#Cold and Cough Prevention Tips

[spartanmemesmedical]

सर्दी-जुकाम और घरेलू उपाय

सर्दी-जुकाम एक सामान्य लेकिन कष्टदायक समस्या है जो किसी भी मौसम में हो सकती है। यह खासकर तब परेशानी का सबब बनता है जब मौसम बदलता है। सर्दी-जुकाम होने पर शरीर में कमजोरी महसूस होती है और सामान्य दिनचर्या में विघ्न डालता है। इसकी शुरुआत अक्सर नाक बहने, गले में खराश और धीरे-धीरे बुखार चढ़ने के साथ होती है।खैर, घबराने की जरूरत नहीं है क्योंकि सर्दी-जुकाम के लिए कई कारगर घरेलू उपाय हैं जो आपको इस…

[kumaryadav19]

🌧️ Monsoon Magic or Health Hazard? Stay Safe This Rainy Season with Expert Advice from the Best General Physician in Pragathinagar! 🌿

Monsoon is a season that brings life to nature — the scent of rain-kissed earth, lush greenery, and a refreshing break from the scorching heat. But while the rains bring relief and beauty, they also usher in a surge of seasonal illnesses. From common colds and fevers to waterborne and vector-borne diseases, monsoon can take a toll on your health if you're not careful.

Let’s explore how to enjoy the monsoons without falling prey to illness — with expert insights from the best general physician in Pragathinagar.

☔ Why Monsoon Increases the Risk of Illness

The warm, wet conditions of monsoon are perfect for bacteria, viruses, and fungi to thrive. Contaminated water, poor drainage, and increased humidity create the ideal environment for infections. During this season, the most common illnesses include:

Cold and Flu

Dengue and Malaria

Typhoid and Jaundice

Stomach Infections

Skin Infections and Fungal Issues

According to the best general physician in Pragathinagar, many of these health issues can be prevented with simple precautions and timely medical attention.

🍲 Eat Right, Stay Bright – Monsoon Diet Tips

Your immune system needs to be strong to fight off infections during monsoon. Here’s what the best general physician in Pragathinagar recommends:

Go Light and Fresh: Choose freshly cooked, warm meals. Avoid street food or pre-cut fruits.

Hydration is Key: Drink plenty of boiled or filtered water. Add immunity boosters like tulsi or ginger tea.

Avoid Raw Leafy Greens: They often carry dirt and microorganisms. Cook them thoroughly.

Boost Immunity: Include citrus fruits, turmeric, garlic, and Vitamin C-rich foods.

A well-balanced diet goes a long way in building resistance against seasonal bugs.

🧼 Hygiene Habits for a Healthy Monsoon

Cleanliness during the rainy season is non-negotiable. Water stagnation, wet clothes, and damp corners in the house can lead to fungal infections, mold growth, and skin diseases.

Best general physician in Pragathinagar stresses the importance of:

Washing hands frequently with soap or sanitizers

Keeping feet dry and wearing waterproof footwear

Changing wet clothes promptly to prevent fungal infections

Cleaning drinking water sources and avoiding uncovered water containers

Simple hygiene habits can save you from days of illness.

🦟 The Mosquito Menace – Don’t Take It Lightly!

Monsoon brings not just rain, but also mosquitoes — carriers of dengue, malaria, and chikungunya. Stagnant water in pots, drains, or open containers becomes breeding grounds for these vectors.

To protect your family, the best general physician in Pragathinagar suggests:

Use mosquito repellents and nets

Keep windows and doors closed in the evenings

Regularly clean coolers, plant trays, and containers

Wear full-sleeved clothes especially during mornings and evenings

Early signs like persistent fever, chills, or rashes should never be ignored — timely diagnosis can be life-saving.

🏠 Indoor Safety – Because Not All Germs Are Outside

Staying indoors doesn’t guarantee safety from monsoon health issues. Dampness, mold growth, and indoor air pollution are real threats. According to the best general physician in Pragathinagar, allergies and respiratory issues spike during this time.

Here’s how to keep your home monsoon-ready:

Use dehumidifiers or camphor to reduce dampness

Air out rooms regularly

Clean AC filters and fans

Avoid carpets and heavy curtains that retain moisture

Indoor safety plays a crucial role in preventing long-term health issues during monsoon.

👩‍⚕️ When to See a Doctor?

It’s easy to dismiss a runny nose or slight fever as “just weather change.” But ignoring early symptoms can lead to complications. If you notice:

Fever lasting more than 2 days

Vomiting or diarrhea

Yellowing of eyes or skin

Persistent cough or chest congestion

Skin rashes or unusual itching

Don’t delay — consult the best general physician in Pragathinagar for a thorough checkup and prompt treatment.

🌿 Home Remedies – Are They Safe?

While grandma’s remedies like ginger tea and steam inhalation offer comfort, self-medication can be dangerous. The best general physician in Pragathinagar advises using home remedies as supportive care only, not as primary treatment.

Some safe home remedies include:

Tulsi & Honey: Great for sore throat relief

Turmeric Milk: Helps with immunity and sleep

Steam Inhalation: Clears nasal passages

Clove & Salt Gargle: Eases throat infections

But if symptoms persist, professional medical intervention is a must.

👨‍⚕️ Why Choose the Best General Physician in Pragathinagar?

In a season where common illnesses can quickly escalate, timely and accurate diagnosis is everything. Whether it’s a child with a stomach bug, an elderly person with a persistent cough, or a young adult suffering from dengue, the best general physician in Pragathinagar is your first line of defense.

Here’s what sets them apart:

Expertise in seasonal illness management

Compassionate, patient-centered care

Access to advanced diagnostics and lab facilities

Personalized advice on nutrition, immunity, and hygiene

Their experience ensures that you're not just treated, but truly cared for.

🏃‍♂️ Healthy Lifestyle = Happy Monsoon

Let’s not forget — monsoon is meant to be enjoyed! Jump in a few puddles, sip some hot chai by the window, read that long-pending book, or take a mindful walk in the rain. Just keep your health at the forefront.

Stay active with light exercises or yoga, sleep well, manage stress, and get routine checkups. When in doubt, reach out to the best general physician in Pragathinagar who can guide you with practical, season-specific health tips.

💬 Final Thoughts

The monsoon may be beautiful, but it’s also unpredictable. Don’t let infections, allergies, or fevers dampen your spirits. By being aware, eating right, keeping clean, and consulting the best general physician in Pragathinagar when needed, you can truly make the most of this magical season.

Stay dry, stay safe, and stay healthy — rain or shine! ☀️🌧️

[onefite]

Natural Methods to Treat and Prevent Seasonal Colds and Flus

‍ As the seasons change, it’s not uncommon to be plagued by the dreaded cold and flu symptoms. But what if there was a natural way to treat and prevent these seasonal nuisances? Look no further! In this article, we’ll explore the best natural methods to keep those sniffles and coughs at bay. With a focus on holistic wellness, our brand has perfected the art of combating colds and flus with the…

[vatelixx]

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone).

───────────────

There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

[guideoflife]

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife # 8- Drama Queen

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Can be read with others in series or alone

Warnings: allusions to sex, mostly fluff and comedy

- - - -

Its been a pretty quiet evening, and with you home, thats saying something. Joel's minding his business watching Tv when you come plopping down next to him on the couch. He doesn't acknowledge you.

So you scoot over and sigh heavily. Still No reaction from the male.

You feint a yawn and snuggle your head on his shoulder. He smiles a little, but doesn't look at you. You rub affectionately like a kitten.

Nothing.

Take the hint, you stupid hunk.

Your pretty manicured hand creeps on his thigh, stroking up and down senually with delicate fingertips.

He knows where this is going, but he won't entertain you. He coughs a little, bored, and continues scrolling channels. Wants to see how far you'll go to get what you want.

