#HARD CARRY 2.5

[gintheghoul]

i was thinking about halloween and how much i love going ham for my costumes. now wondering what I should do this year...

[targaryen-dynasty]

DEEP DEVOTION.

Daemon Targaryen x pregnant!Targaryen!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT - MDNI; canon typical incest/targcest (implied), p in v, oral (fem receiving), cockwarming, pregnant sex, lactating, lactation kink

WORDS: 2.5 K

NOTES: Sorry, I love deleting and editing older stuff. This is an oldie - use it to prepare for my Cregan lactation kink stuff. 😌

✖️ 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

If there’s something you admire about your husband it’s that he has always been a generous lover. It’s his ample experience that truly pays off whenever you two are staying in bed – or somewhere entirely else – solely depending on where the burning desire overcomes you both. 

And that desire is the main reason he’s put a child in you just shy of three moons after your bedding ceremony.

Wild and exciting are terms you’d use to describe you both indulging in the pleasures of flesh. He’s just a little too rough, and always borderlining between being unbelievably good and almost too much – that was, until he has learned you are carrying his babe. 

Where he has taken you like a common whore before, he now takes his time with you; one of his large hands splayed on your growing stomach while he insists on taking you in no other position than on your back with him between your parted legs. 

Sometimes you manage to sweet-talk him into allowing you to sit astride him, coaxing him to give in with the sweetest praises and offers falling past your lips in the tongue of your ancestors, but even then, his hands always rest on your hips for him to guide your movements and set the pace.

And this night is no different. 

You’ve just recently crossed the six moon mark, and your bump and breasts swelled generously already. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it’s ridiculous how much your body has changed over the time, considering you still have four moons to go. Comparing your bodies to the ones of other pregnant women at court, kind of around the same stage of pregnancy as you, you’ve quickly noticed that your body looked different. However, they aren’t carrying the offspring of a true Targaryen, and their bodies don’t need to provide enough milk for the little life growing inside of them, because they aren’t carrying a dragon.

Lying on your back with Daemon’s silver mop of hair between your parted legs, you have your head tipped back, eyes glued to the ceiling. He has been lazily licking at your folds for too long at this point, not noticing that you aren’t finding much joy in it anymore given the lack of variation.

As you look down at him, you see that his lilac eyes are fixed on you – just not at your face. And when you tilt your head down to follow his trail of sight, you quickly learn the reason why. Where your breasts just have felt hard and heavy to the touch before, they now look like it as well, entirely ready for him. 

A few droplets of milk oozed out of your darkened buds, running down the curves of your breasts. It has happened plenty of times before but only very rarely with direct touch, and never in his presence. 

There’s admiration in his gaze, tinged with something more carnal, primal – hunger. It’s enough to send a shiver down your spine, and coaxes a renewed wave of your arousal to ooze out of your core. 

Your hand entangles in his silver strands, and while that touch seems to be enough to pull him out of his trance, you give him no time to react as you tug him up by his hair to tower over you. 

He doesn’t speak, unusual for someone who always has something to say, and his questioning gaze is enough to have you chuckling softly. Cupping his cheeks, you pull him in for a kiss. “I should have warned you, husband, my apologies. I started leaking very recently,” you whisper against his lips. 

Just like the many times before, you wrap your legs around his waist. You have easily flipped him onto his back like this plenty of times before, but never with your bump and breasts so swollen, which makes you rely on some of his help. Utterly mesmerized by the sight, there comes no objection from your husband, and soon enough you straddle his hips, sitting astride him with his hard cock captured between your soaked cunt and his lower stomach.

It takes a few grinds of your hips to fully coat his cock in your arousal, sliding back and forth with ease. His raspy groans are almost drowned out by the moans you release each time the tip of his cock rubs against your sensitive pearl. 

Your husband knows his job as you lift your hips, bringing one hand to your arse to support your weight while the other grips the base of his cock to align him with your needy cunt, inviting you to sink down on him. 

The delicious stretch is enough for you both to finally moan in unison. One of your primal instincts is to cup your swollen belly at the sensation, fingers splayed out to support the burgeoning bump. Not wasting a moment, your husband’s large hand joins yours, resting atop of it and covering it in its entirety. 

You always marvel at it when you’re on top of him, but Daemon truly looks as though he has been created by The Seven, and, most importantly, just for you. His usually neat, silver hair is disheveled and splayed out around his face, his scars, the testament of the many wars he’s fought, on full display, and his muscles twitch each time your core clenches around him. 

And yet it’s crystal clear that the lilac eyes of the dragon between your legs still don’t know where to settle. His dark-blown gaze flickers from your face down to where you both are connected and eventually focuses on your bouncing breasts, but it doesn’t stay there for too long, always finding another, even more interesting part of your body until it eventually comes back to your breasts again. 

And even your body seems to notice your husband’s unabashed interest in them, because they suddenly feel heavier than before – too firm and too full, and practically begging for his attention. With full anticipation, Daemon awaits for you to move so he can enjoy the show he was going to receive, however, you’ve overestimated your stamina.

“You should have listened to me,” Daemon says smugly, although his voice is caught by a particularly tight clench of your walls. He bends forward, his strong arms wrapped around your middle and pulling you closer. As your perky buds press against his chest you can’t help but whimper, too sensitive to press so tightly against his body. The close contact forces some more milk to leak out of your breasts, wetting both your chests. “Let me–”

“No,” you protest, shaking your head to make a point. 

You slowly rock your hips back and forth, your movements faltering every now and then in response to his closeness and tight grip. His muscles flex, indicating that it feels good for him but that he just doesn’t like the position and your clear discomfort that comes with it.

“Must you always be so stubborn?” The annoyance in his voice is audible, and his patience is clearly running thin.

As Daemon’s head tilts upwards, yours bows forwards, both your foreheads resting against each other with your hips coming to a stop. Indecent thoughts have never before been the bloom of your embarrassment, but it seems that it comes with the pregnancy and your changing body.  

It’s him tightly squeezing your arse that catches your attention again, your writhing body pressing against his. “What is it?” he asks sternly

There’s no escaping him, you’re certain. And with him looking at you like a predator looking at its prey, you know it’s just a matter of moments until he’ll force an answer out of you. But where your voice fails you, you figure it’s easier to show what’s on your mind, how you need him.  

Tilting your upper body back slightly, you wipe at the dark skin of your bud, his eyes eagerly following your fingers. The whiny sounds that leave your lips at the soft stimulation are enough to snap the last lingering threads of Daemon’s resolve, a growl-like sound rumbling in his chest.

A few more droplets trickle down your skin at the contact, and when you reach to wipe your fingers clean on the covers, Daemon is quick to seize your wrist and bring it up to his mouth instead. 

He leans forward, nuzzling at your fingers to take in the scent of you, before both digits are engulfed by his lips. It’s something you’ve thought of since the first time you have wetted one of your gowns, yet seeing it with your own eyes is something entirely different that makes you gasp. 

It’s not the first time he sucks on your fingers, but this time it’s different. The burning that settles between your legs causes you to squeeze your thighs around his hips, and you’re sharply reminded of him still being inside of you when he bucks his hips up in return. 

But that’s not where he stops. 

His large palm comes up to cup the swell of your breast, the pad of his thumb brushing your hardened bud before he applies a bit of pressure to coax more milk out of it. Whimpering again at the contact, the sound quickly turns into a moan the moment his tongue swirls over your little bud, cleaning away the slip of fluid that has escaped.

If your husband wasn’t so familiar with your body, seeing how it approved of his actions and all but melted against his touch, he would have considered stopping.

His mouth latches around your bud, slowly starting to suck, and you can’t help yourself but to arch your back, shoving your breasts further into his face and mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck, bending at the elbow to entangle into the hair on the crown of his head, combing your fingers through it. He is all but forced to your breasts now, and you’d fear that he’s close to suffocating, if it wasn’t for you knowing all too well that he’d gladly die this way – with his lips on your tits, suckling on what is solely designated for the babe he has put in your belly. 

Each suck of his mouth has your cunt clenching around his throbbing cock, slowly but surely coaxing you to rut your hips back and forth with newfound vigor. 

Droplets of milk rest in the corners of his mouth as he pulls back to release a heedy groan. The lack of stimulation causes you to whine, a frown etching onto your features, but as soon as you catch a glimpse of the sight beneath you, you feel a fresh wave of arousal drip out of your cunt, coating his cock and thighs. His lips are swollen, a sight you merely know from your exuberant hours of kissing, and his chiseled features are framed by your full breasts on either side of it.

“Keep going, husband,” you whimper, “do not stop.”

Applying a bit of pressure to his head with your elbows, you nudge him forward to encourage him to continue his ministrations to which he eagerly complies. Banding his arms around your middle, he brings you closer to him again. 

You can’t stop yourself from whining words of praise at the relief you feel when he resumes, this time taking rather large gulps of milk like a greedy babe, the sounds of his messy slurping filling your ears. Knowing you are providing for your unborn babe is good, but it doesn’t compare to the feeling of your husband emptying your full breasts.

With every suckle of his lips, you take in a sharp breath, and when his hand comes up to squeeze the slowly sagging flesh of your breast, the pressure in it long gone with the amount of milk he has drunk, you gently rock your way through your peak.  

“Gods, yes–,” you cry out, your sentence cut off by a moan. “Just like that… please.” You aren’t even sure what you are begging for, since he has already given you all you could’ve ever asked for, but the relief and pleasure his mouth and cock grant you rob you of the ability to form any coherent thoughts, your mind hazy with lust.

You are sopping wet, labored breath drowning out the squelching sounds of your core repeatedly dragging over his thick cock to calm the storm that rages within you. You aren’t able to see it, but you feel that he is coated in more than one of your juices. Milk dribbles down the corners of his mouth and chin, whereas his stones, his cock and his thighs are coated in your arousal. 

He’s still snugly nestled inside of your warm and wet womanhood, and besides the throbbing and pulsing, it doesn’t move much, he doesn’t move much, solely indulging in your efforts. It’s a welcomed surprise to not have his hips pistoning in and out of you, making it much more bearable to keep him inside of you even after the effects of your peak subside.

The previous firmness of your breast is long gone, and only once the spasming of your core around him stops, Daemon dares to pull away from you. “You taste divine, my love.”

“Then keep going,” you whimper the demand, strands of your hair clinging to your sweaty skin. 

You are less vocal as he focuses on your other breast, and just enjoy the sensations that course through you, paying attention to what elicits which response from your body. His cock is still buried hard and wanting inside of you, and you settle into a slow and steady rhythm with his mouth now working your other breast. 

But not only you are deeply affected by this. It’s so strange, so illicit, that even your husband slowly but surely feels the familiar tingling at the tip of his cock, despite you not moving much, sending a shudder through his core.

As he applies just the edge of his teeth to the sensitive skin of your little bud, a second peak washes over your body in an ambush, and you chase your pleasure in a haze, oblivious to Daemon being close to completion as well. 

Keening and shaking against him with the force of your peak, Daemon’s body eventually seizes, his cock spilling his seed deep inside of you, a strained groan of him fanning over your wet skin. If you wouldn’t be growing round with his child already, you surely would’ve been with one after this, his seed filling you up to the brim and slowly leaking out of your spasming hole. 

With you being tight and warm around him, it proves to be a challenge to get Daemon to release the sensitive bud, too keen to drink every last drop of your milk while you grow somewhat sore and uncomfortable at this point.

But when he finally does, he looks up at you with lust-blown eyes, the familiar lilac replaced by black. You lick your lips, eyes flickering between his and his lips, swollen and covered in the last remnants of your milk, begging for your attention. 

Your head bows down, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, and as the taste of your milk on his tongue spreads over yours, you can’t stop a moan from spilling into his mouth. His arms wrap around your body yet again, pulling you closer against him. And this time, it doesn’t feel painful when your breasts are squeezed by his firm chest, causing you to sigh in content. 

“Avy jorrāelan.” I love you. 

[ellecdc]

ive been thinking about stone-faced unamused independent reader and how james and barty would absolutely love to baby her and treat her like a princess and she has none of it..until shes feeling sort of down and like she needs their love and support so she gives in and theyre both so shocked and excited theyre like little dogs wagging their tails spinning around her

hiii....I'm back to apologizing to everyone who sent me in requests 2.5+ months ago for me to hoard them until inspiration struck! hope I did it justice hahaha

poly!darksun x black cat!reader and Sirius who just doesn't Get It

CW: fem!reader, reader is maybe a little mean but obviously James and Barty are into that shit, Sirius' POV so a very unreliable narrator

Sirius Black believed himself to be a pretty open-minded person.

He believed that love was love, he staunchly disagreed with blood status and had a lot of respect for muggle-borns, and believed in the fair treatment of beasts and other magical creatures in the Wizarding World.

But no matter how open-minded Sirius believed himself to be, he could not for the life of him figure out how in the hells James Potter and Barty Crouch Junior found their way to you.

Sirius admittedly had a hard enough time finding out that his best friend was dating his semi-estranged little brother’s maniacal (read: bat-shit crazy) best friend, but this? 

This made no sense to him. 

At least when it came to the likes of Barty Crouch Junior, James had found someone who could rival him in energy and enthusiasm. James could run for seven hours straight at a gods-honest sprint and Barty was just about crazy enough to try as well. Barty never denied his more intrusive thoughts and James was morbidly curious enough to watch those thoughts play out.

And both of them seemed to love hard; even if Sirius didn’t approve of that love, even if he didn’t like that love, he could admit that it, at the very least, made sense for him.

But where James was all golden retriever energy and Barty was some kind deranged, rabid mutt straight from the depths of hell, you….

Well, Sirius wasn’t sure exactly what you were. 

Where James was sweet and Barty was enthusiastic, you were utterly unimpressed. 

