#i always struggle with him for some reason...

[twilightofthesandwiches]

You can say Jevil is a lot like Susie, an unpredictable battle-happy force of chaos fighting against the restrictions placed on them by the world by simply denying that they’re there.

The main difference is that Jevil seems to truly has no interest in anything but his 'games' of violence, while throughout Chapter 1 Susie learns that violent solutions aren't always the answer.... and now that her desire to 'do anything' also includes just wanting to keep being with her friends...

It might be a lot harder for her to achieve the kind of freedom she wants....

Or you can say Jevil is a lot like Kris, the paradoxical nature of their existence exemplified through the motif of a Cage.

But Jevil is the prisoner who is actually Free, while Kris is a prison who is themself trapped.

You can also say Spamton is a lot like Kris, robbed of freedom and agency by both metaphysical puppet-strings and a mysterious voice on the phone.

It's just that Spamton has alienated everyone he's ever known and ended up totally alone, while Kris at least has some friends willing to help them… if they knew what's going on.

Or you can say Spamton is a lot like Ralsei, a Darkner tormented by his wider knowledge and deeper understanding of the nature of things, and how he is not truly real and how he is not truly free. Who echoes some of Flowey's lines from 'Undertale'.

But Ralsei handles this knowledge by being both incredibly fatalistic and incredibly unhealthily selfless, while Spamton, as a Darkner doomed to selfishness, drives himself mad (well, madder) trying to fight against it.

And… you could say the Roaring Knight is a lot like Kris because they are both incredibly mysterious to the Player. And Kris' Dark World design does make them look a lot like a knight of sorts...

Or if you wanna say Ramb is the true 'main character' of Chapter 3's Shadow Crystal Route, than he's a lot like Kris because they are both outsiders in their 'worlds'. Kris is the only Human in Hometown, Ramb is the only Plugboy in TV World.

The main difference is that, well, even if Kris still feels like an outsider sometimes, they still clearly Belong in Hometown more than Ramb belonged in TV World.

Or you could say Ramb is a lot like Ralsei, a Darkner who sees himself as a good friend for Kris and is highly invested in pleasing them and making them happy. Actually becoming literal pushovers for them.

But Ralsei still tries to gently nudge Kris towards Pacifism and what he sees as the right choices where he can, and tries to keep them on the set path. Ramb, for Kris' sake, gave them a world of 'total freedom'… that they actually found to be quite disturbing. Especially since they weren't truly the one in control. A fact Ramb seems unaware of, but Ralsei probably is.

Also, unlike Ramb, Ralsei doesn't just have Kris/the Player. He has actually made other connection, most importantly Susie. Ramb sacrificed any connection he could've ever made in TV World in the name of his loyalty to Kris and it actually cost him his life.

And the most obvious comparison to Gerson would be his unofficial pupil, Susie. While opposites on the surface... one is a scholarly elder and the other is a rambunctious teen. One is a trickster who is constantly hiding his true power, while the other's strength lies in how incredibly straightforward she tends to be. One is a bookworm and author and a teacher, while the other seem to really struggle academically.....

But both are reptilian Monsters with a similar Magic attack.

Both fiercely reject the Prophecy's inevitability. Both are 'echoes' of Undyne as she was in Undertale in different ways...

But Gerson could also be compared to Ralsei. Both are Darkners who look like Light World Monsters (although with different in-universe lore reasons... I assume), both know a lot about the Prophecy, both try and guide Kris and Susie in their own way, both are part of Susie's Healing Magic Training, both are somewhat echoes of Flowey. (Gerson being revived from an object covered in dust in a very similar manner to how Asriel was revived as Flowey).

It's just that Ralsei is a lot more defeatist. While he did hold some hope that maybe he could change fate through the power of his kindness, he still found it hard to doubt the Prophecy's inevitability. He tried to hide it from Kris and Susie in the hopes of sparing them the grief of knowing about it like he does.

While Gerson shatters the Prophecy in an attempt to nudge the Heroes into defying it, always believing and never doubting that the Prophecy could be rewritten.

Ralsei is saddled with this knowledge from just the nature of his being, he's not even quite sure where his knowledge came from. And despite knowing so much, he's still got the emotional maturity of a teen and the life experience of like three days, and his naivete and lack of actual experience are his biggest weaknesses.

Both his social inexperience and his fatalist attitude are the reason why he could never teach Susie more than the basics of Healing Magic.

Gerson is a grown-up who's knowledge of the Prophecy came from his research and has ages of actual life experience and wisdom to pull from. While he doesn't seem to know Healing Magic himself, he was instrumental to teaching it to Susie because he was able to figure her out and devise a method that will actually help her learn and improve.

Ralsei is also the one Darkner we know of who is immune to petrification in every Dark World, while Gerson specifically can only appear under very specific circumstances in specific Dark Worlds.

Hmmmm… are there any more Shadow Boss - Delta Warrior comparisons I missed?

[thetrasha]

Ok but can i get some fluff on shanks, Beckman, Marco and Ace? Maybe how they try to cool you down after suffering a heat stroke? Where i live we are getting a severe heat wave and its causing me to lose salts from sweats making me suffer a bit

I hope it's gotten a bit better for you, but I'm getting cooked in my own room, too, so... yeah 😭🤝And this is just a PSA: I didn't include actual heatstroke in the request because... the only one on that list who'd be able to help at all is Marco LOL Heatstroke is incredibly dangerous, so if you suspect you're suffering from it, call the emergency services immediately.

This is just a heatwave extravaganza edition because we're all suffering through summer (not including you Southern Hemisphere guys grr)

Cooler Than Me

feat. SHANKS, BENN BECKMAN, MARCO, ACE

SHANKS

Shanks is the type to approach things in a fun way.

As the Captain, Shanks is certainly used to making rational decisions that can be explained with logical reasoning… as a person, however, he isn’t quite as likely to keep his cool. He’d be miserable once the heat gets to him and lose it on a pretty tight schedule. Frustrated groans and curses just follow him around once he realised that his own sweat seeped through today’s linen shirt once more – after he’d let his cape be, too. It’s a tragedy! With you as his beloved, he tries to prevent himself from turning into a complete grump, but every sweet moment at night is cut off after he realises, after barely a minute, that he cannot cuddle you to sleep today without dying.

Shanks is still very much smitten with you and cannot bear to watch you suffer just as much as he does. Most of his crew can handle the heat, some even prefer the intense climate of summer islands, but you two stick out like a sore thumb. Shanks, as fun-loving as ever, would try to cheer you up by eating popsicles with you. It’s a sweet treat that cools you from the inside out – and he can share flavours with you. Watching how giggly you get when you saw just how deeply red the ice cold popsicle dyed his tongue made it worth all the hassle. He excitedly looks at your own tongue, now dyed as blue as the sea.

And he cannot help but kiss you right then and there.

BENN BECKMAN

Benn notices just how much you struggle, feeling sympathetic towards the person he secretly fell in love with… He doesn’t want to treat you any different from the rest, you should be able to fit in without any complications, but the Vice Captain himself just cannot ignore his affections for you, no matter how much he tries to bury them. He follows you around like a ghost and wordlessly hands you glasses of water. Somehow, he picked up on your bad habits and takes care of you in his own way. The water’s always cool, fresh and he always appears when you need him the most.

Benn is the type to approach things in a methodical way.

Benn is a force to be reckoned with. You may not hear him, but you can feel his presence; that’s how imposing he is. Despite not hailing from more exotic lands, he can handle the heat quite well. If the temperatures rise too much, he cools himself down by keeping his hair wet. Still, he’s willing to move crates around, do ship maintenance and do other forms of physical labour. It honestly makes you jealous. He is so unbothered that he doesn’t even look like he’s sweating all that much. Meanwhile, you can barely move around without breaking a sweat. Moisture gathers at the nape of your neck as the sun beats down on you, which has you taking a shower almost twice a day. It is ridiculous!

It’s bizarre, but you might just pick up on the fact that acts of service are his love language and he’s desperately trying to be serious and respectful about this…

MARCO

Marco is a doctor, which means that he’s definitely best equipped to help you. Plus, his eyes just dart towards you fanning hot air towards yourself after Whitebeard asked you to mop the deck… and you just chose to do it in the dry heat. Congratulations, now you’ve got Marco monitoring you. He watches you carefully, analysing every sway with a judgmental gaze – he’s always ready to step in and excuse you for the day, but he also doesn’t want to take your autonomy away. You’re independent and he honours your own decisions, no matter how irrational they may seem. If you want to work in the sun, fine, but he’s not letting up until he can make sure you’re safe.

Marco is the type to approach things in an analytical way.

He loves you so dearly, that’s why he doesn’t even mind sneaking around your peripheral vision to make it seem like he’s nonchalant about his pining… he’s really not. He’s just waiting to pin your hair up and apply wet towels to your pulse points, slowly cooling your blood down. That refreshing feeling will distribute itself evenly throughout your body and he can just watch with a soft smile as relief makes you go lax instantly. And he’s just there, touching your neck and wrists like it doesn’t make him nervous, like there’s no fire in his eyes at the sight of you feeling so safe in his presence… You’d rest your pretty head on his shoulder and let him check your vitals… just to be close to you without seeming like a total try-hard!