As if on cue, you persist. Wrapping your arm over his broad shoulders, hitching your knee awkwardly on his thigh despite the baby in your belly squirming at the uncomfortable angle. You playfully boop his nose, giggling like a flirt. He purses his lips, but nothing else.

You stare at his profile, that unique Joel Miller look of concentration. Handsome and stoic—that little shithead.

You're teasingly rubbing your fingers through his scruff, twisting gently as a massage.

You bring your lips and kiss him kindly on the cheek. Something sweet. Innocent. Then again, but a little longer. Then some more, peppered down his jaw, along his pulse. Heated and wetter. Growing more needy and nipping his ear, making little happy moans as your hand continues to wander over his legs, tip toeing to his crotch.

Joel sighs, finally looking at you. "There a reason you're trying to get me turned on, ma'am?"

"Mmm," you hum, biting your lip and staring his plump ones. You crawl closer, breasts smashed against his bicep as you lick your lips, tongue peaking out with lusty eyes trying to put him under your best charm. Yesyesyes give it to me, Fucker!

"I want a Big—" you kiss his nose "—Messy—" teeth nip at his lower lip "—Hot—" you peck him teasingly, sucking his flesh in your mouth so he knows you mean business. Then you stare down at him with your serious eyes, foreheads pressing,

"—Fudge Cookie Dough Chocolate Gooey Fantasy Milkshake with extra Rainbow Sprinkles from Clyde's Creamery."

Yeah. He knew exactly this is where this was going.

He cracks a warm smile, cupping your jaw and parting your lips with his thumb. You suck it into your mouth, hoping to please him. Just as hes about to kiss you, he leans in and says, "No. Its 11pm. Bedtime."

You get off his lap with a cold shoulder and a scoff, proceeding to ignore him for the rest of the night.

Hes evens surprised when you go to bed still silent, facing away from him without a kiss goodnight when you turn off your lamp.

Until it's 2am when he's startled awake by the sound of the the front door opening. He's storming downstairs trying not to trip, and haphazardly throwing a shirt on backwards while in his boxers, only to see you with a packed bag, hand dramatically caressing  your bump with fake ass tears down your cheek going outside to the car.

"Where the FUCK are you going??" He asks, rubbing his eyes. Aggravation and rough exhaustion evident in his tone.

"You said you didn't love me, so I'm leaving," you huff. There's no hint of a joke in your words. Genuine pain. Hurt. Quiet and walking away. You dont wait to see his reaction and without another word, you turn to leave.

Hes so whiplashed, wracking his brain trying to remember any time he even remotely could have said something like that and you interpret it—

"I SAID YOU COULDN'T HAVE A HOT FUDGE COOKIE DOUGH CHOCOLATE GOOEY FANTASY MILKSHAKE because it was FUCKING 11PM AND CLOSED! Now get your fat beautiful ass and our baby back in here and dont ever pull this stupid stunt again!"

You scowl at him, preventing any physical reaction of your internal swooning he thinks my ass is pretty. You hold your ground and refuse to move from your position, defiant, in flip flops and a long nightgown on the front porch at 2am.

Joel furrows his brows and closes his eyes, soothing over the wrinkles you've caused to grow on his forehead.  "Fuck. I'll get you one tomorrow morning for breakfast. Okay?"

You smile giddily and skip back inside "Okie!" You step past him drop your shit on the couch, kissing him on the cheek. "Dont forget the extra rainbow sprinkles."

He grunts, glad that it's dark enough in the house you can't see how exhausted and annoyed he is.

"Oh and close the door, Joel! You'll wake the neighbors with your unnecessary shouting bit. Dramatic much?" You scoff, and waddle up the stairs and right to bed like nothing happened.

-

Tommy also has access to your ring camera notifications and sees Joel and you out there and the whole conversation, and he's laughing so hard when he watches the playback. He teases grumpy exhausted Joel the next morning, conveniently with a to-go milkshake in his hand at 8am.

"Softy for your girl?"

"Shut up."

"And when you have the baby, then there's gonna be two of her!" Tommy wheezes.

Joel's saggy and wrinkled eyes manage to open wider than ever as that particular horror sets over him.

- - - -

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[whoskimii]

FUCK ME LIKE YOU WANT ME . . .

★ ridin' him ft. toji ! ★

˖˚₊ warnings ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ cowgirl, mean toji, p in v, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it), cigarette, alcohol.

as he stared at the ceiling out of boredom, toji exhaled a thick cloud of grey smoke. his emerald green eyes drifted closed and he sighed, almost as if he were searching to find solace but couldn't, because something was preventing him from doing so.

satirically, that something was you.

“ngh, toji...” you breathed out, although with difficulty. “please... 'm really trying my hardest...” you managed to speak. your pitifully small hands gripped at his broad shoulders to find a semblance of support. the sight almost made him want to coo at you. but you both knew it'd be a sneering coo.

he took another slow, lazy drag of his cigarette. “yeah ?” he asked, watching you with keen eyes. his words were coming out muffled as his lips were still wrapped around the tip of the cigarette. “your hardest, huh ? let me laugh. 's not enough, dollie.” he exhaled, blowing the smoke in your face, his chest rumbling with laughter as he saw you cough.

you were trying, really. but toji was simply a laborious man to please.

you resumed your movements, and driven by a surge of energy, you became more vigorous. your meaty ass was slapping against the thick skin of his thighs as he continued to watch you with a disinterested expression. “still not enough, baby. c'mon. do better than that.”

his other hand lifted and soon enough, his lips met the bottleneck of his beer.

you despised how casual he was about the whole situation. you were putting your blood, sweat, and tears into riding him but here he was, almost judging you.

he stared at you with a detached expression, almost as if he was watching a mildly interesting show. “c'mon, girl. you really think you're doin' a good job here ?” he scoffed, flicking some ash from the burning cigarette in the ashtray on the armrest of the couch. “seems like you're slackin' a bit, tonight.”

you felt like you were merely wasting his time. he looked amused, perhaps even condescending.

“i was expecting more from you, sweet thing. somethin' fun, yeah ? not this bullshit.” he was beginning to get annoyed by your pitiful attempt at pleasing him.

his voice was flat, emotionless, still staring at you with a mixture of frustration and disappointment. “this isn't exactly what i had in mind when i thought 'bout spendin' the night with you, y'know ?” his eyes never left yours, even as the smoke he exhaled swirled in the air.

you sniffled softly, shame eating away at your body. “toji... 'm sorry...” you felt small under his cold gaze. "sorry, huh ?" he scoffed. "doesn't change the fact that you're doin' a shitty job tonight." he looked bored.

you doubled your efforts for the umpteenth time, soft cunnie sucking him in, along with the obscene amount of slickness that surrounded his cock. “y'know, doll, 'm really getting bored watching you struggle like a damn dyin' fish out of water." he clicked his tongue as you slid a shaky hand in his dark hair. “i can get off better with my own hand.”

you stopped again and took a deep breath before shifting on top of him. you planted your knees on the couch, on each side of his thighs. instead of placing your hands on his shoulders, you put them behind him, gripping the couch. you resumed your movements, pussy clenching around his girthy cock.

he grunted lowly, the first sign of emotion he'd shown since the whole thing started. he finally finished his cigarette and his beer, which allowed him to rest his arms on the back of the sofa. “there we go, that's a little better.” he stated with a heavy sigh.

he watched the tip of your tongue rest between your pink lips as you concentrated. he cocked an eyebrow in mild amusement. “that's more like it...” he chuckled. “c'mon, keep going. you ain't done yet.”

your cute little pussy squeezed his shaft tightly, earning a groan from him. “well,” he sighed. “that's better...” you mewled softly beside his ear, feeling the family bubble in your lower tummy tighten. “toji, 'm gonna come...” as your voice reached his ears, he chuckled. “yeah ? already ?”

as you nodded, he began playing with your throbbing clit. “don't know if i should give you a reward or punish you. might do both later.” he glanced down at the spot where your bodies joined, watching shamelessly. his pubic hair was soaked. “toji... toji...” you breathed.

