#weight-trained older adults

[heathermehf]

Doctor Recommended for Seniors | Avoid Falls with Tai Chi for Balance [Video]

#OlderAdultsStrengthTraining #WeightLoss #SeniorsExercise #SeniorsFitness #Older Adults Strength Training #Weight Loss #Seniors Exercise #Seniors Fitness

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

You may notice I frequently comment on the assumptions people make about animal facilities based on their branding. Frequently, people assume accredited facilities are inherently better for animals than unaccredited facilities, or assume sanctuaries are inherently more moral / better at caring for their animals than zoos.

I want to show you an example of why I am always, always skeptical of these assumptions.

If you’re in the California area, you might have heard about Hank the Tank - who is actually a Henrietta, btw - the 500 pound nuisance bear from Lake Tahoe who broke into 21 homes in search of food. She was recently captured by wildlife officials and moved to a sanctuary in Colorado. The Wild Animal Sanctuary has three main facilities, two in Colorado and one in TX. To give you some context, it’s the biggest carnivore sanctuary in the country - they advertise somewhere between 300-500 animals, mostly large carnivores, between their properties. It’s where most of the Tiger King cats went. It’s PETA’s preferred placement for confiscated exotic animals. So, obviously, it’s got to be great, right? Except… take a look at what they posted about Henrietta’s arrival.

Here’s their post about Henrietta’s arrival at the Refuge, the large facility in Colorado that isn’t open to the public. Let’s take a closer look at that food trough…

What do we see here? An entire rotisserie chicken that is either blackened or highly seasoned, and a whole ham. Maybe a second chicken underneath the pile, I can’t quite tell. The sanctuary gets the majority of their bear food donated from groceries stores once it’s past the sell-by date, so we know those are older meats and they’re full of a ton of salt. Then, for fruit and veg, there’s a cantaloupe, mango, corn, avocado, grapes, and apples. Maybe a pepper or two, it’s hard to tell. That’s a lot of sugar and not a lot of fiber or roughage.

But… on top of it and to the right… are those Twizzlers?

Yes.

The sanctuary confirmed on Facebook that they fed this recently rescued obese bear what looks like almost an entire pack of Twizzlers.

I don’t know of any world in which it’s appropriate to feed candy to a bear. Maybe a piece or two as a really high value reinforcer for hard behaviors (that isn’t relevant here, it’s openly against this sanctuary’s ethos to do any husbandry or medical training). An entire pack of Twizzlers is just appalling. But it’s not uncommon for this facility! I have a book written about their operations and animal care (that I bought at their gift shop this spring) which openly discusses how the bears get fed bread, doughnuts, marshmallows, and all sorts of incredibly unhealthy food that comes in with the grocery donations.

But hey, this is apparently fine for the bears, according to the sanctuary’s founder. He was quoted in that same book as saying “Bears are the only animal I know of that can eat insane amounts of sugar and it never hurts them. It does not hurt their organs. They do not get clogged arteries. They do not have high blood pressure. In the wild they eat all these sweet berries in the fall, and they convert sugar to fat… so the more sugar they get the better… we would all love to have a system like that!”

Now while it’s true that bears have physiological adaptations that modulate their insulin production and sensitivity in ways that appear to prevent them from from developing diabetes, that does’t mean it’s healthy for them to regularly eat processed carbohydrates, sugar, and general junk food. And remember - Henrietta gained her fame because of how incredibly overweight she already is, and because she was seeking out human food, According to the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife, a healthy weight for a normal adult black bear is between 100-300 pounds. So, obviously, the best thing to do is… continue to feed her candy.

Then, later on in the book, it details how they have to bribe a camel to sit tight for a regular medical examination (since they don’t train for medical behaviors) by letting him drink a can of Mountain Dew each time.

If a zoo was known publicly to be feeding their animals Mountain Dew or a couple Twizzlers - even just once, on a rare occasion - they’d be eviscerated in the media and by public opinion. But feeding out inappropriate junk food appears to be a pretty common practice at this place, and it just goes unscrutinized because everyone assumes sanctuaries are inherently better for animals.

So, long story short, never make assumptions about the quality of a facility based on it’s branding or accreditation. (TWAS is accredited by the Global Federation of Animal Sanctuaries). If you have concerns about the ethics or practices of a facility, always try to put your preconceptions aside, go and see for yourself, and think critically about what you see and what you’re told.

#animal sanctuary #hank the tank #zoo industry politics #sanctuary politics #I have a lot of thoughts about this facility and some of the truly distressing things occurring there but am not yet ready to say much #suffice to say this is somewhere I would strongly discourage you from supporting

[someonegoood]

MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 1 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which you have a fat crush on your brother’s best friend, without getting much success. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is my first work here but anyways i hope you guys like it ! maybe I'll do a part 2...

You watch proudly in his shirt as you clap in the game's first minutes, chanting while taking pictures of him.

The first half was pretty equal, with some shots from both teams but neither could score. You could see that Mason was getting nervous. He stopped his movements abruptly when the referee called for a corner and looked at the crowd, his eyes sparkling with tenseness.

He gazed down at where his family (and therefore also yours) was and licked his lips. You couldn't help but wonder what would your brother think of your little —huge— crush on his childhood best friend.

In the 34th minute, he passed the defenders and tried to score with a pass from Ben Chilwell, making the goalkeeper lose his balance and thus scoring.

You celebrated the goal screaming it to your brother's face and he couldn’t help but smile at you, happy that you were having a good time. Your cheeks were red after Mason approached the stands and celebrated the goal, dedicating a kiss to where you were.

And that was the effect that Mason Mount had on people, especially you.

Mason was your brother's best friend, you had known him for years. It was a stupid crush that all your friends grew out of but not you. You had to keep drooling every time he was near you, that being almost every day because your brother had him over to dinner nearly every night.

You remember the day the Mount family moved next to your house, a loud and proud British family— Debbie and Tony, Stacey, Lewis and Mason. The day after they had moved in, Debbie and Tony turned up outside your door, asking if your older brother was interested in playing football with Mason.

It didn’t take long for your brother to become close to Mason, both at the cusp of boyhood. Their friendship only bloomed from there.

After spending almost every weekend watching your brother and Mason training, to spending most afternoons around the Mount house playing, you felt like family.

You always found yourself drawn to the boy next door although he was away a lot of the time, playing different matches and training. Mason’s natural affinity and talent for the game, ensured the quality of his skills.

He was slightly older so no doubt he found you childish and would always moan when his parents made him spend time with you.

—Mom, not again! I don't want to play with her, she's boring! —Mason exclaimed with an expression of obvious annoyance on his face.

Mason's mother was the first to figure out your crush on the boy. She first noticed it when you joined the Mounts at a family dinner when you were around thirteen.

Both families were playing football, as usual, while the adults were preparing supper. When you had the ball you felt your body lean way too far back and Mason tried to act on impulse, stretching his body to catch you in time.

—Hold on to me! —Mason exclaimed, extending his arms towards you. However, the weight of the fall was too much, and in an instant, they were both on the grass, in some sort of mess.

—Mase, God, I'm so sorry! I dragged you with me! —you apologized, feeling the blood rise to your cheeks, turning them crimson red.

He brushed the grass off his jacket with an angry expression. —Well done. First minutes into the game and you're already annoying.

—Thanks for trying! —you laughed, shyly. When there was a long silence, you realized that Mason was not joking and was serious. —Sorry, I…

Debbie looked from afar at the little girl carefully while she kept her eyes glued to her son's. She watched her cute little cheeks tinted red as Mason scoffed and begged you to stay away from him.

Debbie would soon get used to it as she watched you fall in love with her son over the next few years.

Until your first boyfriend. An age difference of three years was not a big deal since it was a common factor among your friend's partners. You had recently turned sixteen years old and you thought that you had met the boy who could take you out of the charm that had her wrapped around Mase.

Lyon was older, he was eighteen years old, like Mason. You had met him at school on a spring afternoon. You walked through the school hallways, books clutched to your chest. A gust of wind caused some of the books to fly out of your hands, scattering them across the hallway floor.

Lyon was passing by and noticed the scene. He approached you with a smile and that is how the story started.

Your brother didn't approve of your new boyfriend. He knew that her sister just wanted to show his best friend that the age difference wasn't that important.

Being with Lyon was great at first. You knew that he was not the love of your life, but for the moment he seemed to play the role quite well, so that was fine with you. It was a Friday night and you and your brother were at a party at the house of one of your brother's friends.

You were downstairs in the kitchen while your friends watched you drink alcohol like there was no tomorrow. They realized something was bothering you, but decided not to mention it.

—Where is the lover boy anyway? —Spoke one of your friends.

Your lack of response was when they realized that Lyon was the reason for the sadness that was painted on their best friend's face. He abandoned you, once again. This seems routine, they thought.

You slammed your empty red glass against the kitchen counter, wiping the drip from your chin as you decided that was enough.

—I'll go look for him.

From the corner of the room, your brother wished you good luck and with courage, you stumbled through the party. The house was huge. Enormous windows covered the entire house. From the kitchen window you could see the river of lights going down to the beach.

And there he sat, on the stairs leading to the illuminated outdoor pool, Lyon. A thin blonde girl was sitting on his lap, probably older than you. She took the cigarette from Lyon's lips and placed it on top of her painted red lips.

Tears welled in your eyes as you returned to the house with your heels in hand. With all the bad luck in the world, as you returned, you heard in the background:

—Baby, relax. —You ignored your boyfriend's call as you made your way through the crowd to return to the kitchen, hoping that your brother was still there.

You made it to the kitchen before your boyfriend grabbed you by the back of your arm and pushed you against the kitchen island.

—Come on, I didn't even do anything—

—She was on your lap.

—It's not that serious, okay?—

—It's a big problem! I'm humiliated! —You shouted back, creating a scene you desperately wanted to avoid. Lyon's grip tightened around your arm as he tried to wriggle out of your grasp.

—Let go of me, you're hurting me. —That only made his grip tighten around your arms.

—Let her go, mate. —Your vision was too blurry to focus on what happened next, but you felt Lyon back away.

—Oh yeah?… and what are you going to do about it, Mount? —That's when the punches were thrown and Lyon was left hunched over holding his split lip. Your now ex-boyfriend was grabbed by someone else before he could lunge at who you assumed was your brother, but when you turned your head you saw Mason shaking your hand out of pain.

His knuckles were red and his eyes were darker than what you were used to.

—Let's go to the car. —Said Mason, you nodding your head. —Get in the car. —He said. His tone was strong, not what she was used to.

Still, the ride to your house was silent, you sitting in the front with Mase, while your brother passed out in the back seat. Faint English music played on the radio as Mason's eyes were firmly fixed on the road.