Marco’s also most likely to keep you in the med bay and secretly fan air towards you with his fiery wings. It’ll be your little secret!

ACE

Ace is the type to approach things in a silly way.

So… being around Ace when you’re suffering from the extreme weather is actually pretty hard. His body temperature is just naturally a lot higher, which means the match-up is just overall bad. He trails after you like a lost puppy as he ignores all those stares that follow the two of you around. Ace doesn’t feel the heat at all – the fact that fire is hot doesn’t even register to him; he’s made of it. Of course he notices that you’re not exactly in top shape… you sweat a lot, started carrying around a massive jug of water – oh, and you avoid touching him. He’s yearning so bad, flashing you the sad kicked animal eyes every five minutes because he cannot stand not being close to you…

Ace does, however, have a genius idea that he remembers from his childhood.

You aren’t as impressed as he is when he presents a tiny kiddie pool to you… right on the main deck. Anyone could watch you lounge here, but your dear boyfriend even propped up a deckchair right next to this abomination… and the thought alone is what counts. It’s kind of sweet, to be honest, to watch him go bright red as soon as you sit down in a tiny puddle of water, looking up at him with a deadpan expression, legs hanging off one side of the meagre ‘pool’, but he still listens with rapt attention once you tell him what you’ve been up to on this hot day. He even clenches his fist in victory for this million Beri idea.

And… it’s ridiculous, but it did cool you down!

[revelboo]

Hello boo:3 I thought you may have a stressful day so I'm gonna flash you with my handsome stinky little boy (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I hope I made your day a little,have a good day (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*)

( he needs a bath ,he won't escape😈😆😂)

🤣 poor little guy and yeah, I did need this after yesterday, so thank you!

Exhaustion

Starscream x Reader

• Venting when he finds you in your little wash rack, his daughter cradled against you and your head against the back of the stall, Starscream mass shifts and reaches to lift the sparkling out of your arms and you startle awake with a gasp. And just stare up at him. ‘Again?’ You ask and his wings flick as the tiny sparkling blinks big optics innocently at him like she didn’t keep you both up all night screaming for no apparent reason. Again. A human thing, you’d tiredly said. Hooking an arm around you, he takes the wash rag from you and you lean into him. “You need to rest.”

• Letting him wash you and your daughter, you drift in and out. Because she’s a little angel during the day, napping or chirping happily. At night? She just screams. Even when you sleep curled around her. Don’t know what you’re doing wrong. If it’s an alien thing you’re missing or a human one, because you have no idea what you’re doing. And apparently you drift off again, aware of him lifting you and cradling you both as he ferries you to the berth and your bedding. “Maybe we should let Megs have some of this,” you mutter tiredly and he clears his vents, warm air washing over you.

• “We don’t need his help,” he grumbles as you let him ease you down in your blankets, skin still wet and he grimaces as you sleepily watch him. Knows you’re not eating like you had been, you’d almost fallen asleep and smacked your face into your plate of food the previous day. And he doesn’t know how to fix it, but Soundwave and Megatron keep trying to help. Like they’re sure he’s not capable of doing this alone. Like he’s too much a failure to take care of his own mate and sparkling and he hates it. Hates that he doesn’t know how to do this and feels like he’s drowning.

• Reaching as he settles your daughter’s warmth against you and you yawn against her head to make her warble and kick, it’s a struggle to stay awake. You watch him kneeling over you, trying to dry you both off. And you should care that you’re soaking your bedding, but you just want to sleep. Watching him frowning, wings trembling like he’s about to have a nervous breakdown. Until you grab his wrist and tug. “Stay,” you whisper, more a demand than a question because you’re afraid he won’t. That he’s too overwhelmed and he’s going to run. Bury himself in work and hide from you and his daughter. “Please?”

• Venting, he stretches out on his side facing you, his sparkling between you both. And he cups your cheek, a servo sliding against you. Wondering if you think he’s failing you as you smile tiredly and close your eyes. If you think he’s not up to this, because his processor is doing that more than enough for both of you. All of Megatron’s sneering dismissals of his opinions since joining the Decepticons tearing him apart bit by bit, making him bitter and angry. Making him almost believe them himself. That he’s not enough, that he’ll always fail no matter how hard he tries.

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Maisie's guide to disguised AI

If you've been anywhere near AO3 recently, you've probably encountered AI writing at some point. As somebody who writes for, primarily, the ER fandom (and occasionally the Pitt, too), I've noticed a concerning trend over the last few days: AI-generated fanfiction clogging the tags.

Firstly, I'd like to say that if you ARE posting fics on AO3 that were AI-generated, and you're passing them off as your own, please stop. I know this is not likely to actually resonate with you if this IS you, but on the off-chance that you do see this- please use tags as intended and make it clear that you're using AI.

Secondly, before I go into some AI tells in detail, I want to preface this with a warning- just because you see one or two of these in a fic, there's no guarantee that it was AI-generated. Please approach the matter of flagging fics with care, because the last thing I want is to incite a witch hunt against innocent people just engaging in fandom.

However, when seen in tandem, these signs should act as a warning to think a little more deeply about what you're reading, and ask the question- was this human written?

1. Em-dashes

I'm getting this one out of the way quickly because it's something easily identifiable, but it should by no means discredit a fic on its own. Real people can use em-dashes, but ChatGPT uses them a LOT. Like, a distracting amount. And they're often used in conjunction with...

2. 'Not' qualifiers

ChatGPT doesn't do 'yes, and'. It seems to work off 'no, but' instead (sorry @pagingdoctorcarter , like an AI, I am stealing your phrase here. But I do have the decency to credit, I suppose!).

Take this sentence I've come up with right now:

Carter was so exhausted he was struggling to stand, legs trembling with the strain of keeping him upright.

AI might write something like this (using my own creative license here because I don't want to feed the beast):

Carter was exhausted— not the regular exhaustion that came with twelve hours on his feet. Something deeper. Heavier.

3. Repetitive phrases.

AI is not original, so it can't come up with anything original, of course. This means that it relies on basic phrases it uses over and over and over again e.g 'the kind of (blank) that (blank)'

4. The classic 'concrete noun' + 'abstract noun' combo

For reasons that I can't quite understand, AI adores this. Some humans include this combo in their work, too, but AI does it even more frequently. Some real phrases I've encountered so far include:

"a story about meatballs and betrayal"

"champagne and anxiety soaked into the upholstery"

5. Anachronisms and inaccuracies

This is especially present in a fandom like ER, where most of the time we're writing about the 90s, and this CAN be attributed to genuine human error... but if Carter is repeatedly 'swiping' on his phone screen to open a call, and everyone's always texting... could be AI.

In a similar vein, if someone is shouting 'code blue!' for things that AREN'T cardiac arrest, or mixing up names and even hallucinating random characters- think 'maybe AI'.

6. Short sentences, short paragraphs, short chapters.

AI doesn't have the ability to understand how paragraphs are structured for ease of reading and flow. So it likes short sentences. Snappy sentences.

And not just when the situation suits it. But always.

If there's a hell of a lot of paragraphs, it could be AI. AI doesn't like including many clauses. At all.

7. Generic similes and phrases that don't mean anything at all

This relates to the 'concrete noun + abstract noun combo' but, more generally, AI produces writing that veers away from specifics. It won't often describe places in too much detail, and when it comes to similes, it uses simple, overused ones OR spouts a series of words that are meaningless. If you see an abstract simile in a fic, take a second. Is it abstract because it's complex and has several layers, or is it utterly meaningless?

8. A crazy update schedule

This one is less reliable because it IS possible to bank chapters and then post a lot in one go, but if an author is posting many thousands of words in the span of a few days, consider this a small red flag- especially in conjunction with the other things mentioned. It could mean they're just pumping out AI-generated writing, and this allows them to move far quicker than any human.

9. Overly mushy dialogue

AI is a thief, but it's a happy-go-lucky thief. Characters speak like they stepped straight off Sesame Street at times, lacking any kind of emotional complexity.

10. Awful, awful jokes

AI cannot write jokes. It simply cannot. If you read a joke in a fic that feels Disney-Channel esque but also doesn't make sense at all? It very well could be AI.

For instance:

Nobody talks like this.

Also, note the 'concrete noun + abstract noun' combo again here! (This actually was an AI fic as confirmed by author before deletion, not naming them here): 'gauze and intuition'.

Conclusion

Be vigilant. Don't fall for AI crap and, if you disagree with the concept of AI work clogging AO3 tags, definitely don't leave kudos.

And if you're posting this stuff, yet again I ask you politely, please STOP.

Thank you.

[redrose10]

Something I wrote last night…

Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and mental health struggles, depression

Word Count: 2,345

🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉

Some days Yoongi gets like this. It has been happening since his teenage years. He doesn’t know how or why. From the moment he gets up and out of bed to the moment he finally lays down in that same spot at the end of the night he feels it. Anxiety, worry, guilt, and a little bit of sadness. He over thinks everything. Wonders if he’s doing too much and too little all at the same time. There is a dark cloud that follows over him the entire day causing him hardships that only he sees.