Where James was excitable and Barty was chaotic, you were completely apathetic.

And where James and Barty could be…slightly codependent, you seemed wholly disinterested in having either of them (or anyone for that matter) near you. 

“Sod off; I can carry my own damned books.” You had spat at Barty as he tried to take them from you. 

And Sirius had to stand there and watch both Barty and James stare after you with a lovesick look adorning their faces as you stalked away from them. 

“Well isn’t she just a ray of sunshine?” Sirius muttered derisively, earning him a threatening glare from Barty and a frustrated stare from James.

“You’re one to talk, Pads; I watched Remus actually growl at a first year who tried to take the last pumpkin pastie at dinner last night.” He grumbled before redirecting Barty away from Sirius’ jugular. 

And that seemed to be your response to pretty much anything those two did; you elbowed James in the stomach when he held the door open for you like a ‘poncy chauffeur’, you stomped on Barty’s foot when he offered you his elbow on the moving staircase, and you never seemed particularly pleased should they wind up in your vicinity.

Yet…

Yet you never made any effort to actually remove them from your vicinity, nor did you make any effort to leave theirs.

In fact, if Sirius wasn’t mistaken, he was sure he saw your shoulders relax ever so slightly when you realised the people pulling out the chair across from you in the library were James and Barty. 

They tensed right back up when Sirius and Peter accompanied them, but that's besides the point.

No, you didn’t converse with any  of them. Yes, you completely ignored any attempts at conversation from James or Barty - save taking the opportunity to correct them in their debate about their potions homework. And just once, Sirius was certain he’d heard you whisper a quiet thank you to Barty when he helped you find the page number for the answer to number 47 of your Herbology homework. 

It seemed to Sirius that no matter how staunchly you refused to allow either boy to fawn over you, you weren’t completely averse to their company. And though this amount of dedication didn’t exactly surprise Sirius coming from James, seeing as he spent four and half years of his school life pursuing a completely disinterested witch, he was confused that Barty hadn’t gotten bored yet.

It was all very peculiar, Sirius thought. 

Even more peculiar was when Barty and James had been snuggling in James’ bed as James quizzed Moony for the upcoming Alchemy test when there was a tentative knock on the dormitory door. 

Peter looked up from his Ancient Runes homework to look at Sirius, James and Barty lifted their heads to look at Sirius, and Remus turned in his desk chair to look at Sirius.

“What?” Sirius asked. “I didn’t knock.”

“You’re the only one not currently doing anything.” Remus countered.

Sirius paused in his throwing and catching of James’ pilfered snitch to look at him incredulously.

“I am too doing something.” He argued, holding the snitch between his thumb and forefinger and waving it at him. “Besides, Junior’s just laying there.”

“I’m a guest, Black. It’d be terribly improper for me to answer your dormitory door.”

“Answer the sodding door, Sirius.” Remus grumbled as he turned back towards James.

“A ray of sunshine.” James sing-songed for Sirius’ benefit, clearly still not over his passing comment of you from days ago. 

Sirius let out a dramatically petulant sigh as he stood to open the door.

Your face pinched when you saw who had answered, though Sirius had to hand it to you how quickly you corrected your expression.

Before you had a chance to tell Sirius why you were here, he looked back over his shoulder at James’ bed.

“See, I don’t think I should have to open the door for your bird!”

All that was heard was a painful sounding thump and James muttering “Barty, my glasses” before Barty materialised at the door. 

“Hi Treasure!” He greeted enthusiastically.

Sirius watched your eyes narrow as you seemingly debated whether or not to make a fuss over his nickname before ultimately deciding against it. 

“Angel!” James cheered as he, too, rounded the corner and shoved Sirius out of the way. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

Sirius sat back down on his bed where he could see you consider your options carefully. 

Finally, after having the two sods stand there no doubt smothering you in smiles and soft eyes did you look shyly down at your shoes. “Can I…hang out with you guys for the afternoon?” You asked quietly.

Barty and James exchanged a - quite comical, in Sirius’ opinion - excited look before returning their gazes to you. “Of course!” They chorused; the volume startling you into lifting your head to look at them nervously. 

James cleared his throat and moved out of the door frame, ushering you in. “Of course you can.” He offered quieter this time, guiding you towards his bed as he looked over his shoulder and mouthed “oh my gods” at Barty who was eagerly following behind you. 

“What have you been up to today?” James asked then, clearly wondering what motivated this impromptu and voluntary visit but not wanting to chance whatever spell had been cast to get you here. 

You sat down on the edge of the bed, anxiously picking at your nail beds as each boy sat tentatively beside you. 

“I was studying in the library…” You offered, sounding horribly robotic and rehearsed in your response before you let out a shuddering sigh. Sirius watched as you visibly deflated and leaned slightly closer into Barty’s side. “I’ve had a bit of a headache all day.” You admit.

James and Barty both coo in unison as James cautiously rubs circles on your back; you let him.

“You have a headache?” Sirius deadpanned from across the room. “And you came here? To these two? Are they not the source?” 

“Get out.” Barty spat, braving himself as he tightened his arm around you; once again, you let him. 

“You can’t kick me out of my own dorm room, Junior!” Sirius argued. “Why don’t you go to your dorm room?”

“Oh, do you want to know what your baby brother and Rosier were up to before I left? Because I’ll happily scar you with that knowledge, Black.” Barty threatened. 

Sirius, who was not ashamed to admit he was perhaps more than slightly immature, simply covered his ears and started singing to drown out the sound of Barty’s voice.

“That’s it, everyone out.” James barked then; tone taking on an air of Gryffindor quidditch captain.

Remus scoffed indignantly at that as Peter - clearly the wisest of the bunch - simply began packing up his homework. “You promised to help me pass this test!”

“Oh for Salazar’s sake, Lupin; the answers are A, D, B, B, A, C, D, A, A, true, true, false, Nicholas Flammel.” Barty barked at him, causing Remus to blink owlishly at him. 

“Fine.” Remus finally said as he stood, shocking Sirius into silence at his quick acquiescence to such abhorrent demands. “Let’s go, Sirius.” 

Sirius, feeling awfully petulant, hurled the snitch towards James’ head who quickly and calmly caught it before offering it to you as Remus hauled him off the bed by his wrist and all but dragged him towards the door. 

“But it’s not fair, Moony!” Sirius pouted as he slammed on the breaks just outside the threshold of their dorm room.

“Sirius.” Remus started solemnly. “How many times did you try to convince me to snuggle with you at night before we started dating?”

“217.” Sirius answered readily, relishing in the soft smile Remus had clearly tried and failed at fighting off. 

“Right, 217 times you tried to convince me to snuggle with you; and how many of those times did I deny you?”

“216.”

“Right.” Remus agreed. “And what had James done to ensure that I would relent that one time?”

Sirius let out a pained sigh as he looked to the heavens. “He charmed his, Pete’s, and your bed to the ceiling so there was only one option.” 

“Right.” Remus agreed again, softer this time as he rested his hand at the juncture of Sirius’ neck and shoulder and rubbed his thumb along the column of his throat. “So don’t you think the least we could do right now is just let them have the room?” 

Sirius looked back into the room in time to see you smiling softly at something James was saying as Barty placed what appeared to be a wet cloth to the back of your neck; your eyes closing and face relaxing in relief, leaning back into Barty as James massaged your calves and carried on in his story. 

“What did I do to deserve this?” Sirius whined then, leaning his head into his boyfriend’s chest as he watched you curl up, not unlike a cat who had finally decided to sit on its person’s lap.

“Can you maybe try to remind yourself that James deserves this?” Remus whispered into Sirius’ hair.

“For Godric’s sake, Moony.” Sirius grumbled as he stood and began storming off in the direction of the common room. “Why d’you have to be so bloody reasonable all of the time!?”

[talesofsonicasura]

To Save A DogDay

I couldn't help but write this after seeing the constant dedication of saving the giant toy doggo. So here's something to assist you guys in the effort. I've done some research(even though Google was being an ass) and took a look at this particular post by @dafloof

First off, DogDay is surprisingly big despite being cut in half. If I have to compare his size then think of those giant plushies you win from a theme park or carnival game. Thus the only possible carry for the average person to safely escort him is bridal or hanging off like a koala on the side due to the grab pack. He might be able to shrink himself to a more manageable size if DogDay is similar to CatNap in body structure.

Although that doesn't mean the task is impossible outside of adrenaline. DogDay may be big you got to think about his possible weight. Bigger Bodies are still toys with the Smiling Critters being plushies. How much of him is stuffing and not organs?

The necessary body parts for him to still be alive are the lungs, heart, brain, stomach, and some sort of skeletal structure. Here's a weight chart for the average human. (Although these might be smaller if harvested back as a child than an adult.)

Stomach: 2-4 pounds/lbs

Brain- 2.5 pounds/lbs

Heart- 0.25 pounds/lbs

Lungs- 1.8 pounds/lbs

Human Skeleton- 15-25 pounds/lbs

Average weight here 21.05 - 31.05 lbs. His arm bones might be reinforced similar to the Prototype but they still wouldn't be that heavy. For carrying in your arms, 35- 55 lbs is what the the untrained person can hold. Body weight contributes to how much someone can carry with a 139 lbs untrained woman being able to deadlift around 74 lbs. For men it is 125 lbs for 148 lbs.

Adrenaline can help contribute to this as there have been feats done by people in dangerous situations. One example being a human mother fighting off a polar bear to protect her kids or someone moving a car by themselves to get free. We can do insane things when it comes to survival.

There's also the mental side to this. Our brains actually diminish the perception of how strong we are by 40%. If you carry something you love or cherish like a person, then they can weigh less just from that viewpoint. Sometimes thinking like the Little Engine That Could will make a difference.

Now I am not forgetting the dangerous little critters. There are ways to deal with them and have enough time to bring DogDay along. In his cell, there are two ports they can crawl out of. Blocking these whether by flares or stuffing them with nearby items can do the trick.

Second is bribery. We aren't restricted to the environment like in the game and throughout the facility there are intact vending machines. The toys obviously need to eat but seem unable get into the machines. YOU CAN.

Break the glass and stockpile as much snacks as possible. Finding bags or boxes to carry them wouldn't be hard. Offer these to the little Critters in exchange for DogDay. You can open one bag for further incentive as the chance to get a special treat is something no one will be able to resist.

DogDay might be able to drag himself so breaking the chains with the Grab Pack or a different tool is possible. They are probably rusty thus easier to break. It will obviously hurt for DogDay to drag his body so stealing something like a cushion from CatNap's hideyhole could ease the pain.

Should that not be the case then other options are available. Considering Playcare is a fun house, you might be able to find scooterboards or a platform cart to carry him. If not then a makeshift sled to pull DogDay about is the next best move.

Now there's actually another escape route. A duck ride that you couldn't access in the game due to bugs. I think Mob was planning for a chase down there as it is fully fleshed out with puzzles and an environment.

DogDay can hold onto the boat while you solve the puzzles to get out. For those who hadn't chosen bribery then flares will keep pursuing Little Critters away. Maybe set a fire as you escape since there's plenty of items to make a molotov cocktail if crafty enough.

I suggest finding some walkie talkies as someone needs to look after DogDay. The area under the statue can be a possible safe spot but being able to contact Kissy Missy and Poppy will better the chances of his recovery than just survival. Both know the factory's inner works enough to remain hidden so they might know where to find supplies. A possible ally with valuable info can sway them to help.

There is also the option of coming back to Playcare. DogDay might still be alive as you can hear his muffled cries during the chase. He might be worse for wear due to the little menaces piloting him like a bootleg Megazord. Walkie talkies can help you page Kissy Missy to help with escorting the Bigger Body safely.

It is possible to save DogDay if you are smart or crafty enough to use the environment. The factory offers a lot of potential options to help with that. Do know that you can turn a simple water gun into a flamethrower.

Why follow the rules of the game when there are ways to break them?

[peachdues]

Mayhaps some Sanemi NFSW headcanons 🤲

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA NSFW HEADCANONS

I neither regret nor apologize for how carried away I got with this.

CW: f!Reader • NSFW • MDNI • Sanemi’s oral fixation • breeding/creampie kink • switch!Sanemi • exhibitionism

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES

He has a silvery happy trail that begins just below his navel and runs narrow before widening just before his groin. He really likes it when you drag your tongue down it (and it's a sure way to get him panting).

Below the belt, he keeps his hair neat and trimmed -- any time you're spent gagging on a stray pubic hair is time you're not spending with your mouth around his cock, and that's just a tragedy (but he doesn't give a shit whether or not you have hair!)

Now let's get to the good part: his dick

Physically, Sanemi's cock is just like the rest of him: absolutely intimidating. You lowkey think you're going to die the first time you see it because there's just no way in hell that's going to fit without splitting you in half, right???

He's above average in length -- about a solid 6.5-7 inches when hard, but he's about 2.5 of HIS fingers in girth. When he's erect, it stands straight up, with an angry, red tip that's already leaking because the man is eager -- and not just to be in you, but cum in you, too. Whether it's your mouth or your cunt, it doesn't matter, just know you're going to be filled no matter what.

FOREPLAY

Sanemi's favorite snack might be ohagi, but after meeting you, it's your pussy.

Sanemi doesn't cow before anyone, but that man will drop to his knees for you with just a flutter of your eyelashes, head going straight between your thighs so he can have his fill of you until you're doubled over his shoulder, legs shaking so badly he has to hold you up.

His ideal day consists of you, sitting on his face, while being tongue-deep inside of your cunt. He can go at it for hours, your weight bearing down on him as your thighs cage his head, while he laps at your sweetness and wraps those sinful lips of his around your throbbing, overstimulated clit for a nice long suck.

the man is a connoisseur of cunt idk what else to say

HOW HE FUCKS YOU

Let's go over your first time together.