Mason finally spoke. —You really don't know how to choose them, don’t you? — You could only sob again, unable to answer him mainly because he was right and you were ashamed. When the car stopped, he unbuckled his seat belt and murmured that he would walk you to your door.

Mase rocked on his heels as he watched the moonlight highlight the tear-stained cheeks of his best friend's sister. He thought you looked beautiful that night even though you had been crying for the last half hour, your hair hadn't been brushed, and you were digging through your purse like crazy.

Although he would never admit it.

—I got them! —You laughed, waving your keys in the air before bumping your nose with the keychain. You paused as you pushed the key into the door, turning to look Mason in the eye for the first time since the party.

—Thank you. —Mason didn't want to hear it. You were just her best friend’s sister.

—It's no big deal. —

—No… really thank you, Mason. —you smiled and Mason listened too, mainly because it was probably the first time you had called him Mason and not Mase.

After a moment, you dropped your bag to the floor and wrapped your arms around the boy's waist, your head resting on his chest as he quickly moved his hand and rubbed your back.

—Just... make sure the next one isn't a complete idiot, yeah? —he whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.

That sentence broke your poor little heart.

#mason mount #mason mount fan fic #mason mount one shot #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount smut #mason mount blurb #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #mason mount angst #mason mount scenarios #mason mount story #mason mount fic #mason mount fan fiction #mason mount drabble #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #ootballer imagines #footballer imagine #footballer fan fiction #footballer fanfiction #footballer fanfic

[tired-biscuit]

cw: predator/prey dynamic

childhood friend kiba, who befriends you because you always indulge him by letting him chase you around the playground.

it’s just a simple game of tag, but it’s also thrilling — the whole ‘catch me if you can’ concept behind it. kind of endearing, too. he chases you, catches you, and then he hangs out with you throughout the rest of the day at school with the biggest grin on his face because he’d achieved victory yet again.

but then you grow older, as one does, becoming young shinobi and all that, and he gets slightly more… aggressive with it. still nothing too out of the ordinary, it’s just that instead of pressing his hand against your shoulder or back, he likes to tackle you onto the dusty surface of the training grounds now, and tends to pin you into stillness with the help of his weight that he rests atop your own.

it continues like this for quite a while, even after you’ve risen rank after rank together and have both matured into adults. whenever you start turning doubtful about the entire thing, he just tells you that it’s great practice for honing his already keen sense of smell; that it helps him become an even better tracker. he needs to be at the top of his game when it comes to hunting someone down, after all.

so it’s no wonder that you’re not all that surprised — at least not truly — when there’s a hasty knock on your door one late night, and you find him standing there, smiling down at you rather wolfishly and with a particularly feral look in his eyes.

he’d somehow managed to slip out of his clan’s compound even if the gate had been sealed shut for the time being because of how most of their male members are left to suffer through their annual ruts.

and now that he’s here, blood hot as liquid fire and throat absolutely burning with want, he’s asking you if you want to play again, you know, for old time’s sake.

only this time, he wants to do it in woods. and you’re pretty sure that he also wants to do more than just catching you and tackling you to the ground.

#cw predator/prey

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐎𝐟𝐟-𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐲 | Dogworthy

"Oh you'd be surprised by what this tiny package has to offer."

Tags/Warnings: Police Officer!Jungkook, Dog Hybrid!Reader, Partners to lovers?, Alternate law-system/made up laws, crime, futuristic, sci-fi, body-modifications?, Fluff, romance, Adult themes (sex, alcohol, mentions of drugs but no consumption), Comedy?, Angst, gender prejudice but it's resolved, past injury, MC tackles a guy?, wholesome police action, Seokjin being a menace

Length: 4k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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Jungkook and you have been partnered for almost four years now.

When he was training, he always wondered what his future hybrid partner would be like. Would they be older than him? Younger? He's seen a lot of officers with their hybrids- he will probably get a male partner, as it's the norm most of the time, female hybrids too fearful and nurturing most of the time. What he didn't think would happen was to be partnered with you- because, if he just had to look at you, he'd never think you'd work in the police force in the way that you do.

Basic tracking? Maybe. But actual criminal pursuits and field work? No way.

It's not until you both started training that he saw beyond your mere physical appearance. From seeing you in action in defense and attacks, to learning how to command you properly- and now, living with you, since he has to be ready as quickly as he can if a job comes in. You could loose valuable time if you had to go back to the station and get your partner and then respond to the call, after all. So Jungkook and you live in the same apartment- with you having your own room, while he takes care of you as a part of his main job.

Your diet, exercise, healthcare- all of that is a part of his job as a hybrid canine handler.

And it's a good job- it offers him a way to feel needed and valued, gives him a purpose even when he's off-duty. Although he has to admit, that sometimes, he does feel a little bad- because vacations he takes are off-limits for you, due to insurance reasons. Jungkook would have to file in for actual ownership over you, and that's out of the question after merely a four year span. You have to be with him for at least five.

And he knows handlers who haven't filed in for ownership after more than ten years even.

Turning off the stove as he prepares your breakfast, he hears the familiar sound of your room opening, before your naked feet tap into the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. You typically wake up as soon as he does- you've told him that it's a simple instinct thing, that you've begun to adjust to his rhythm at this point in time, and it makes everything a whole lot easier. Because you can be a little grumpy whenever you have to get up early- so whenever you wake up yourself, it take a big weight off his shoulders.

When you walk in later, your food is already cooled off enough for you to sleepily dive in- a sight Jungkook has gotten used to by now, as he sips on his own coffee, watching you. "We're on call for today." He tells you, though he will probably have to tell you again later when you're actually awake. "Means you don't have to rush." he offers, and you nod, humming a reply as you eat your breakfast, tail floppy and hanging down, no tension in your body yet.

If anyone saw you right now, they'd never guess what your job is- or what you've been through already.

Like the first time you bit him, faint scar still decorating the back of his hand- which was entirely deserved, now that he looks back at it.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ Flashback ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook feels a bit.. odd, looking at his coworkers play around with their hybrid partners.

All of them are male,, roughhousing playfully, no need to hold back as they throw toys back and forth, chasing birds and just.. having fun. Meanwhile you're busy napping in a sunny spot, unbothered by the loud sounds of everyone enjoying the sunny weather.

"Having a hybrid can be exhausting, huh?" A friend of his and fellow handler, Seokjin says as he sits down next to the younger police officer who just shrugs. "Is she adapting well?" He wonders, and again, Jungkook shrugs, watching everyone playfight with a sense of longing. You've finished your basic training with Jungkook a few weeks ago- so it's not even been half a year yet that you both have worked together.

"Maybe." He just answers.

"You don't sound too enthusiastic about that." Jin jokes. "What's wrong?" He worries, always a bit protective over his younger friend.

"I don't know. I think because- you know, she's female, I feel like I can't really warm up to her." He admits. "It's weird."

"Did you even try and connect with her?" Seokjin offers. "She's pretty sweet if you ask me. I trained with her a bit when she joined here."

"Then change with me?" He asks. "I take Yoongi, and you take her." He offers, making Seokjin sigh- before he shakes his head, patting the younger one's back.

"Oh boy, you need to learn a thing or two first." He laughs a little, before he leaves him alone. And for a good moment Jungkook doesn't understand- until he looks over to where you're sitting, glaring, but not in an angry way.

You're clearly hurt.

Later that day, when he opens the car door to let you out, he wants to offer you a pat on the head like he always does after a finished day at work-

but this time, you bite, teeth leaving a clear imprint in his palm, causing him to retract it in shock. "I'm sleeping in the car." You huff, arms crossed before you move to crawl into the furthest corner of the car, refusing to come out.

"You can't sleep in the car-"

"I can, and I will!" You bark back, as he signs, runs a hand over his face, and closes the door to walk around to the other side- but the moment he opens the door there, you've crawled into the opposite corner, and it's not a game you're playing, very obviously. "Leave me!" You growl. "I'll tell them you don't wanna be my partner tomorrow so you can get a new hybrid." You huff annoyed.

"I didn't mean it like that-" he wants to defend himself, but in all honesty, he did mean it like that. He doesn't know what to do- he feels this odd sense of awkwardness with you, and he blames it on your gender by default, not really looking past that for any other cause.

It was the easiest thing to do- and back then, Jungkook used to be lazy like that.

He slams the door shut in frustration, and even walks inside his apartment to get ready for bed. So be it! If you want to go be petty in the car, you can be his guest!

But the minute it starts raining, he feels horrible.

He shouldn't be so mean to you just because you might not be what he was expecting to get. You can't do anything about that- it's not your fault you've been paired up with him.

So he opens the car door and sits inside the back with you- rain pattering on the roof of the car, as he awkwardly plays with his hands. "I wanna sleep." You tell him. He nods. It's late.

"The come inside." He sighs, looking at you. "I'm sorry I said what I said. I.. that was uncalled for, and you have every reason to be upset." He agrees. "But.. please be upset inside. Where I know you're safe and warm and all that." He awkwardly requests.

"I'll still let them know you don't wanna be my partner." You mumble, wanting to get out- but he reaches out to you instead before you can open your door, not caring about being bitten again.

"Dont." He requests. "I want to make this work. I just.. don't know how." He explains himself. "I'm worried I might be too rough with you or I might upset you more than once or twice." He tells you. "I'm worried."

"...you were still mean." You huff. "Just because I'm a female dog hybrid doesn't mean I don't want to play tug.. Just because I'm a female doesn't mean I can't play-wrestle with you like the others sometimes do in the yard. You could've just asked." You express, and he nods, realizing that now as well.

"Will you let me be your partner still?" He asks, and you nod after a moment.

"We can try."

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅Flashback End⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He's putting down his empty cup of coffee now, before me walks into the bathroom to fetch a hairbrush and hairtie.

As he starts to run the bristles through your hair, your tail wags sleepily- you enjoy things like these a lot, no matter in what context. Jungkook has grown on you over the years, and he'd even go as far as to already say that he'll take you with him into retirement- you just fit so well together at this point.

As he gathers your hair in his tattooed hand, he's gentle with it- knows that it gives you a headache if he pulls the hairtie too hard against your skull, and he doesn't want that to happen. It took trial and error to figure out things like this, and as he makes sure that the ponytail stays low on your head, he can't help but remember the moment he first got a taste of the dangers of his and most of all your job.

It was terrifying.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ Flashback ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

It's your third major job.

Your first two went down effortlessly- you got this, after an entire year of working together. You're a good team, and he prides himself in knowing that he, in his opinion, has the best hybrid in the entire policeforce right now.

So he doesn't think when he opens the metal enforced car door of the back where you're sitting, pacing, waiting for something to do- eyes wide open and tail wagging, ready to receive instructions as he looks at you.

