#♡ ​[ stinky ]

[gojoest]

sneaking my head under his shirt and kissing his belly

[katsukistofu]

brotha eughhh

[beetled-juice]

Currently feverish and sick, so this may not make any sense to anyone but me. But in the movie, keatlejuice makes a quip about how he was there during the black death - in my mind this means he's intimately familiar with how illness and disease affect breathers. And while before it was funny at best and kind of annoying at worst, he now actually has a breather he doesn't want to be sick, especially if it could possibly end with them no longer breathing. Add this to the fact that this loser has the emotional maturity of a rotting cabbage, and you have the perfect recipe for disaster whenever you get sick.

He's trying to play it cool, but he's hovering like crazy and jerking his head up every time you cough or sneeze. He's burning through cigarettes faster than you can keep track of, though between your chest cold and your asthma you have to remind him to keep it as far away from you as possible (which he definitely doesn't like but after triggering more than one coughing fit it seems to get through his thick head that it's necessary). He won't sit still either, pacing around your house and trying to find something to distract him from this annoying bubble of worry in his chest. He hates feeling this way, hates that some stupid breather has managed to worm their way under his skin and lodge themselves in his unbeating heart, but he can't seem to pull himself away from you.

He definitely won't be the attentive loving type when you're sick, at least not at first. Maybe with time and a wearing down of the mask he's built up all these centuries he'll be better about it, but for now he's trapped between the uncaring jackass persona he's perfected and the desire to mold himself along your body and make sure your heart keeps beating beneath his ear. So you get this weird in-between: intense hovering and vigilance with a bitchy attitude and crappy bedside manner that almost makes you want to kill him. But it never escapes your notice that the blankets stay up around your shoulders and your cold water never goes room temperature no matter how long you sleep, and that's enough for now.

[ohimsummer]

Smash or pass

Choso and Mahito

Smash Choso this wasn’t even a real competition

I’ll smash mahito(‘s face into the curb with the heel of my demonia boots)

[umeminyan]

Wait do you still write?

hello !! yesyes i do have a few wips but i’ve decided to delete my writing sideblog in a slump hahsjdhs ( + i’m not very pleased with how the blog looks overall ) but fingies crossed i will be back soon !!!

[communiis]

👀👀👀

[boyfrawd]

I hate all of the men in my family

[sorcerous-caress]

The Devil works hard but Astarion dick-riders work harder huh

[gojoest]

i think satoru likes to celebrate all the tiny milestones in your relationship like your first ever date anniversary, your second date anniversary, the third, the forth and etc etc, the first time you watched a movie together, the first time you ever held hands, the first time you hugged, the first time you kissed, the first time you called him by his first name, the first time you had sex, the first time you stayed at his house, the first time he spent the night at yours, the first time you cooked for him, the first time you left a piece of clothing at his house, the first time you wore his shirt, the first time you said i love you, the first time you fought, the first time you used a pet name, the first time he met your family & friends, the first time you met his, and the list goes on and on, growing bigger each day. he remembers everything about you and him — you together, and it’s easy to keep track of it without even writing it down somewhere or setting a reminder bc you’re the sun and he’s the earth revolving around you

[v-anrouge]

roblox memes to make memes with

CREDITS FOR THE SPRITES: @alchemivich

[ampleappleamble]

Well!

After like 30 straight hours of trying to soften and dilate my cervix so I can give birth, I ended up having to get a C-section anyway, because of course I did!

(Warning: uncomfortable medical situations described in some detail under the cut)

And my dudes, that shit was wild.

We had just ordered some food, I was getting carefully repositioned in my hospital bed to encourage the baby to straighten out so he could come out crown first and not chin first, and then... the monitor does some beeps. My nurse looks at the monitors the way a well-trained German shepherd looks at a burglar, and calls in another nurse. Baby's heart rate is rapidly falling. Why? No time for questions, get into this other position to see if it'll unfuck baby's heart rate. Like four more nurses come in and help me get on my hands and knees. It's not working.

Call the doctor.

Doctor comes in and she says, "Aw, dude. I'm sorry. You were doing so good. You were holding up well, your contractions were regular and strong, you took every setback like a champ. But... you've been dilated at 5cm for like, forever. We need you open at 10cm to have a fighting chance of getting him outta there naturally. And now his heart rate is getting all scary! I hate to say it, but... we should probably do a C-section."

In doctor speak, this means: we should definitely do a C-section. Like, right now.

A nurse had the consent to treat form ready for me to sign before the doctor even started talking. I signed it, and events proceeded quickly. Spirited away to the OR, they strap me down, numb me up, and get to work. My partner is with me, trying to soothe me while adrenaline and anesthesia make my whole upper half shake and my teeth chatter wildly. I don't feel any pain at all, but a lot of very odd sensations of pushing, pulling, tugging, pressing, all on my abdomen and what's inside it. It's very, very disconcerting and uncomfortable.

When we hear our son cry, my partner and I start crying too. That's him.

That's our son.