"cum f' me." he blurted. you gasped as a sudden, intense wave of pleasure washed over your body. your dirty little cunnie tightened around his cock as you came. “oh...” you whined, swollen bottom lip caught between your teeth.

as you finally came down from your high, your pretty eyes fluttered open. toji had been watching with a lazy smirk, resting his massive hands on your plushy hips. "i didn't cum, lil' one. you gotta try harder."

shit.

[theresatzu]

I'm at your side (always have been)

Featuring: Isagi Yoichi x reader

Containing: fluff, slight angst, Isagi comforting reader

-----------------------------------

----------------------------------------------------

It had been a rainy afternoon. Rain droplets rhythmically pattered against the window, fading into the cadence of the football match that was streaming on Isagi's tv.

Isagi was leisurely laying on the couch, arm slung over the back of the sofa. His feet were propped up on the small coffee table in front of him.

The scene painted a serene picture, but the quiet was disturbed by rapid knocking on the door.

Eyebrows furrowed, Isagi tore his eyes away from the screen, making his way towards the front door.

The insistent knocking started anew, and Isagi frowned, chanting, "Yeah, yeah, already coming," whilst his hand on the door handle and throwing the door open, "can you please have some... patience..." He trailed off, surprise coating his voice.

His eyes widened.

In front of his door was you. Hair sticking to your water slicked face, eyes bloodshot and runny as you stood there in the rainfall, shivering and evading his gaze.

"Y/n..." Isagi trailed off.

A conflicted expression flitted over your face. It had been a while since you'd talked with Isagi, let alone visited him. And yet, here you were in all your glory, shuddering in the cold on a random Saturday at 8 pm.

"I..." your voice faltered, cracky from your hoarse throat. You coughed once, sniffing slightly, as you hesitatently continued.

"I didn't know where else to go."

At your admission, Isagi's chest painfully contracted, his heartbeat speeding up.

Even after all this time apart, he was still the safe haven you ran to.

So how could he ever turn you away?

"Come on in." He opened the door wider, a welcoming gesture.

You gratefully inclined your head at him, however, trepidation prevented you from looking him directly into the eye.

After all, going with no contact for half a year was bound to make things difficult.

And yet, as you shuffled inside, water droplets cascading from down your face and splattering onto the ground, the way how you so easily made yourself at home at his place was so akin to many many times prior that a warmth spread throughout Isagi's body.

You took off your shoes, making a face when a loud squelch came from the objects.

Isagi huffed through his nose, amused, and a tentative smile spread across your face.

He then crouched down, taking out two slippers from underneath his shoe rack.

Your heartbeat stilted at the familiar sight.

"I... uh..." Isagi scratched his neck, the tips of his ears turning red. "Here you go. You still like those, right?"

You eyed the ridiculous, fluffy duck slippers. A snort almost slipping past your lips.

Isagi had gotten them for your birthday, three years ago, after having seen you eyeing them, but being too embarrassed to actually buy them.

And well, after you were more at his house than at yours, it made sense to keep them there. It had become some sort of tradition, every time you'd visit, you'd kick off your shoes and slip into the duck slippers.

It was so ridiculous, but it held so much meaning that your eyes couldn't help slightly tearing up at the sight.

"You... kept them?" You whispered, voice barely audible, but Isagi caught it anyway.

Isagi turned a little bashful, eyes refusing to look at you, instead opting to intently stare at the ground.

"Yeah... uh. They were, uhm, nice... i guess. A bit of a shame to throw them away, right?" Isagi chuckled, but it sounded a bit forced.

And well, how could he divulge that on the lone days, when things would get harder, he'd wear those dumb slippers, if only to extract a little comfort from them?

"Well, alright. Do you, uh, want to shower?" Isagi spoke up suddenly, startling both you and him at the sudden volume.

You looked down on your soaked clothes, coldness seeping through your numb body.

"I... yeah. That would be nice."

"Third door on the right, just down the hallway, you remember, right?"

You nodded.

Should I shower now? Or should I thank him? Or is that too awkward?

You didn't know what to do, so you stayed silent.

Isagi seemed to be in a similar predicament, his hands fidgeting as he stayed silent.

The silence stretched on. You shuffled awkwardly on your spot as Isagi looked anywhere but at you.

"So uhm... I'm gonna go--"

"Yeah! You do that, I will be... here." Isagi finished off lamely.

You gave him a small smile, then trudged up the stairs.

Once you were out of earshot, Isagi let out a long-suffering groan. " "You remember, right?" " He mocked himself. "How stupid am I?! Of course she remembers."

He'd doubt you'd forget, after the many nights spend at his house, playing videogames, discussing football matches, or even just to hang out, content to just be in his presence and vice versa.

Small moments in companionship, moments in which happiness was an all-round constant.

Isagi shook his head, before he could get lost in those memories. He wasn't ready to open that can of wurms.

Instead, Isagi went to the kitchen, preparing two cups of teas. His mind drifted away as he heard the shower run.

Your sudden visit had certainly taken him by surprise, a good one, mind you, but the state he'd found you in, was reason for concern.

You'd looked downright exhausted, eyelids drooping and shoulders slumped. He could only hope that a shower would freshen you up.

Not that you looked ugly. No. There was not a single day you'd looked anything but beautiful in his opinion. Graduation day, prom night, at 3 am on his couch, or even waking up at the crack of dawn, with sleepdust in your eyes and hair sticking up in all directions.

The ding of his tea maker going off startled him out of his thoughts.

Get your shit together. Isagi scolded himself.

After months living in seperation, you had showed up on his doorstep, and he wasn't about to ruin it.

But well, it was hard to ignore the giddy feeling that bubbled in his chest when he laid eyes on you.

"Uhm... Yoi--Isagi, I lent some clothes from you, if you don't mind."

You probably said something after that, because he saw your lips moving, but he couldn't register any sound as he took in your figure.

Here you were, hair wet and brushed, face glowing after the shower. But what really made his heart skip, was the sight of you in his clothes.

He recognised his old blue T-shirt, which loosely hugged your figure. The pair of baggy cargos pooled at your feet.

Isagi's eyes squinted in fondness. You looked like you were drowning in his clothes. But the thought of his clothes being worn by you, and smelling like you, did terrible, terrible things to his heart.

"Uhm... Y--Isagi?"

"Uh... huh? Oh!" Isagi startled, eyes widening slightly. "Please, uh... sit."

He gestured at the stool in front of him, a steaming mug of tea on the table.

You obliged, clasping your hands around the warm mug.

As you took a sip, the corners of your lips twitched upwards.

Isagi who had inconspiculously (no, it was actually rather obviously) watching you, immediately picked on the slight grin on your face.

It was momentarily, but Isagi internally pumped his fist.

He still had it. No one could ever top him making your favourite cup of tea.

Not even your so-called boyfriend.

It had been in the back of his mind. He'd been wondering why you were at his place, instead of your shared appartment with your significant other.

Not that he was complaining.

As you sipped your tea in silence, Isagi found himself sneaking glances into your direction. Millions of questions were at the tip of his tongue, but he knew that he couldn't just spring them on you.

So he opted to just wait it out.

As your tea was finished, you shakily exhaled. Fingers flexing, you opened your mouth, but no sound came out.

Your eyes flicked from left to right on the table, frustrated.

You so badly wanted to tell him. But the wound was still fresh and you were still hurt. Talking about it would mean tearing it even more apart, and you didn't know if you could take any more.

"Hey..." Isagi said, having picked up on your conflicted feelings. "You want to watch a movie?"

"... yeah."

A few minutes later, the movie played. It had been launched months ago, but you hadn't had the chance to watch it.