He steps aside, points to two people running.

"Get 'em!" He calls out, and it's your signal to do what you do best, boot pressing against the edge of the car as you practically fly out.

It's always surprising so everyone who sees you working for the first time just how fast and most of all efficient you chase after suspects or criminals. You make up for your lack in height by instead using shortcuts and taking on obstacles, and with your heightened senses, no one can escape you for long.

Jungkook runs after you, a little slower, gun drawn as he calls out numerous times for them to stop running- but they don't.

They never do.

And all goes well- one of the suspects tripping so another officer can cuff him down, when Jungkook hears a sound he never wanted to hear in his life.

Your voice, crying out, yelp echoing in the alleyway out of his sight.

Adrenaline is pumping in his veins as he rounds the corner and aims his gun at the man still holding the metal pipe. "Put the pipe down!" Jungkook calls out, voice angry and dripping as much authority as he can put in it. "Put it down!" He commands again, and at this point in time, the man understands that there is nowhere to run with multiple officers arriving behind Jungkook as well.

And when he tries to run you're there, doing your job despite clearly being hurt- tacking him down, so that responding officers can cuff him and take him to a car where his friend is already sitting inside.

Jungkook will never forget the sight of you there.

Scratches on your cheekbone, and later on at home, purple bruises where the metal pipe had connected with your leg- bruising it badly, but not enough to break.

You got away easy.

What he'll never forget is the blame he placed on himself though, because it was your little ponytail high on your head that he made rather sloppily that morning which gave the man a good piece to tug on- forcing you down so he'd been able to get you off of him and into a vulnerable position.

Ever since then, Jungkook either puts your hair in a low bun, or a low ponytail tucked once into your hairtie to keep it out of the way.

Because he never wants to feel that guilt again.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅Flashback End⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

You're slowly waking up as he finishes up your hair, patting your head a little before he walks past you to bring your brush back into the bathroom.

Jungkook is an odd person to you.

He used to by almost childish- and not in the funny way. He'd also been extremely competitive to the point where it didn't feel at all as if you were partners- but as if he had to find reason after reason as to why you didn't need a hybrid for this or for that.

Tracking? Nowadays, most people have trackable body-mods like he himself has, so why need a hybrid? And wouldn't it be easier to just use a regular dog?

Intimidation was useless according to Jungkook, because no one would ever be intimidated by a hybrid like you. A male dog hybrid, maybe- but not you. That one, you remember, hurt a lot- because it tugged on every little insecurity you had.

Chasing could just be done by the cops themselves- Jungkook even trained to be able to outrun you, just to prove a point. Funnily enough, when it comes to actual field work however, he missed the key difference- because it's not just speed. It's about calculating where a suspect might go, and how you can be there faster to catch up.

Clearing rooms was done in the past by officers anyways- so why use a hybrid now? One could just use a scanner outside to search for any signs of live in a building.

It was weird to you. If he hated hybrid work so much, then why sign up for it? Why train for it?

And then it hit you. He didn't hate hybrid work. He just didn't want you.

You're not sure when that changed- maybe he just accepted the fact that you're his partner now, or maybe he simply grew up. But these days, things are easy. Trust is easy.

And that's one of the most important parts of your job.

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You're on a regular patrol, walking around just so you can get some stretches into your legs from being in the car for so long, when Jungkook spots a woman, child in her arm, running through a field. It's clear that she's searching for something, and it must be important.

"Hey!" Jungkook calls out, walking closer with you walking behind. You're intimidating to some people due to people being aware that police hybrids are trained to be highly responsive to things like noise and faint signs of aggression- so you keep your distance, especially from children. "Everything alright?" Jungkook wonders, walking almost lazily to ensure the woman doesn't feel threatened.

"Ah- yes, I just lost my keys." She sighs, carefully rocking her child. "I don't know where- we were just playing around and they must've fallen out of my dress pocket when I didn't notice." She expresses in frustration, making Jungkook nod.

"Well, how about we help?" He offers, looking over his shoulder at you, who's tail instantly starts to wag at the prospect of a job. "Can she get closer so she can pick up the scent?" He asks, and the woman nods, holding out her hand for you to smell, her wrist providing optimal scent for you.

And then, Jungkook nods, and tells you to search.

Jungkook watches as you roam around, uncaring of the taller patches of grass or bugs you scare up into flying away in the field. "She's walking exactly where I walked.." The woman says, and even the toddler in her arm is now quiet, watching with big brown eyes as you search around, causing Jungkook to chuckle.

"Hybrids are really good at tracking." He explains. "They can somewhat see scents they concentrate on- it's pretty interesting." He shrugs, when you suddenly call his name, making him look at you. "Bring it here!" He calls to you, and you nod with excitement, running towards him to drop the keychain into his hand, the woman sighing in relief.

"That's my keys! Oh god, I would've been here hours!" She says happily, though her toddler tries reaching out for you now, clearly interested in your big ears in top of your head. "No no no, she might not like that honey." She scolds gently, but Jungkook smiles.

"If you're nice and don't tug, it's okay." He explains, as the mother let's her toddler down onto her feet, as you sit down into the grass, letting the child closer, her tiny hands feeling your ears.

"Ah this is so adorable.. is it okay if I take a picture of them together?" The mother asks, and he nods, happy that he's getting these moments.

Jungkook and you are set to soon move from active duty to community police- something Jungkook signed you both up for when the most recent team resigned after seven years. A new, fresh set of officers was needed- and considering that you've never had any mishaps in your entire time of service, the department though that you two and two other teams would be perfect to raise the people's trust in the police again, just like the teams before you already started to do.

So moments like these, captured and shared, are important. Because it's word of mouth, it's people telling people that there's nothing to be afraid of.

Making your way back home, Jungkook stops at a fast food place- walks in with you, causing a lot of people to stare, since it's not something many officers tend to do due to the uniforms you both wear being not really subtle.

But the tenseness of the room quickly melts away as you jump excitedly next to Jungkook when he orders you your favorite food- and a small cup of icecream to go along with it. Your tail wags wildly, and Jungkook can't help but laugh as you carefully walk up to the counter to get your icecream first before anything else-

a thank you falling from your mouth, as you begin to dive into your treat.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook laughs when you lay your head over Taehyung's lap- the young man having just finished his training, now set to start his additional training time to receive a hybrid of his own.

He's scratching your ears, playing around, clearly unaware of the fact that you're not a pet at all. "She's so cute!" He laughs when you slip a little, Jungkook helping you dust off your vest for you.

"Oh she's even cuter when she tackles murder suspects!" Jimin laughs as he walks in, giving you a small bottle of water, Taehyung tensing up. "And she's got a great grip once she gets her teeth on you. Jungkook would know." He chuckles. "Do you still have that scar?" He wonders, and Jungkook chuckles, nodding before he pushes up one of his sleeves-

clear bitemark faint but still visible, Tattoos having lost the ink in those spots, especially the two most prominent points from your canine teeth.

"Wait- how'd that happen?" Taehyung asks, watching how Jungkook pets your head, having noticed you shrinking in on yourself as you remember the day.

"It was my fault." Jungkook shrugs. "I forgot my training, and this was a consequence." He offers, pulling you to sit on his lap now, everyone on break sitting on the concrete part of the large yards where hybrids train and play.

"How come?" Taehyung asks, as you lean your back into Jungkook's front, looking around.

"It was right after a job." Jungkook says. "She was still high on adrenaline because she had to both chase someone and hold them down while they were armed and shooting." He remembers the day. "When I brought her back into the car, I reached out to pat her head, just like I always do- but because she was still in her work-mindset, she bit out of instinct." He shrugs.

"Oh." Taehyung nods, understanding. "I guess.. she can be underestimated?" He wonders, and Jimin laughs.

"Oh definitely!" He says, pushing Jungkook's shoulder a little, causing you to growl out of instinct. "Sorry munchkin. But, you should've seen them train! Jungkookies face every time she'd tackle down the instructor was hilarious to watch!"

"Wait, instructor Welsh?" Taehyung asks, making everyone nod in amusement. "But that guy is a beast.!" He wonders, looking at you with wide eyes-

though you just nod proudly and wag your tail.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"Seokjin, I'm about to commit a first-degree murder right now, I swear." Jungkook groans, head on the table while the squeaking echoes through the breakroom, Jin however laughing loudly, windshield wiper laugh almost as high pitched as the new toy he brought for you.

"Oh come on- you can't tell me that isn't cute!" He argues, watching how you put the toy back on the table, pushing his shoulder to get him to throw it again-

and he groans again as if in pain, throwing it anyways, because Seokjin is fucking right.

You are too cute.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic

[hxnbi]

「 BEING THEIR SIBLING 」

synopsis: you were his beloved sibling, meant to stay far out of harms way, he would make damn sure of it

— characters: itadori yuji, fushiguro megumi — contents: fluff, angst, comfort, platonic, gn reader

gojo version | masterlist

ITADORI YUJI ✿ child reader

With all that Yuji has been through in his life, he, of course, feels a sense of responsibility and duty for the well-being of his family, blood-related or not. 

Still at the age where letters in math could only be dreamt of in nightmares, Yuji found himself being the one to take care of you. And when his grandpa died, he was left, now alone, holding the bag.

Or so he thought. 

You held onto his hand that day when he found out, a sombre look in your eyes. 

Thats right… How could he be so selfish? He still had you. 

He's very much a family guy, and he holds his family closest to his heart. And when he was told about you—getting to keep you in his arms in the hospital—he knew what his duty was. As his baby sibling, Yuji did everything and anything to ensure that you were protected and cared for.

Yuji's mouth dropped. "Crap…"

"Huh? What are you yapping about now?" Megumi scowled.

"I need to pick up [Y/n] from daycare!" he panicked, pacing back and forth. But it wasn't like he could suddenly leave, not like this spiky-haired individual staring daggers into him would let him… Well, not voluntarily, that is.

Megumi sighed, and he pulled out his phone. "I'm on it."

"What… are you doing?"

"Making a call. We'll have a trusted individual pick up your sibling."

"...I-I see."

Megumi looked at Yuji, who nodded. "Don't worry. They'll be out of harm's way."

That was all Yuji ever wanted.

But when everything in his life came to a head and he became the vessel of Ryomen Sukuna, the king of curses, your safety could no longer be guaranteed… not while Sukuna was still around, or rather, inside him. 

Still, you loved being around him, and Yuji loved being around you. When everything was said and done, all of Yuji's worries about this sudden move to Tokyo went much better than expected.

As a young child, you were naive, but that may as well be thrown out the window because Yuji didn't give two shits about that. And just like Yuji, you were energetic, outgoing, and eager to see the new "world" you were in. You two were like two birds that flock together, for better or for worse. 