He accidentally cut off a car on his way to work. He didn’t mean to. A split second of poor judgement. There was no accident. No harm. The other person probably forgot about it seconds later, but not Yoongi. He thought about it all day, worried that the other person, a complete stranger, was still angry with him over it.

When he texted Jimin asking if he wanted to meet up for lunch he replied with a simple ‘sure what time?’ Jimin always included emojis in his texts. Always. It was annoyingly cute. Yoongi spent the rest of the morning spiraling and wondering what he did to upset his friend. In reality Jimin was running late to an appointment and just wanted to make sure he responded before he forgot because he always gets excited when Yoongi invites him out to lunch.

During these dark times his words always fail him the most. He tried working on songs that he has had in progress for months, but he got nowhere. He tried to start a new one only to spend two hours staring at a blank computer screen resulting in him just beating himself up even more. On the worst of days he’ll stop by Namjoon’s studio and hand him a piece of paper with the code to enter his own studio written on it. He’ll tell Namjoon to take whatever equipment he wants out of it and sell the rest because it’s of no use to him any more. Namjoon will smile and nod and wait for Yoongi to exit the room before tearing up the piece of paper and tossing it in the trash next to him. He doesn’t even read the numbers out of respect for his friend. He knows Yoongi will be right back there tomorrow morning ready to give it another try.

On the way back home after a long day is when Yoongi will have a realization that will cause the biggest struggle of them all.

He doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve to call you his wife or the love of his life.

He’s not good enough, not smart enough, not handsome enough. He’s not affectionate. He struggles greatly in these times of darkness and brings you down with him.

He’s not very romantic. Most of your dates consist of takeout and movies on the couch. He asked you to marry him on a Sunday morning while the two of you drank your coffee at the kitchen table. He didn’t even have a ring yet but you still said yes. You must have just felt pity for him.

He works hard for you. A nice house, nice cars, designer clothes, fancy vacations. He knows you could get all of that by yourself, but he wants to provide it for you. It makes him feel good, needed even. He’ll cook you an amazing dinner including dessert and will even wash every single dish afterwards, but will struggle to tell you how beautiful you look that same night.

He doesn’t know how to tell you how much he loves you. He’s tried. He can feel it in his chest so deeply it hurts, but for seem reason his brain struggles to let him say it to your face. Like his own security blanket, a way to protect his heart from getting broken once again.

So every night he waits until you’re asleep all snuggled and safe in his arms and then he’ll whisper it into your ear.

But what if that isn’t enough?

What if you want more than he can provide? What if you’re unhappy? What if you regret ever marrying him? What if you want a divorce? What if you’ve already found someone else? No one else will ever love you like he does, but someone else will be able to say they do.

Because at the end of the day he’s nothing special…he’s just Yoongi.

By the time he pulls into the parking garage he has tears spilling down his cheeks and his breathing is ragged. He parks in his assigned spot which is thankfully towards the back corner of the garage and lays the leather seat of his car back to try and calm down. He sets a timer and then uses his breathing techniques that he learned years ago to hopefully prevent his body from going into full panic mode.

After fifteen minutes the timer goes off and he starts to gather his things and heads up to your apartment.

His head is pounding and his chest aches. He knows he is moments away from crying again, but he enters your home anyways.

He knows you won’t judge him. You won’t question what’s wrong until he’s ready to talk and that only makes him feel even less worthy of having you in his life.

When Yoongi gets to the kitchen he sees an assortment of fruits and veggies spread out on the counter. It seemed like you had a good time at the local farmers market with your friend. He immediately eyes a very large basket of tangerines. A small smiles forms on his face for the first time that day.

Then he notices the watermelon sitting off to the side. It’s one of your favorites, but you have made it very clear how much you hate cutting them. The effort, the mess, the danger…he shudders at the memory of having to bandage your poor little pinkie finger after the knife slipped while you were trying to slice through the watermelon rind. Yoongi tells you all the time to just buy the precut ones from the grocery store but you refuse to spend the extra money and you also don’t want to use more plastic than necessary which he admires.

Yoongi moves around the kitchen with ease grabbing the cutting board and one of the bigger chefs knives. Silently he gets to working cutting through the watermelon making sure to get the pieces just to the size you like. He’s so focused on the task before him that he doesn’t hear you come into the kitchen and is startled when your arms wrap around his waist.

“When did you get home?”, you mumble into his back, “You should’ve came and got me.” The vibrations tickle slightly.

“Just a little bit ago.”, he smiles yet again, “I wanted to get this watermelon cut for you.”

You squeezed him a little tighter as a silent thank you. Yoongi feels his heart thud.

“Did you see the tangerines? They probably thought I was crazy buying so many of them, but I know they’re your favorite and these ones looked so ripe and juicy.”, you excitedly exclaimed already reaching for one to peel for him.

As Yoongi continues to cut away at the melon you sit on top of the counter and feed him pieces of the tangerine while he listens about your day.

Your favorite cafe has a limited time pineapple drink for the summer months, but you had already had your heart set on the hibiscus lemonade so you’ll have to try it another day. Yoongi makes a mental note to take you there for lunch tomorrow.

He finds himself genuinely laughing for the first time that day when you tell him about the bee that viciously chased after your friend causing her to run into a wall spilling her latte all over herself.

He gives you a questioning look when you tell him about the cute baby goats you saw at the farmers market. The two of you have had this conversation many times before because you refuse to accept that goats are not good pets for an apartment.

You grab a piece of the watermelon and pretend like you’re going to feed it to him just like you did with the tangerines only to pop it in your mouth at the last second instead.

“Oh we’re going to play that game huh?”, he questions playfully. Your giggles that follow sound better than any melody he’s ever written.

Then you grab another piece of the melon and this time you actually feed it to him. It’s juicy and sweet and it’s perfect just like you.

“Thank you for cutting up the watermelon. You know how much I loathe doing that.”, you say before placing a kiss on his cheek.

Yoongi grabs a piece of the melon and feeds it to you, “Any time jagiya.”, he whispers as he watches you happily enjoy the fruits of his labor.

“I’ll clean all this up. Go take a bath and get changed into something comfy.”, you say as you hop off of the counter, “I thought we could order some food tonight and start watching that new drama everyone’s talking about. Or…should I say I’ll watch the new drama while you watch the first ten minutes and then snore through the rest.”, you laugh.

Yoongi fakes offense, but deep down knows you’re 100% right so he ends up laughing with you before walking off to the bedroom.

On the bed you’ve already laid out his favorite sweats and tshirt. A new pair of fluffy lavender infused socks that you got for him at the farmers market today are next to them. In the bathroom you’ve already got his skin care put out on the counter and his favorite eucalyptus bubble bath is placed on the tub along with a brand new vanilla scented candle sitting next to it.

There’s also a new bottle of some fancy goat milk lotion you probably got at the farmers market today. A note taped to it reads, If we had our own pet goat I wouldn’t have to spend so much money on fancy lotions made by other people…Just saying.

The note makes him laugh and shake his head at the same time. He starts to get undressed until he’s hit with a wave of emotions so strong it makes him nauseated. He decides that he can’t take it any more so he goes to find you.

You’re still in the kitchen and when he calls your name you look at him with wide eyes and cheeks full of watermelon. He bites lip to keep from laughing.

He grabs your hand and pulls you back to the bathroom with him. The water is running. He adds a touch of the bubble bath and lights the candle.

Then he helps you out of your clothes before removing his own and gently guides you into the bath with him.

He takes a seat behind you ignoring the coldness of the porcelain on his back because he’s too focused on you sitting in front of him with your back firmly pressed against his chest.

Once the tub is filled up the two of you sit there in comfortable silence while he lovingly runs his fingers across your belly and thighs until you’re nearly asleep.

“Yoongi?”, you finally speak after a while. “Hmmm.”, he hums back.

“I love you.”

His heart races. Suddenly the room feels unbearably hot and is spinning. If it wasn’t for you being perched up against him he would’ve already left.

All of those bad thoughts from earlier return. Is he good enough to receive those words? What if you don’t mean that? You’re only saying it because that’s what a wife does. You deserve better than what he can provide?

His downward spiral is broken up by you continuing, “You don’t have to say it back. I know it’s not easy for you. And you tell me you love me every day in your own little ways. I just wanted to make sure I told you that today.”

Your words repeat in his head like a mantra and he relaxes back against the tub with you against him.

Maybe you are right. He may not be able to tell you in words how much he loves you and how much you mean to him, but he tries to show you in everything that he does.

Slowly as the night goes on the dark cloud that has been hanging above his head starts to dissipate.

When the bath is over the two of you fill yourselves on pizza and ice cream.

You show him pictures of goats that are up for adoption. He rolls his eyes and laughs but internally he’s panicking because he can feel his resolve breaking and he doesn’t know how many more times hes going to be able to tell you no on the goat thing, especially when you’ve been learning techniques to make puppy dog eyes from Jungkook. Yoongi just knows he’ll end up being a goat dad by the end of the year.

He manages to stay awake for a whole episode and a half of the new drama proving you wrong. It was a major struggle though.

When he does wake up you’re silently asleep on his shoulder. As comfy as it is he knows that if you both sleep on the couch you’ll be sore tomorrow so he gathers you in his arms and brings you to the bed. Moments later he’s right there next to you.