You recalled both you and Isagi having been excited about watching it. Having made plans and all, buying snacks and appointing a date to watch it.

But well, then your boyfriend had come along.

And the opportunity had passed.

But Isagi had the movie. And as the introductory scenes played, your eyes curiously drifted to Isagi's face. Isagi was looking straight ahead, but the tell-tale ticking of his jaw was the only sign of his nervosity.

"... did you watch this movie?"

"...no."

"How... how long have you had this?"

It was quiet. You could hear Isagi inhaling sharply, feeling the weight of his body moving.

"... couple of months..."

A small smile tugged on your lips.

"...okay."

You watched the rest of the movie in comfortable silence, the silence only being broken by the occasional comment or joke Isagi made.

Your heart tugged in your chest, watching and listening Isagi ramble about the movie, his face lighting up and his eyes shining.

And bit by bit, more smiles were drawn on your face, until you were full on laughing. Your delighted chuckles making your shoulders shake.

Isagi definitely did not stare. He was just... checking in on you. Okay? That's what friends do.

At some point, you had shuffled closer to him, seeking the alluring warmth Isagi exhaled.

However, unbeknownst to you, Isagi's heart raced the moment your head reluctantly laid itself into his lap, before relaxing and sinking in the shape of his upper legs.

He could only hope that you couldn't hear the frantic hammering of his heart this close.

Isagi looked at the ceiling, screwing his eyes shut. He felt so warm, he was afraid he might explode.

Hesitatently, he swung an arm over your shoulder, rubbing his thumb in little circles on your skin.

His ministrations made you sigh, burying your head closer to his chest.

Isagi's heart stilted.

Well, it was suffice to say he didn't pick up much from the movie.

At last, the end credits rolled in, and Isagi playfully poked your cheek from where you were laying on his chest.

At some point, you had ended up laying on his chest, legs tangling with his underneath the blanket Isagi had conjured.

Isagi was all muscles, but he was soft, too. His hands absentmindedly played with your dried locks, relishing in the way how your hair felt sliding against the skin of his hand.

You sighed, pressing your nose against his neck.

Now that the movie was over, you knew that you had stalled long enough. And besides, you really wanted to tell Isagi, your best friend. Your friend who had taken you in after ages of no contact, who didn't hesitate to take your side, and who, above all, always believed in you.

You sighed, pushing past the cloth in your throat, forcing yourself to confront the fear that had been plaguing you for a while.

"... am I... enough...?"

You murmured, barely above a whisper.

You felt Isagi's hand still for a second before continuing carding through your hair.

His voice was carefully neutral when he spoke next.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... uh... would I be enough just on my own?" Your voice cracked at the end, the only sign before tears slipped from your eyes.

"Hey, hey." Isagi sat up, forcing your teary eyes on his warm blue ones.

"Where is this coming from?" He gently took your hands in his, feeling his heart crack at your teary-eyed face. "Who said this to you? Was it--"

"It... it doesn't matter who said it." You turned your head, finding the intensity in his gaze unbearable.

Your avoidance of the matter was already an answer on itself.

That conniving bastard. Isagi's lips pursed together.

"Hey... look at me. Please." Isagi gently turned your head, until you interlocked eyes once more.

That did it.

It was like a dam overflowing. You couldn't contain the tears as they now cascaded down your face. Uncontrollably and unrelenting.

Isagi's eyes widened, instantly bringing you into a hug, hand patting your shoulder as you sniffed against his chest.

"I just... am I worth something? Tell me, please, Isagi." You pleaded. Isagi's heart thudded painfully against his chest as if a knife had been plunged into the organ.

Not enough? Not enough?!

"Oh, love. You're worth the world." Isagi murmured.

He then pulled away. You lamented the loss of his warmth before his thumb rubbed your cheek, wiping away the tears.

"But I--"

"Shh..." Isagi caressed your face with both his hands, his eyes looking straight into yours.

"Anyone who said, or implied you weren't worth the absolute best of the best, is clearly blind, mental, insane, or all of the above." Isagi spoke in a definite tone.

"You're an amazing, kind-hearted person. And anyone who has you should call themselves lucky. I certainly do." Isagi admissioned, a small smile growing on his lips.

You responded with a wobbly smile. But it was tinged heavily with guilt.

How were you deserving of such an amazing person like Isagi?

To think he'd still think so highly of you, even after the strain put on your relationship with him.

"Remember the time you and I went to the park and you saw those nest of kittens?" Isagi asked.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

"And remember how you wanted to adopt them all, and call them Alvin, Theodore, Simon, Brittany, Jeanette, and Eleanor?"

You let out a weak laugh at the fondness in his tone and the absurdity of the situation.

"It was because you were so obsessed with that show. Was the only thing you could talk about." Isagi mused.

To think he'd been jealous of some animated chipmunks.

...well, maybe he still was.

"I had to physically drag you away from the vet because your mother wouldn't have let you keep the kittens. You cried for days afterwards."

You shoved his shoulder slightly, eliciting a grin from Isagi.

"Or remember when you stood up for that guy who'd failed in PE? Everyone picked on him because he wasn't the strongest. But you believed in him and chose him for your team anyway. You ended up winning the competition."

"I... yeah. I remember that."

"Oh, oh! And do you remember the time I fell ill during training and you skipped out on school for four days straight to take care of me?"

Well, how could you forget? Isagi had this competitive streak, one that ran so deep that he'd endanger himself, with absolutely no regard to his safety. He was a safety hazard for anyone on the pitch and for himself.

"So, you know. You kind of are the most kind, amazing, thoughtful, caring person. Should I go on?" Isagi chuckled.

Your eyes softened, his words warming you from the inside out.

"So, please. Don't tell me you're worth nothing. Don't tell me you're not enough." Isagi murmured, his voice cracking, and his vision blurring.

"Because you are. You change lives and make people feel heard, make them want to be better. Not living with you is like living with a hole in your chest."

Isagi took your hand, putting it on his chest.

You felt the rhythmic beating of his heart against your hand.

"See? My heart's beating, just for you." Always has been. Was what he didn't say.

You looked up, meeting Isagi's sincere gaze.

You felt trapped within the confinement of his iridescent irises, unable to look away.

It made your neck feel warm.

From embarrassment, of course.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Isagi softly inquired.

His tone pleading, his fingers reassuring.

And well, how could you ever say no to him?

So you began speaking.

By the end of your story, Isagi was positively fuming.

"He did what?!" His voice was low, dangerously so. His jaw was tensing, and his hands were balled into fists.

"So... wait. Hold up. He told you to wait at home and then went on and cheated with another girl, and then blamed it on you for not being good enough for him to stay?!"

That... actually summed it all up.

At your telling silence, Isagi abruptly sat up, the blanket falling off his lap.

"Wah-- Isagi, what are you doing?" You said, startled.

"I'm going to fucking kill him."

Your eyes widened, rapidly, you stood up.

"No, no, wait! Don't do that, please. I...I don't want to get anyone hurt."

Isagi turned on you, his gaze thundering and fierce. "It's either him hurt or you. And between those options, my choice is easily made." Isagi declared, determined.

"But..."

"I should have never left you with that vile crap. He was bad news from the start." Isagi spat. "He..." Isagi choked. "He can't get away with this. Hurting the person I lo--my friend."

Isagi was wound up. Shoulders stiff and gaze blatantly murderous. He looked like he could take devour the world and still be hungry.

But that would get him in trouble. Sweet, caring Isagi didn't deserve your boyfriend's wrath.

You stepped closer, taking his hand in yours. "Please. Don't do it. Stay."

At your touch, the tension bled a little out of Isagi's posture, but he bit his lip, torn. His eyes were searching yours, for what, he himself didn't know either.

"But... Y/n..." Isagi looked tormented, eyes screwed shut and lips slanted in a frown.

"Please. Yoichi." At his given name, Isagi stilled.