Though he has an incredibly high sex drive, during those first couple of times, he exerts the self-control of a Buddhist monk.

This is also because for him, sex is more than just a way to feel good (though, don't get him wrong -- it feels fucking incredible). For Sanemi, sex also means being vulnerable; it means letting someone see him without the armor of his sword, his uniform, his status as the brutal, relentless Pillar he is.

So whether it's your first time ever or just your first time with him, he's going to be gentle -- because Sanemi would rather eat and shit glass than hurt you

Like come on, the man has buried too many of his loved ones already, he ain't tryin' to bury you, too

He's moving slow and languid, barely pulling out in favor of rolling his hips into yours. Part of this is for your benefit, because he wants you to feel him, but it's also for his.

Sanemi might be balls-deep in you at the moment, but he's still a Hashira, and his observation and perception skills are sharp. He's mentally taking note of what touches and movements make you gasp and sigh, and especially those that make you dig your nails into his back, tighten your legs around him, and whimper his name.

After a couple of times together (and I mean like two MAX), buckle up, buttercup: Sanemi is now an expert in your body and he's about to educate you.

Okay, now that the first time is out of the way, let's talk Sanemi in bed overall

This man is a moaner

I'm sorry, but Sanemi Shinazugawa has never known how to keep his fucking mouth shut, so what makes you think he'd do so in bed? When your slick, tight walls are gripping him like a fucking vice? Who tf do you think he is, Tomioka??

He's also a talker -- especially the more pussydrunk he gets. Whether it's your name, how much he loves you, that he wants to marry you or get you pregnant, the man may as well be giving a sermon in his devotion to you while your eyes are rolled back in your skull, mouth half-open as he fucks every sane thought you've ever had right out of your pretty head.

The man is a switch. He's a dom in every other aspect of his life, so it's nice to let loose with his lover a bit and relax -- let someone else take control. After all, sex for Sanemi isn't just about feeling fucking fantastic, but it's also about expressing with his body what he can't with his words.

When he's on top, he's a service dom. Your pleasure is his pleasure -- so even as his cock slides in and out of you, he's still going to work. He's not cumming until you've cum at least two or three times, and even after he's done, he's still going to make you cum again. He's constantly telling you how good you are, how beautiful you look in whatever position he has you bent in, and how perfect you feel around him.

That said, he's into both overstimulating and edging you -- but he's not too mean about either.

But when Sanemi is on the bottom?

The whiniest bitch you've ever met.

He's begging you to go faster, or simply to give him more, but you love teasing him as much as he does you, so you'll alternate your pace in order to prolong his torture (but hey, it just means he cums twice as much and twice as hard in the end).

Play with his balls while you're on top and he will cum so hard he goes cross-eyed for a hot second

I feel like the fandom largely agrees Sanemi has a breeding kink, but I also thinks this translates into a creampie kink in general. Sure, he'll cum on your face, your tits, your thighs as much as you want -- but only after he's filled your greedy little cunt to its brim, and then he'll do it one more time for good measure. You're his girl, after all, so he knows you can take it.

Initially, he'd pull out every time, mostly because he didn't know how to apporach the subject of asking you whether you were okay with him finishing inside. He didn't want to assume that you were taking some sort of medication to prevent an accidental whoopsie, but while he loves the idea of getting you pregnant and having a family, he doesn't want to force that on you if it's not what you want

(local mama's boy has childhood trauma?? from his father?? it's more likely than you think)

so Sanemi continues to pull out, instead painting your stomach, your thighs, or your ass with his creamy, hot seed, even though it pains him to do so.

That is, until one night, he's pounding into you so goddamn perfectly, with your legs draped over his forearms and ass nearly resting against his thighs as he ruts into you, his weight pressing deliciously down upon you into the futon. You can tell by the way his hips are slapping against yours, making the lewd, squelching sound of your messy cunt nearly drown out your breathy whimpers, that you're close -- so, so close, but then Sanemi tenses.

"I'm 'bout to cum," he manages to grit through his teeth, his hips stuttering as he goes to pull out of your intoxicating, silken heat. Through the haze he's created in your mind, your stomach clenches as you realize you're going to lose this -- this wonderful feeling of being so warm and so full of him. Your release is close, so fucking close, and if he pulls out now, it's going to be ruined and you're so desperate to cum. Your legs lock around his backside, trying to hold him in place, and his eyes widen.

"N-no, 'Nemi, please," you start to beg, and to his bewilderment, you start tearing up, lower lip quivering because he can't pull out, not when he's making you feel so good; not when you're so fucking close.

"Shit," he groans, and his hips pick right back up slamming against you, his biceps flexing as his arms tighten around your thighs. "Shit, sweetheart, you don't have to ask me twice."

After that -- pulling out??? never heard of her.

KINK-O-CLOCK

Like I said: his biggest kink is giving you so many creampies, Hostess is thinking about offering him a job in product development

Fucking loves 69'ing, because he gets the best of both worlds -- your pussy on his face, and your mouth around his cock

Bit of a risk kink/exhibitionism kink. He likes the thrill of the risk of getting caught doing it in a place you two shouldn't be. He gets especially turned on at the thought of you having to go about your usual business while his cum is still oozing out of you.

Loves when you play with his ass but would rather be eaten by a demon than admit it.

Once, while you were on your knees in front of him, his cock jammed down your throat, you reached your hands around him to grip his ass and haul him closer. Somehow, your fingers dipped between his cheeks and the man bucked into you so hard, you almost choked.

Even though he nearly triggered your gag reflex, you were able to ignore it because the man let out a wholeass whine -- so of course, you had to do it again.

The second your index finger dipped towards his opening, he came in your mouth, and he came hard.

He likes to bite you/leave marks on you -- especially your breasts, your hips, and your inner thighs. He also enjoys when you mark him -- make sure to give him one or two on his chest, so he can display them proudly.

Truthfully, he loves when you pin him down by his wrists while riding him. Could he overpower you with a flick of his pinky finger? Yes. But something about your small hands wrapping so tightly around his while you hold him down against the bed, your hips grinding and swiveling up and down his length makes him go a little dumb in the brain.

Fun fact! You once restrained him by both his wrists and ankles and rode him and by the end of it, he looked like this:

[castiwls]

king of my heart - d.w

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt; 'Drinkin beer out of plastic cups. Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff. Baby, all at once this is enough'

Requested; @nix-rose

Notes; tysm for the request! I think I might have gotten a little carried away lmao. Requests are open!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

You moved your wrist in a circle watching as the beer sloshed around the cup. Looking up from your cup your gaze settled on the man in front of you. A small smile grew on your lips as you watched him slowly drink from his own cup. You could tell by the look in his eyes that his mind was elsewhere currently.

Dean Winchester was a relatively new character in your life. You’d met him on a job a few months back and your relationship had quickly developed from friends into lovers. You’d always told yourself that you wouldn’t get involved with anyone in this way, your job was too risky and you knew you weren’t prepared to deal with the pain that came with losing a loved one. 

But you’d thrown that all out the window the minute Dean Winchester had waltzed his way into your life. To say you’d been swept off your feet by the man was an understatement, in the short time it had taken you to complete the hunt you’d found yourself falling into his bed at the end of the day instead of your own.

“You okay?” You nudged his foot with your own, placing the cup on the table. Dean let out a small noise of surprise before he turned his attention back to you. “I’m fine sweetheart, just thinking.” He sent you a grin before taking another drink from his own cup. “Thinking about what?” You leaned forward slightly to capture his free hand in your own. “You looked like you were thinking quite hard.”

“About us. I mean are you sure you really wanna do this with me of all people.” He let out a quiet laugh squeezing your hand slightly. The look in his eyes was something you hadn’t seen before. It was vulnerable. He stared at you, his lip between his teeth. “I mean, I’m far from Prince Charming, i can’t give you that white picket fence.” He trialled off his gaze falling back onto the table as he picked up his cup and finished off the last of the beer.

You sat quietly for a moment as you processed his words. “What makes you think I want any of that?” You tilted your head frowning slightly. “Because…” The word came out harsher than he intended. Taking a breath he leaned forward, his face only inches from yours now. “Damn it… because it’s what you deserve alright.”

“But that’s not what I want.” You said softly. Pulling back you swung your legs over the bench moving to sit beside Dean. As you sat beside him he turned his body to face you, his hand finding yours again.  “I promised myself that I was fine alone. That I didn’t need anyone but then I met you and all that changed. All that changed because, for the first time in my life, I saw a man that I could picture a future with.” You reached up to gently run a hand through his hair. “I don’t want anything fancy, I don't want a house with 2.5 kids. All I want is you.” 

You heard Dean’s breath hitch slightly at your words. “You're enough,” you gestured to the room around you. “This is enough.” Dean was quiet for a moment before you felt him gently place a hand on your cheek. A small smile graced his lips as he simply stared at you for a moment. “I love you.” His voice was barely louder than a whisper as he spoke. 

Before you had a chance to respond he leaned forward pressing his lips to yours. After a moment he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I love you too.” You whispered.

[thebettybook]

(Chapter 1) A Spin on an Enchanted Tale

Characters: Miguel O’Hara, fem!reader, Gabriella O’Hara

Chapter 1 summary: My Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader AU inspired by Disney’s Enchanted (2007). Reader (a princess cosplayer in their late 20s) meets Miguel O’Hara (a 31-year-old single dad who doesn’t believe in fairy tales) and his adorable five-year-old daughter Gabriella O’Hara on a night in Nueva York

Warnings: A fluff story with just a sprinkle of Miguel angst

Spanish used (I used SpanishDict): Papá (Dad); Por el amor de Dios (For the love of God); Dulce sueños, mi solecita (Sweet dreams, my lovely sunshine); Tres leches cake (Sponge cake soaked in three different types of milk)

Chapters: Ch 1 {below} | Ch 2 | Ch 2.5 | Ch 3 {in progress}

“And they lived happily ever after.”

That was the phrase you could always count on at the end of each and every one of your favorite fairy tales.

That was the ending phrase that marked new beginnings, and so far, your “new beginning” seemed like it had already ended.

You let out a sigh, shifting against the metal bench you sat on. It was only about an hour or two since you were kicked out of your apartment; your landlady was tired of you being behind on rent.

To be fair, it wasn’t really your fault (as you tried to justify to yourself). An aspiring fantasy cosplay designer in their late 20s who wanted to create princess gowns, you moved to Nueva York to learn from the best of fashion houses that specialized in haute couture.

As with moving to any major city with bright optimism would go, you found yourself rejected by every fashion house you could find and turned to part-time work as a princess cosplayer for children’s parties.

Even though you loved your work as a princess cosplayer for children’s parties, the lack of pay from the job led you to this exact moment: sitting on a bench in full princess wedding cosplay and a suitcase carrying all of your belongings (a few day outfits in dire need of a good wash, your sewing machine, and a bundle of fabric scraps and accessories you kept with you at all times) parked next to you.

Ok, maybe it was your fault for thinking you could “make it” in a big city, as if you were in a movie or something.

At least no one was gawking at you. Nueva Yorkers were far too busy rushing into the many restaurants and shops around you or too busy looking at their phones to notice a “princess” in their midst.

Endless layers of ivory tulle pooled around you, shifting against each other as you lifted your feet a bit in front of you to make sure the dirt on the Nueva York streets didn’t soil your gown.

Your fingers picked up one puff sleeve larger than the size of your head that began to droop down your shoulder. If you weren’t kicked out of your apartment, you would have admired your handiwork on the gown—a white puff-sleeved wedding dress with a bustier corset and full floor-length skirt outlined with ruby lines.

You found the dress at a thrift store the day you moved to Nueva York and brought home to spruce it up, and had finally gotten the chance to wear the gown earlier today for a job at a child’s birthday party where you were requested to be the child’s favorite princess in a wedding gown. Your coworker, who was supposed to show up as the prince in his wedding attire, didn’t even come.

Despite that, you made sure the child had a fun party by putting on your best impression of the princess character and singing the character’s songs to the best of your ability along with the child.

A sad smile graced your lips for the first time tonight. You always believed that magic could be found in situations of the unexpected, but right now it was hard to find even a speck of magic to make you feel better.

A groan escaped from your lips as your tiara began to slip, too. The gold tiara nestled on top of your head, gleaming against the Nueva York moonlight with beaded ivory flowers you hot-glued onto the tiara, weighed on your head—heavy with all the questions that began to swirl in your mind.

I’ll have to call my boss tomorrow. How do I tell her I’m basically homeless now?

What do I do now? Where do I go?

You didn’t have any friends in Nueva York you could call about your current situation. Sure, you were friendly with your party princess coworkers, but you all didn’t contact each other much outside of work. Thus, staying with a friend wasn’t an option for you.

Your hands made their way up to your head, plucking off the tiara. You held it in your hands, gliding your fingers over the beaded flowers of the tiara.

The irony of being dressed like a princess in a wedding gown about to ride off into the sunset—or in your case, moonlight—to “happily ever after”—

“Are you a princess?” A voice so small, yet filled with such curiosity and wonder, interrupted your thoughts.

Your eyes flew up from your tiara to the owner of the voice. The voice matched its owner—a little girl who stared at you with awe.

She didn’t look older than six, and seemed to be into soccer, as you saw from her lavender soccer uniform, waves of dark-brown hair tied up in a ponytail, and black-and-white soccer cleats. She also had the same look most children from the parties you worked at did—her warm brown eyes widened and her mouth on the brim of beaming the sunniest of smiles at seeing you like you were a dream come true.

You couldn’t help but offer her a smile; even if your day wasn’t going great, you could at least make someone else’s day great.