The Tokyo students—mainly the infamously noisy ones Nobara and Panda while Maki, Megumi, and Toge watched—would pop in from time to time in his room, only to see you sleeping on Yuji's shoulder. At the same time, Yuji had a book in hand, previously to read to you but now used to block the sun from dancing on your face.

And a mystery to nearly everyone, even Yaga, the revered and arguably intimating headmaster—with a stare enough to make any child under the age of 5 cry—couldn't resist your charm. Your influence permeated every corner of Tokyo Jujutsu High until you were affectionately dubbed the school's unofficial mascot, much to your brother's horror.

And when Yuji went on missions or on days when the students had to train and go to classes, arguably the most responsible adult, Nanami Kento, was given the babysitter title of Yuji's sibling.

The others—that being Nobara, Gojo, and Panda; Megumi, Maki, and Toge would only watch with deadpan expressions—could only speculate on the origin of Yuji's surprising skills at cooking, but after doing some stalking investigating, and seeing you and Yuji in the itches together, teaching you how to cook, their hearts couldn't take it. That day, dozens of pictures were snapped and then plastered in Yuji's room. 

Yuji would hold you in his arms, providing comfort and a safe haven. He was an older brother figure who would do anything and everything to protect his younger sibling, even if it meant hiding things from you. He carried all the weight, all the burdens, on his own in hopes of shielding you from the harsh realities of their world. One of Yuji's defining traits is his willingness to sacrifice himself for others, triggered by his grandfather's last words to him.

No way in hell could he ever let that happen again—not to you, who had such a long life ahead of you, not to anyone. Yuji would always joke around with you and have fun, protecting that youth he cherished with his soul. 

You were just a kid, after all. You were just a kid when he died.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI ✿ older sibling reader

Unlike Yuji, Megumi would be the complete opposite.

As the oldest Fushiguro sibling, naturally, you took up the responsibility of caring for Megumi and Tsumiki. You were yet another child, the byproduct of Toji's fickle nature. You, Megumi, and Tsumiki were all from different mothers. God forbid there be another secret child you three haven't heard about yet. Still, the three of you couldn't have been more tightly knit. Megumi would beg to differ, only to have a chocolate milk carton thrown his way by Tsumiki. What a magical household of violence. 

When he was younger, Megumi struggled, or rather, embraced his unruly bursts of temper, often resulting in scuffles with middle schoolers. He would probably be considered a problem child if it weren't for his straight A's. But that didn't matter to you, and you ensured you knew that.

Your swift reprimands would quash any budding notions of so-called "gang activity," cautioning him against a future as a "mafia leader." Needless to say, he wasn't impressed.

Regardless, he listened—much to the jaw-dropping shock of anyone, especially those whom Megumi had previously beaten up. 

Your genuine concern for him—not about what he did but about him—made him angry.

He hated it, and yet he craved it. 

You'd always urge him to take a breather and relax, all the while as the pile of beaten-up "gangsters" groaned in pain and agony. But that wasn't your concern. Occasionally, during those moments with a fuming teenager at your side, you'd treat him to meals out whenever you managed to steal a moment from your busy workday. Everything you did was for his well-being, regardless of the stress you were putting on your own shoulders. Because in your mind, your little brother didn't deserve all that he went through, and as mature as he was for his age, he still deserved to be a kid.

No one should be able to take away youth from children.

As a kid, he needed that sort of stability in his life. After enduring so much, simply having someone beside him meant everything to him.

And you did so in a way where you took on a mother-like figure in his life. Everything you did and every action you took was driven by your love and care for him and Tsumiki. 

Even as a young third grader, Megumi keenly felt burdened by this fact—the weight of this responsibility, especially following his family's departure, Tsumiki's subsequent accident and being crippled and left in a coma in the hospital. Every first day of the month became a ritual for you and Megumi, visiting Tsumiki's bedside with a bouquet of flowers. 

And during the days when nightmares haunted your sleep, Megumi would be woken up to you crying. 

Neither would ever go on to utter a word about that.

Your absolute worst fear was for him to be injured or worse—to lose him to the dangerous path he might tread—and Megumi didn't have to be a genius to know what you were referring to. 

In your eyes, you wanted to take him and Tsumiki away from the messiness of Jujutsu and the Zenin clan and live a peaceful life. From all the times that Megumi would see you sacrificing your own happiness for the sake of others, he knew your heart's desire.

But when that scheming man—Gojo Satoru—presented Megumi with a deal, promising a brighter future for Tsumiki and you, Megumi knew it was his turn to repay you for all you had done for him.

He wasn't sure if you would accept it, but he had to try.

"...Huh?"

Little did he know, you had expected it.

"You don't need to say anything else. I understand."

You smiled softly, continuing to make dinner as Megumi stood there, lost in thought.

"Whatever choice you make is up to you. This is your life," you said gently, turning to face him. "And I trust you to make the best decision for yourself and Tsumiki. After all, what sibling would I be if I didn't trust my own brother?" you laughed. 

Megumi met your gaze. The stiffness in his shoulders eased as he took in your words and that smile of yours…

Your support meant the world to him.

"Thank you," he whispered, and you only smiled in response.

"Now!" you clapped. "Enough of that sappy stuff. Would you like to help me out with dinner?"

With a smile of his own, he nodded, "Of course," and made his way to the kitchen to lend a hand.

Yeah... this was what he was looking for. It was what filled the void he had been feeling.

With your acceptance, he felt more confident in accepting whatever was ahead of him. It didn't matter what happened to him. His own fate became inconsequential; his sole focus was on protecting you and his sister, Tsumiki.

You respected his choice—you always did—and that was why he cherished you so much. 

You, his older sibling.

There was always an aura of maturity around Megumi, his friends thought (and surprisingly selfless, but they would never admit that to his face). Unbeknownst to them, it was all because of how he had to take care of himself after all the adult figures in his life left him, except for one person. His older sibling of 7 years, you.

He felt a sense of responsibility. He owed it to you after all that you've done. He wanted to prove to you that all your efforts to raise him weren't for naught. 

All those nights when you thought Tsumiki and Megumi were asleep and would then cry yourself to sleep, or days when you would come back from work with a couple of injuries, or even the day when you came home with a bruise on your cheek…

He wanted to prove to you—that he could protect you, his family.

And then you could take a break and leave the rest to him.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #gn reader #scenarios #angst #headcanons #platonic #itadori yuji #itadori yuji x reader #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen comfort #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk platonic #yuji fluff #megumi angst

[billiethepumpkin]

Crave: Shota Aizawa x Reader

Warnings: Rated X. This content is intended for those ages 18 years and older. If you are a minor, do not interact.

Contains: AFAB!Reader. Dom!Aizawa. Pinning to the wall. Teasing. Penetrative sex. Unprotected sex. Female and male anatomy.

Author's Note: All characters are written to be adults because I am an old fuck :)

Long days haunted the two of you. Aizawa had long days of training, and longer nights of mixed activity, either spending nights in the school dorms or stopping villains under the starlight. You were pursuing your own desires, studying and working, coming home exhausted. Sometimes you didn't even have the energy to prepare a decent meal for yourself, just settling on instant ramen before falling into bed.

And Shota... You had no idea what must be going on in his head. You talked almost every day. He made sure there was enough room in his life for you, always. But you still missed him, still ached for him. Sometimes when he walked past, you caught a whiff of his scent and had to keep yourself from swooning. You hadn't spent the night together in weeks. You craved his muscled warmth, his rough hands... Simply his touch.

And, oh, did he miss yours. When you sat together at lunch, it was all he could do to stop himself from taking you right there in the teacher's lounge. He would catch the scent of your perfume, the fruit and blossom of your shower gel, and Aizawa became feral.

That was why, when he learned he'd have the night off from patrol, he'd immediately texted you, "I'm coming over."

You couldn't help but smile. Maybe you'd strip right then, so that you'd answer the door naked for him. Or maybe you'd leave the door unlocked and wait for him in some pretty lacy thing in the bed. No time for that. You'd go with the first option.

You slung a silky robe around your arms, letting it hang at your sides. Your breasts displayed in front of you, your nipples stood at attention. You waited for the knock on the door. It came quickly. Had Aizawa run here? Your heart jumped anyway.

You opened the door, and Shota's gaze met your eyes first. He had been telling himself that he was just coming over, that he wanted to spend real time with you. But you both knew that Aizawa was just as lonely as you were, just as needy and pent up.

As if some invisible force came over him, Shota picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and pushing you inside. In one swift, slick movement he shut the door, locked it, and pinned your back against it, your hands above your head. The only thing really holding your weight was one hand and his strong torso. One second passed. Two. Three. Aizawa hadn't even kissed you, hadn't even touched you in any of your most sensitive places. But even as he stayed inches from your face, your eyes seemed to glaze over at his touch.

Usually he could play this part, could be powerful and dominant, could pin you to the wall and edge you until you were on the verge of tears. But today--not today. Today, he needed to take you. Now.

He pressed his lips to yours. Instinctively, your hands found purchase in his long, tangled hair. Shota's hand found its place on your jaw, simultaneously pinning you to the wall and claiming you as his own. Your lips moved to the skin on his neck. And suddenly, you were clawing at his shirt, biting at his flesh. It was like you were trying to climb inside his skin, remain in his touch for the rest of your days. You couldn't help but squirm against him, your bare sex rubbing against his body. You couldn't even feel any of his skin touching you there, but he knew how badly you needed him, too. You had to be dripping, thought you might cause a puddle to form on the hem of his shirt.

Aizawa didn't care.

As your teeth and lips and tongue slid over his neck, around his ears, Shota shifted his weight and moved to carry you somewhere more solid, somewhere he could get his pleasure too.

The couch. It was close enough.

He settled your bare body on the couch, your arms still desperately clinging to him. But he stood up, pulling out of your touch. You couldn't help but whine at the loss of contact. But you sighed at the sight before you as Aizawa tugged his black shirt over his head. "Spread your legs, baby," he purred, settling down on his knees in front of where you sat. "I want to look at you." You whined again at the thought. Just take me already, you thought. You couldn't stand being out of reach from him. "Come on, honey. I'm going to help you," he persuaded, running a warm, rough hand over your soft thigh.

Butterflies ruled your stomach now, your breathing heavy as you shifted your weight and spread your legs, awkwardly settling your feet on the couch on either side of you. "That's my girl," Aizawa crooned. He pressed a kiss to your inner knee, similar kisses creating a trail to where you needed his touch most. He caught your scent. Not your perfume, not your soap. No, the scent of your quivering, weeping pussy before him. You swore you saw Shota's eyes roll into the back of his head.

You threw your head back in protest. "Please, Sho," you whined, involuntarily wiggling your hips. If you could get just a brush of attention...