Making use of his momentary shock, you took both of his hands in yours, unwavering underneath his wild gaze, because you knew that Isagi would never raise a hand against you.

A conflicted expression flitted through his eyes before he finally relented.

"Okay... but you can't go back there!" His eyes were wide, fingers desperately clinging to yours, as if you might just slip away from him.

He'd let you get away once, but over his dead body he would let it happen twice.

"I won't." You quietly reassured him. "I'm where I want to be."

And as you brought Isagi into a hug, feeling him melt against you as he pushed his nose into your shoulder, feeling warmth wash over you and your heart racing for the boy who'd always stood by your side, for the boy with the sparkling eyes and the geeky passion for football, you felt at home.

The home that you had lost, but the home that had always been waiting for you.

But as Isagi sighed into your neck, his hair tickling your cheek, you wondered maybe, just maybe.

If home had never been lost. But always been there, by your side.

Just like Yoichi had always been.

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: fluff with simon riley, cigarettes, reader smoking, bad tasting kissy.

"Wann' see your face.." the air was humid; sticky. There was no use being on the bed, where the mattress creaked and the sheets got filthy. No - the floor would suffice. It's cold tile pressing against your knees and legs, parting slightly to allow the meaty thigh of Simon to take place. The scene sounded more intimate than what it really was. Truthfully the two of you (mostly him) really craved a midnight cigarette without the bitching of your captain. You were wrapped up in your cotton jammies, a big shirt and shorts that hung off you. Simon coughed softly, puffs of smoke leaving his mouth a bit. So he was surprised. He tilted his head backward and exhaled. The moment went on in silence, just like that, until your greedy paws reached out for another grab at the smoldering stick "Can smoke just fine through the mask."

"Yeah, but I can't see you 'just fine' through the mask." You hissed softly through an inhale, letting the smoke leave before coughing a bit, it tasted quite shit. You always wondered why he liked that junk. Simon chuckled, snatching the cigarette back and holding it away from you. "If, you can't handle it, stop doing it." You rolled your eyes at his words, plopping backward toward the pillows that were sprawled on the floor. Your eyes fluttering shut and watching the stars through the window. Simon sat up, blowing the smoke outward through the smallest creeping crack. It was like a stop motion film, each shut of your eyes showed him slowly lifting the mask, just past the tip of his nose.

"Oh.." You mused, moving to sit up, but he quickly sent you back down with his socked foot to your shoulder. "Oh ew." Simon laughed softly, you could see his teeth now. His stubbly chin. Dirty blonde. And his lips were scarred, chapped too. "I can feel yer eyes on me, judgin'"

"M'not judgin'.. Just curious. I've never see you before, and I've seen the others..." Trailing off a bit you let your head tilt backward again, facing the ceiling. Simon was quiet, aside from his little huffs and sighs. "So..why do you hide your face, anyways?" Simon growled a bit, not intentionally, just a noise that emitted when he though too deeply. "Just the way things are. Like..grass is green, sky is blue."

"Bullshit, the grass here is brown." The two of you giggled at your words, only going silent when you heard foot steps walking down the hall. Simon quickly put out the cigarette, a towel at the bottom of the door, preventing any of the smoke scent seeping through. After a few moments the feet move passed, letting the two of you release a breath.

"Mm, I dunno why we worried so much. Cap'n can't smell shit." You giggled again. Simon rewarded you with a doting flick to your forehead. You hissed softly at him but he shushed you with a kiss. His body moving to lie next to you, only slightly hovering. He tasted bad - like cigarette, and a bit of mint. You softly gasped in realization, hitting his shoulder, "So you did eat my mints?"

Simon laughed again, tugging his mask down while you lightly sparred his arm for revenge.

[miyseilish]

FATHER FIGURE JEFF PLEASE 😔😔😔

LIKE HE JUST SEES R GETTING WATER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AT MILES HOUSE AND IS LIKE "miles really likes you, and I think you're a good kid" AND R FREAKS OUT AND STARTS CRYING 😭😭😭🙏🙏

PLEASE MY DADS A DICK 😔😔😔😔

3am

pairings: m morales x reader

genre: comfort

summary: you always thought his parents wasn’t fond of you, but who knew a drink of water could change your perspective

a/n : ok so idk why I did this one before your other request I just got a random boost of energy when I saw this notification. again I am so sorry about your dad dude they can be such dicks you aren’t alone and don’t let his actions or words get to you cause you are super DUPER coolzies. (+thanks for the request your amazing)

it was 3 am and you laid (sort of) besides miles in his bed. for the first time your parents finally let you guys have a sleep over since it’s summer.

you wake up from a sudden cough that shot out of you. even your saliva couldn’t save your dry throat.

so you moved away from miles and put your slippers on. you tip toed out of his room and slid your way out of the door to prevent creaking.

when you walked to the kitchen you realized you forgot your phone for flashlight. and you didn’t wanna turn on the light to disturb people.

so with the moonlight as your guide you found a glass cup peacefully then put it into the ice dispenser. forgetting how loud as fuck it was the ice shot out LOUD.

yo why the FUCK would I do that. you immediately took it out and froze.

you then put it in the water dispenser which was quieter then took a sip in peace. your throat was finally healed from the desert inside until you choked on you water hearing a voice.

“you also get thirsty at night?” jeff chuckled

you hesitated then replied “mhm” nodding.

he got a glass then filled his with cold water also. before he took a sip he spoke again.

“miles really likes you, he talks about you all the time.” he spoke

“really..?” you responded not that surprised.

“yea he does, he makes sure rio knows everything about you. I think you’re a good kid.”

you didn’t even know how to respond. even tears swelled in your eyes at first you always thought his parents wasn’t fond of you but hearing this made your whole day— whole night.

—miyseilish 2025 don’t copy my stuff blah blah blah 😓

[robinyourcreator]

i was tagged for a WIP Wednesday last week or so (by @defira85 and @sleepytimegrrl I do believe) but I'd been too consumed by the fandom event stuff to work on anything else

but this week I've been able to work on anything I want! so I have been :D

this bit's from a smut prompt submission but nothing overtly nsfw happens in this snippet. context: Shadowheart has finally worked up the courage to ask what on earth her (sweet, earnest, mousy) genderfluid husband was like as a professional dominatrix. Adana is, as always, happy to oblige.

aaaand I will tag @strugglingcomet2 @fogno @string-queen @oldlight117 @marlfox1017

not quite smut under the cut

***

A few days later you find a note slipped into your sleeve, a scene, the filthiest prose you’ve ever laid eyes upon and far more judicious in its use of adverbs than your usual fare of shameless smut.

And it’s about you, penned in Adana’s immaculate script and tucked into your clothes after lunch almost without you noticing.

You seek her out later, as you’re both finishing up your chores and making sure all the animals are safely tucked away for the night, catching her by the wrist and pulling her aside into the shadow of the barn.

“I got your letter,” you murmur into her ear, pulling her flush against you, her back to your chest.

She doesn’t flinch, instead leaning back against you, putting herself more firmly into your arms. “Oh good, I’d be terribly embarrassed if that had made its way into one of your parent’s pockets instead of yours.”

“Oh, don’t even joke about that,” you groan, wrapping your arms more tightly around her waist and playing with the hem of her tunic.

She laughs and glances back at you over her shoulder, her eyes dancing once again. “Did you like it, then? I’m no Alde, but I’d like to think I’ve learned something from stealing her ‘friend fiction’ from her terrible hiding places from time to time.”

“I did,” you purr into her ear.

She chuckles, and you notice the very tip of the ear you’re whispering into has gone red. Adorable. “Not so much you’ve changed your mind and decided you’d rather do those things to me, I hope.”

“...I won’t lie and say I didn’t consider it,” you say lightly, as you lean in, nipping the red tip of that ear with your teeth.

…And the way Adana squeaks like a small animal when you do isn’t doing her any favors here.