He's whisked away to the NICU to monitor him and help improve his breathing, and as per my request, my spouse accompanies him while I remain behind and get stitched up, a process that seems to take at least twice as long as cutting me did. While lying there trying to dissociate, I feel a very familiar and horrible sensation: thin, watery saliva rapidly pooling up in my mouth.

"You okay there?" my doctor asks. She had just finished up a phone call from another doctor, on speakerphone, while she was still working on me, regarding a patient of his with a possible ectopic pregnancy. Badass.

"I... may vomit," I manage to reply, looking around me and trying to decide whether it would be less troublesome to the OR staff for me to puke over the right side of my operating table or the left.

"You're feeling like you might throw up?" she asks, still working on me like the absolute boss she is.

"Yes," I reply, deciding that the left side would probably be better to barf over owing to the IV stands on that side probably being easier to clean than the sophisticated surgical machinery to my right.

And... that's apparently the end of that conversation? My doctor says nothing more on the matter, and I do not end up vomiting.

Anyway, they finally, mercifully finish sewing me up and they wheel me off to my recovery room, where I learn that my newborn son weighs 5 pounds and 10 ounces and is 19 inches long. My... son. My baby boy. The dude who's been living inside my body for the past 37 weeks, the guy I made. My son. My partner is still with him, and according to all the nurses' reports, he is utterly enamored. Can't take his eyes off of him, can't stop holding onto his little hands, his tiny feet. The NICU staff instruct him not to stroke baby's back like one might a cat or dog because that will overstimulate him; instead, gently lay a hand in the middle of his back and keep it there, still. He does, and then whenever he tries to take his hand away, our son fusses and whines in protest. He sends me pictures of our baby, wrinkly and wet-looking and cone-headed, squinting into the big, bright, new world he's found himself in, and clutching my husband's finger in one tiny, chubby hand.

I cannot go see my little dude in person just yet because I need to fully regain feeling in my legs and feet so I can safely get myself into a wheelchair. Outside, near the river, someone sets off a bunch of fireworks, one after another after another, for seemingly no reason. People do this sometimes where I live, just fire off Roman candles and bottle rockets by the riverbank downtown on a Thursday evening for no real reason I can determine.

I decide they're celebrating my son's birthday, of course.

[hanrinz]

Me when I reassure u

you don't.

[peachyuus-arc]

munday, but it’s my son instead of me

[kyaneoos]

@fogdweller​ sent: Éric never felt as if any day could not be turned into something to celebrate over; he'd go out of his way to prepare meals & such for his partner if he had a long day (or rather night) at work with the Mafia any day, but this time was a special occasion: Chuuya's birthday. It was only in the Frenchman's habits to make a big deal out of it, naturally preparing one of the redhead's favourite meals, but going all out with a full-on 5-course dinner, expensive red wine & tasteful decorations such as candles. A present had also been prepared ー as long as Nakahara would feel loved & appreciated, anything was worth the effort. Now, it was just a waiting game for the man to come home ー & once that he heard the door open, Schmitt just moved over with open arms, cupping the man's face & spoiling him with kisses peppered all over his face, ❝Joyeux anniversaire, mon chouchou!!❞ the dark-haired man chirped happily, pressing another peck to his forehead before kissing his lips gently to welcome him back home.

Chuuya wasn’t exactly the type of man to celebrate his birthday as others usually did. It wasn’t because he didn’t like his birthday, more so he didn’t understand why everyone made such a big deal out of it. He got one year older, so what? But the redhead should have known better than to expect the same reaction from his boyfriend, Éric. He had nearly forgotten what day it was when he walked into their shared home. “Éric! I’m hom-” He was quickly cut off by the feeling of hands on his cheeks. His eyes met his beloved’s and he sighed, smiling up at the other man. The kisses he received were met with gentle laughter as he kicked off his shoes. Stepping out of the genkan, Chuuya was more than happy to return the kiss to his lips he had finally gotten. 

“Thank you, mon amour,” He beamed at his boyfriend, quick to interlace his hands with Éric’s as they walked into the main living area of their home. His eyebrows shot up at the sight of candles and dinner. Right, today was supposed to be special. He just wasn’t used to being treated so lavishly. “Is this all... for me?” he asked, eyes a little wide. Now it was his turn to grab his boyfriend by the cheeks and give him a kiss. An entire dinner, just for getting one year older. Maybe birthdays weren’t so bad. And maybe Chuuya liked being spoiled just a little bit. 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” It was a genuine question. Never would Chuuya have thought that after all these years he would have landed a partner who was this sweet. Truly, he felt as if he didn’t deserve this adorable surgeon as his own, but he was going to keep him. That he knew. He isn’t one to brag (he totally is), but he knew no one else whose partner would cook them a 5 course meal. He truly had won the lottery.

“I’m not sure what it was, but I’m glad I did. Thank you, my love. For all of this. Now, let’s not let dinner get to cold, hm?” 

[communiis]

“im not oc friendly due to past experiences”

:) mm... block’d!

[poweys]

     Denji  is  here  .  She’s  preparing  for  a  fight  to  the  death  .