things,” he finishes with a deeply satisfied hiss.

Gaz’s brow rises. “Oh yeah?”

“Of course,” he boasts. The lingering oddness between them seems to be dissolving in favor of Zim’s usual arrogance. One of his hands reaches for her expectantly, clearly encouraging her to get off the floor and leave the ‘inferior’ robot pieces alone. 

But because she’s Gaz, she ignores him. Even the metal encasing the device is unfamiliar to her. 

Said device is suddenly plucked from her hands by a metal claw, and tossed away. Before she can offer her protests, or start an argument, its in front of her face, all four little finger-appendages clicking together. It’s hard to say, but it feels nearly disapproving. 

Non-metal claws grip the back of her neck. Not hard, and not threatening, but he’s angry. She wants to categorize that under ‘what else is new,’ but goosebumps break out along her neck and shoulders. It’s a physical reaction to his proximity, one she’s been noticing more and more of lately. She wishes she didn’t notice. It’d be easier if she was still oblivious.

He brings himself level with her, looming over one of her shoulders from behind. The way he hisses in her ear sends an uninvited thrill up her spine that she firmly ignores. 

22.

“I will not tolerate you being so fascinated by something so pathetic,” he insists. It sounds nearly like a threat, but not necessarily one meant for her. “Not as long as Zim is here to properly educate you on what a real death machine looks like.”

“These were real death machines,” she points out. She’s trying to figure out how to shrug him off without making it painfully obvious how uncomfortable she is. 

“Bad ones,” he dismisses. The hand on the back of her neck flexes. She always forgets how creepily long his fingers are. His thumb and index finger are closer together than they would be on a similarly proportioned hand. Not quite touching, but close.

Oh, wait. He’s done that talon thing again, where he flexes them, like some sort of demented green cat. He must be fighting with his own residual adrenaline. Still tense, and waiting for another attack.

“I was told this would be a fun field trip,” she points out. Another robot bit is juuust out of reach. She tries to stretch for it without Zim noticing.

The hand on her neck flexes sharply, keeping her in place without actually hurting her. A growl that sounds more like a warning than just impatient irritation rumbles against her back. The shiver that follows is entirely involuntary. She tries to play it off by following it with squirming, as though she was simply trying to wiggle out of his hold.

His other hand grips her shoulder, pressing her center of gravity into the floor. Keeping her kneeling in place. A part of her thinks it might be precautionary, but she’s mostly convinced he’s just fucking with her. She’s got a feeling an imminent comment about subservience is incoming. Normally she’d already have her snarky reply ready to go, but her mind is drawing a blank past trying to figure out how to grab another robot bit without being too obvious about it. It’s probably impossible like this. Zim’s face isn’t visible from his position behind her, but she knows he’s watching her every move like a hawk. A creepy, weird, murderous, arrogant little hawk.

She reaches behind her, going for a swat at his face. He jerks backwards, which counts as a success, but he never relinquishes his grasp. 

“Fuck off,” she snaps. 

The hand on her shoulder now comes to grip her defiant hand. The action only serves to bring them closer as she tries, semi-successfully, to pull that away too.

“Shut up,” he snaps. “I’m doing a sweep for more of them.”

“No you’re not,” she argues. She’s slippery and wily, and while her neck remains trapped in his fingers, her hand manages to break free. She clutches it between her other one protectively. “You’re just standing there.”

“I am infiltrating the security as we speak, idiot girl,” he insists. “If anything is left online, you run the risk of incineration upon standing. My PAK is emitting minimal shielding for us. Be patient for once in your miserable little life.”

Now that she’s paying attention to it, she can hear a little bit of a hum in his PAK that she’s come to recognize as it’s ‘I’m doing something’ noise. So he probably wasn’t lying. But that doesn’t make this position any more comfortable.

Their brief struggle however has managed to scoot them a little closer to one of the robots. She thinks if she’s quick, she can snag it, so she goes for it. 

She grabs it successfully. Unfortunately, Gaz hadn’t anticipated just how sharp it would be. She jerks backwards, and three of her fingertips have blood beading on them. 

She’s extremely glad he can’t see the wince, but her swallow must be obvious with the way he’s still got a grip on her throat.

“Done,” he suddenly announces.

His grip on her disappears, and she pretends not to notice the cold left in its absence. Less friendly is the way he not-so-gently drags her to her feet. She only barely gets her barings before he’s pushing her forward.

“You are safe now,” he purrs, mocking her with the sweetness of his tone.

Gaz has a really hard time believing that. She turns to meet his eyes as hers narrow suspiciously. 

They’re not really friends. They’re not even formal allies. She doesn’t trust him. She shouldn’t trust him. Especially not with how he’s smiling at her like that.