"Shh," he shushed, his callused thumb brushing over your more sensitive lips. "I just want to look," he clarified, his eyes locked on your pussy. His thumb weaved in and out of your heat, playing in your slick as Shota tried to tell himself he wouldn't cum just as he entered you.

But the sound of your whine, your desire--your need--for him... It was almost too much for him to handle.

You weren't sure when he'd unbuckled his belt and let his pants and boxer briefs fall to the floor, but you were pleasantly surprised when he stood up and situated himself above you. You wouldn't look away. Wouldn't even blink, you promised yourself. You had to watch this, soak in everything you could, remember this later--every single word and breath and movement.

Shota settled his tip at your entrance. His shaft was an angry red, bleeding into the warm dark brown hair at the base. You could feel how warm he was, even without him actually entering you.

Aizawa braced himself and took several deep breaths before he plunged deep into your wet, aching cunt. A groan escaped his lungs, and now he was watching your eyes roll into the back of your head.

On instinct you closed your eyes to take in the feeling, the pleasure. But Shota again grabbed your chin, tilting it so he was looking you right in the eyes. "Don't look away, baby," he commanded. "I want you to remember every bit of this."

He began to pull out of you and plunge back in, over and over, again and again. And it seemed that you could feel every millimeter of his cock, every vein, every wrinkle. You couldn't help the way your mouth hung open, the way your lungs pushed out moan after moan as the pleasure intensified with every thrust of Shota's hips. And no matter how much you wanted to close your eyes, fall back into those habits from every other time, you didn't. You fought those habits to keep looking at him, right into his dark eyes. You felt him everywhere, all at once. Your hands tangled in his hair. His hands gripping your thighs and hips. His cock slamming against your cervix, bringing you shamefully close to that high you were so desperately craving.

It snuck up on you. And, out of nowhere, you tumbled over the edge into bliss. You couldn't help it. Your pussy clenched and pushed and squirmed around Shota's hard cock.

Aizawa pulled out before he had his own orgasm. He carried you into the bedroom.

That was just one of many he planned on giving you tonight.

#mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #mha shota #bnha shota #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa #aizawa smut #shota smut #aizawa x reader #i got carried away #Spotify

[credox]

Recenty I got told I have ""low bone density"" and I need to do more "high impact/weight bearing gym exercises". Except I hate doing gym things because there's SO much planning, executing, and recovery involved, when I could be in my nice warm bed. In my endeavor to find some exercises that I don't find boring, I found this wonderful FREE program put together by the CDC & Tufts University: Growing Stronger - Strength Training for Older Adults - CDC

It's wonderfully detailed with every step of the process, written so non judgementally + in a supportive tone for those of us who struggle with sticking with consistent programs, and it's even got nice worksheets to print and fill out!!

It's aimed toward an older audience, but honestly, it looks perfect to me for those of us who need a more structured format to just fall into on the daily, and for those of us who struggle with getting up and out of bed sometimes. Hope this reaches someone that needs it!

#Growing stronger #exercise #exercise program #exercise log #planning #chronic illness #chronic disability #depression #In other news I found out today that ppl with chronic health issues need MORE than the recommended amount of active time for healthy adults #That was bonkers to me

[nattikay]

this was originally a response to another post but it seems OP blocked me for it so idk if people can still see/interact with said response but heck it i spent a fair while collecting the panels/typing it up so i'm just transferring it over to a new post for anyone else who might be interested in readin'

"Neteyam has to act like a full grown adult [and we should feel bad for him because of this]"

No. Neteyam acts mature because that's his personality, not because it's been forced on him. He chooses to. The idea that he is forced against his will to "act grown-up" and is miserable about it is fanon, not canon.

James Cameron on Neteyam (from the WoW bonus features): "Jamie Flatters plays Neteyam, he's the older brother. He's kind of the guy who most wants to be Jake. He wants to be that warrior."

Jamie Flatters in that same clip:"He just pretty much wants to walk in the footsteps of his father. He's constantly seeking approval [from Jake]"

Note that neither of these, nor anything from the movie or comics, mention anything about external "expectations" or "pressure". Any "pressure" Neteyam experiences to live up to Jake's legacy comes from himself, not from external expectations that have been forced on him. Neteyam WANTS to be a warrior. He WANTS to be like his father and do brave mature grown-up things.

And for the most part, he's pretty good at it too. He's the "golden child" who "excels in all things", the youngest Omatikaya warrior to ever make a clean kill on a sturmbeest. He's strong, smart, brave, noble, and highly skilled for his age.

He knows this, and he wants to do more. Neteyam seeks out more responsibility, especially where fighting is concerned, and it's actually Jake who is hesitant to give it to him, because naturally he fears for his son's life (a very fair and well-founded fear, all things considered :P).

In fact, on the rare occasion that Neteyam does disobey orders, it's in this context of wanting to be part of these adult matters.

"he's too busy training and patrolling instead of acting his age" He is acting his age. His age is "cusp of adulthood". He's not quite there just yet, no, but he's getting close and is eager to get there. He trains and patrols with his parents because HE WANTS TO. He begs to participate in warrior's work.

And if by "act his age" you meant "do teenager things like tease his brother, snicker about immature things, hang out and goof off," etc., guess what he does that too

[originally had a list of relevant GIFs here but tumblr decided it was allergic to them apparently; anyways you can find them all here]

As for looking after his siblings, as a certified Oldest Sibling™ myself, I can assure you that parents expecting you to help look out for and set a good example for your younger siblings is very normal and nowhere near the mountain the fandom seems to make of this molehill.

There are valid reasons to feel sorry for Neteyam—he, like the rest of his family, had to leave his home and start over in a new unfamiliar place among a new clan of strangers with unfamiliar customs. He—not unlike Lo'ak!—desperately wants a chance to prove himself to Jake, and is frustrated when his dad doesn't want to let him participate in battle. And, of course, the big one—his life was tragically taken far too soon.

But "overworked little sadboi who just wants to Be A Kid™ but can't because his meanie parents force him to act like a Grownup™ because he's under Pressure™ to be the perfect future olo'eyktan" is not one of those reasons. That's pure fanfiction and a fundamental misunderstanding of his character. Neteyam is not "wannabe-carefree kid trapped under the crushing weight of expectations forced upon him against his will"—rather, he is "talented noble young warrior who wants to live up to his legendary father of his own volition and strives to do so".

#very sorry that movie neteyam and fanfic neteyam are different idk what else to tell ya ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam #sully family #[edit] ok good removing the gifs worked it's properly showing up on my dash now #why are u like this tumblr -_-

[heathermehf]

How To Start Lifting Weights For Joint Pain and Arthritis | 30 Minute Workout For Beginners [Video]

#StrengthTraining #WeightLoss #OlderAdultsStrengthTraining #OlderAdultsWeightLoss #Strength Training #Weight Loss #Older Adults Strength Training #Older Adults Weight Loss

[flowersandbigteeth]

I think I need a part 2 of the baby creatures because its absolutely ADORABLE!! What about driders, centaurs, orcs, and merfolk?

Thinking about monster babies is so soothing ^_^

The first one is here

👇🏽

Merfolk are born with little tails that take time to gain the strength needed to get them around, so their parents mostly carry them as infants. They are born with an extra fat layer, making them extra chubby, but also to keep them warm in the deep ocean. When they are old enough to swim on their own, most baby merfolk prefer to swim around in a school so they can play and for safety. They have an inherent understanding of the vastness of the ocean and prefer to play near their parents. While they are young, their parents prefer to keep them away from the shallows as there is danger of being spotted by a human or reef shark. Instead, they prefer to keep them in caves, floating kelp, or high sea grass where they can hide easily.

Centaur babies, like humans, take time to develop. Though their bodies are capable of carrying weight when they are born, their brains aren't developed enough to put two and two together, so they are carried for the first six months of their lives. For the first few months, they tend to stay in the fetal position, snuggling in nests or on their parent's back, until their vision and core strength develop. However, once they are on their four feet, they are tiny menaces. They have all the energy and good sense (none) of a toddler but with four strong legs to carry them where they want to go. It's the job of the entire herd to keep them out of trouble. They are easily startled and will retreat to a nearby adult if scared, but they love physical activity. Since they take so well to athletics, centaurs start training their toddlers as soon as they can walk to keep them occupied. Their first training is usually small gathering expeditions, where a few centaurs will escort all of the children to the forest to learn what mushrooms, berries, and nuts are edible. That's followed by runs that grow increasingly longer to learn scouting and camouflage techniques so that they can take their turn on patrol when they are old enough.

Driders are born with their eyes closed and a soft carapace. Their parents generally keep them in a web nursery while their skin hardens, and they eventually open their eyes. Young driderlings are precocious and curious, driven by their natural hunting instincts to explore. When they are small, they can't yet weave or chew through their parent's webs, but they enjoy observing whatever their parents happen to be doing. They are even happier if they are allowed to help. It takes them a bit to obtain the grace and stealthiness normally associated with Driders. When they are little, they are very clumsy and need help from their parents to figure out which leg goes where. They come of the age to be relatively independent when they are able to escape their nurseries, meaning their teeth and claws have developed as well as spinnerets to help them get wherever they want to go. They are astute students when it comes to weaving, writing, and hunting, with a natural lean towards perfectionism. When they are older, they tend to be more solitary. While they enjoy drider society, they are driven to create safe spaces within it for themselves and can be alone for long periods of time without a problem.

Orc babies are expressive and needy. They crave physical touch and interaction to keep them engaged or they get bored and naughty. They need lots of toys to develop their motor skills and learn to crawl earlier than human babies from their excitement to follow their parents around. They hate being in their cradle unless they are asleep and prefer to be in the same room with their parents while they work. They take well to other Orcs in their family, excited to meet new people. Orc society is cooperative, so they learn at a young age to depend on others and seek out company. In a well-guarded Orc village, little Orcs are allowed to roam around as they please as soon after they learn to walk because the village works together to keep them safe. Older siblings or cousins feel a responsibility to keep an eye on the little ones, and often, young Orcs will form little packs to run around the village collecting cookies from indulgent mothers and grandmothers. Little Orcs enjoy crafts, group games, and getting into mischief together. Orc parents encourage them to play independently, developing relationships that will become more and more important as they grow.

Bluesky -- Carrd -- Commissions -- Instagram -- Threads -- Subscribestar

#monster canon #headcanon #monster headcanon #admit speaks #sweet asks #orc #centaur #mermaid #merfolk #drider #orc headcanon #drider headcanon #merfolk headcanon

[leggerefiore]

Technically this something that applies to moray eels and not lampreys, but the idea made me laugh so I wanted to share it with you:

When mating, lamprey eels will open their mouths extremely wide.