“I suppose you could call me that,” you let out a twinkling laughter—one that you learned to perfect for your princess performances. “I’m Princess Y/N.”

“I knew it!” The little girl’s eyes shined like stars—something you’ve never seen in your time in Nueva York. “You’re so pretty, and your tiara is really pretty, too!”

Your lips broke into the most genuine smile you’ve had all day. “You think so?” You held the tiara out so that the little girl could see it better. “Wanna know a secret?”

The little girl nodded, her ponytail swishing behind her.

“I made it myself,” you revealed in a loud whisper, the back of your hand to the side of your lips.

“How?!” The girl’s eyes brimmed with even more curiosity. “I didn’t know princesses could make their own tiaras!”

“Princesses can do or make anything they want,” you winked, making the little girl giggle. “Whether that’s wearing a tiara from the castle’s treasury or sprucing up a $5 one with some paint and a hot-glue gun.”

As the child marveled at your tiara, you scanned your surroundings for any parent or guardian that the girl might’ve belonged to. To your slightly-frantic dismay, the people around you and the little girl just keep walking.

“Little one, could you please tell me your name? And if you have a mom or dad or guardian nearby?” you offered the child a kind smile. If you didn’t find the girl’s parent or guardian and the girl was lost, you decided that you would help the girl and call the police.

She nodded, her eyes moving up from your tiara to you. “I’m Gabriella, but you can call me Gabi. I don’t have a mom, but I have a—”

“Gabriella!” A man’s voice, ringing with worry, called out to the little girl. The thuds of his footsteps grew in volume as he ran towards the two of you and cut through some pedestrians who shot him annoyed glares before resuming their walks.

“Papá!” Gabriella ran towards the man, who immediately scooped her up in a hug.

“I was so worried I lost you,” the man’s voice was only filled with immense relief. He towered over most of the pedestrians around the three of you. While he was tall (probably over 6 ft tall), you couldn’t see his face clearly as he buried his face in the crook of Gabriella’s neck.

Gabriella managed to wiggle her way out of her father’s tight grasp. “I wasn’t lost, I was talking to Princess Y/N!” Gabriella turned around in her father’s arms to smile and point at you.

At the mention of your name, the man’s head snapped up. Your breath hitched; from the way his dark-brown hair swept back and curled at the nape of his neck to highlight his chiseled cheekbones and jaw to the biceps that bulged under his cerulean blazer and white dress shirt, he was nothing short of handsome. The warmth in his hickory orbs at the sight of Gabriella only made him more handsome in your eyes. Truly, he put every prince cosplayer you’ve ever worked with to shame.

Despite the sharp lines under his eyes, Gabriella’s father looked like he was in his early 30s. Before you could introduce yourself or assure him that his child was safe all along, his thick, dark brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed at you. The warmth in his eyes grew cold with suspicion as he scanned you from head-to-toe. You didn’t seem like a threat, but as a father, he had to ensure his child’s safety.

“I was going to call the police if I couldn’t find her parents or guardians,” you couldn’t help but let out in a rush, feeling the need to explain yourself as he continued to eye you.

After what felt like an eternity of his eyes on you, and after him coming to the silent conclusion that you were telling the truth, Gabriella’s father set her down and took her hand in his. He stepped forward, extending his free hand to you.

“Thank you for looking after my daughter,” he gazed down at you, his frown lines softening as he offered you a half-smile. “I’m Miguel O’Hara.”

“Of course,” you brought your hand toward his. He didn’t hesitate to give you a firm handshake. “I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N. I’m a princess cosplayer for children’s birthday parties, so before you think I’m some criminal trying to kidnap children or something here, I just got kicked out of my apartment right after coming back from a job in this getup.”

Gabriella’s father’s–Miguel’s–smile vanished, his brows knitting together. “Why’d you get kicked out?” His accusatory tone indicated that he wondered if you got kicked out of your apartment for any suspicious reasons on your part.

You fought the urge to let out a sigh of frustration. You had a long day, and you didn’t appreciate being interrogated by this frustratingly-handsome man, but you also understood his concern since he almost lost his daughter.

“I got kicked out because I was behind on rent,” you turned your face away from him in an effort to hide any hint of embarrassment on your face. “Being a princess cosplayer for children’s parties doesn’t exactly help pay bills. After I got kicked out, I ended up sitting here and Gabriella came up to me.”

“Ah,” Miguel paused and pursed his lips, not really sure what to say to make a stranger (a stranger he now deemed as a harmless stranger) feel better. “I’m…sorry you got kicked out.”

“Thanks,” you turn your face back towards him, now being the one to give him a half-smile. Your eyes then flitted down to your and his hands, realizing he didn’t let go of your hand till now. Miguel’s eyes followed yours before retracting his hand with an awkward chuckle. In a poor effort to make things less awkward, you echoed with an awkward laugh of your own.

You were both too preoccupied with this interaction of pure awkwardness to notice Gabriella’s movements. The top of her head barely reached Miguel’s knees as she switched her gaze from her father, to you, and then to your hand in his. A grin a mile wide lit up on her face at the two of you, the wheels in her five-year-old brain turning.

“Papá,” she began. At his daughter’s voice, Miguel instantly turned his attention back to her and kneeled down to face her at eye level.

“I’m glad you’re safe, but what did I say about running off by yourself and talking to strangers?” You noticed that Miguel’s voice was nothing but soft and gentle every time he talked with Gabriella.

Gabriella clasped her hands behind her back. “That I shouldn’t. I’m sorry, I just wanted to talk to the princess. But I won’t go away by myself anymore, pinky promise.”

She held out her right pinky in front of her, making her all the more adorable. Miguel only had a soft smile as he linked his own right pinky with Gabriella’s.

You eased down on the bench in silence, your half-smile growing as you watched the way Miguel gently swiped away a stray eyelash from Gabriella’s cheek with the back of his thumb.

You could tell he was having a hard time kneeling down with his tall stature and all by the way he shifted his feet behind him. But you also noticed that he kept kneeling down to appear somewhat at eye and height level with Gabriella so that he could foster healthy discussions between the two of them as parent and child. Even though you just met him, you could tell Miguel was a great dad and that he loved Gabriella more than anything.

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” Warmth flooded Miguel’s eyes, pooling gold flecks of honey into his hickory irises. “Let’s go home, say ‘goodbye’ to the princess.”

To your and his surprise, Gabriella shook her head furiously, her ponytail swishing from side-to-side. “No!”

“‘No’?” Miguel raised his eyebrows.

“Princess Y/N doesn’t have anywhere to go,” Gabi pointed at your suitcase, jutting her bottom lip forward to convey a pout. You were shocked she even noticed your suitcase; kids were more perceptive than you thought.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, little one,” you waved your hand, mustering the best and brightest princess smile you could put on. “I’m just waiting for my prince to arrive on his horse. Should be aaaany minute now.”

Miguel’s gaze moved from Gabriella, to your suitcase, to you. He didn’t know whether to stare at you to wonder if you were being serious about the prince and horse (and considering that this was Nueva York, he shouldn’t be too surprised), or whether to smile at the fact that you were trying to keep up your princess act for his daughter.

“My dad’s better than any prince,” Gabi took Miguel’s large hand in an effort to drag him closer to you before turning her head to gaze up at Miguel. “Papá, can the princess please stay with us? We have a ton of rooms at home.”

“No, no, it’s ok—,” you began, shaking your head as furiously as Gabriella earlier.

“—Gabi,” Miguel interrupted you, his tone a bit more firm this time. His gaze set on your gown. “We can’t just take in a stranger.”

Miguel’s hands rested on his hips. He couldn’t help but eye you from head-to-toe again, as if he was trying to detect any threats you might have kept hidden from him.

You met him with a raised brow and crossed your arms in front of your torso, trying to appear nonchalant and ignore the heat growing on your cheeks at the fact that his eyes were on you again.

“But you always tell me that it’s important to help others,” Gabriella put her hands on her hips, comically trying to mimic her father. “And I wanna help my best friend Princess Y/N.”

Miguel’s gaze dropped from yours as he turned to his daughter faster than lightning. “What? I thought I was your best friend,” he mumbled. You let out a snort of amusement as you heard Miguel sound genuinely hurt.

“You can be my best friend again if you let Princess Y/N stay with us,” Gabriella ran over to your side, sitting next to you on the bench.

She wrapped her hands around your arm and clung to your side despite the layers of tulle from your gown that tried to push her away. “I don’t want Princess Y/N to be cold and outside by herself,” Gabriella whispered as she nuzzled her face against your arm, making you want to shed tears right then and there.

“Gabi, I’ll be ok,” you tried your best to muster a smile and appear brave for Gabriella. However, you knew you weren’t being too convincing, and the subtle crack in your voice stemming from your fear of the unknown was something you didn’t miss.

Miguel didn’t miss it either as he let out a huff mixed with annoyance at the situation and sympathy for you. His daughter was just as stubborn as he could be, but she also had a point.

As a gentleman through and through, Miguel didn’t feel right with the thought of leaving a lady like you out alone on the streets of Nueva York in the middle of the night (even if he didn’t question that you could defend yourself). What kind of example would he be setting for Gabriella if he just took her home and left you here?

“…Alright, you can stay with us if you’d like,” Miguel let out with a sigh. “And you can stay with us while we help you find another place in Nueva York to live.”

Your eyes widened at his decision, and your mouth opened instinctively to say “No, thank you,” but before you could do so, Gabi ran back to her father and into his arms.

“You’re the best, Papá!” Gabi’s statement made Miguel beam brighter than the Nueva York moon as he scooped her up. If you weren’t so shocked by his proposal, you would’ve laughed at how endearing he was with his daughter.

The two O’Haras then looked at you while you tried to weigh your options, but you only had two:

1. Stay with this little family you knew nothing about

Or

2. Stay out on the streets until you could contact your boss (which would be tomorrow because you felt unprofessional at the thought of calling your boss after work hours).

“…If it’s not a bother, I would love to take you up on that offer,” you shot Miguel a smile that no doubt displayed all your nerves at the thought of staying at a stranger’s place, even though he was the one who just offered a stranger to stay at his place.

“You’re coming home with us!” Gabriella raised her hands in the hair before scrambling down from Miguel’s arms. Before you could blink, she took your right hand and tugged on it so you could stand up.

“I suppose I am,” you chuckled, letting yourself be led by the child. As you stood up, you used your left hand to smooth the front of your gown’s skirt. You then turned to your suitcase, only to see Miguel approaching it.

“I got it, if that’s ok with you,” Miguel tipped his head to the direction of your suitcase.

You nodded, letting yourself be led forward by Gabriella to the direction of wherever you assumed would be her and Miguel’s home.

“Thank you. Not just for that, but for letting me stay at your place,” you turned to Miguel as he held your suitcase’s handle with his right hand. “I haven’t met many kind people in Nueva York since I moved here.”

“It’s Nueva York, not exactly the place for fairy tales,” Miguel’s sarcasm slipped out with ease without thinking. He then turned his face away from you when he realized that he forgot you were literally dressed as a princess. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re right,” you shot him a rueful smile as the two of you fell into the rhythm of walking next to each other with Gabriella skipping between you two. With one of her hands in your right hand, Gabriella took Miguel’s left hand in her free hand. “I learned that the hard way.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Miguel replied with more sincerity this time. He didn’t follow up with anything more to say, and the two of you walked past a few streets in awkward silence, the beeps! of Nueva York taxis and Gabriella’s upbeat humming filling the silence.

“We don’t need to take a taxi?” You spoke up, trying to start a light conversation with Miguel.

“Our place is just a few minutes from here,” Miguel answered, his gaze set straight ahead. “I was actually taking Gabi to get ice cream not too far from our place after we came home from her game.”

“Yeah! We were gonna get ice cream!” Gabriella’s eyes lit up even more at the mention of ice cream. “‘Cuz I scored a goal today! Wait, Papá, where’s my ice cream?”

“I didn’t know I was in the presence of a soccer star,” you grinned down at Gabriella, who smiled toothily up at you at being called a “soccer star.”

Despite fatigue from a long day of work seeping into Miguel’s bones, his lips couldn’t help but falter from their default straight line into a small smile at seeing Gabriella be so happy—more so than usual—in your presence.

“Well, you ran off, so I had to find you and didn’t get us any ice cream,” Miguel raised an eyebrow down at Gabriella, but his smile and tone indicated his light teasing. “We can get ice cream tomorrow.”

“Yay!” Gabriella raised her hands in the air, swinging your and Miguel’s hands that held hers forward. She then spotted what you assumed to be her and Miguel’s building, and broke away from the two of you to run up ahead.

“Por el amor de Dios,” Miguel muttered under his breath, stopping in his tracks and leaving your suitcase next to you. “Why does she have to run so fast?”

Without another word, he sprinted after Gabriella. You were surprised Miguel could run fast, but you figured that it made sense since he was so built.

Your gaze then panned from Miguel catching up with Gabriella and scooping her up with ease to the building before the three of you.

The building was easily the tallest apartment complex in Nueva York—a cylindrical tower with state-of-the-art glass architecture.

“Wait…,” your voice trailed off, your chin tipped up as your eyes could barely find the tip of the tower. You walked toward Gabriella and Miguel while hauling your suitcase behind you. “Where are we?”

“We’re home!” Gabriella answered in Miguel’s arms as he stood at the glass door entrance. “Papá and I live at the very top!”

Your eyes couldn’t help but bug. “Miguel, is it ok if I ask what you do for a living?”

“I work in research,” Miguel chose not to elaborate, making him sound like a secretive spy in a movie without meaning to. His broad back was to you as he used his free hand to place a card against the building’s recognition panel. It beeped green, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were breaking into a top secret government building.

“Papá’s the king of his job!” Gabriella chimed with adorable pride for her father as the building’s double doors swished open.