“So-- so you did like it, then?” Adana stammers, shifting from foot to foot. “There weren’t any parts you hated? Or um, found objectionable in any way?”

“No,” you say simply, and gods if it isn’t difficult to forgo teasing her when she’s nervous like this. “I loved it. Though I did notice Alde didn’t play a part in it. Are you planning to accommodate our usual audience?”

Adana coughs. “I asked her if she thought she could keep her mouth shut and not heckle me during it and she offered to go out on a Nightstalk that night instead. But she figures she’s welcome to watch so long as neither of us know she’s there.”

You hum. “A bit difficult to prevent, that. She does love her hiding places, our Alde.”

“Anyways,” Adana coughs again. “That’s all my preparations in order. Is there anything else you need from me?”

You nip her ear again as you lean in, so close her little flyaway hairs are tickling your cheek, and your breath warms her already terribly flushed face. “You’re not even a bit worried that writing it all down for me first will have ruined the surprise?”

“Generally, the last thing I want to do is surprise a partner during sex,” Adana says flatly, and then, so slowly, so carefully slips herself out of your arms to face you, running her hands up your arms and squeezing. “But I’m quite confident I can tell you everything I’m going to do to you and how, and still find ways to surprise you anyway.”

She smiles, and no longer is it one of her warm, easygoing grins with her nose crinkled and her eyes sparkling and dancing, but a slow, cold, languid little thing, with an ease not assumed to put you at ease with her, but the ease of a cat that’s cornered the mouse and is just waiting for it to stop struggling.

…Your feelings must show upon your face, because that smile widens. “I am a fucking professional, after all.”

And then she darts in to kiss your cheek, there and gone again before you can react, beaming at you like her usual self-- or perhaps a tad more knowing than it usually is. “Goodnight, love. I’ll see you later.”

…What on earth have you gotten yourself into?

[kitkatscabinet]

Whumptober 02 - Blood loss

John Mactavish x f! reader

The metallic stench of blood filled the air, soaking into your nasal passages and staining your tongue. It’s cold, the dampness of the cement wall you’d propped yourself against soaking into the back of your vest and shirt. Your wheezing breaths the only sound present in the dark hallway you’d stumbled into. The radio attached to you crackles but you already know it won’t work. The spray of bullets you hadn’t managed to avoid having rendered the damn thing inoperable.

Another rattling cough shakes your frame, your torso lighting up in pain as your injuries were forcefully jostled. Throwing your head back against the wall you glared at the ceiling, trying to prevent the tears from overflowing. Tears of pain accumulate as you forcefully press down against the bloody hole in your right collarbone. Gritted teeth prevented you from crying out but it was a close thing. It was becoming harder and harder to retain consciousness but you were stubborn. Someone would come for you, you just had to hold on until then.

At some point, you must have closed your eyes because the next thing you knew there was a frantic voice pulling you awake. Blinking, you're greeted with the furrowed brows and concerned blue eyes of your Scottish teammate.

"Soap?" your confusion is blatantly apparent, eyes squinting as you blink sweat and black spots away.

“Aye lass, there’s my good girl. Keep those beautiful eyes open for me, okay?” As much as he's trying to hide his concern, you aren't so far gone that you don't notice the waver in his voice or his mechanical movements. Any wisecrack you had in reply to his flirtation dies on your tongue as he presses down on your wound. You're unable to stop the pained cry his actions draw from your lips, tears sliding down your cheeks in earnest.

“I know it hurts, I’m sorry, it’ll be over soon.” You know he's trying to reassure you, but you honestly think his words are more to comfort himself.

"It'll be over 'cause I'm dead." You wheezed humorlessly, frantically blinking the sweat from your eyes. Soap seems to find your remark as funny as a funeral as he practically snarls at you.

"You're not dying on me. That's an order, you hear?" Despite the blood that has started to coat the inside of your throat, your mouth runs dry at his sudden ferocity. Too stunned to do anything but let yourself be manhandled into standing, Soap practically holding up your entire weight.

“Order me? We’re the same rank dickhead” you snorted, instantly regretting the motion as pain lit up your nerves like fireworks. Your knees buckled briefly, but Soap was a solid wall of muscle that kept you upright.

It's a slow and rough process, with Soap having to practically drag you from the building towards the extraction point.

Maybe it's the delirium brought on by blood loss, or it's the looming reality of your imminent demise but just before you make it to the medics your mouth slips.

“You know, it's usually a lot more fun in my dreams when we're this close.” His eyes burn holes into the side of your face, jaw slackened in your peripheral vision as his grip slackened slightly and you tipped forward for a few seconds. Laughter burns in your chest, as you lose the last of your strength to look into his pretty eyes one last time, the three words you'd been aching to say for months tumbling forth as your breath slowed.

Eyes shuttering closed and body lurching, you don't notice Soap lunge to catch you. Holding you close against his chest as he swore at you to wake up.

That he'd say it back if you listened.

His hands clutched your face, marring your skin with your own blood as his tears painted your brow. "Please lass, wake up so I can say it back" he begged, burying his face into the skin of your still warm neck.

[ladyiristheenchantress]

Sick Day Magic

It may come as a shock to some that I am, in fact, a human being and not a 500 year old oak tree with internet access. /j

Being human, and actually being alive, means you will get sick! Exploring biology for my biomed degree has taught me a lot of things about virus's, bacteria, and how exactly they work! For example: All living things can be effected by virus's, they are nanometers big for that reason, and not much is known about their origins here on earth which is really cool! With that said, every living thing gets sick, and with that we can pair magic to help us through our sick days!

I know I am, simply because I am writing to you now while on sick leave from all 3 of my jobs. Currently the summer flu has hit our home really hard, so lets talk about recovery!

Obvious disclaimer before getting started: Doctors, medical professionals, and health organizations are here to help you. This post is not to discourage you from using modern medicine, or seeing a doctor when you need one. I actually am very much against using spiritual bypassing to discredit medical research, especially as someone who is entering the medical field. If you are sick it is always important to speak with your doctor before trying any holistic remedies, especially if you are on medications that can conflict with herbal supplements. Know the warning signs for when symptoms escalate. This post is mainly about illnesses that can be treated at home and go away within a couple days or weeks (cold, flu, etc)

Lets get started!

How do living things get sick?

To keep this as simple as possible, living beings get sick from small organisms in a couple different classifications. You have virus's, bacteria, fungi, or parasites, and they all have one goal: to use your body as a host! Some things cant reproduce on their own like virus's so they hijack your cells, some things feed off of you and your daily body functions like parasites! In all, we are exposed to all sorts of pathogens, and our body will react with the nasty symptoms like fevers, chills, coughing, vomiting, and more because your body is trying to fight off all the pathogens using your body to reproduce. There are some circumstances where medical intervention is required however, for things like the common cold, flu, and sore throat you can find remedies over the counter!

All living things get sick, including tree's, seals, and even grasses. These pathogens are really good at evolving with us!

What did people do historically?

Before the introduction of germ theory in the 1860's, and the introduction of modern medicine in the 19th century cultures all around the world were still evolving to combat common sicknesses! From medieval Europe using cupping and leaches which assisted in medical standards and theories, to indigenous tribes using the herbs around them to pave the way for medications, cultures all over the world had their own tips and tricks for staying healthy!

In general most cultures followed a 3 way system, prevention, coping, and resistance, where methods were followed to assist in times of sickness. Often times they had distinct prayers and rituals, and would combine it with local remedies and folklore to help the general population.

Later on, herbs would pave the way for medicine as scientists discovered exactly what about an herb could help someone and isolate it into a pill, salve, or tincture!

What is some illness prevention magic?