You snuggle into his side like you always do.

Yoongi takes a moment to admire your sleeping form. No matter how hard he tries he can’t believe this is his reality.

He didn’t know a love like this was possible. Maybe that is why he struggles so hard to comprehend it.

And even though he knows that he isn’t perfect and he has his dark days, he knows that it’s okay to feel like that because while he might be just Yoongi…he is your Yoongi and you are his and that’s all he will ever need in this world.

[markkiatocafe]

try again

𖠚 warnings: veryyyyy cliché (i’m sorry guys, i’m in a mood), food + mentions of eating said food!!!!!! (ice cream) if that triggers you, be ware!!! rmb to eat something today ♡, slight angst ig at the start?? scoups used to be kindaa emotionally absent????, not proofread!!!

𖠚 synop: to your surprise, seungcheol isn’t opposed to the idea of getting to know you, again.

𖠚 pairing: gn!reader x ex!scoups

𖠚 w.c: 636

𖠚 a/n: my svt writing debut!!!!!! YIPPIEE ^_^ it feels fitting to do cheol first due to lia being the main reason i’m writing for svt… i hope you enjoy !!

it was a normal summer day. you were just going on a walk around your city, nothing too eventful. you had nothing better to do, and you wanted to enjoy the sun! so, why not?

well, when you got to your local park, you weren’t expecting to see scoups. aka, seungcheol. AKA the man who you dumped years ago and then blocked on every social media and messaging site available.

why exactly did you block him? well, at least back then… talking to him felt like talking to a brick wall. any conversation where you tried to tell him something you were hurt by or that you struggled with, it never got anywhere productive. he would immediately get combative, defensive. it was so annoying and honestly exhausting… so, you cut it off. ended it.

although, you couldn’t lie, a part of your heart ached whenever you saw something cherry themed. even if he was stubborn, you loved him. truthfully, deeply. he cared about you, even if in those heated moments you would definitely second guess that.

anyways, it wasn’t the past anymore. it was time for you to move on, like he sure has, right? maybe that thought was wrong.

“oh, hey, yn, right?” an all-too-familiar voice spoke up. you tilted your head towards the voice, only for your eyes to meet his.

“oh… yeah, seungcheol,” you said, a weak attempt at sounding normal. “long time no see.” you shifted your weight on your feet, fixing your hair.

his face crinkled a bit, yet a friendly smile remained on his lips, the smile that always made your heart skip a beat.

“i always hated it when you called me that.” he laughed.

that laugh played in your head like a broken record. you shrugged, ignoring the blood you could feel rushing to your cheeks. “i always thought your name was cute, i don’t know why you hate it so much.”

that time, you both laughed.

a little bit later, you somehow started walking off to no where specific together, lost in a conversation you didn’t even remember the start of. “i actually was wondering something.” he said, pausing to look at you and inhale, then looking over to the ice cream truck that suddenly appeared somewhere in the time span of your guys’ conversation, which you didn’t even realize till now.

“do you wanna get ice cream?” he said, but for some reason, you had a suspicion that’s not exactly what he was planning on saying. still, you nodded, quickly ordering together before going back to walking.

“what else did you want to say?” he raised an eyebrow as he took a lick of his ice cream. “what do you mean?”

“like, before you asked to get the ice cream,” you explained, holding up your ice cream and then taking a lick of it yourself, “you were gonna say something else, no?”

he hummed, clearing his throat and glancing at the ground. “i was just… i was wondering if you’d ever wanna try this again,” he hesitated, “us, again.”

you felt your breath catch in your throat. a big part of you knew you should’ve said no, but another part of you really wanted to say yes. “i mean… we’re both such different people now. you don’t even know me anymore.”

he turned to face you, pausing his steps. “i’m willing to get to know you again. more maturely this time. i can actually get through my feelings without freaking out now, and i don’t wanna waste this chance with you.” he was stern, truthful. not to mention, a little too convincing.

“i’m willing, if you are.” you said, turning to fully face him now, too.

and so you tried again. it was scary at first, but, over time, you never regretted giving seungcheol another chance.

[texanpanda]

Bob Reynolds x gn!reader

This is the first thing I've written in a very long time and probably the first story I've ever posted. Not sure how to format but I'll figure it out. I cried on my floor listening to the Let Down cover by Mack Lorén and then this idea popped into my head and wouldn't let me rest so here ya go.

I think I've kept the description and interactions with the reader pretty neutral even though I was picturing my oc Stella the entire time. Let me know if you like it and I might try to be creative again lol.

It had been over an hour since Bob saw you disappear into your bedroom. You had come out in an oversized sweatshirt and gotten a cold bottle of water from the fridge. When he offered a quiet "Hey-" you had hummed quietly in response then continued down the hall.

His leg bounced as he sat in his usual reading spot, occasionally glancing down the hall to your room. You had been acting distant that day and it sent his mind into overdrive. He wasn't sure if you were mad at him or if maybe something else was bothering you but he felt an overwhelming need to fix it.

He tried to go back to reading his book but couldn't get past the first sentence on the page before needing to lift his head to look down the hall again. His gut was telling him that something was wrong. He wanted to brush it off as his usual anxiety but couldn't because what if something really was wrong with you? What if you were hurt and hid it from him? What if you were mad at him for not helping with the dishes or for leaving the coffee creamer out yesterday? Did he even do that or was he making up reasons for you to be upset with him?

Snapping his book shut, he stood and made his way down the hall. There was nothing wrong with checking in, right? You always told him that he could come talk to you about anything. And that you wouldn't be mad if he asked a dumb question. Even if it sounded rude or inappropriate, there was always a way to move forward with the conversation.

You were helping him figure out how to communicate better. Not just with you but with everyone else in the tower and beyond. You had been in therapy for several years and had done your own research on the coping skills you had learned so you were the go-to person when anyone in the tower was struggling. But who do you go to? Who checks in with you when you are struggling?

Bob wanted to be that person. Not just to help you, because he definitely cared about you and wanted to make sure you were okay but also to be useful. He wanted to help in any way that he could so that him being here meant something. So that he meant something. To you.

When he reached your door he hesitated. He could faintly hear music playing from behind the door. Tilting his weight from side to side he contemplating actually knocking on your door or trying to go back to reading. What if you just wanted some alone time and him checking in was actually ruining your day? He shouldn't be trying to take up your time with his stupid need to help. He'll just make it-

His thoughts were cut off when he heard a sniffle sound. Had he heard correctly? Were you okay? He leaned his head closer to the door, the scolded himself mentally for trying to eavesdrop. But got distracted when he heard the sound of you blowing your nose and something almost like a whimper.

All doubts forgotten he knocked and called out your name. The sniffling stopped and he knocked again. The music went quiet and he faintly heard you call out "come in" . When he opened the door he was met with a sight that made his stomach drop and his head spin.

You were curled up on the floor hugging a pillow. Tears were streaming down your face as you blew your nose again then tossed the tissue into your nearby trash can. You looked like you had been full sobbing the entire hour he hadn't seen you and his chest clenched at the very idea of you suffering alone.

"Oh my God- ar- are you okay? What happened? What's wrong?" He stumbled into the room and knelt next to you, hands uselessly hovering in the air as if to grab you and check for injuries. He couldn't see anything immediate but that didn't mean there wasn't something hidden.

You let out a snort of laughter then sniffled again. "I'm fine, Bob." You replied so casually like your eyes weren't red and your breathing wasn't stuttering.

"You don't look fine." He fired back, no longer worried about upsetting you. "You look- what happened? Why- why are you crying? On the floor?" His hands flexed mid air as if instinctively wanting to hold you but not knowing if that would be welcome right now.

You blinked up at him then reached for the water bottle sitting beside you. "Oh, it's floor time." As if that would answer any questions he could possibly have about your current state.

"Floor time? What's floor time?" He'd never heard of floor time and was a little afraid to find out if it left you in tears.

"Oh yeah. It's a coping thing my old roomate and I used to do." Even with some context he was still confused. You had taken a small sip of water and then let out a deep sigh. When you looked up at him again you could see the confusion clearly on his face. "Lying on the floor and listening to sad music is a good way to cry." You explained simply.

"Uh, yeah. I can see that. But-" He couldn't quite wrap his head around you seemingly happy to have a full meltdown on the floor, like it was normal. "I don't get why?" His hands dropped to his knees as he looked you over again.

You nodded as if his confusion made perfect sense to you. "It's not for everyone. But with our line of work, I don't always have time to express my emotions in a healthy way, y'know?" You waved your hand in the air in a dismissive gesture. "We're constantly on the move with missions stuff and it gets pretty overwhelming, so I decided to pick a time to cry before my body decided for me." You cracked a smile at your joke and he felt his lips twitch in an attempt to match it.

He nodded in understanding. There were times when the others got loud or someone made a comment that had him holding back tears. He never really thought about how often he felt overwhelmed with everything. Most of the time he tries to push it aside or hold it back.

"Yeah, so I like to set aside time every couple of weeks to just, have a good cry." You gesture to you self and your little set-up on the floor. That's when he realized that everything around you had been placed deliberately. The water bottle for hydration, the pillow for comfort, even the tissue box and mini trash can were all within easy access.