You could only assume “king of his job” meant Miguel was either the CEO of his workplace or he held an equally (if not more) high position, but you decided it wiser to not ask any more questions for the time being as you followed Miguel and Gabriella to the elevator.

The elevator, like the rest of the building, was cylindrical, and spacious enough that you guessed it could probably hold 300 people at a time.

Once inside, Miguel tapped a code into a panel, which you assumed was for accessing his and Gabriella’s home. Your shock at everything only increased when the elevator ascended past 50 floors.

50…60…90…

Gabriella yawned when the elevator passed 90 floors, prompting Miguel to rub her back as she snuggled her face against his shoulder. It wasn’t long before she was out like a light, snoozing in her father’s arms.

“Dulce sueños, mi solecita,” Miguel pressed a kiss on the side of Gabriella’s head. A yawn unleashed from him after he pulled back from Gabriella at the same time you let out your own yawn.

Your eyes met his, and this time Miguel gave you a kinder, more sincere smile as he found it funny that the two of you yawned at the same time.

Ding! The elevator chimed once it reached the 99th floor, the top floor of the building. You tried to brace yourself for whatever the 99th floor would reveal of Gabriella and Miguel’s home, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight before you.

Their penthouse gleamed in all its glory, from the marbled flooring to the ivory spiral staircase in the left corner. To the right of the penthouse was a massive kitchen with a sleek silver stove and a matching fridge, island, and cabinets.

The walls were a simple white which only added to the elegance of the entire penthouse. You noticed that instead of expensive paintings that usual penthouses would have, the walls of this penthouse were decorated with Gabriella’s various crayon drawings and framed pictures of Gabriella and Miguel from her birth till now.

Your eyes were captivated especially by those framed pictures, but before you could step into the penthouse, you turned to Miguel.

“Shoes off?” you whispered, not wanting to wake Gabriella. He answered you with a nod.

You shuffled off your [your favorite color] sneakers, placing them on a three-tiered shoe rack by the elevator door as Miguel did the same with his burgundy dress shoes and Gabriella’s soccer cleats.

“I didn’t know princesses wore sneakers,” Miguel’s voice was so quiet that you couldn’t tell if he was serious or teasing.

“This princess does,” you straightened up, grinning as if you were revealing a corporate secret. “Especially if she has to run after children all day. Though I only wear sneakers when I get to wear long gowns like these that hide my shoes. Wouldn’t want to ruin the magic for the children.”

“We can’t have that, now, could we,” Miguel flashed you a tiny grin, revealing his pearly whites. “If children realized princesses wore sneakers and not glass slippers, that could mean the end of the multiverse.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at Miguel’s attempt to engage with you in light teasing and chatter. “Multiverse, huh? Are you into comic books or superheroes or something?”

He merely shrugged his free shoulder as if to appear cool and not “nerdy.” “I like science.” Before you could ask Miguel more about what comic books he liked, Gabriella stirred in his arms.

Miguel wheeled your suitcase to you with his free hand. “I’m going to set Gabriella down in her room,” he whispered in an even more hushed tone. You had to stop yourself from chuckling; he just didn’t seem like the type of person who whispered often. “Make yourself at home in the meantime.”

He made a beeline for the spiral staircase, going up to where you assumed were all the penthouse’s bedrooms.

You knew he said “make yourself at home” out of customary politeness as a host, but you found it difficult to instantly “make yourself at home” in such a grand place.

Not knowing where to sit or where you could sit, you took a step toward a wall lined with framed pictures of Gabriella as a baby.

Some photos were in black and white, some were in full color. A smile bloomed on your face at how cute Gabriella looked as a baby, her smile in the pictures just as infectious then as it was now.

You also noticed, however, that Gabriella’s biological mother wasn’t in the picture—in any picture on the walls, to be exact. There didn’t seem to be a partner in Miguel’s life either, from the way all the family pictures on the walls—whether they were selfies taken by Miguel or pictures taken by someone else—only had him and Gabriella in them.

Your nosy mind couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Gabriella was adopted or conceived via surrogate. The first theory, you crossed out of your mind since Gabriella looked too much like Miguel to be adopted.

Before you could come up with other theories, Miguel descended the spiral staircase and made his way over to you with a neatly-folded bundle of clothes in his hands. He stopped next to you and followed your gaze to one of the pictures.

“I took that one on Gabi’s first birthday,” a soft smile on his face as he nodded to a framed picture of a baby Gabriella laughing at the camera despite having globs of cake and frosting on her face and on the teeny swirls of her wavy brown hair. “That was the first time I ever made tres leches cake, and I’d say she loved it.”

You grinned at the picture, before biting your bottom lip in hesitation. “May I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.”

Miguel simply nodded, his eyes roaming the various pictures of Gabriella. “Has it always…been just you and Gabriella?” you kept your eyes forward. “Sorry, I know it’s a personal question.”

You turned your face towards Miguel, whose eyes set on a black-and-white picture of a sleeping newborn baby Gabriella, swaddled in a blanket and bald head covered with a cap.

Various emotions flickered in Miguel’s eyes which you could only guess to be sorrow, pain, confusion—not at Gabriella in the picture, but at whatever or whoever was related to that picture.

“It has,” Miguel answered simply and all-too-quickly, the edge in his tone indicating that he didn’t want to talk about the subject more.

He blinked, as if telling himself to forget whatever or whoever he was thinking about, and turned his attention back to the bundle of clothes in his hands.

“I wasn’t sure if you had any clothes to wear in the meantime, so I grabbed a couple of old shirts and pants from my closet,” Miguel’s voice sounded more normal now. “I don’t think we’re the same size, but you can keep these and use them as you see fit.”

“Thank you,” you took the bundle of t-shirts, dress shirts, and sweatpants from Miguel’s hands. You were sure they were a couple sizes larger than your own based on Miguel’s figure, but the gears were already turning in your brain on how you could sew and upcycle some of these.

“I’ll show you to your room,” Miguel began walking to the direction of the stairs once more, his long and fast strides making it difficult for you to keep up with him.

You followed him up the stairs to a spacious floor with around five rooms and more walls framed with Gabriella’s drawings and pictures of Miguel and Gabriella.

“That room is my office, and the other one is for storage,” Miguel pointed to two rooms to the right at the end of the hallway. “That’s Gabriella’s room and my room’s next to her’s.” He pointed to two rooms on the left at the other end of the hallway.

“And this will be your room for the time being,” he led you to the room in the middle next to his room. “It’s our guest room.”

He opened the door to reveal a neat room with a queen-sized bed with a bedside table, and desk near the window area. The entire room matched the sleek aesthetic of the penthouse, from the silver bedside table to the matching desk.

You rolled your suitcase onto the polished wood-tiled floor of the bedroom, noticing a private bathroom just a few feet away from the bed. The whole room felt more like a hotel room than any bedroom you’ve ever been in.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask me,” Miguel stood at the door, his hands naturally resting on his hips. “Our laundry room is downstairs next to the kitchen if you need to use it tomorrow.”

“Thanks again,” you turned your attention away from the desk to Miguel, giving him a smile you hoped that conveyed your immense gratitude.

Miguel simply nodded and turned his back, ready to leave.

You couldn’t help but wonder and worry if he was mad or something at you asking him that question earlier. You also finally noticed the shadows of gray that filled the lines of stress and fatigue under his eyes.

Whether such stress and fatigue was from his mysterious job or from almost losing Gabriella tonight, you didn’t know. But what you did know was that you wanted to tell him the words on the tip of your tongue—maybe to prove to him you weren’t a bad person trying to take advantage of his and his daughter’s kindness, or maybe because you just wanted to say the following:

“Good night, Miguel. I hope you sleep well.”

Miguel stopped in his tracks before turning his face back towards you. “What?” Your statement shocked him; it had been a while since someone other than Gabriella wished him a good night’s rest, and it had been an even longer while since he actually had a good night’s rest.

“I said ‘good night’?” You cocked your head to the side, worrying if you said something wrong again. “And that I hope you sleep well?”

“…Night,” Miguel mumbled, turning his back to you once more, his hand resting on the door knob. “I hope you sleep well, too.”

The door knob clicked after Miguel ducked his head below the head of the doorframe and made his way out of the room.

You stared at the closed door for a few seconds before making your way over to the closet. It was roomy and empty, with only hangers in it. You carefully peeled your gown off your body and hung it on a hanger.

The gown took up a good quarter of the closet’s space from its sheer size alone, but you had a garment bag in your suitcase you could use.

Putting the gown in a garment bag and taking a bath will have to wait till tomorrow. You didn’t fight the urge to let out a yawn. Sleep. I need sleep.

You didn’t even think twice about putting on an old white t-shirt and gray sweatpants from Miguel—both oversized on you—until you stepped into the marble-tiled bathroom and glanced at your reflection in the mirror.

I sure don’t look like a princess now. You let out a chuckle before brushing your teeth.

It wasn’t until you set your tiara (you didn’t realize you were still wearing it) down on the bedside table and settled into your new bed that your mind wanted to keep you awake with various thoughts.

I’m wearing a stranger’s shirt and pants. A very handsome stranger. And I’m sleeping in his house.

Wait, that sounds wrong. You shook your head before turning to rest your head on the other side of the plush pillow.

I probably shouldn’t have asked him earlier about whether it was just him and Gabi.

I don’t want to bother Miguel any more than I already have.

Before you could let more intrusive thoughts swim in your mind, another yawn escaped from your lips.

I won’t stay here long.

I’ll figure my life out tomorrow and be out of here before we all know it…

— — — — —

The same time you drifted off into dreamland, Miguel stared up at the ceiling of his own bedroom next door.

It had been a long day for him, from almost losing Gabriella to taking in a woman who dressed up as a princess for a living.

Did I just let a stranger into my house?

Shock.

…

She won’t stay here long. We’ll be back to our own lives as soon as possible.

And with that, Miguel nodded to himself. Logically, or at least logically to him, it shouldn’t take more than a few days to find a new place for you to stay in Nueva York.

Miguel was someone who despised the unexpected—he was used to being in control so he could know what would happen next. So that his daughter could be safe. So that he could feel safe.

Gabriella randomly running away from him at the ice cream shop was unexpected. And you…you were definitely unexpected. While Gabriella liked you and you seemed like a nice enough person, a smidge of distrust for you gnawed at Miguel’s mind.

However, it was your words that bugged him more.

“I hope you sleep well.” Can’t she tell I barely get any sleep?

He let out a puff of air through his nose, only to be surprised by a yawn that followed. It wasn’t long before his eyelids began to droop.

Despite everything that happened today, little did Miguel know that he was going to get better sleep tonight than he did in ages.

🍓 Strawbetty’s notes: If you read all the way to here, Miguel gives you a 🍓 :D. I’m gonna make a separate post with more of my author’s notes on this fic later but for now I’m eepy :’)

🍓 Tag list: @allysunny, @charms-cat, @tymns, @tayleighuh, @moyo5653, @sizeablysized, @deputy-videogamer, @marvelofcourse, @flordelalunas, @thethirdyo, @sleepingghoule444, @eyes-stuff. If you would like to be added to the tag list for upcoming chapters, please comment or reblog below :)

Important:

🍓 I don’t own any of the characters I mention or write about; they belong to their original and respective creators.

🍓 All content on this blog is created by me, @thebettybook (excluding posts I reblog that aren’t my own posts and unless I state otherwise). Do not modify, claim, repost, or translate my work onto this platform and any other platform.

🍓 Reblogs are appreciated :). Want more Miguel content? Check out my masterlist.

[transgenderer]

A jitsuin (実印) is an officially registered seal. A registered seal is needed to conduct business and other important or legally binding events. A jitsuin is used when purchasing a vehicle, marrying, or purchasing land, for example.

The size, shape, material, decoration, and lettering style of jitsuin are closely regulated by law. For example, in Hiroshima, a jitsuin is expected to be roughly 1⁄2 to 1 inch (1.3 to 2.5 cm), usually square or (rarely) rectangular but never round, irregular, or oval. It must contain the individual's full family and given name, without abbreviation. The lettering must be red with a white background (shubun), with roughly equal width lines used throughout the name. The font must be one of several based on ancient historical lettering styles found in metal, woodcarving, and so on. Ancient forms of ideographs are commonplace. A red perimeter must entirely surround the name, and there should be no other decoration on the underside (working surface) of the seal. The top and sides (handle) of the seal may be decorated in any fashion from completely undecorated to historical animal motifs, dates, names, and inscriptions.

Throughout Japan, rules governing jitsuin design are very stringent and each design is unique, so the vast majority of people entrust the creation of their jitsuin to a professional, paying upward of US$20 and more often closer to US$100, and using it for decades. People desirous of opening a new chapter in their lives—say, following a divorce, death of a spouse, a long streak of bad luck, or a change in career—will often have a new jitsuin made.

The material is usually a high quality hard stone or, far less frequently, deerhorn, soapstone, or jade. It is sometimes carved by machine. When carved by hand, an intō ("seal-engraving blade"), a mirror, and a small specialized wooden vice are used. An intō is a flat-bladed pencil-sized chisel, usually round or octagonal in cross-section and sometimes wrapped in string to give a better grip. The intō is held vertically in one hand, with the point projecting from the carver's fist on the side opposite the thumb. New, modern intō range in price from less than US$1 to US$100.

The jitsuin are kept in secure places such as bank vaults. or hidden in a home. They are usually stored in thumb-sized rectangular boxes made of cardboard covered with embroidered green fabric outside and red silk or red velvet inside, held closed by a white plastic or deerhorn splinter tied to the lid and passed through a fabric loop attached to the lower half of the box. Because of the superficial resemblance to coffins, they are often called "coffins" in Japanese by enthusiasts and hanko boutiques. The paste is usually stored separately.