‘I don’t feel safe,’ she nearly says. Nearly. Gaz only just manages to suck her lip in at the last second to keep from voicing it. She’s not afraid of him, but she’s not stupid. There had to be at least a few dozen robots, each determined to eviscerate the ‘intruder,’ aka her, scattered across the floor in shreds. She’d seen him tear a few of them with his teeth, and plenty of them fell to the talons that are only just now retracting back into ‘normal’ appendage lengths. 

Her three fingers start stinging viciously, reminding her that she’s in need of minimal medical aid. It seems like a bad idea to suck them into her mouth, given her unfamiliarity with what the evil robots are made of. Who knows what they could be coated with. Whatever it is, it’s probably not a good idea to ingest them.

She wipes them on her jacket instead. Zim grimaces at the sight of it.

33.

“I was lying,” he said suddenly, meeting her eyes flatly.

Gaz’s brow rises in a prompting fashion.

“Earlier,” he explains. “You are never safe, reckless creature.”

She beams, immensely smug about having irritated him so thoroughly. “Is that a threat?”“You’re a threat to peace,” he retorts. However, the sentiment seems to amuse him. He smirks at her. “Which makes you an appropriate associate of Zim. Now hurry up, before something else stupid happens.”

#iz #invader zim #zim #gaz #zagr #fic #mini fic #writing prompt #amyisherenowwriting #sorry for the wait bestie hope you like it

[romeavecryst]

My Aphmau Re-write/Headcannons PDH-Mystreet

Im doing this out of pure entertainment for myself

Character of the day: Aaron Jaxon Lycan

Art by me

Hes Black. He has locs

Though during high school his hair was buzzed due to him bring sent to military school.

werewolf ovi

He had a close nitted friend group Zhuri(oc), Logan, Elijah(oc), Niyleah(oc), Ryan(oc), and my self instert (Crystal)

he’s dating Lily(hes like so in love with her it makes me sick)

His love language is acts of service

He loves caned peaches

When he finds out Aphmau is Sue hes nice to her and all around a mentor to her. Theyer age gap isnt gross nore wierd they are about 3 years apart but 4 grades apart idk if i want them to end up together really tbh like when it come to mystreet.

Aarons record is pretty clean hes not some angsty bad boy who gets in fights

He thought Gene was kinda hot before he started acting like a douche to him

He plays lacrosse and hockey those are the only times he gets pretty violent. (He literally had to beg and used the excuse it will make me seem normal isn’t that what you want? For his parents to let him play)

Malissa is the only one family wise that knows about Lily.

He’s actually really good with kids.

Hes really quite on his feet so he accidentally scares people a lot

He has some acne scars bc he pick at it sick fuck.

He had piercings bc most of the time has them out due to sports he has snake bites and an eyebrow his ears are double pierced as well.

6’4 hes a pretty beefy guy

Niyleah loves designing clothes so she uses Aaron as a mannequin for masculine and feminine clothing Aaron actually enjoys it

Lily loves doing his make up when hes over at her house. He loves it

He has a major side eye problem.

Always has a judgemental face like for no reason at all so the friend group is like “boy whats your problem like do you wanna fight or sum?!”

He gets major heartburn for no reason.

He pierced lilys belly button for her bc he mom wouldn’t let her go do it professionally done and she asked aaron to do it he was like okay🤷🏽‍♀️

“Nigga what..🤨” says when he’s confused asf

He randomly will catch someone in a ‘bofa deez nuts joke’ and has a stupid grin after telling them alway get lily in them

and her face goes 😄..😀..😐 “stfu aaron.”

He likes to crochet.

Likes teaching little kids to say shit they’re not supposed to

Always has weird socks

He wears rings

Silver jewelry

hates algae/slime it makes him want to throw up.

Lily asked him if he was more interested in aphmau bc she was hitting on him after they found out they where close friends and he was like “oh girl no..” with 😟 face.

He loves princess Disney movies like oh lord wanna watch everyone with him then sit your ass down and you better know the words to the songs.

He’s actually so unorganized to normal ppl bit to him hes like “ITS RIGHT THERE OMG” like its bad

Hes a reader(romance and horror)

He has a studder sometimes like when hes talking about something he enjoys and stutters bc of how fast he talking.

Has scars on his arms from being pushed into a black berry bush in middle school by Logan.

Hes deathly allergic to blueberrys.

He knows morse code

He has very long eyelashes

He has a big birth mark on his stomach thats really light compared to his skin.

He bites his nails

If he sees someone’s elbow on the table hell flip just bc his mom made it a habit not to put elbows on the table.

I have more but ill keep it just with this!

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