When getting vaccinated create a prayer or chant to not only take your mind off it, but also for a metaphysical boost

leave offerings to gods of health during cold and flu season by your front door, and leave offerings to spring gods during pollen season by windows

have fire tonic, elderberry syrup, and lions main mushroom tinctures prepared (reminder: always consult a doctor)

Keep crystals like jade, green aventurine, and carnelian by your bed for health

Keep fresh flowers in the home, as scents can represent healing

Visualize sickness being repelled away from you as you practice hygiene

keep sigils in your shoes to 'draw illness back to the earth'

Mundanely make sure you are also having regular checkups (if you cant afford to see a doctor regularly, see what option you have for free clinics, or public health options like medicaid in the US), going to see your dentist because the teeth has a lot to do with health, and practicing good health habits can all be really helpful with preventing illness

What is some illness coping magic?

When sick, keep lavender and chamomile under your pillow as a sleep aid

Contrary to popular belief: Don't burn incense when you have a stuffy nose because the smoke will irritate your nose, instead use a humidifier and optionally put essential oils in it for drainage

take healing spiritual showers

create soft broths, and plain foods using kitchen magic and infusing it with intentions

Optionally if you are having trouble eating because of vomiting or fever, enchant your water bottle with healing energy with even just a simple chant

Put cold or hot compress on pressure points, optionally while you rest research what those pressure points symbolize and how you can translate that into your healing rituals from bed

visualize a healing green or blue light enveloping places that may hurt like joints or the head

Listen to gentle music or healing subliminal during naps to draw out illnesses

enchant your tissue box so every tissue you use is one less you have to use later

create a salve using willow or birch bark, camphor, mint, and chamomile for a soothing joint pain relief

Enchant medications with chants or sigils on the bottle

Mundanely, we see a lot of spiritual hacks, don't put garlic in your nose (The only reason you think it works is because it irritates your nose lining creating mucus), don't use elderberry (It puts your immune system in over drive when you are already sick and actually hinders the healing process), its better to limit herbal and holistic approaches other than things that are rich in things your body needs like fruits, veggies, and electrolytes!

Recovery goes into this much like prevention, our bodies begin to process and understand the invaders making it less likely for you to get infected by the same problem again, however as mutations grow, make sure you are taking care of yourself!

Spiritually, your body is a temple, and its the only one you have, love it and it will love you back, take care of it and it will take care of you back. As a human being I recognize the struggle that concept can be. Its easy for someone to say "just sleep lmao" without having insomnia for example. In general, finding a routine that works for you, your body, and your mind is very important! You are a spiritual being, but you are also human! Don't let people try to sell you the idea that modern medicine is out trying to hurt you, because there are people out there like me who will stand for making the medical field a safer and better place! Don't let people try to sell you the idea that your sickness is because of "bad karma" or that your "low vibes" or something silly like that because the truth is, you get sick because you are alive. Cherish being alive in all of its forms.

Fair winds friends!

And remember, if you took nothing away from this I will say it again, Cherish being alive in all of its forms.

Tip Jar

[taradiddled]

Everyone on my dashboard, like me, has been sick, so I want to provide some tips for you that might help you through this cold/flu/whathaveyou (but, please please please, test yourself for Covid, even if you're pretty sure it's not Covid).

So my first tip is: wear layers. If you're home sick, wearing layers helps for if you feel overheated, chilly, so you can put on or remove more layers. I recommend a tank-top and lounge pants, and then a sweater and a robe on top. Stick those tootsies in socks, preferable the fluffy kind you can buy for $5 at Target or the local drug store.

My next tip: keep a water bottle nearby with lukewarm water. Don't put ice in it. Just regular water. You can put some electrolyte powder in it if you'd like (I usually use Pedialyte when I'm not feeling well), and maybe a couple ice cubes, but don't have it be chilled cold.

Gatorade or some sort of electrolyte drink is also an option. Just make sure you're replenishing those electrolytes on a regular basis.

Third tip: If you go out in public, wear a face mask. It's the polite thing to do. And when you start recovering from the illness, keep wearing the mask. You can take off the mask when you feel better, but seeing as more colds and flus are going around, I'd recommend wearing a mask in public (I certainly will be, since I work in a grocery store in the general public, who often cough and sneeze into open air).

Fourth tip: If you're having nausea, try a bit of lime in your water. Sparkling water, or ginger ale, with a bit of lime (and a side of saltines) usually helps my tummy when it's queasy.

Another option is something with mint. I especially like mint-flavored cough drops. They work for the throat, and help with the little bouts of nausea I get from all the phlegm drainage. Mint tea, mint drops...these typically do the trick. Just don't do too much mint if you're using something with artificial flavor like a syrup.

Fifth tip: If you're going to surf the net, don't use your phone. Try to limit as much attention to the small screen as you can, as it can encourage a headache. Keep any big web-surfing tasks to your computer. However, in the case of both your phone and the computer, turn the screen brightness down, so it's easier on your eyes.

Sixth tip: For those of us with chest and nasal congestion, Vicks is our friend! A little Vicks under the nose, on the throat, down the chest -- can do great things! Just don't put any on your lips or eyelids (don't ask). If you can get the Vicks roll-on, grab that! Works well and leaves no mess, while still providing that wonder Vicks vapor effect.

Seventh tip: If you're blowing your nose quite a bit, get some Vaseline to put on the outside of those nostrils. Put it on the skin there, to prevent chafing. If you can get those tissues with the lotion in them, that's highly recommended. But even if you get the tissue with the lotion in it, still put some Vaseline (or other softening lotion!) onto the skin outside your nostrils, to prevent excessive drying (and eventual flaking).

Eighth tip: Soup is your friend. It's your best friend. Soup with some starch like bread or crackers is advised. Abstain from heavy spices, although a mild curry can do wonders. Soup also helps with the throat, if your illness affects the throat, and helps warm the body up, especially if you're getting chills. Vegetables and beans are good ingredients, as you want to pay attention to keeping up your protein intake.

Ninth tip: Don't stay up too late when you're not feeling well. Get to bed a little earlier than usual, so your body can get that head-start on getting better. If you stay up too long, or don't get enough sleep, it'll be harder for your body to fight the illness.

Tenth tip: Be sure to have snacks. Avoid junk foods, or anything with too much grease. Snacks with peanut butter or a veggie dip are my usual go-to, with carrots, crackers, baby tomatoes, biscuits, nuts, steamed broccoli...

Eleventh tip: If you're listening to any audio (tv, music, computer...) then turn the volume down. Prevent any possible headache from happening or worsening. If you feel a ping in your head, like the sign of a headache maybe starting, find a way to distance yourself from loud noises. It might not be possible for you (it isn't for me in this house sometimes) but see if you can at least try. Lower the volume, go to a quieter location, do what you can to limit the noise. But even if you can achieve that quiet (or not), you should still take some aspirin, too.

Twelfth tip and then I'll let you be: A cool, damp washcloth to the brow can do wonders for that feverish feeling. Make sure it's not soaking wet -- just damp. You can also use an ice pack or a bag of ice, just make sure you wrap a towel around the ice first so that it's not freezing when you hold it against your brow.

If you're able to, you can ask your local drugstore if they have cooling gel sheets. These are typically in the children's section of drugstores, and are advertised as gel strips you can stick to a feverish child's brow, like a sticker. I've worn one while I was sleeping, actually, and because of the gel composition, even when I was tossing and turning, the strip didn't come off until I peeled it off in the morning.

[totaleclipse573]

Can I dump some lore on yall real quick. Actually a pretty long post if you're interested but its

About Doleon, the Supreme, the Shards of Chaos, etc. Basically the beginning of it all.

Oc Universe lore has been on my mind recently (I may have talked about some of these things before, and if I have, HERES A BETTER EXPLANATION.)

FIRST, THOUGH! LITTLE WARNING BECAUSE THINGS DO GET VIOLENT TOWARDS THE END. NOTHING VERY GRAPHIC DESCRIBED, JUST A MENTION, BUT JUST IN CASE...