A ginkō-in (銀行印) is used specifically for banking; ginkō means "bank". A person's savings account passbook contains an original impression of the ginkō-in alongside a bank employee's seal. Rules for the size and design vary somewhat from bank to bank; generally, they contain a Japanese person's full name. A Westerner may be permitted to use a full family name with or without an abbreviated given name, such as "Smith", "Bill Smith", "W Smith" or "Wm Smith" in place of "William Smith". The lettering can be red or white, in any font, and with artistic decoration.

Since mass-produced ginkō-in offer no security, most people either have them custom-made by professionals or make their own by hand. They were traditionally made of wood or stone; more recently of ivory, plastic or metal, and carried in a variety of thumb-shape and -size cases resembling cloth purses or plastic pencil cases. They are usually hidden carefully in the owner's home.

A mitome-in (認印) is a moderately formal seal typically used for signing for postal deliveries, signing utility bill payments, signing internal company memos, confirming receipt of internal company mail, and other low-security everyday functions.

Mitome-in are commonly stored in low-security, high-utility places such as office desk drawers and in the anteroom (genkan) of a residence.

A mitome-in's form is governed by fewer customs than jitsuin and ginkō-in. However, mitome-in adhere to a handful of strongly observed customs. The size is the attribute most strongly governed by social custom. It is usually not more than 20 millimetres (0.79 in) in size. A man's is usually slightly larger than a woman's, and a junior employee's is always smaller than his bosses' and his senior co-workers', in keeping with office social hierarchy. The mitome-in always has the person's family name and usually does not have the person's given name (shita no namae). Mitome-ins are often round or oval, but square ones are not uncommon, and rectangular ones are not unheard-of; irregular shapes are not used. They can produce red lettering on a blank field (shubun) or the opposite (hakubun). Borderlines around their edges are optional.

Plastic mitome-in in popular Japanese names can be obtained from stationery stores for less than US$1, though ones made from inexpensive stone are also very popular. Inexpensive prefabricated seals are called sanmonban (三文判). Rubber stamps are unacceptable for business purposes.

[justwinginglife]

Masterlist

24/Female/Hannah

Full time slave to the work force, part time writer, FULL TIME HOSHINA SIMP

I am not currently taking requests, will update when I am.

I will write almost anything, just don't do gore or nonconsensual sex.

Follow me on Twitter: @justwingingl1f3

Masterlist #2 (Other Characters)

Masterlist # 3 (Soshiro Smut)

Angst Smut Fluff Other

*author's favorites

Soshiro Hoshina

-How Soshiro Hoshina Broke The Internet

-Cross Your Heart

-Of All The Ways To Die

-Can I Come Home?

-Evidence Of His Love

-Lucky Shot

-In Pursuit

-High Score

-Red Alert

-The Best Of My Life

-The Waiting Game

-The Unstoppable Trio

-Because I Love You, Because I Still Love You,

Because I'll Always Love You

-Crazy

-Loud Love

-The Hardest Thing Of All- Living

-Game Night (Ft. Kaiju no 10)

-A Case Of The Butterflies *

-The Best Plans

-Thicker Than Blood Ft. Gen Narumi*, Part 2, Part 2.5

-Heaven

-Always You, Part 1.5, Part 2

-Fire & Ice (part 2 in progress)

-Plushie Hell

-Honest Pt 1, Honest Pt 2

-Painted With Love

-Wingman

-Whole World

-The Thing About Being In Love

-A Reason To Live

-Wait For Me Pt 1*, Wait For Me Pt 1.5

-Joy Of My Life (part 2 in progress)

-The Hoshina Brothers

-The Best Birthday

-Pregnancy Shenanigans

-In His Care

-Follow Me*

-Crushing Hard, Crushing Pt 2

-Half Human (part 2 in progress)

-No Matter The Distance

-Karaoke Shenanigans

-One Day

-Jealousy

-The Happiest Day

-The Sound Of His Love

-Three's A Crowd Ft. Gen Narumi, Pt 2: Soshiro Ending

-Done Deal (An Arranged Marriage Fic)

-Betting Pool (Third Division Shenanigans)*

-Soshiro Gets Jealous

-Offense & Defense

-Carried Away

-My One & Only

-The Unwitting Confession

-A Man Worth Fighting For

-What Lies After?*

-Friends With Benefits

-Study Buddies

-Best of Friends, Best Of Friends Pt 2

-Relentless

-Civilian Life

-Girl's Night

[offside-the-lines]

Right Where We Left Off | Nico Hischier

Summary: It’s September in NYC and Ana finds herself unexpectedly face-to-face with her ex-boyfriend, Nico. They finally have the conversation they should’ve had seven years ago. But, where does that lead them and what does this mean for her future— their future? After all, who are they to question fate?

This fic is dedicated to @fallinallincurls for her birthday bingo. Happy birthday, Bre! I am always so grateful for the incredible comments you leave on fics. Pairing: Nico Hischier x F!OC Word count: 2.5 k No warnings (as far as I know). Bingo card tropes: Second chance romance, invisible string theory, they’re both idiots; it's always been you. Masterlist

Ana’s exhausted. After ten days of straight work and travel, she just wants to sleep and hide in her expensive hotel room. It’s a gorgeous day in New York City, not sweltering and muggy as it often feels in the summer, and she doesn’t want to waste the opportunity to actually explore the city she has visited many times but never enjoyed.

She turns her face up to the sun and closes her eyes. The sounds of the city carry on around her, and it’s strangely calming— it probably should be unnerving. Besides, she has to make a decision soon about whether she is going to move here, the offer letter taunting her from her email inbox. 

Her mind wanders across the Hudson for a brief second before she catches herself, eyes flying open. She takes a sip of her mocha, savoring the drink that she hopes will bring her some energy. 

It isn’t often that she has a chance to take a day off. Well, no, that’s a lie. She could take any day off if she wanted to. After all, she works for herself. But she usually never lets herself, always working through weekends in an effort to get ahead— of what, she’s not quite sure. 

She has always been a workaholic: working two jobs in college, graduating a year early, and starting and selling her own company before the age of 25. She tells herself that her hard work has given her the happiness she has now. She now has the freedom she always wanted— independence.

Ana’s mother always points out that she’s rushing through life because she doesn’t have an anchor. She always goes on about how the stress and inability to relax is going to take her to an early grave. Ana always sees it for what it is: an unwelcome probe into her dating life. 

She’s doing quite fine on her own, thank you very much— that’s what she always retorted anyway. She can't tell her that the only stress relief she needs is the occasional hookups from the fancy bars she goes to— a series of tall men with brown hair, warm eyes, and a good smile.

Before her mind even has a chance to ruminate on that again, a little boy bumps into her leg— causing her to spill her coffee a little— and runs to hide behind the chair opposite from her.

“You won’t tell him where I am, right?” he whispers. He startles her, and it takes her a few seconds to realize he’s probably playing hide-and-seek. It takes her even longer to realize this child is speaking in her native tongue. He peers up at her with pleading eyes. 

“Of course, sweetie,” she replies, pushing past her confusion. He has big brown eyes and the cutest dimples— it makes her heart ache. She presumes the little boy is hiding from his father and scans the cafe for him. Having not seen anyone looking for a child, she turns back to her coffee and continues to drink it, observing the little boy. “I’m Ana. What’s your name?”

“I’m Jan. I can’t talk right now because I’m hiding, see?” he whispers.

Ana can’t help but let out a chuckle at the earnestness in the kid’s eyes. “Okay then.”

She’s just about to take another sip of her coffee when she hears a gentle voice behind her. “Jan, where did you go?” There’s a pause, “Oh! There you are!” The boy giggles and moves to hide under the table.

Her smile freezes— her whole body freezes. The hairs on the back of her neck prickle, and she feels her cheeks grow warm. It might’ve been seven years, but she’d recognize that voice anywhere— Nico. She doesn’t turn around, praying Jan will just run to his daddy and leave.

She is not that lucky. Footsteps approach her chair, his voice getting closer and closer to her as he says, “Oh my god. Come on, Jan. Get out of there!” 

She closes her eyes and holds her breath.

“I’m so sorry if Jan’s been bothering you, ma’am. I—” His gentle, accented English stops abruptly, and a silence hangs in the air as she slowly opens her eyes. When their eyes meet, Nico lets out a barely audible “Oh.”

“Um,” her gaze darts around, trying to avoid the warm brown eyes that still haunt her dreams, “Hi?”

“My god, is that you?” he mumbles, barely audible. He stares at her, the color draining from his face. 

Jan finally emerges from beneath the table, his curiosity piqued by this stilted exchange. Beaming at her, he reaches up for Nico’s hand— his father’s hand? It had to be, right? The resemblance— she cuts her thoughts off.

“Um... yes?” she manages to say.

“I feel like I’m hallucinating. You’re really here? It’s been so long.”

“Well, yes, Nico, it’s been about seven years.”

“That’s a really long time.” There’s silence as they just stare at each other, neither knowing what to do, neither moving.

“Yes. It is,” she says cautiously.

He rests a hand on Jan’s shoulder, holding him close. “Why did you never call me?” he asks, looking down at his feet.

“Why would I have called you Nico?”

“You left for London without telling me. You told everyone else. I had to find out from Nina.”

“I had no reason to tell you, Nico. We weren’t together anymore,” she scoffs, “You moved too. And besides, you found someone to ‘replace’ me, clearly.” 

She looks at Jan, bile rising in the back of her throat. Nico responds with a puzzled expression before deciding to return to his original line of questioning.

“Why did you leave?”

“I had to go to university, start my career… I have dreams too, remember? Ones that are just as important as yours?” She shudders at the memory of their fight, the fight that broke everything. Her heart races; she can hear the blood rushing in her ears.

“I was young, stupid and immature. But, I swear to God, I loved you so fucking much. You should’ve told me you were moving to London… I would’ve—”

“You would’ve what, Nico? You broke up with me. What was I supposed to do? Stay at home? Or should I have followed you to New Jersey like a sick puppy? Continued wasting my time like I clearly did when you were in Halifax? Watching any and every opportunity— watching my future—  fly by me as I waited for and supported someone who was no longer mine?” 

“I said that we should take a break to figure things out. Figure out what to do long-term. I never meant to suggest that we break up forever. You just assumed— You left. You didn’t even give me a chance to—”

“Look at you, Nico.” She was struggling to keep her voice under control as it wavered and threatened to break. “It’s always someone else’s fault. Nothing’s changed, huh?”

He looks at her, his face shutters with an unreadable expression, before pulling out the chair opposite her. He sits and lifts Jan onto his lap. The little boy looks between them in confusion, ultimately deciding that playing with the wooden block table number is more interesting.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean for it to sound so— I was heartbroken that you weren’t there anymore when I came back after the draft.”

“What about me? What about how I felt when you asked me to just drop my plans for my future like it was no big deal? Or when you suggested we take a break? When you never called me after that summer?” She studies his face, seeing his genuine sadness, and sighs. “We were so young, Neeks. What were the chances it would have even worked out anyway? Even if you had cared to fight for us.”

“I thought that you took the space and realized— I thought that maybe you didn’t want me anymore. I thought that maybe you hated me. I thought that maybe you realized that you were just too good for me. So, I thought that maybe I should let you go, live your life, and find your career like you said you wanted to,” he says, voice thin and reedy before he clears his throat and laughs humorlessly. “I guess I was right, huh? I mean, just look at you now. You’re pretty incredible. Forbes 30 under 30.”

He smiles at her, a small fragile thing. It’s only because she has known him her entire life that she is able to spot the pride that shines through the pain and regret. Her thoughts are crashing inside her mind.

He knows and has clearly been following her career.

In the delicate silence that stretches between them, the storm inside her head is able to bring something else to the surface: the loneliness of her success— the gnawing feeling that something is always missing.

“What about how I felt when I kept hearing our friends talk about every new girlfriend you had?” she whispers, staring into her coffee cup. She has no control over the way her throat tightens over something she’d finished crying over a long time ago.

“I never loved any of them,” he answers without missing a beat; his voice is firm and sure.

“It’s been seven years, Nico. How could you say you never loved any of them?”

“I mean, I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t date some great people because I did. But they were always just— I cared for them, sure, but I was never in love with any of them.” He looks down at the boy sitting in his lap.

“Not even the mother of your child?” she blurts out, outraged.

“The who?” His eyebrows are scrunched low on his face as he studies her.

Ana rolls her eyes and gestures at Jan. “His mother?”

“His— Oh! No, he’s not—” he exclaims before laughing. 

“He looks just like you,” she says, confused.

“Aww,” he coos, tightly clutching the little boy to his chest, “Jan’s my nephew— He’s Luca’s.”

“Oh.” 

Something about her expression sets him off again, throwing his head back as he laughs. Against her will, the sound nestles deep in her chest, filling her with warmth.

“I’m babysitting him today so Luca and his wife can explore the city a bit. I won’t be able to do much once training camp starts next week. And I want to get as much time with this munchkin as possible,” he explains, tickling Jan’s belly to his delight.

Ana feels her chest constrict as she watches them interact. It’s a glimpse into the future she could’ve had, and it hurts in a place so deep in her chest she’s not sure she’s ever going to be able to unearth it. After their first moment of comfortable silence, Nico looks up at her with a soft smile.

“You know, I got you a ring.”

“Y-you w-what?” she says unsteadily as she feels the world stop around her.

“Yeah.” He looks back down at Jan and fidgets with his shirt. “I bought it with my signing bonus. I was going to ask you to marry me when I came back if we had worked things out, which— I know, it was so stupid. We were, what, 18? Like, what was I thinking, right? It wouldn’t have solved anything. But I just wanted— needed you to know how much I loved you and… ” 

His voice gets tighter as he speaks, and he lets the sentence trail off. His eyes flash to hers, holding them so briefly before looking away again. He clears his throat, “I guess we never made it there.”