He'd never heard of purposely setting yourself up to have "a good cry" as you called it but he could see the benefits if letting all your feelings out.

"So you...you're not hurt?" You smiled at his concern and shook your head.

"No, I'm not hurt. And I was pretty much done when you knocked anyway." He nodded along, feeling embarrassed that he had freaked out about something you considered so normal. You watched him sit there staring at the bottle in your hands like it held the answers to the universe.

"Would you like to have some floor time too? I've got a good Playlist." His eyes trailed up to your face where you held a calm smile. His gaze dropped back down and he shrugged a shoulder.

"I don't think I'd be very good at it." His voice was quiet, still embarrassed and now wondering if he should have just stayed in his reading corner. Your hand reached out to brush his arm gently.

"There's no being good or bad at it. There's just letting yourself feel." You squeezed his arm slightly and he leaned into the touch. "It can be hard to do and there's no pressure to do anything but lying on the floor and listening to sad music helps me personally so if you want to try it you totally can."

Now that he was sitting on the floor with you, in your bedroom, there was a part of him that wanted to take any excuse to stay with you. Even if that meant crying in front of you.

He chewed on his bottom lip in contemplation. You sat beside him, body relaxed with your thumb gently rubbing his sweater.

"What do I do?" He finally asked. Your responding grin was bright enough to make his heard stutter.

"Alright first things first, make sure you have comfy clothes." He looked down at his usual ensemble of sweater, and sweatpants. "Check. Next get something for hydration. If you're gonna cry you gotta replenish that water. I've still got some in mine if you like." You'd managed to drink about half the bottle and handed it to him. He took it without question and held it like a life line.

"Check." He said softy.

"Next we lay down and get comfy on the floor. C'mere." You gestured to the emtpy space next you and lay down on your back. He followed your instructions and lay down on his back beside you.

It was then that he noticed you had tiny glow in the dark stars on your ceiling. His eyes traced over the imaginary constellations as you shifted and brushed your shoulder against his.

"Alright, final step is play some deep emotional music and then let yourself feel whatever you feel." You reach up to grab your phone and press play. Instantly the room is filled with a soft piano song that he doesn't recognize. "Don't forget to breath."

You both lay on the floor quietly breathing and letting the notes from the song wash over you. Bob let's out a deep breath and feels his body start to relax into the carpet. He isn't really sure what he's supposed to be feeling but he knows he's feeling something.

You reach over again and brush your fingers against his. He wiggles his fingers back until they are hooked with yours. Not quite holding hands, but connected in a way that feels comforting. Something in his shoulders let go and a tension he didn't know he felt finally releases.

The song changes to the ballad cover of a rock song. As you lay there next to eachother he thinks about everything that's ever happened in his life. His parents, his addiction, the vault. None of it really makes him cry but it feels good to think about everything without a voice in his head bringing it up first.

A sniffle pulls his attention back to you. He glances to the side to see slow tears seeping out of your eyes. Your face isn't scrunched but relaxed as the tears slide down the side of your face into your hair. You slowly reach up to wipe one when it gets to close to your ear.

Bob watches you for a second before turning his eyes back to the stars on the ceiling. He lays there for another minute, listening to the vocals of the ballad and waiting...

But nothing happens.

His body is more relaxed but no tears come. He wants to cry. He has so many reasons to cry but it just- isn't happening. His body isn't in the moment and he doesn't feel the need to cry. He let's out a frustrated huff.

"I don't think I'm doing it right." He speaks finally, annoyed at himself that he can't do something as simple as cry. You sniffed again then turned to face him.

"You're not doing anything wrong, Bob." You told him and gave his fingers a slight squeeze. "If you don't need to cry right now then don't worry about it. We can just sit here and listen to music." He turns to look at you again and you offer him a teary smile. He feels a pull in his chest at the sight, but nods and searches the ceiling for constellations again.

"We can just...sit here." He repeats like the concept of simply existing was entirely new to him. Your fingers curl into his his again and together you simply...exist.

The next half hour is spent mostly in silence as your tears dry up and you both enjoy the peaceful atmosphere in the room. Bob didn't shed any tears but let his body relax for the first time in a long time and that was kind of the whole point wasn't it?

@may-daye here's the full one-shot for you

[lambmotifz]

i always see posts about sam’s dick being bigger, but. what if dean’s actually bigger (there’s always a possibility, but we will never know)

personally i do like to think that dean is bigger (or at least thicker) for one specific reason, and it’s the idea that sam should always struggle a bit to take him in, feeling like it’s too much, like there’s too much dean, and it hurts and makes him whine pathetically, but also it feels strangely right and some part of sam loves the pain of the stretch and the force of dean pushing inside him. because it makes him feel real and grounded and makes him feel smaller, and there’s a deeply buried part of him that enjoys feeling small and helpless

[smilesrobotlover]

I made this a while ago but never posted it for some reason. I’ve been struggling to write lately but hope y’all enjoy this one. You’ll truly see how anxious Ammon can get. Also imagine Sarah with a Scottish accent

You Know I Worry

Ammon rubbed his eyes and let out a big sigh. It was barely noon but he was already exhausted. He had been struggling to sleep for days now due to his daughter, Aryn, falling out of a tree and breaking her arm. It was a bad break, and Ammon had been doing everything he could to get her feeling better. He blamed himself for it naturally; he didn’t keep a close eye on her as she climbed and he didn’t notice that she was on a flimsy branch. He’s tried not to restrict his children due to his own anxieties, but it was like a slap to the face that the one time where he didn’t worry, someone got hurt. Aryn was fine after a few days, of course; she was already running around with the other children, even trying to climb trees again despite her arm still being in a sling. He knew his children were reckless (something they got from their mother), but by the goddesses they truly didn’t care about their well-being. It was hard for him to deal with sometimes since he was terrified of losing them. And so this anxiety kept him up at night, making him toss and turn in bed, interrupting his wife’s sleep as he moved. Occasionally he had to walk around the house just to get back to sleep, and to his dismay he would see Link out and about, not caring for his own well-being either. He couldn’t do anything for Link, he was an adult now and didn’t need his father to tell him what to do, but by the goddesses why was he out at night?

Ammon sighed at the memory of trying to encourage Link to stay inside to avoid getting a cold from the night air. Though Link didn’t speak much, he did detect a level of sass when Link asked what he was doing out. Ammon would’ve simply given up at that point but he was clothed, unlike his son who enjoyed walking around bare chested. Of course Link didn’t listen to him when he pointed it out, he never does. Ammon rubbed his face again and stared at the table blankly. This break from his job as a bodyguard has not been very relaxing. He’s been on edge the entire time, trying to keep his son from hurting himself and to keep his daughter from hurting herself further. He knows he shouldn’t worry about it, but he can’t help it.

The door opened and Ammon saw his wife, Sarah, walk through the door. She was wearing her sleeveless shirt again which revealed her toned arms, the gray color and style clashing horribly with her pinkish red skirt. Her hair was stuffed in a wrap and she looked tired. Being the blacksmith’s assistant was always so demanding for her, yet when she looked up at Ammon, she gave him a warm smile.

“My dear! You’re right where I left ya!”

Ammon smiled slightly and nodded. “I was just lost in thought,” he muttered, picking at the table with his prosthetic arm.

“Oh, I see what’s going on,” Sarah walked up to him and started rubbing his back. “You’re bothered by somethin’, aren’t ya?”

Ammon sighed. “Not by anything new.”

Sarah gave a sympathetic smile. “You worried about our wee Aryn? She’s healin’ up nicely, and I hear Link is bringing Mipha here to heal her more. She’ll be fine.”

“I know… I know she’ll be fine I just…”

“It wasn’t your fault darlin’. Don’t try to say it was.”

Ammon frowned at the ground. It was his fault, but he didn’t say anything. Sarah remained silent and she continued stroking his neck, and Ammon finally got up.

“Where is Aryn?”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “She’s over by the windmills. Don’t worry, she’s perfectly fine.”

“I just need to make sure she’s not doing anything reckless—“ Ammon gasped as Sarah’s foot jutted out, causing him to trip over her. In one motion, his wife grabbed one of his flailing arms and spun him around so he was facing her. She held his waist firmly and pulled him closer to her. Ammon glared at her knowing what she was up to. “Sarah—“

“You haven’t been gettin’ much sleep now, have you dear?”

“I— I have been struggling a little—“

“No need to lie to me. I know when you get up and leave the house.” She tilted her head and smiled at him. “I think you should get some rest, yeah?”

Ammon looked away. “I’m fine, I’m just a little… sleep deprived.”

“Well it sounds like we should take a nap.”

“No no, I hate naps, I’ll try to sleep better tonight.”

Sarah gave him a look and he shrunk away a little, knowing she was not going to drop the subject.

“Oh alright,” she said, “well I need a nap, and you’re comin’ with me!”

Ammon let out a yelp as he was suddenly swept off his feet and carried to his bed.