Imagine yawning around Eelektross!Emmet. The man sees this and is immediately ready to go, when in actuality you’re just a little tired.

Ingo is a lot better, quickly realizing that you’re not trying to flirt with him. However there is a brief moment where he’s extremely flustered by the implications. Especially if you’re out in public together.

cw: minors DNI, sex implication, short, fluff, pokehybrid au, eelektross Emmet, eelektross Ingo

▽Eelektross Emmet△

The Eelktross peeked out of the tank that you kept around for him whenever he wanted to stay with you and out of the ocean. You had been sitting on the couch for a while with some show playing on the electrical box while holding the small glowing rectangle you seemed so fond of. Or, what did Ingo say they were? He struggled to recall. Emmet would have barely thought more on it had it not been for the motion you did. Your mouth suddenly opened wide, and you raised a hand to cover it. Were you embarrassed?

Emmet wanted to giggle. Using his strong arms to help pull himself up out of the water and then his levitation to float just before he crashed onto the ground. He knew exactly what that meant. It had been a while since you two had done anything, and he was beginning to feel quite desperate, despite his mating season properly still being a few months away. You let out a panicked sound when the eel merman suddenly had you pinned against the pouch with his slippery body pressing his weight onto carefully. You stared up at him, gasping. Another face! He giggled and dared to reach a hand to pull up your shirt.

But, it was not meant to be. You shouted his name and made him freeze. It was not a cute, playful tone. Your eyes were narrowed. His soaked form had drenched your own and some of the couch. “… What are you doing?” you questioned him.

“Sex,” he replied simply.

“… Why so suddenly?” you continued. It was not out of character, but… It just felt completely random.

“You did a mating sign!” he tilted his head. Why else would you hold your mouth open like that? Silly human. “You held your mouth open.”

“I was yawning?” you corrected him, “I'm sleepy, not horny.” Emmet felt even more mortified. Sleepy? How did that mean you were sleepy? “Yawning is a reflex, you do it unconsciously.”

“… Oh,” Emmet felt he understood humans even less, “… So you're not horny? Not even a verrrry small amount?” He hoped to change your mind.

You sighed. A horny Eelmmet was no joke.

▲Incomplete Eelektross Ingo▼

Ingo pressed himself closer into your side to make more room on the seating bench. He normally would have stood, fully aware that he was an able-bodied adult man, but you had insisted on needing to sit down and basically pleaded for him to join you. The train was barely crowded at this time of day, but he always felt bad about not setting the example that he wished to see on his trains. His eyes darted to check on you, but he felt his cheeks grow warm at what you were doing.

Your mouth opened wide as you raised a hand to cover your mouth. He blinked a few times. In public, he thought. You were doing that in public? Granted, no one else seemed to be looking at you two, but he could not! Another thing he refused to indulge and further fail to be an example of what he wanted on his lines. You seemed to noticed his flustered expression and stared at him curiously. What was going through his mind?

You leaned closer into his side, feeling sleepy and comforted by his presence. Ingo seemed to snap out of whatever instinctual thought had crossed his mind. He knew what you did. You yawned. You were sleepy, so you yawned. The older twin wanted to bury his face into his hands and forget his reaction to that. He yawned, too! How could he forget…

Then you reached a hand out for his thigh, and he felt flustered again.

A small laugh from you told him that you were completely aware of that one was doing to him.

You were going to get chided by him later, naturally.

#pokemon x reader #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Summer Sun, Something's Begun

Part of my Birthday Bash!

Request: "You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much." with Roy :)

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Roy Kent x Reader

2.1k words

Warnings: Language, Chelsea!Roy, lots of fluff and flirting

Author's Note: This takes place during Roy's time in Chelsea, so he's in his mid-20s. The reader is his manger's very off-limits daughter, early 20s. I loved writing this so much, I'm going to add more to it later- so keep an eye out! 👀

Summers were for Chelsea.

For as long as you could remember, as soon as the school year ended, your mind focused on nothing but football. Throughout your childhood, you’d join your father at the facilities, watching the team prepare for the new season. Everything about it felt magical: the green of the pitch, the bright blue skies above, the shouts and excitement from the team. You looked forward to the first day of term, when everyone spoke about their summer holidays, the places they’d visited and the friends they got together with, when you would gush about the players you watched train and the matches you attended.

Now, you packed your bags at the end of each term and came home from uni, still feeling that same flutter of joy as you thought about training. A young adult yourself now, your dad still let you loiter around the team. Pretty much since you were old enough to drive, he treated you more like an assistant, asking you to grab lunches or help answer emails. As far as summer jobs went, this one felt like a great deal to you; hang out with your dad and the squad all day and get paid in match tickets whenever you and your mates wanted.

Of course, your role at the club wasn’t the only thing that changed. As a child, the players doted on you, asking about your dog or kicking around the ball with you before hitting the showers. You were Chelsea’s little princess, running around in jean shorts and too-big t-shirts. But now? Now you were the same age as many of the players, a young woman. Sure, the older players who’d known you for years, the ones who had watched you grow up, still joked around with you and treated you like family. But the younger players, the ones who were closer to your age than your father’s, definitely saw you differently. You caught the lingering stares, the cocky grins shot in your direction when they did something impressive on the pitch, the nudges when you strolled by the weight room when you brought the coaches their lunches.

Not that a single one of them would ever do anything about it. They were young, but they weren’t stupid. You were the manager’s daughter; you were the very definition of off-limits.

Which was totally fine with you, by the way. You didn’t care much for the attention of the young footballers, no matter how fit or wealthy they were. Not when you only had eyes for one midfielder in particular.

Roy Kent. Roy freaking Kent. With those brown eyes and those little smirks and that growling voice, not to mention that gorgeous chest hair you thought about way to often to be healthy, you were positively, absolutely smitten. He was brilliant to watch on the pitch, and he was pretty clever and funny when he cared to be. While his reputation centered around his scowls and brooding air, you often found yourself falling into step with him in the halls, offering teasing remarks back and forth and eliciting light chuckles from the mouth you thought about all year long back at school.

Ever since you started university, your dad had joked about not dating footballers. And normally, you were a good kid and listened to your parents. But the sound of Roy Kent’s laughter and the sight of his bare chest in the changing room always had you wanting to ignore your dad’s advice.

Because ever since he arrived at Chelsea, summers were for Roy Kent.

This summer was no different.

After a full week of Roy catching you staring at him on the pitch and making jokes that you laughed a smidge too hard at, you discovered him on the pitch long after practice had ended for the day and most players had begun to go home. Well, maybe ‘discovered’ was the wrong word. That made it sound like a coincidence, like you hadn’t quietly slipped away from your father’s office and followed the midfielder out of the building. Like you hadn’t perched yourself in the stands, not in an obvious spot, but definitely not hiding either as you watched him absently dribble around the grass while the sun began to set. Like you hadn’t been doing this for three days in a row now.

After maybe five minutes of watching him, he finally turned his head in your direction. “Oi!” he called out. “You just going to sit there and watch?” Even from a distance you could see the smile on his face, the one he usually saved for you.

You shrugged and stood, smoothing down the dress you may or may not have chosen while thinking about what Roy would think of it. It took every ounce of self-control not to skip down the stands, across the grass, and fling yourself into his arms, the way you wished you could after Chelsea victories. Instead, you strolled casually towards him, hands innocently behind your back, until you were gazing up at those pretty brown eyes, the ones that always seemed to sparkle when he looked at you.

“Enjoy the show?” Roy razzed, quirking one of those thick eyebrows at you.

“I always enjoy watching football,” you countered. You bent down to pick up the ball and began rolling it between your hands. “Especially when I get to watch talented people play.”

Behind the teasing look on his face, you could see in his eyes that he was pleased by your indirect compliment. “You think I’m talented then?” he hummed, doing his best to maintain his indifferent manner.

You wrinkled your nose at him and tossed the ball at his chest, which he caught with a soft grunt. “Who said I was talking about you, Kent? I was just stating the fact that I like watching football.”

His face lit up at your banter, eyebrows raised and mouth agape. You never saw him make that face at work except when you joked around with each other; you wondered if he ever made that face away from the pitch, if he ever made that face at anyone else, at any other girls. “Fuck me then,” Roy laughed, holding the ball close to his chest. He dropped it to the ground with a thud and nudged it towards you with his foot. “Come on, then. Let me prove myself.”

“Me, who hasn’t played football since I was eight, versus you, a Premier League star.” You rolled your eyes and bumped the ball back to him. “Yeah, sounds real fair to me, Kent.”

This time, the surprise he wore was genuine. “You haven’t played since you were eight?” He shook his head at you. “Your dad coaches fucking Chelsea. How the fuck did you manage to not play?”

“I prefer spectating and being a fan,” you stated simply. You wrinkled your nose. “Plus, I wasn’t very good,” you admitted. “I think Dad found it all a little embarrassing. He didn’t make much of a fuss when I quit.”

Roy shook his head and took a step back, dragging the ball with him. “Well, your dad’s not here now,” he pointed out, something close to flirtation in his voice. “And I’ll try to go easy on you, princess.”

Your heart fluttered at the teasing nickname. A few of the players called you that, always playful and joking, but when Roy said it, it made you wonder how other pet names would sound coming out of that beautiful mouth of his. “Fine,” you conceded with a huff, as though you weren’t thrilled at the opportunity to be close to Roy. “But go easy on me.”

Playing football in flats and a dress was not the easiest thing in the world, you discovered. Especially not when your opponent was Chelsea’s skilled and beautiful superstar. Still, you had to admit to yourself that it was fun. It was obvious that Roy did his best to go easy on you, but it wasn’t natural for the midfielder to give anything less than one hundred percent, so even his “easy” was a challenge. But he chuckled as you ran around each other, and a couple times he even laid a hand on your waist; you wondered if he knew the effect it had on you because each time he did, you froze and he was able to steal the ball with ease.

Eventually, you managed to break away from him with the ball at your feet and happiness in your lungs. You really thought you had a chance at scoring a goal when that firm hand landed on your hips. As you tried to wriggle free, your feet tangled with his, and the two of you fell to the ground, a jumble of laughter and bodies and a football. You managed to roll onto your back, grinning at Roy as he sat up and gazed down at you.

“You do suck,” he announced with a smirk. “Better study hard at uni, princess, because even with your daddy in charge, you are never getting signed to Chelsea.”

“I think I’ll live,” you huffed back as he laid beside you. You felt keenly aware of his body next to yours, of his breathing, of how close his hand was to your own. You wondered if he could feel your heart pounding through the ground; part of you worried it would cause the earth to quake, it was beating so hard.

Roy’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Glad to be home for the summer?” he hummed, his casual tone a sharp contrast to your nerves.