Ana’s silent for a moment that feels like it stretches a lifetime— or at least, it feels like time has warped and dumped her back into her 18-year-old self, seven years ago. Her heart was pounding so hard that it made her feel faint.

“I would have said yes,” she realizes with a start, the words tumbling out before she has even fully formed the thought in her mind.

“What?” His eyes snap up, finally looking at her again.

“If you had asked me, I would have said yes.”

It was his turn to stare. “Really?” he whispers.

“Yes. Despite our fight, I still loved you. I was waiting for months for you to call me, to tell me that we would work it out, that we were going to be okay long distance for however long it took. I would have— If you begged — Hell if you had just asked...”

Nico just stares, flabbergasted. Neither of them even hear the tapping of Jan’s block on the table. “I still love you,” he says.

“What?”

“What I mean is, can we try again? It may have been seven years, but I still love you.”

“Are you insane?”

“I don’t think so. It has always been you; it will always be you. I have known that for a long time now. There has to be some fate or God or something to bring us back together, right? I feel like it’s a good sign, anyway. I’m sorry for being the idiot I was back then, but I promise I’m ready now. I’m ready to be whatever you need me to be. It won’t be the exact same, but it will finally be us again.”

Ana is stunned, speechless, as she blinks at Nico.

“Nicki?” Jan interrupts their silence, snapping them out of their bubble.

“Yeah, Jan, what’s wrong?”

“Can I have a cookie, please?”

“Sure, bud.” Nico sets him on the floor and stands up. He smiles at her cheekily, “Don’t you dare leave before I get back. I will chase you this time. I’m fast, you know.”

“I’ll be here, I promise.” She feels a bubble of tension burst as she laughs, shaking her head as she watches him walk to the counter holding Jan’s hand.

The seven years apart has worn down her willpower. She gave up on love years ago when she realized that she was probably going to dream about Nico every night for the rest of her life. She’s always known that she would cave if asked; she just never thought this day would come.

She looks at him now. She sees the boy she grew up with and the teenager she fell in love with. But there’s also a sadness behind his eyes that she doesn’t remember being there. The corners of his eyes are worn and weathered in a way that’s unusual for a man in his mid-twenties.

There’s a voice in her head— it sounds eerily like her mother— that points out that she’s always known the truth: Nico was why she was always working, pushing away everyone and everything. It was some twisted self-punishment; if she lost Nico, she had to make the sacrifice worth it.

But maybe— Maybe, she can have both. Ana thinks about the job offer from the company that acquired her start-up— a job based in NYC. She thinks about all the hundreds of coffee shops they could’ve gone to. Maybe there was some fate at play. And who was she to question fate.

Nico sits back down, a tentative smile on his face that makes Ana’s heart flutter for the first time in seven years, and says, “So, Ana, will you pick up where we left off?”

Requests (open) | Masterlist

[vxiphoid]

RAINY REVERIE

❨ summary ❩ obey me › things they would do to cheer you up. hearts and minds have a tendency to break when there are too many thoughts in your head at once, how would they help?

tags ✧ nb!reader, established relationship, reader is going through it😞, slightly suggestive in lucifer’s part?, IM SORRY IF YOU HAVE A CAT ALLERGY (mammon), idol slander, bathing together, itty bitty angst in belphie’s.

amanuensis’ message ⊹ i tried to make the reader a bit different for each brother because people deal with being upset differently… but hello?? theres like 130 of you now, tysm for all of the support, i love you all sm sm :(<33

⌜ 2.5+ ⌟

obey me masterlist

LUCIFER

♫ wishful thinking - benee

╰ he understands more than anyone how stressful school or work can be. doesn’t help that rad piles more shit on as you advance. he’s offered to give you a message, pressing small kisses in his wake before smearing oil onto your skin.

“you did so well today.” lucifer praises gently against your skin, thumbing the junction between your shoulder blades. you sigh contentedly as he massages into your muscles with ease, his fingers brushing your skin in gentle strokes to help ease out the knots and tension that have accumulated over the day. you inhale sharply at the contact, and a small smile quirks up the corners of your mouth when you hear him hum happily at your reaction. “your hands feel good, not that i don’t like the feeling of your gloves, your hands just feel better. i like your hands on me.” you murmur, leaning further back into his touch, basking in his affectionate caress. there was a stutter in lucifer’s movements as he stiffened momentarily before relaxing once more, but it didn’t deter his hand from its progress. “well, i know that… i figured i take my gloves off a lot in your company since you like the feeling of them so much.” he murmurs, sounding slightly embarrassed by his own statement as he continues to massage at your shoulders. he makes sure his thumbs are positioned correctly on either side of your spine, his touch feather light. “i thought this was pure?” you ask teasingly, peering over your shoulder. lucifer gives you an unamused look, pushing harder into the small of your back which elicits another soft sigh from you. “this is pure. you’re tainting it.”

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

MAMMON

♫ (your cat) don’t stand a chance - mustard service

╰ last thing he wants is you going to bed angry or upset in any way. even if it isn’t his fault he still feels like he needs to spoil you to make it better? so, he gets you something. in a box, a big box. yk nothing bad, just something he prolly shouldn’t have bought…

“heeey, pretty… so i know you’re having a really bad day ‘n shit but how would you feel if i brought you a cat?” mammon asked, stiffly pushing open his bedroom door with his shoulder, a light looking box in his arms. you eye him, hard. “what’s in the box, mammon.” the mewls of protest from within spoke for itself. when you bursted into his room clearly pissed off, mammon was already on his way out, kissing you and promising he’d be right back he just needed to grab some stuff. by stuff you didn’t think he’d be at the pet store buying a kitten, especially this breed. maine cats are expensive, he even went out of his way to buy toys and the necessities. you thought you would have been mad about it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be as the little baby ran around trying to catch a feather you swung around. the kitten finds rest in mammon’s mess of hair, likes to be carried around in hoodie pockets, and makes biscuits with it’s beans on your back. you couldn’t be mad at all, both the small fur ball and your boyfriend cleared all the stress you had. mammon lied down beside you in the floor, watching you jerk around the stick for the kitten to tail, he rests his head your shoulder. “you feelin’ better?” you nod with a natural smile and he kisses your shoulder. “good.” you say nothing, instead you pull him close and cuddle together on the floor, the kitten pawing mammon’s head before curling up for a nap. you smile, holding out your pinky. “don’t tell satan?” mammon takes your finger, pressing your thumb with his. “‘course not.”

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

LEVIATHAN

♫ honey - red hearse

╰ levi was already dressed for a midnight walk when you came in, he figured you needed one too just to clear your mind. helps you put on your shoes and jacket while you rant about how horrible your day was, kisses your cheek while you two leave the house.

your boyfriend treats this like any other day, not in an ignoring way, no. he figures he’d rather listen to your rant then try to see the other person’s (asshole) side. in plus, if you get it all out of your system, you won’t be so pent up. he buys you your regular drink and holds it for you while you express your anger with your hands, bringing the straw to your mouth when you need a pause. “—and it wasn’t even my shift!” you huff, sipping your drink when levi brings it to you. “thank you, i love you. anyways, this bitch—“ you could go on and on for hours and he wouldn’t get tired of hearing your voice. eventually he’d tug you into one of those 24 hour cafes and request an outdoor seating area, preferably where there isn’t people. when your rant seemingly comes to a close, your forehead meets with levi’s shoulder with a heavy sigh. he kisses your crown, “d’you want anything off the menu? they still serve breakfast if you want any.” he smiles when you nod. “thank you for listening, i know that was a lot. ‘just been stressed.” his hand slips into yours, kissing the back of it. “i’m here for you whenever.” and he means it. you know that levi would give you literally anything in the world, he’d do anything for you and the little things only add to how precious he is.

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

SATAN

♫ structure - odd sweetheart

╰ satan is a ticking time bomb when he’s mad, he may look okay but one minor inconvenience will send him over the edge. the plus side is that he knows most of the methods that could calm anyone down. those methods are watching really bad shows and their cringy acting.

the click of the spacebar signaled that you paused the show for the ninth time tonight, the silence loud between you and satan as you both stared at the blinding screen. his expression mirrored yours; slightly gaped mouth, squinted eyes, and meeting a glance before they returned to the frozen show. “she didn’t just kiss her husband to be’s brother after having a one night stand with their father…” he said quietly in disbelief. “on her wedding day.” you mumbled, forking around your takeout noodles in its cup. satan opened his mouth and you fed him some, treating yourself quickly afterwards. “y’all would watch anything at this point, kill your producer!” you and satan have been bingeing this horrible romance show for so long you completely forgot what time you even started watching it. its so ridiculous, not worse than idol, but still horrible. satan, on the other hand, was just glad you were enjoying yourself after a soiled day. you catch his eye and grin slightly, “what?” he shrugs with his mouth, turning back to the show. “nothing.” “mm, you want something, what is it?” you prodded again, leaning forward and giving him an inquisitive stare. you were sure you weren’t getting an answer by the way he was twirling his fork, so you leaned into him, brushing his hair away to press a kiss to his jaw, that caught his attention. “thank you, satan. for cheering me up.” you whispered to him sweetly. his lips curled up at the edges. “anything for you, love.” your eyes dart back to the screen after what you thought you saw actually happened. “she’s making out with their dad now?! go back, go back!!”

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

ASMODEUS

♫ bad behavior - austin mills & remi wolf

╰ he knew that as soon as you walked into his room silent something was wrong. he just got out of the shower and you hugged him. you hugged him tighter than you usually do, and he noticed. he’s never seen you so deflated, tears filling your lash line. fortunately, asmo knows the perfect way to calm you down.

“okay baby, do you want hot pink or pink?” your eyes flick between the two headbands from your spot on the bathroom counter. you know they’re basically the same color, but it doesn't stop you from trying to guess which one is cuter. “hot pink.” you say finally, nodding in the direction of the headband in asmo’s right hand. “correct answer, you weren’t allowed to choose anything else.” asmo slips on your fuzzy headband and you snort as he carefully adjusted it on your head. “why’d you ask then?” you tease. asmo shrugs, leaning in closer to press a quick kiss under your eye. “so we can match!” after your emotional feeling day, your boyfriend suggested you join him in his skincare to take your mind off of everything for a bit. you agreed immediately, happy at the opportunity. you’ve been so stressed lately, working part time at a small coffee shop near campus while attending classes full time, and not having time to spend quality time with your boyfriend made you feel like you had let him down. you were grateful he was offering to help you out though. asmo’s finger hooked under your chin, using a silicone spatula to smear on a cool peel off mask onto your other cheek. you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and he grins, pecking your lips before getting back to work on your mask. little whisps of champagne hair escaped from his headband, his tongue sticking from the side of his mouth while the mask between his brows crinkled in concentration. asmo always did this whenever he focused particularly hard, so you didn’t interrupt him even if he did start to ramble about something or another. you couldn’t get enough of watching him make himself so at peace with his surroundings. your lips meet his palm gently, and he quickly got the paragraph hidden behind such a small act. “you’re welcome, baby.”

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

BEELZEBUB

♫ grey luh - berhana

╰ beel knows that even himself needs a bit of time alone before he’s ready for any interaction so he let’s you have you’re time. while he waits, beel prepares a bath of pure relaxation. scented candles, various different bath bombs, and even one of those bath tables.

you groan exasperatedly as beel lifts you from the warm embrace of your duvets, “i know, i know, i’m sorry. you can go back to bed in a minute…” he assures you, his voice soft and droopy. you’re about to protest but he shushes you by kissing you softly on the lips. “i know you need this.” with that you stop your whining and hum quietly, accepting a loving defeat. you were already starting to nod off against beel’s chest til your nose caught whiff of vanilla and the cold tiles of the bathroom under your feet as he set you down. the bath was filled with crystal clear water, a blue tint shimmering over the liquid due to the relaxing lighting. there were candles and various oils and body washes littering the shelves of the bathtub with a scent that was both sweet and refreshing at the same time. it was almost overwhelming in its complexity but it was also perfect because beel always made sure everything had an effect that would make you happy, calm, relax. “your week has been stressful so i wanted to make you something even it it isn’t a lot.” you smile brightly up at him, eyes shining with love for him despite still having bags underneath them, which he brushes away with another tender kiss. you already began to strip, your bones were aching for warm bubbling water on your skin. “just relax, okay? i’ll take care of you and we can go back to bed after dinner.” you pause just as you dip your leg into the water, “you’re not joining me?” beel blinks at you owlishly, mouth opening and closing a few times as if trying to find words, “you wanted me to join?” you blink back at him, confused until he finally says something intelligible again, “yes? why wouldn’t i want you to join me?” he smiles at you, a small and gentle curve of his lips that you couldn’t help smiling back at him. he wastes no time settling down behind you, your body immediately melting into his, the heat radiating out of him and warming you up like never before. “better?” he questions, hand rubbing your back soothingly, his other arm wrapped snugly around your waist. your head rested on his shoulder, arms loosely wrapping around his own torso. “absolutely. thank you.”