“Sarah don’t you dare—!” He started, but he was lightly tossed onto the bed. Sarah plopped right on top of him, already snaking her arms and legs around him, keeping him stuck between her and the bed. Ammon couldn’t help but let out a laugh as she playfully poked his stomach, finally relaxing so all her weight was on him. Ammon wiggled a bit in her hold, deciding that he didn’t have the energy to fight back, and he let out one final huff. Exhaustion finally started to get a hold of him, and he snuggled in further to his wife.

“Sarah?”

“Hm?”

“Can I at least take off my prosthetic?”

Sarah opened her eyes and smirked at Ammon. “Oh alright, I guess.”

Ammon snorted and quickly took off his prosthetic, snuggling back in with his wife. With the rhythm of her heartbeat and the warmth of her skin against his, Ammon finally got the sleep he needed.

[charliegyrth]

My Boyfriend's Moobs

After three months on his new antidepressant pills, Charles had grown moobs.

We knew that weight gain was one of the possible side effects (and we’d prepared for that), but we didn’t realize that his gain would focus almost exclusively on his chest. Sure, his stomach softened up (which I was okay with) and his ass got fatter (which I really liked), but neither of us were ready for the moobs.

They were unmistakable. He went from firm pecs to sloping, protruding tits in record time. No shirt could hide them. And they were so soft that every movement he made sent them jiggling.

It’s one thing to turn into a fat guy. I’d dated fat guys before. I found that body type quite sexy. But that’s totally different from a (mostly) skinny guy with massive, milkable tits. I mean, neither of us wanted that.

Charles seemed really self-conscious about them, and I didn’t disagree. I’d always loved how manly Charles was, and there was absolutely nothing manly about that chest.

He walked into the bedroom in his pajama top, his chest wobbling with each step. He used to go to bed shirtless, but he definitely didn’t anymore. “Babe,” he said. “I think I should go off the meds.”

He climbed into bed next to me, his chest drooping obscenely.

“Because of…” (I couldn’t even say the word.)

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“And what does your doctor say?”

Charles had negative reactions to every other medication that he tried. Most of them made his depression worse, and a few had even led to violent episodes. We knew that these pills were his last chance, and so far, they’d worked perfectly. He felt happier than he ever had. I’d seen him at his worse, and right now, outside of his tits, he was at his best.

“He’s against it,” Charles explained. “But… I don’t know. If I go cold-turkey for a bit, see what happens, then maybe…”

“No! You can’t do that.”

“But I… I look freakish.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But I do! And they’re so freaking sensitive now. I tried to wear that binder yesterday, and it was awful. I don’t want to live with these.” He jiggled his moobs with such anger, like he wanted to rip them off his body.

“Okay,” I said, “let’s weigh your options. You can’t go off the meds. We both agree about that. Right? Right?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

“Good. Now, you’ve been on these pills for three months. And how much weight have you gained?”

“Twelve pounds.”

“That’s not a lot.”

“But it’s all my chest!”

“How about this? We both talked about you getting chubby. And we’re fine with that. So why don’t you… try to gain faster?”

He looked at me like I was crazy.

“Hear me out. Bears are cute. Big bellies are really cute. Why don’t we grow a big belly on you, and then your chest won’t look so out-of-place, you know?”

It was twisted logic, I had to admit. But it made sense.

Charles considered the idea. “I could get fat all over.”

“Exactly. For some reason, your chest was the first place to get fat. Genetics, I guess. I doubt that it’ll get much bigger. So the more you eat, the more the rest of your body can catch up.”

“Okay,” he said, weirdly confident.

I jumped up and hugged him.

***

Neither of us had any experience with gaining, so we didn’t really know what we were doing. Our plan was basically to get Charles to eat continuously throughout the day.

I went shopping that afternoon, buying all the ice cream and chocolatey snacks that I knew he loved. I stocked up the fridge and kept bowls of food pretty much everywhere in the house. Every time he passed by a bowl, he had to eat something.

I sort of went a little overboard, though. If Charles walked from the bed to the front door, he’d pass by six different bowls, which meant six different snacks, followed by six more if he went back.

Somehow, he was able to manage.

I didn’t change our meals, though. We still ate three healthy meals a day. But with all the brownies and cupcakes that constantly filled him, he struggled to get through each meal. For the first week, I really had to encourage him to finish everything. After that, he got used to it.

By the end of the month, his weight had gone up nine pounds. Unfortunately, almost all of that went to his chest.

Those moobs just wouldn’t stop growing. They widened a bit, which made them appear less round (which was a good thing) but they jutted out further, too. His nipples were still the same size, though they’d somehow darkened. Neither of us knew why.

Charles felt so self-conscious that he almost gave up on his snacking. I had to remind him of the tiny bit of extra pudge on his stomach. “This is the next part to grow,” I said. “Just hang in there.”

One week and ten pounds later, his belly had indeed grown, but it still had a lot of catching up to do.

His meds were keeping his spirits high, but he struggled with his confidence. He didn’t go out of the house much, and when he did, he always wore thick sweaters despite the warm spring weather.

Once, he tried to go out with a scarf strategically draped over his moobs. I put a stop to that. It was 70 degrees out!

We still made love, and we spent each night cuddling on the couch. But I never, ever touched his chest. Whenever I accidentally grazed it (which was very easy to do), he’d shudder and twist away from me.

Finally, I’d had enough. I couldn’t avoid such a large part of him. We were lying in bed together, after a satisfying yet slightly awkward round of intercourse, and I leveled with him. “Babe, just let me touch them, okay?”

“No! They’re way too sensitive. They hurt.”

“I’ll be gentle.” I looked right into his amber eyes. “Please?”

He grumbled as he pulled down the blanket.

“Take off your shirt, please.”

“God! Fine!” He slowly pulled off his shirt, careful not to disturb his hypersensitive nipples. He still jiggled, though.

I cupped his right moob. “See? That’s not too bad.”

He bit his lip.

I weighed it in my hand. Very carefully. The edge of my palm accidentally grazed his nipple and he whimpered.

But it was a good whimper.

“Can I keep going?”

“Uh huh.”

I squeezed a little bit, his fat squishing between my fingers.

He didn’t react. He was still biting his lip.

I took my thumb and started tracing circles around his nipple.

His whole body shivered.

I couldn’t tell if he liked that, or if he was fighting through the pain. His eyes were clamped shut.

I drew faster circles. I pinched it a little.

He moaned.

I recognized that sound. It was definitely a good moan.

I got more forceful, using my thumb and two fingers to rub his hardened tip like I was started a campfire.

He writhed. Bucked his hips. His lower half was under the blanket, but I knew that he’d gotten hard.

I pulled my hand away and he froze. His breathing was heavy.

Then I leaned forward and placed my mouth on his chest. I flicked his nipple with my tongue, causing him to mutter my name. He was writhing again.

When I started to suck, he whimpered twice. I’d just made him cum.

Then I pulled away. “Seriously?”

“What?” He looked guilty.

“You’ve been growing these things for months, and this is the first time you’ve let me do that? Jesus.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Well, did you like that?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

“Well, embarrassing or not, we’re definitely going to do that again.”

“Okay,” he mumbled.

For the sake of fairness, I kissed his other nipple a little, flicked it with my tongue, and then left him alone with his thoughts.

***

The next morning, I woke up to find Charles staring at his reflection. He was holding his moobs, squishing them together.

“Morning, babe.”

“I still don’t like ’em,” he said, both to me and to himself.

I crawled out of bed and joined him in front of the mirror. I stood behind him, my hands wrapping around his chubby stomach. Then, before he could stop me, I raised my palms to his moobs and rubbed them. The sudden friction made him weak in the knees and he almost fell.

“Stop!”

“Still don’t like them?” I kept rubbing.

“Jesus, Dave.” He spun around to face me. “Fine, okay? They feel great. But I’m not going to stop gaining. I need to start looking more normal.”

“Good. Totally on board. But can you please stop being ashamed? You should feel lucky.”

“Whatever.”

After that, he seemed a bit more confident. He stopped wearing sweaters (thank God) and instead wore loose T-shirts. Sometimes, when he was moving too quickly around the house, he’d suddenly freeze, like a dog spotting a squirrel or something. I noticed him doing that a couple times before I asked him what had happened.

“Too much friction,” he explained.

As spring transitioned to summer, his weight climbed another 20 pounds. His stomach got most of that. It was starting to droop over his pants, which pleased him a lot. That meant his gut was finally coming in. His ass hadn’t grown much, but it was starting to dimple with cellulite. Another bit of progress.

But his moobs expanded, too. They were hanging a bit more. God, they were so fun to suck on.

I had no more conflicted thoughts about them. Anything that could give my boyfriend that much pleasure had to be beautiful.

And they were. Big and beautiful.

I just wish he could see that.

That summer, we spent every evening together on the couch, watching movies. He’d stuff himself with donuts or cake and I’d curl up next to him and suck his moob. He’d learned to control his whole-body shivers, but he still loved the feeling. I’d learned how to pace myself so that I’d stop before he came in his pants again. Sometimes I got carried away and he did, but only sometimes.

***

By August, Charles was officially obese. He’d pushed himself to 247 pounds. Not bad for a guy who was only 5’9”. He had a full-on gut now, and his ass had absolutely blossomed. It had gotten so wide that he’d started bumping into things when he walked. Dimpled all over, his thighs were works of art.