You cleared your throat. “I am. It’s always nice to be back with my family. And not worry about schoolwork. Plus, I love being here.” You gestured broadly around the pitch.

“Hmm.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Roy squinting at the oranging sky. “Any big summer plans?” His voice was heavy with interest, something rare for Roy Kent. He always seemed so aloof.

“Working here,” you said with a huff. “Same as every summer.” After a moment, you realized he was waiting for you to continue talking. “What about you? Training, training, and more training?” you teased.

He sighed, a low growling sound that had the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. “’ve got a fucking photoshoot tomorrow,” he grumbled. “For fucking Nike. Some international ad campaign or some shit, I don’t fucking know.”

You were instantly reminded that Roy Kent was a professional footballer, a celebrity, a legend in the making, who already had a track record for bedding models and actresses. He was on magazine covers and advertisements. And you were… you. He wasn’t like the boys in your uni classes or the fellas in your neighborhood, earnest young men who nervously asked girls out at pubs and prayed for a ‘yes’. He was a star.

In an attempt to ease your sudden angst, you let out a light chuckle. “Nike photoshoot, huh? Wow, Kent. You’re so cool.” You turned your face towards him and stuck your tongue out playfully. “It makes me hate you so much.”

Roy shifted his head so he was looking at you. “Me? Cool?” He rolled his eyes. “I never feel fucking cool. Especially not around you.” He gazed back up at the sky. “Always feel like a clumsy little kid around you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. His voice was so sincere, not an ounce of the joking and teasing usually aimed at in your direction. And you swore his cheeks were tinted pink- and you didn’t think it was from all the running around. Although your mind was racing to a million different places at once, the only thing you could manage to murmur was, “Well, I think you’re pretty fucking cool, Kent.”

He faced you again, squinting at the setting sun that was hitting him just right. “Thanks.” After a moment, you felt his finger brush tentatively against your knuckles. “D’you think I could call you sometime? While you’re home for the summer?” He shrugged, clearly trying to appear more casual than he felt. “We could… hang out or something.”

If you thought your heart was racing before, it was nothing compared to now. You searched his eyes, looking for some sign that he was goofing around, just fucking with you, but all you could find was sunshine and anticipation. Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you nodded, turning your palm upwards so Roy could rest his hand on yours, intertwining your fingers.

“Yeah, Kent,” you finally whispered as a smile crept across your face. “You could call me sometime.”

#tally's birthday bash #request ❤️ #Chelsea!Roy #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

[author-morgan]

Title: Dragonknight  Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!Reader Rating: T Summary: Even darkness seeks the light, or in which Daemon considers you his northern star —his guiding light.  Warnings: Typically Westerosi shenanigans.

HE LOWERS THE blunted training sword and frowns as you bolt down the steps of the tower and around Ser Ryam the Dragon —not wishing to be the fair maiden in need of saving again. Instead, you take up another sword, too big and heavy, and stand stalwart in your choice. Prince Daemon Targaryen nigh pouts. He’s meant to be brave and valiant and save his lady from danger. “How am I to be your dragonknight if you won’t let me save you?” He laments.

“Two swords are better than one against this fearsome foe,” you tell him, but the game is already over then.  

Ser Ryam Redwyne laughs and rises from his haunches, feeling the ache in his aging joints —Clement Crabb told him it was his turn to entertain the prince and his coconspirator. At least then it would keep the pair out of too much trouble. “She is not wrong, my prince,” he remarks. Even a knight of the Kingsguard has brothers-in-arms, seeking and accepting help does not make one less of a man or less of a prince.

“You make a fine dragon, ser,” you note, remembering your courtesies.

Ser Ryam Redwyne smiles at your compliment. “Thank you, my lady,” the Kingsguard knight says, giving a half-bow to you and Prince Daemon before taking his leave to rejoin the king.

Florence Fossoway enters the courtyard, passing Ser Ryam, with her hands clasped in front of her golden-rose belt. “Prince Daemon,” she greets, lowering her head in veneration before turning her attention to you —a rowdy girl who’d rather frolic about the Red Keep and the streets of King’s Landing with Daemon Targaryen instead of practicing her stitches and letters. Your mother’s lips purse into the slightest of frowns, recalling the conversation the prior eve with her lord husband and your father, Martyn Tyrell. Soon you’ll be too old to partake in such churlish activities. The prince may be able to do as he pleases, but you will not. “It’s time for your lessons,” she reminds you. Sewing, reading, writing, and learning the harp, among other things —all of which are considered comely talents in a good wife.

THE SUN’S WARMTH shines through the canopy of summer foliage to the forest floor of the Kingswood, painting a halo of light around where you and Daemon lay, looking skyward at the passing clouds. It’s a rare thing of late, being able to spend time with him. Too often, duties and lessons keep you and Daemon separated now that you’ve grown older —not quite children any longer, but not yet adults in the eyes of the lords and ladies of the court.

Still, you’ve heard the whispers about what the small council speaks of, and so has Daemon. He sees how you worry in silence, though —always twisting your hair or picking at the skin of your palms, always trying to be a good and dutiful daughter for House Tyrell. But now, more than ever, the whispers are no longer uncertain truths or mere rumors, and in the past weeks, a heavy weight has settled on your chest and shoulders.

You’ve grown quieter as time passes, and the midmorning fades into the afternoon. Daemon looks at you and frowns when he sees unshed tears budding in your eyes. He reaches for your hand, twining his fingers with yours, and squeezes. He’s always been your dearest friend, your dragonknight. "We’ll always be together.” You want to believe him —he sounds so certain of it. “I won’t let anyone take you.” That makes you smile, but Daemon still sees your doubt. “I’m a prince, remember?” And soon to be a dragonrider, he thinks. No one would be able to stop him then. He would be able to whisk you away to the far reaches of the land —places you’ve only ever imagined in stories. 

“Promise?” It’s a trembling whisper. 

“On the Old Gods of Valyria,” he swears, then looks back to the sky and the creeping storm clouds. “One day we can go there,” he says, voicing his thoughts aloud, “on dragon back.” He’s told you about Caraxes —the Blood Wyrm— and Aemon’s former mount. A wild, unpredictable beast with a will strong as any Targaryen’s, but Daemon’s always had an eye for Caraxes. The dragonkeepers oft let the prince into the great dome to see him and the others, though he’s yet to take the Blood Wyrm for his own mount. But soon he will and you’ll both be able to fly high and far and free.

THE HOUR IS late when he knocks on your chamber door, and it rouses you from an ill-fated attempt to sleep. “Daemon?” His silver-white hair is mused from flying, his tunic and pants ruffled too —as though he’s run from Rhaenys's Hill. You pull him from the hall and into your chambers by his sleeve. You’re both too old now for him to come to you in the night —people at court will talk if anyone sees, and the walls of the Red Keep have both eyes and ears.

“I leave in the morn to help Lord Dondarrion stamp out these rumors of an unruly brotherhood in the Dornish Marches,” Daemon tells you. You’ve heard your father speak of those rumors in the prior weeks, even if he doubted the claims —King Jaehaerys’s reign is marked by peace and prosperity. Lord Baelon says he’ll be granted knighthood and the Valyrian steel sword, Dark Sister, for quelling the disturbance. “Though, before I leave–” he opens his fist to reveal a glittering white stone strung on a finely crafted rope of silver. “It was meant for your nameday celebration,” Daemon explains, the feast is to be held in a week’s time, and he knows he will not return from the Stormlands so quickly.

He holds up his gift so you can see the finer details —how the dragon’s claw curls around the stone, stamped with a hundred tiny scales. It lifts his heart to see you smile and even more so when you turn away from him, gathering your hair to the side so he may drape the necklace over your head and fasten the clasp.

The firelight catches the gem, and it twinkles around your neck as a star pulled from the heavens. It’s what you are to him, what you’ve always been —a star. A guiding light to pull him from the darkness. Daemon steps toward you, nigh closing what little distance remains, and he reaches for you, the backs of his fingertips brushing along your neck and jaw. “Iksā ñuha qēlos,” he breathes, tender as any caress. The weight of the world lifts from your chest, and Daemon can still see the gleam of childhood memories in your eyes.

“Se iksā ñuha zaldrīzes azantys,” you tell him, slowly, enunciating each word, still uncertain you are speaking the old Valyrian tongue correctly. Daemon smiles for you, his exhale a breathy laugh before he rests his forehead against yours —you’d do almost anything to live in this moment for eternity. But time does not stop for a fool’s desire. His lips, thin and wind burnt, ghost over your forehead, then linger there before he steps back to take his leave.

You stop him before he can go, hand loosely curled around his forearm. Daemon turns back and finds your lips on his —hesitant, but soft and sweet. But it’s over too quickly. “For luck, my prince,” you explain, not wishing to meet his gaze as you feel warmth rush to your cheeks in the aftermath of such a reckless action. The prince’s fingers curl beneath your chin and he surges forward at the same time. His kiss tugs at the corners of your heart, leaving you to shatter when his hands, now splayed across your back, draw you closer. And when your arms twine around his shoulders, Daemon’s certain he won’t ever be able to let you go.

LEANOR FLIES TO the Driftmark astride Seasmoke and beckons you to accompany him back to the Stepstones —for Prince Daemon has won the war, but he has not done so unscathed and there is only one person he wishes to see. They call him a madman and they hail him as a hero as you move through the victorious war camp. There are tales of how he slew twenty men, how it was only the three arrows that slowed him, but even still he cleaved the Crabfeeder in two. A maester exits the tent, his pale robes stained with blood. “How is he?” You ask.

But the voice that answers in the maester’s place is familiar, albeit rougher than usual and still laced with pain —the last dose of milk of the poppy has yet to take its numbing hold. “Come ask him yourself,” Daemon groans, recognizing your voice and shadow.

One of Corlys’s men draws back the flaps of the patched tent for you to enter. He lies on the cot, torso bound in linen strips speckled with blood, and his hair still a knotted mess of dried filth from the battle. Daemon means to sit up, but you stop him with a firm hand pressed to his shoulder and kneel at his bedside instead. “Issa sȳz naejot ūndegon ao.” It’s been many long months since you’ve last seen him —and even then, it is only fleeting moments on Dragonstone or at Driftmark before he returns to war and uncertainty.

Daemon reaches for you, his rough fingertips trailing across your cheek and jaw, then down to your neck and the silver chain resting there. You’ve scarcely parted from his gift since receiving it —letting it serve as a reminder for all those at court that your heart already belonged to another. The stone pendant still shines like a star even after the years, just as you do, always guiding him home. You take his hand and kiss his bruised and cut knuckles. “Ñuha qēlos,” Daemon whispers, and it sets your heart aflutter all over again.