Before anything, the personalities and powers of the brothers, just a recap :

Akmad : The over-the-top, plays by the rules and makes sure you will too brother. NO CHAOS (fun) ALLOWED. We have a PURPOSE here and its OUR JOB to make sure we do it right. Doleon, Lorcan, no, you cannot use your energies to race around and go fast. Each "shard connection" grants them an ability to better protect them. Akmad's is light (the power of flashlight-)

Erebus : Cold, serious and secluded. He pretends not to care when he really does. His power is foresight, but its really random, and typically, no one believes him (until it happens)

Orpheus : Silly boy. He's very kind hearted and gentle, despite his ability of overwhelming strength.

Ragnar : ANGY, short tempered, impatient. His ability goes well with him, pyrokinesis. (I imagine he gets angry and just starts flaring at the tips of his quills.)

Lorcan : The goofster, "I ain't gonna listen to no one," living by his own rules (or, trying to. Thanks for that, Akmad.) He can just go really fast 👍

Doleon : Doleon. Electro energy thing.

Kieran : Selective mute (except with Doleon, for some reason,) little baby man, scaredy cat. He doesn't really know his ability yet but he's made some funky purple portals once.

So to start, it all began with the Supreme. The earliest known guardian to all seven Shards of Chaos. But they've (behold, an all powerful enby entity,) been guarding and keeping their power safe from the universe for SO LONG, centuries, perhaps longer? That its negative effects start to take toll. The shards begin to corrupt them, and it takes EVERYTHING THEY'VE GOT not to go in too deep and stay morally good. But the power is killing them, they know they're going to die soon. But the Shards can't just be left unprotected. They need a new guardian. New GUARDIANS. One for each, so the power doesn't become too much to handle.

One by one, Supreme "creates" each guardian (who needs childbirth? JUST LITERALLY CREATE ONE OUT OF PURE ENERGY. They're created using shard energy, and that gives each of them their connection to a specific shard.)

The order goes, from "eldest" to "youngest," Akmad, Erebus, Orpheus, Ragnar, Lorcan, Doleon, and Kieran. They technically don't have ages, nor can age physically. They're adults in the brain.

They were created as small children, raised by the Supreme until they could handle themselves (cough cough a few months cough) HAD THEIR OWN PARENT ERASED FROM THEIR MEMORIES TO PREVENT ATTACHMENT, and then sent into this weird little "world" that only they could enter. It was really to prevent any distractions from their main goal of protecting the Shards (which is a memory they're left with. Call it destiny. They know the Supreme EXISTS, they just don't remember ever being around them.)

They specifically aren't supposed to abuse the power of the Shards. It's always been DANGEROUS AND FORBIDDEN. Akmad especially enforces these rules (he SWEARS he remembers encountering the Supreme once before…he'll be the one to enforce their will.) Of course, though, A LOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG time passes (remember the ageless thing?) and Doleon is kind of sick of it? Always just being told to DO THE THING BECAUSE ITS WHAT THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO. Like, what if he's a little curious? All Akmad or anyone will ever tell him is that its their PURPOSE or some crap. He needs MORE THAN THAT. Why CAN'T they use the Shards energy unless its to protect them? He's used it for fun a few times before and come out just fine! Maybe he would…experiment a bit.

So he does and the results are a disaster, obviously. He overloads on the energy, whoops.

Essentially, it takes the connection Doleon has with the energy of his shard, breaks a sort of "barrier" meant to keep him safe from its negative effects, and disguises itself as a good thing. Like look, you let me use you as a host for more power? You get more power. Simple as that. And that's what it is, he's able to use his energy without barriers. In other words, he overloads on it.

So despite how terrible he felt afterwards, when he WAS able to use it it actually felt pretty good? Like he was the most powerful person in EXISTENCE. THERE WAS LITERALLY NOTHING THE ENERGY DIDN'T ALLOW HIM TO DO. NO LIMITS! Kind of addicting, really. A little too much so. If ONE shard did all that…what kind of power would ALL SEVEN give him?

So Doleon knows he probably cant get the shards on his own. If the guardians aren't around, the little temple thingies they're secured in have slight defense mechanisms. Still not enough to keep them fully protected without their guardians, which he probably needs to lure away somehow, but still risky. He needs help. Maybe from someone who would do anything for him…? No matter how crazy it would sound to everyone else…?

That's right, I'm roping Kieran into this mess.

"I just wanna try something out! It won't hurt anyone, promise!" Oh Doleon if you knew. It seemed a little odd, but Kieran would try and be as helpful as possible!

Summary of the whole process bc its too long to describe in full : They find ways to get the shards however they can. Sometimes, it was pretty easy (especially with Orpheus…easiest one yet) but other times, it proved difficult. A few times, they even accidentally managed to activate the defense mechanisms (one of these being…particularly traumatizing for Doleon, where the temple might have sort have began to close up on him and if Kieran couldn't find a way to stop it in time, he would be killed through two walls literally colliding against his body and squashing him to death slowly and painfully. How silly. Wonder where he got that claustrophobia from.)

Little by little, the more shards they collect and hide from the other brothers, the more changes Kieran notices in Doleon. It scares him, but he'll keep going. Just…maybe keep a close eye on him. Eventually, they run into Erebus, not really paying much attention to where they're going, and Doleon just crashes into Erebus, much to the older brother's annoyance. But something happens. He sees something. A quick little flash in his mind, but still. One of what looks to be one of his own brothers still stands, he can't really see who, but the others? Nothing but shadowy, blurred corpses on the ground. When his two younger brothers have already left and he's alone again, it snaps him back to reality. Remember when I said he pretends not to care about anything? Well shit, what he just saw looks bad. REALLY bad. Someone must have…broken through, somehow. Hurt all but one. He NEEDED to prevent that. So he goes to his other brothers to tell about what he saw, all while Doleon and Kieran go about getting the last shard remaining. No one could FATHOM one of their own hurting the others…it makes no sense! Ruled out automatically.

But what if I said.

Doleon doesn't even know what he's about to do. Literally, mind disconnected from everything else. Once he decides to do what he planned to try with all seven, the shards are in control now. But it doesn't fully happen until he decides to SNAP. And when is that? During an argument with Akmad over his recent strange behavior where Doleon insists nothing is happening or wrong. The shards take over and whoops! You stabbed your brother with an energy spear straight through the heart! Cool, heres some more energy to do a little more violence to the rest of them.

You have to But you know who he snaps out of it at. Poor little Kieran, who could do nothing but watch all that time…the others all fought, so why didn't he?! Why did HE have to be the coward?! Why did HE have to be the little weakling good for nothing at all?! And to make it all worse, he HELPED cause this. He was SOOOOOOOOOOOO WILLING TO HELP! Did that make the half of it his fault?

He's just so done with Doleon now. He may be blaming himself too but Doleon killed all the rest. He's actually angry. He's never risen his voice before, but look at him now. Neither of the remaining two are themselves anymore.

He just turns away. Doleon knows he's not coming back. That hurts…but the shards tell him it shouldn't. You're all powerful now, aren't you? That's what you wanted from the start! Do something with it! Forget Kieran, forget your brothers! You never needed them anyway!

And he turns away too. Shame, they had the strongest bond out of all seven…

And for the rest of his immortal life, Kieran decides he needs to be better. Just. Never care again. And what does that turn him into, centuries later?

In the oc universe au, Kieran is in the place of :

Black Death :) Now, I'm aware that Doleon and Kieran being brothers...does not make Shadow and Eclipse brothers. But here's the thing about that, idk WHAT they are actually. Bc to that extent they aren't canonically "brothers" either. In canon, Doom created Black Death, and he created Eclipse. Who knows what that makes them. Due to that, I headcanon that "brothers" in the Black Arms is just the general familial term. Therefore, to me, it makes sense. Sooooooo...random lore drop! Hooray!