Our plan had officially worked. He was fat all over.

Of course, his chest kept growing, too. His areolas were as wide as small potatoes, and his nipples were three times as long as mine. With even more sensitivity, I had to be extra careful with them. Even the slightest touch elicited whimpers. And if I sucked on them for longer than a couple seconds, he couldn’t control his moaning.

Sometimes, when I was on my computer doing work, I’d hear noises from the other room and know that he was finally playing with them himself.

On a particularly hot day, we were sitting together and I suggested that he start going shirtless around the house. Back when he was skinny, he never wore a shirt in the summertime.

“I don’t know…” he said.

“Don’t you want to? Easy access.”

That was all it took. He slid out of his shirt and never put it back on.

His ripe chest was on full display, and he leaned forward, presenting himself, waiting for me to touch him.

“So. Do you finally like your moobs?”

He didn’t answer for a long time. Then he sighed. “Yeah. I do.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“I know.”

He had by far the biggest chest of anyone we knew, male or female. And he was finally ready to be proud of it.

He shoved another donut into his mouth.

“You know, if you keep gaining, your moobs will just get bigger and bigger, right?”

He laughed, causing his whole body (not just his chest) to jiggle. “That’s why I’m doing it.”

I climbed on top of him. Like I’d done many times before, and like I’d continue to do many, many times afterward, I wrapped my mouth around his nipple and sucked.

The End.

You can find all my stories here.

[mochineesan]

Some WaterPrince/Snegulus HC? Iguess, cuz i love them sm

[13y/o Severus finally decides to give a chance to Black's younger brother who has been missing him for a whole year for no apparent reason.]

Severus, struggling: So... What's your favorite hobby?

Big, glowing, demonic grey eyes that somehow don't look devilish on his angelic face, 12y/o Regulus: Stalking

Severus: oh (What the hell is wrong with all the purebloods?) i like... Potions and DADA

Regulus, with a terrifying smile: I know.

――――――――――――✮――――――――――――

Sirius: Hey reg, who's the hottest person you can think of?

Regulus, sobbing: Severus

Sirius, confused: Reggie, Snivellus isn't here right now, you can be honest with me.

Regulus: mon prince is a ten

Sirius: HE'S IS A SIX AT BEST!

Regulus: YOU TAKE THAT BACK

――――――――――――✮――――――――――――

11y/o Regulus: oh boy that girl is so pretty

Regulus: i think i'm gonna ask her out on a date

11y/o Barty:

Regulus: hey did you maybe wanna grab a bite-

12y/o Severus: FUCK YOU

Regulus: said the fuck you girl, stealing my heart and straights up throwing it like a quarterback (he's just more smitten than before)

――――――――――――✮――――――――――――

Regulus: Oh Barty, you just don't understand.

Barty: No, I don't understand it, and I don't want to-

Regulus: he is so...

Barty: Aloof? Hermit? Grumpy? Annoying? Self-centered? Half-blood?

Regulus: Perfect, intelligent, cunning, skilled. They are always in the library. Did you know it was Lucius who asked him to be part of the knights? Normally you have to prove yourself to them. But he just had to exist and they allowed him to go to their meetings. His eyes are incredible, as black as infinite space, dark, intense, and mysterious. So interesting. And his voice-

Barty, Grunting: Why did I sit in the same train compartment as you?

Regulus: And did you see his waist? No- don't look at it, don't look at him like that, no

Barty: He's a half-blood! Your mother won't accept him.

Regulus: That's the best! Mother said he's the son of one of her former friends from Hogwarts, mother said he looked a lot like her.

Barty: I keep thinking-

Regulus: And he's friends with that Evan Rosier.

Barty: Where do you say we can find them both?

――――――――――――✮――――――――――――

I love Regulus Simp/Obsessed with Severus. It's my weakness .

[stupidlittlespirit]

something about Ford being book smart, but lacking common sense is so... charming (other than the negative side effects of that, ie: giving us space rabies!)

Having to explain a concept that seems like common sense to most, especially in a social context??? He's so awkward it hurts. And I love it

However, an unfair advantage he has is pretty privilege, as well as such an outstanding vocabulary that he's just unintentionally smooth no matter what he says. (IMO THAT PART IS CANON. HE JUST WAS SAYING STUFF IN THE SHOW THAT WAS SO HOT, HIS CONFIDENCE IS DISGUSTINGLY ATTRACTIVE)

Him missing social cues, especially flirting would be so frustrating, but it also would be so much fun to see how far you could push it until he finally caught on. AAAUUGH

Right?? I think it's fun to balance him with that aspect. The canon gives us a glimpse at that but it often frames it as being negatively neglectful, and while I do think he is neglectful at times, there's something really nice about taking the negative edge off of that and making it a bit more of a quirk in some ways.

It's also a nice way to bring him back down to Earth gently, too. He truly believes he's the smartest in the room and in most ways he is so it's understandable, but getting to softly backhand that assertion to him over something he isn't so good on, like emotional intelligence, makes for a good juxtaposition. It's a nice way of reminding him that there's always more to learn, no matter how high your IQ is.

Describing him as having pretty privilege is SO funny ilsjdjkdkdfdsf and true!!!!!!!!!! He is pretty! When I write him, I do really enjoy letting him shine within his area of expertise and letting that confidence come naturally to him, but then snatching it away when he has to step outside of his comfort zone. He comes across as smooth when he's on one about his passions but he comes off the tracks almost in a panicked way when it shifts into the social-emotional aspect of interactions. To me, that's very charming. I really like that he's capable of so much but he falters when he's trying to express himself beyond those limits.

My partner is smart with theory but is also autistic so struggles to handle social stuff, whereas I'm the exact reverse. Stepping in to take over the social reins is really fun for me and I think I end up writing that into Ford and Reader's relationship. Reader is much more social and outgoing than he is, and Ford admires that. Thinking on your feet and knowing the 'right' thing to say is difficult and it's a skill by itself.

For Ford, or at least the way I write him, I think you would have to say it directly to him in order to make him understand. He won't pick up hints particularly well unless you're especially obvious with them, for a number of reasons. He thinks you're listening to him yap on about physics because you like physics and you think he's a good teacher, not because you enjoy his passion or find it attractive. You have to outright say 'god I want you so bad' for him to clock that that's actually why you're listening to him speak. That's not to say he won't pick up on hints ever, but just that it isn't something he consciously looks for so doesn't expect to need to pick it up, if that makes sense.

And I like that. I'm a very direct person naturally and I don't enjoy having to go all around the houses to get someone's attention. I personally prefer being straightforward (tactfully) and have found things work out better that way. So idk, for me I don't want my actions to be read into, I'll tell you if I feel a certain way and go from there. And with Ford, he's kind of ideal in that sense. He seems like the kind of guy who respects directness even if he doesn't like the answer. He doesn't want to be strung along and lied to for the sake of social expectations. That just makes things harder for everyone.

There has definitely been some friction in the MtB universe over that, though.....

[kkoct-ik]

hey! idk if it's okay to ask, it's okay to ignore this. how did you come to terms with being trans and decide to transition with the identity confusion? i'm not sure what i have going on specifically but i'm struggling with that. like if a part has dysphoria/ids as trans but another one doesn't, how do you know if you're trans? it isn't uncommon for parts to have different genders, isn't it? i imagine it depends a lot on the individual but i'd like to hear if you have any thoughts on the matter

oh im glad you asked this!! i actually have a lot to say on this from my experiences. im so happy to answer this

overall i think people can do anything. if by 'being trans' you mean express yourself, literally just do it. you dont have to justify yourself or have a 'legitimate reason' to shift your identity or presentation or experiment. youre always growing, always changing, humans are complex and awesome. dont shy away from being colourful and multifaceted.

that said i do know medical transition with dissociative stuff is kind of a hot topic because of its 'irreversibility', and i do have things to say, so ill ramble about my experiences with being a pwdid who has chosen to medically transition.

to contextualise myself ive been 'trans' since i was 12/13(?). this is when i first started presenting myself as male and using a new name. since then ive gone through a few different male primary identities but i've stayed pretty consistently ftm. when pitching myself to healthcare providers, i can pretty easily tell them that ive been unwaveringly socially presenting as male since i was 12.

that said when it came to my 20s and the prospect of actually booking those appointments and securing masculinising hrt i kind of had an identity crisis. because although my primary identities have been male for a long time, theyve also always been very kinda miserable and felt kinda wrong and disengaged (which makes me believe a lot of my binary maleness is a way i reject myself. which made me think, if the gender dysphoria is a dissociative symptom, won't healing my trauma get rid of it..?). moreover when ive been in certain female parts ive felt comfortable and happy, so clearly girlhood in general is to an extent grounding to me. but still, the notion of being seen as and treated as a woman makes me feel bad, even when in female parts. my pronouns are definitely he/him.

so i had no idea 'what' i was. i really felt the possibility that down the line id have a totally different gender, and maybe not be 'trans' at all, so i worried about healing my trauma and then regretting medically transitioning.