It’s instinctive to lean into him when he pushes himself from the cot. Then he kisses you until the cold sea breeze falls away and your body sings with warmth —kisses you until he feels something melt inside him that nigh hurts in some strange, exquisite way. It’s all his longing and dreams and sweet anguish, and it all transforms into something enchanting, and when Daemon parts, everything makes sense once more —feels right once more. He lays back, grimacing. The Crabfeeder’s arrows struck deep. Daemon takes a long, slow breath, his eyes burning into you. “Avy jorrāelan,” he says, and he’s a fool for not saying it sooner. You kiss the corner of his lips in response, for you’ve already spake your love for your dragonknight.

“I mean to take the Stepstones as mine own,” he tells you. They will call him King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea, and he will make his own mark on Westeros and the world beyond. But the stone seat and his bed will be cold without someone to share it with —he needs a queen to share the title and burden with. Daemon holds onto your hand and holds it close to his heart. “We can be together.” Together, you smile at the thought and rest your head on his chest. Together is all you’ve ever wanted. 

High Valyrian translations: Iksā ñuha qēlos. - You are my star. Se iksā ñuha zaldrīzes azantys. - And you are my dragon knight. Issa sȳz naejot ūndegon ao. - It is good to see you. Ñuha qēlos. - My star. Avy jorrāelan. - I love you.

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#Daemon Targaryen #Daemon Targaryen x Reader #Daemon x Reader #Daemon Targaryen Fanfic #House of the Dragon #Matt Smith #my writing #fic setting: pre HotD and up to the start of the War for the Stepstones #if you notice something wrong with my high valyrian translations plz let me know

[alwaysforevermaybenever]

YANDERE REGRESSOR: INTRODUCTION

× cw: yandere stuff; gaslighting; manipulation; stalking; threatening; assault; pretty tame actually

× note: this is like luca from change the genre but older and probably worse 👌

⌗ Your very best friend since childhood! He’s a noble of a high class family full of legendary knights and warriors.

⌗ Honestly, he used to be such a sweet, polite child who worked hard and did no wrong to any person or beast…. but that all changed when he turned 16. At first you and everyone else brushed it off as adolescence and teenage rebellion, as all boys go through. It was subtle, but you’ve been with him all your life, so of course you’d notice the little differences. 

⌗ Like how he seems more subdued (and even… depressed when he thinks you’re not looking), and he only smiles out of courtesy (in front of the adults). He just seems so much older than he is, as if he’s shouldering the burden of the world on his shoulders - lifting up the weight of the sky all by himself.

⌗ There’s also unexplainable things about him. Like how his swordsmanship techniques and skills improve by leaps and bounds in what seems like overnight. Instead of watching a prodigy train, it’s more like watching an experienced soldier who has seen the gore and horrors of war as he sharpens his blade, prepared to fight for his life once more. Like how he knows five languages even though you’ve never seen him study them (and you’re by his side almost all the time, because your families have close friends. Companions, even). Like how he knows more about your trade of magic and sorcery then even you know, a sorceress-in-training. What gives???

⌗ He’s also… way more overprotective and, dare you say, possessive. Yeah, he’s always been the one to protect you from insignificant bullies who are jealous of your position and prestige, and the one who shields you from scalding insults (baseless, he calls them all. They don’t know anything!) and defends you when jealous fools question the work you poured blood, sweat and tears into.

⌗ You don’t mind it, really. You can understand why he acts like you’re his one and only companion - because you are. You may have a million acquaintances, a thousand friends, a loving family. But only one companion: him. You’re a little selfish, because you’re scared that he’ll leave you for someone else, someone more skilled, someone better looking, someone who is in perfect synergy with him.

⌗ He’s your favourite boy, the guy you’ll depend on to comfort you when you’re down. The person you trust with all your deepest, darkest secrets. The companion who will stick by your side through thick and thin, who will help you bury a corpse, who will lie to any and everyone if you just ask him to. He who puts you before all else. 

⌗ So why do you feel like something’s off when he swears he isn’t hiding anything from you? When he just shrugs off your uneasiness (because you always feel eyes lingering on you when you’re not with him) as paranoia, because you’re in the city! Of course someone will look at you. It’s just a passing glance, anyway.

“Let’s go to the bookstore! There’s a newly released book I want to buy.” You link your arm around his, grinning excitedly. 

“You wanted to buy the newly released book of your favorite author, right? Isn’t the author something like Lemonela?” he responds, treasuring the close proximity with you. 

Your blood runs cold. “But I just discovered her this morning. I haven’t told anyone about it yet. How did you know?”

⌗ Uh oh. How is he going to explain that he’s traveled back in time?

#yandere #male yandere #x reader #yandere boy #yandere male #yandere oc #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere regressor #yandere time traveller #yandere x reader #soft yandere #hehehehehhe

[satansdarlin]

Op men as dads

IM NOT DEAD! I've been working on requests and also doing school so I havent had much time to post much recently but I thought I'd drop this little treat for you all while I work.

(I was inspired ✨️)

Sanji, zoro, luffy, usopp, ace

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, talk of labor, talk of neglect, talk of anxiety, talk of premature baby's, talk of premature side effects.

Masterlist

Sanji- twin daughters

Girl dad to the extreme

Okay okay so let's start off when you were pregnant

He was incredibly doting, literally wouldn't let you lift a finger for anything

Tons of research on safe foods for pregnancy and also learning how to properly make baby food

When the girls were born it was the first time sanji discovered that feeling of such a need to protect them

They were so tiny and had his blonde hair and blue eyes

Either gives them zeffs last name or yours

Their names? Éclaire (or Claire for short) Sora and Suzette Rei

Very much princess standard

Spoils them as much a humanly possible

When they grow up he teaches them all the stuff he knows how to cook and actually begins making a cookbook soley so his girls can have it when they are adults

Claire tends to be the flirter one out of the twins often making sanji chase off all sorts of boys and men from his princess

Suzette tends be more withdrawn. She prefers to stick to the kitchen helping her dad anywhere she can

Both of them are huge daddies girls

Zoro- triplets, two boys one girl

Zoro through most of the pregnancy was calm and collected.

Another one who refused to let you do anything without his hand on your hip

He did the pregnant belly lift for you all the time

All shit goes down when you actually give birth

Zoro had been expecting one baby but when two more popped out he panicked

Absolutely wants to train them personally

Their names? Shogi Korushiro Roronoa, Menko Arashi Roronoa, and his daughter Karuta kumia Roronoa

Shogi is the eldest of the triplets and even though it's only by a few minutes he really takes being the eldest sibling seriously. He looks over his siblings and trains the most so he can protect them and be as great as his dad one day

Menko tends to be the lazy one. Menko can and will take a nap everywhere and anywhere he can. Sanji once found him sleeping in kitchen cabinet on a bag of rice.

Karuta feels the need to stay on her brothers level. She takes her training even more seriously than shogi does. Zoro is more than pleased to train her but even he worries about her over doing it to keep up.

The triplets also see chopper almost as a older brother

Zoro decided if he was to pass away ever each of the triplets would get one of his swords.

Luffy- two sons

Lord.

During your pregnancy it was really confusing for luffy about around the time you started showing he began to realize

He is constantly lettering Sabo filling him in and asking questions

Luffy became more protective of you when you were pregnant literally barked at someone for getting too close once

When you go into labor he is right by your side.

After you gave birth to your first son, Monkey D Ace luffy was suprised at how small he was.

Luffy was surprisingly gentle but that didn't change much of his childish ways

The baby would scream sometimes just because luffy would scream back (there's this video of twins who yell to figure out if the other is near, kinda like that)

When you got pregnant the second time when ace was around age two luffy understood it a lot more.

He did his best to not stress you with the baby and this time it went a lot smoother.

He knew what to expect in the delivery room the second time when your second son, Monkey D Ademir, came into the world

Ace tends be rambunctious, running into trouble much like his father with a similar appetite, but he also knows the weight of his name and so he holds it with pride

Ademir is similar to his brother and father, but he also tends to be far more brutally honest than ace.

Both boys tend to lean towards you though. Surprisingly, they tend to listen to you more than their father although it's a shocking sight when luffy is actually telling them to do something

Usopp- premature boy

Anxiety ten times higher than normal

When you found out you were pregnant usopp used his anxious energy to start making things

Baby clothes? Got it. Crib? Got it. Toys? Got it. With the help of Franky converted a large storage closet into a baby room.

Imagine his panic when the baby room wasn't even half done when you went into labor.

The labor was brutal on both you and usopp. But eventually his son, Shinji took in his first breaths.

For the first few months of life the crew fussed over shinji constantly due to his prematurely he had a hard time breathing and needed far more cuddling than a normal baby.

Usopp would stay up all night just making sure his son was breathing after he had read a book that said children born premature could pass away easily

Shinji pulled through. And unfortunately became the most brutally honest person anyone had ever met. He gave luffy a run for his money about not being able to tell a lie

Shinji would run and tell you all about the acts his father wasn't supposed to get up to even small ones like sneaking a extra treat after dinner.

Even so usopp coddled his son constantly

When shinji took a interest in art and carving usopp nearly cried because they had a shared interest.

Becoming a father made usopp realize how truly messed up what his own father did was.

Usopp understood having his own goal while being a parent would make it harder but he would never abandon his son or you to achevie them. He'd prefer to achieve them with you by his side.

Ace- daughter

Ace panicked when he found out you were growing his child inside of you.

The ship was on fire type of panic

Ran you straight to Marco who checked you out and congratulated you when he confirmed the pregnancy.

Ace similarly to luffy was incredibly protective.

You were never out of his sight and if you were he had someone checking on you hourly.

His coddling was almost suffocating.

When you went into labor, more fires had to be put out on the ship.

Marco nearly had to remove ace from the room because he was freaking out more than you were.

The one time ace settled down was when his newborn daughter nuzzled her face against his warm chest, Rouge D Portgas named after his mother.

Rouge lived up to her name, she frequently made the ship panic because no one could find her only to find her snuggled up in between some barrels.

Ace sworn the night Rouge was born he would never let her go through the things he did as a child.

Ace was a amazing father often having her up on his shoulders and would cry with her when she had to go get her shots or got scrapes.

Spoilers ahead

When ace died Rouge went into Marco's care. The only thing she had left of her father was his hat which she wears constantly.

Although Rouge goes through a similar thing of being bullied for her father she is prideful of his father and who he was.

Spoilers over

Overall ace tries to be the best dad he can be.

#luffy headcanons #one piece luffy #one piece sanji #sanji headcanons #zoro headcanons #one peice #one piece headcanons #one piece strawhats #straw hat usopp #usopp #usopp headcanons #one piece ace #portgas d ace #portgas d ace headcanons #ace headcanons #luffy x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #usopp x reader #portgas ace x reader #ace x reader