what i ended up doing was just a lot of introspection into my identity. i decided to accept that i was allowed to make choices and exercise my autonomy for my present self, without being paralysed about a possible future. i knew if i just kept waiting and being afraid, i was going to remain disconnected from myself, forever wondering if transitioning could have made me feel better. i reckoned even if i did detransition in the future, i would still respect my past decision, because i was going to put a lot of thought into this decision and make it for myself and my happiness with the information i have now, as i should.

i ended up frequenting the actual_detrans sub for a bit to make sure i was open to the possibility to changing my mind in the future, and also so i could be assured i wasnt just operating under sunk cost fallacy by locking in and medically transitioning because i felt like being 'wrong' wasnt an option. i also reflected on my identity as a whole, and figured collectively, im definitely nonbinary in some sense (luckily, im at a point in recovery where i am relatively integrated, and thus can piece together my 'big picture' and come to this conclusion. this will probably be harder for others...). when considering all my parts: i enjoy regarding myself as a 'girl', a 'man', and in a masculine/butch way. so i took that when working out how to become 'myself' without worrying about using singular or binary labels.

i decided from that point that i would enjoy the effects of testosterone, but dont necessarily want any surgeries done. i dont hate any part of my body, but it does feel strange, and i want to grow into it in a masculine way. my teenage female puberty never really felt 'real', and i was very estranged from my body. looking at myself, i still felt prepubescent in some sense. so a second puberty, one that i was actually ready for and chose, was appealing to me. for me hrt isnt about fixing anything i deem wrong with me, and is more about showing myself i can be me and feeling more at home within myself.

and as a progress report. since starting hrt (9 months ago) i really have found all the changes really joyful, and ive finally started feeling like i own my identity, body, and myself. i see myself as adorable and cute now. since the voice drop and hairiness i feel like an even happier 'girl' and more comfortable as myself. ultimately im really glad i didnt stay paralysed with my 'what-ifs', and im also glad i didnt lock myself into a conventional transition timeline (ie incl. surgeries) without pausing and taking the time to assess who i am what it really is i want out of this care. i think i made a really good call.

so yeah. i hope!!! my ramblings help at all. i do understand the struggle. hopefully me breaking down my process can be assuring or illuminating. i believe in you anon and i hope you work things out

[fosermi]

So uh, got distracted then I had the thought of including eclipse in the sacrificed chaos au so he's here now I guess... but these are the designs!

Left to right we have:

Shadow, the last Hero Guardian.

Silver, the Guardian's son Apprentice.

Sonic, the personification of Chaos.

Unit Nine "Tails", the Caretaker of Heros.

Eclipse, leader of the Red Arms. (Please don't confuse this with the black arms, totally different :D)

[ganondoodle]

okay now, im a little pissed off- i wont be reblogging the post bc its and old shitpost and i dont want to attract more notes on it but

i am so fucking, and i mean FUCKING, tired of all the shit ass excuses some people try to make to defend ganondorf being a nothing burger character

this dumb ass comment really goes all in too, and here i painfully see how much damage skyward sword has done to him bc people cant fuking think i guess "as of skysw he doesnt have an true motivation of his own- hes evil just bc he is there nothing else to it" shut the fuck up man oh my god, you dont think thats a problem? you just accept that? no no OOT also already showed hes nothing but evil tm uwu he doesnt have a reason - AND THATS A PROBLEM YOU ABSOLUTE BUFFOON

if you think that giving ganondorf a miniscule amount of ANY sort of sensical reason to do what he does, a backstory, fucking anything 'changes him into a different character'- HOW in the FUCK do you not see the problem here

and my favorite (refernceing a different character) "If hes evil, like ganondorf, which means an absolute evil, then his backstory wouldn't matter a lick" HELLO??? HELL FUCKING O???? "absolute evil" do you know how you sound like??? also EVERYTHING MATTERS oh my god, but no no of course it wouldnt matter and make no difference if you knew more about a character, no, actually, knowing less of a character is better even! why even write anything tbh? you just give them a label of good or evil and then you dont need anythign else heehoo i cannot believe this shit is now hanging on one of my posts, im struggeling to even dismantle it bc its just so goddamn stupid what do you mean it woudnt matter???????? if i knew ganondorf had a personality (especially totk bc its the worst case), if i knew he had loved ones once upon a time, he laughed and was allowed to feel like a person, whatever made him go down a bad path to end up making you defeat him would mAKE IT ALL HAVE MORE OF AN IMPACT (this is assuming that whatever path it is leads him to oppose you but also .. it doesnt have to mean hes evil or done all bad deeds, guess what, you the player could also be playing the real "villain", wouldnt that be a change of pace .. or it wouldnt, depending on how you look at it (oh NO shift of perspective???) it already is, even if i personally prefer it ALL being a spectrum and not just a label of good and bad and just rolling with this badly definable bunch of words)

do you know why i didnt give a flying fuck about the final battle in totk?? bc its all fucking NOTHING, ganondorf is a goal post with a face that got "BAD GUY" written on it in big red letters stapled on it and nothign more, you cant care about nothing and the point of any story at all is to fucking CARE

honestly a reason why i hate both "redeemable" and the good and evil descriptor is that its so ... limiting, redeemable, what does that even mean really?? it just sounds like you are applying some weirdo christian sins to make up for with good deeds shit onto characters that are, or should be, meant to make you feel something and be a pinnacle of jesus instead, like a checkbox, a scoreboard, and now its being mainly used as a negative word to dismiss legitimate criticism of boring or shitty writing bc giving any character any depth at all now automatically means you want to redeem them and thus absolve them of their sins or some shit, make them uwu perfect little good guys which is not the point (even if there are people like that, sicne guess what, theres lots of different ideas of things all around, inlcuding this hellhole- and yes there are shitty ways to give a character depth! the problem then isnt the motivation to give them depth, its the WRITING of it)

the whole good and evil thing also is just so darn limiting, what does evil even mean, who defines it matters alot, what does good mean, the definition is also really really bendable- link kills more living things than ganondorf ever has yet he isnt evil (bc hes on the side of hyrule, the designated good gouys uwu which means anythign they do is okay), the royal family having a torture dungeon and persecuting the shiekah into submission doesnt make them evil uwu but the gerudo have to suffer for the "crime" of having birthed ganondorf at some point for all eternity i guess

(as well as the very very obviously stupid turns and things ganondorf does and doesnt do literally just bc they needed him to do soemthign you could call bad even if it makes no sense at all, why would he attack his own fucking people out of nowhere, why destroy everything, literally what for, why give himself up if he wants to rule its jsut as stupidly nonsensical as the dumb magic pebbles that just gives random powers out just to force the outcome they wanted to happen)

redeemable, saveable, whatever, giving a character depth doesnt have to mean you want them to join the good tm guys either and im so fucking tired of this way of thinking, EVEN considering that hey ... it would be cool actually to have a ganondorf as the main guy, but we all should know that would only happen if he is a servant of hyrule, which i would consider to be more out of character than ... GIVIING HIM ANY SORT OF DEPTH??? to sympthaize, be conflicted or see the guy you need to defeat has a point is like, not a bad thing?? you can make someone be the most sympathetic guy of all time and still make you fight him ??? and i will repeat again, ganondorf being a nothing burger (espeically in totk) hurts EVERYTHING, everything suffers from shitty writing and lack of writing, the thing that link and zelda are almost just as flat istn .. isnt good either?? its also bad but hes got it way worse (and the racism oh bOI)!!! (there is a reason why ww ganondorf is widely seen as the best one and itse literally bc he says ONE or two lines that may make you think omg .. he is person.... he might FEEL OoO- man the bar really is below the ground isnt it)

and they dont even care to try to make him actually be dislikable, he doesnt tease zelda with killing her father or soemthing, he doesnt have any sort of connection to any of them, every line he says (in totk) is like a prepackaged microwave villain line, you could apply it to anyone, even rauru and it wouldnt seem out of place tbh (which is BAD), more depth would have connected him to the story, the world the literal everything which means people care which means a better story i dont know how to explain to you that you should be able to care about characters??????? he gets the stamp of "evil guy" on his head and they expect you to be happy with that, accept any stupid thing they make him do and others say about him without question? do you NOT feel at least a little insulted???

and like, this is still written, this is a piece of fiction, they had to sit down and write all that, or .. well, NOT write it, they decided to do it like this, despite the ocean of potential in front of them, you could do so many itneresting thigns with this world and they jsut dont and then theres people like this that are so entrechned into this boring ass writing they think that its the point, liek the point is its bad hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

"but hes not meant to be a person he jsut ev-" SHUT the hell up, nevermind the whole curse thing is an englsih trnaslation thing and also perhaps not meant to be taken literally, you think that makes it ok? that well there was a demon once (who also doesnt get any sort of depth btw!!! problem shoved one place over but still the same problem!) so that means hes not actually a person but idk a demon puppet or soemthing- doesnt change anything imo, are you not bored? are you not tired? are you happy with not thinking? not being engaged with at all? to see chaarcters to utterly flavorless you fall asleep and choke on them? i am not, i love thinking, im addicted to it even, i think every day even, right now too, they got a convenient excuse to put not even the barest fucking minimum of writing care into a character and you are jsut going with it!! where are your tastebuds buddy??

[toxxtt]

happy birthday to the blorbo to end all blorbos!!!!!