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

BELPHEGOR

♫ valentina - dreamer isioma

╰ usually naps off his anger or sadness, basically letting it build up silently, naps do help him but he knows that naps won’t erase anybody’s pain in, like, two hours. belphie makes you a little care package; essential oils, sugar scrub, candles, sweets, blanket, plushies, melatonin gummies for the sleepless nights, headphones, etc… it was a rare sight seeing belphie out of bed and productive, instead your roles being swapped.

the attic’s stairs creaked as belphie ascended to where you were curled up on his bed. he approaches slowly, stretching his neck out a bit to check if you were sleeping. fortunately, you were not. “hey, babe? i got you something…” belphie muttered. you turned your head slightly, the glow from your d.d.d illuminating your face. belphie sat down next to you, laying out what was clearly a care package on a bedside table. the colors were subtle, a nice slightly desaturated blue with white accents for bows on the bag, few constellations littered the design. “you didn’t need to waste your money on me, belph.” you sigh, holding his face in your hand, belphie leans into your touch. “it wasn’t a waste. you’ve worked so hard.” he smiles as he kisses your palm. “plus, nothing’s a waste if its for you.” there was some static in the room, it made the atmosphere even more intimate. belphie rests his head against yours, taking a deep breath in. you smelled nice, and belphie felt immensely calm. “do you want anything else, hun? i could cook dinner…” belphie trails off, rubbing circles onto your arm. he feels you shake your head, “you’re more than enough. i’ll open the gift in a second, promise, just need you.” belphie kisses the top of your head, resting his cheek on top of it. there was static again, the feeling only growing more prominent as he pressed a kiss to your temple, “i love you.” you turn slightly to face belphie, placing your lips against his, they were soft, sweet, and tasted like honey and vanilla. you felt the tension plaguing your body ebb away, you relaxed into your lover. belphie pulls back, pressing another chaste kiss on your forehead, “i love you the most.”

[teyvatairconditioningco]

Part 2 of me screaming my head off

SPOILERS FOR 2.5

JINGYUAN IS RACIST, MORE AT 10

No but he's one of my favorite characters and one of the reasons is explicitly said BY HIM, when you live for hundreds of years, sometimes you're going to be a real piece of shit and if you're functionally immortal, you HAVE to grow and you HAVE to deal with the shitty person you've been.

Look I know they go hard with waifus for the paycheck but god damn they went hard with Feixiao and I love them for it. I fucking adore her. You can see her backstop coming, but who fucking cares. And "I never want to see this shit again" (paraphrasing) is great.

Hoolay was so fucking good. "Yeees, you brought me back from my 700 year imprisonment!!...... wait what the fuck do you mean you're so weak you had to bring back a 700 year old prisoner" Yes he was undeniably evil, but he still had his own primal "code" and I just think he was very well done (for someone who existed in 2 patches) okay

THIS was phenomenal. THIS fight kicked the SHIT out of me.

Oh Jiaoqiu. Oh, my darling. I got spoiled on this beforehand and I've never put my phone down so quickly. For like a split second earlier I was like NO. HE SACRIFICED HIMSELF??? Sacrificing your vision is rough but I'm so glad he's alive. And I haven't seen anyone else mention this but he must have gotten a chunk taken out of him and drained of blood??? Like Hoolay was poisoned because he ATE part of him. Bro got CANNIBALIZED.

ANYWAY

Luocha has been carrying around Tayzzronth?? Or a fragment of them??

YOOOOOOOOOO THE DELIVERY OF THIS IN ENG WAS FUCKING GREAT.

I'M SO FUCKING HYPED TO SEE TINGYUN 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

Although if Sunday is coming in that patch... sorry babes, I'll have to get you on the rerun.

[abravesoul03]

How would I imagine Tatter's cock would be and her behaviour during sex?

Team BEBE Tatter X Fem reader

SMUT-ISH!!!

(●__●)(●__●)(●__●)(●__●)(●__●)(●__●)(●__)

How would her cock look like?

-When she's soft she's around 2.5 cm.

-When she's hard she'll be around 12cm, she's a grower y'all. (definitely the president of the big dick club 😀)

-Her cock is slightly crooked to the left.

-Is shaven and always keeps it clean.

-Big balls, thight ball sack.

-Is thick.

-Her cum is thick and pale white in colour.

(´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`)

Her Behaviour during sex

-Taeyong is switch leaning sub.

-She would mostly be your subby girl, but in times whenever she's stressed or worked up from choreo's dance practice she would want to take control to release some stress.

-Want to get her hard? Walk Infront of her wearing one of her team jerseys and her boxers, you'll immediately see her bulge forming.

-Has a week spot for your breasts.

-Loves seeing you wearing her boxers?

-Is the queen of cheesy nicknames in general for you.

-Her names for your intimate times will vary. (Baby, babe, y/n-ah, jagi, my sexy wife [will call you her wife even if you guys are just girlfriends])

(´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`)

Sub Tatter

-Would be your pillow Princess.

-Will want you to suck her off everytime before begging you to ride her.

-Loves loves loves to be degraded and praised.

-Your breasts are her ultimate weakness. (just let her suck on them she would be really happy😶‍🌫️)

-Taeyong will beg you to ride her for hours.

-If you get tired will beg you to just cock warm her.

-When she's about to cum her whines get higher and higher.

-Her eyes will be thight shut as she snuggles her face into your chest whimpering.

-After care, she will carry to the bathroom laying you down and turning on the water then gets in with you from behind. Will kiss your shoulders and jawline thanking you for making her feel good.

(´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`)

Dom Tatter

-Like I've said before Dom Tatter is a once in a blue moon event.

-Dom Taeyoung comes out when either you or her are stressed and in need of a stress relief.

-She would be straight forward that she wants to fuck.

- "y/n-ah I'm really stressed, can we fuck?" / "Jagi are you stressed? Come here let me fuck you."

-Her favourite position is missionary. She loves it cus then she could see your reaction when she fucks you and would also give her access to your lips.

-Will be rough but also checks on you from time to time.

- "Is this ok jagi? Should I slow down?" / "Does it hurt sugar pie?"

-She will want to tease you but is soon to give in to your pouts.

-when she feels like your nearing your end start to rub your clit while thrusting hard until you end up seeing stars.

-BUT that doesn't end here. She would always eat you out after fucking you. Claims it to be an 'extra relief'.

-After care, after getting cleaned up will carry you back to bed and dress you up her Oversized t-shirt and her boxers.

(´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`)

-THE END-

[oleanderfox]

Palia Tips

Some things I have learned that might help others. 🩵

Game Controls

You can put away your tool by pressing X.

If you get stuck, type /unstuck in the chat window and you’ll be teleported to the nearest stable surface.

Right clicking with a tool equipped will let you switch between different types of ammo (for bug catching and hunting).

You can cancel without wasting ammo after entering "aim" mode by pressing the Shift key or right mouse button (h/t @sharky857 ).

You can climb ivy in addition to cliffs. (Like inside the lighthouse..!)

You can cancel climbing/drop from a cliff face by clicking X. (h/t @lazyadmiral )

You can jump (space bar) while climbing cliffs to climb faster.

You can hold down the mouse key when mining, tilling, and chopping down trees rather than clicking for each chop.

Camera & Photos

Press K to enter camera mode.

There’s a 🔁 button in the corner if you want to swap to a front-facing camera/“selfie mode”.

If you want to see your photos while in the game, you have to save them to the album. However all photos taken, even if you don’t do that step, will be saved to your computer’s hard drive.

To find your photos, open Windows Explorer and enter %appdata% in the location bar. From there navigate to %AppData%/Local/Palia/Saved/Screenshots. You should be able to pin this folder to your quick nav/favorites to find it again easily.

Time

One hour of real time = one entire day in Palia. That means an hour in Palia passes in only 2.5 minutes of play.

You only get "credit" (for building friendships) for chatting with villagers once per villager per day.

Many bugs, fish, and plants can only be found at certain times. Time in Palia is divided into: ‣ Morning: 3-6am (rooster crows at 3) ‣ Day: 6am-6pm ‣ Evening: 6pm-9pm ‣ Night: 9pm-3am (owl hoots at 9)

Time in Palia is the same across all servers. Midnight (a new day) will always be on the hour in real world time, so 6am in Palia is at X:15, noon is at X:30, and 6pm is at X:45.

6am is a "new day" for crops, but midnight is a "new day" for chatting with villagers. Midnight also seems to be when the furniture in Tish’s shop refreshes.

Gifting runs on real world time, not Palia time. You can only give a villager one gift every 24 hours in the real world, and "Weekly Wants" are valid for one real world week. The week currently resets on Mondays at 12am Eastern.

Once you get a villager's key, you can talk to and visit them even when they are "asleep".

Mail is delivered and picked up (shipping bin sales) at 6am and 6pm.

To find rare spawns, arrive in the area 15-30 Palia minutes before the start of its catch period and clear all the common critters/plants. This will make it more likely your rare will spawn when the clock chimes.

Inventory & House

Furniture does not take up inventory space!!

A gold star on an item's icon means it's "star quality." Starred items fetch higher sales prices and are required for some quests.

Starred items will not stack with normal items.

Only star quality food can be placed in your house/lot.

More storage chests = more storage slots, but you are capped at 8.

You can hang items on the exterior walls of your home - including wallpaper!!

When in placement mode, you can rotate items using Q and E. You can turn off “grid mode” by pressing z, which allows more flexible item placement.

Leveling

Your character level is a combination of your level in each of your skills.

Eating food increases your "focus," which applies a percentage bonus that will make you level faster.

You can increase that bonus by visiting the Dragon and Phoenix shrines and spending Renown to increase the percentage (Phoenix Shrine) and the amount of focus you can accumulate.

You can only "carry" 1,000 Renown at any time. If you're not spending it, you're throwing away Exp.

Renown is also needed to expand your housing plot (by buying "Writs").

Event

You can get "displayable" food from Reth and Delaila, but it's based on RNG. Just keep buying the item until you get a star quality one.

The quickest way to get Chapaa Chase tickets is by completing the Achievements; some require you to party with others.

The drums are not obvious, but you only need to go back and forth between a pair of them interacting as they light up. Eventually the big fireworks will trigger and you will get the achievement and reward. (Do this 2 more times for the second achievement!)

The event achievements are on the Event tab, not the achievements one.

Skill-Specific Tips

Fishing: If you don’t click in time and the fish disappears, don’t panic — the same fish will keep trying again! And if you change your mind, you can pull your line in/cancel and you won’t spend any bait. This means you can wait to be sure you’ve hooked the fish you want before reeling it in so you don’t waste all your precious glow worms! The one caveat is that sparkle pools (and the guaranty of a star quality catch) disappear if you don’t catch the fish on the first nibble.

Hunting: The Proudhorn Sernuk can teleport and the Azure Chapaa can make an illusion of copies of itself that disappear when shot. They're both very difficult to hunt until you learn to make Dispel arrows. If you’re still struggling to have enough resources for everything, learn the lowest quality arrow that can kill something in one shot and hunt with those. (Kilima chapaa can be killed with a makeshift arrow while regular Kilima sernuk require a standard arrow. Bahari chapaa need at least a standard arrow while elder sernuk in Bahari will cost you several fine arrows.)

Looting: For hunting, mining, and chopping down trees, everyone who gets one "hit" in gets loot, and the loot is not diminished by sharing. So working together to find pallium nodes or hunt rare critters rewards everyone. :) (Note that you need to have the required equipment quality to be able to share, though - if you get a message saying “sorry, you need to upgrade your equipment” then you won’t get any loot.)

Mining: On the topic of Palium, it’s not as rare as you think. It has very specific spawn points, which it only shares with stone - you’ll never find palium where you found iron before. This means you should mine all the stone sharing those points to encourage palium to spawn for your next visit. Palium can be found in the caves hidden around the perimeter of Bahari and in the Pavel mines.

Foraging: Purple glowing trees are flow trees, and require more than one player to chop them down. Again, everyone gets "full" loot, no matter how many people get a swing in. For small trees, let them heal after each hit if needed to make sure everyone present can get a hit. If you’re looking for a specific resource, say, sweet leaf, look up what it shares spawn points with (in this case, morels) and pick three as well so sweet leaf has a chance to spawn. Also, brightshrooms are typically found in ruins right up against the structures so they can be easy to overlook or mistake for glowing bugs at night.

Cooking: You can find recipes in villager's homes, by fishing them up in bottles, lying around the wilderness, and completing quests or bundles in addition to buying them from Reth.

Cooking together: Like with looting, everyone gets the full reward, even if you don't contribute any ingredients.

Lore & Fun Stuff

There is a mysterious beast in the Elderwoods.

The mine's haunted.

Sooo much queer rep: All the romanceable characters don’t care about the player’s “body type.” Sifuu, the Duchess (Kenyara), and Eshe are canonically wlw. Chayne was raised by two dads. The former lighthouse keepers in Bahari Bay were a gay couple. 🏳️‍🌈

Critters that have been mentioned but don't have in-game models or released concept art yet so we just have to speculate: ‣ Kitsuu: Sacred companions, according to Hassian. There is a kitsuu constellation which has "floppy ears" and horns. Possibly the "fennec fox with antlers" creature drawn in the Vault of the Waves? (Confirmed by the official Discord emotes!) No longer unreleased as of 0.3.6. :) ‣ Peki: Palian version of chickens, or at least they lay eggs and have feathers, and according to Nai’o “there are at least 72 unique color and pattern combinations for peki breeds.” ‣ Riffroc: Palian mounts. Nai'o has a beloved one named Sugarfoot; Kenyatta’s is named Sundrop.

Bug Reporting, Suggestions, and Help

Report problems here.

Give feedback and request/suggest features here.

If you're stuck on a quest or where to find an item, there's an "Official" wiki and an "unofficial" wiki.

[arahdow]

NIGHTY

Pairing. Shadow x reader x Silver

Content. f!reader (nicknamed as nighty). poly!relationship. hurt to comfort. one (1) mention of smoking, description of injuries, harsh language. they're worried sick and shadow channels his worry as anger. silver calms both of you down though! suggestive at the end? jsjs i got carried away.

Word count. 2.5 k

A/N. AAAAAAAAAAAAA thank you anon for requesting this !! I absolutely adored writing this, although at first I found it quite difficult BUT I hope I did a good job! This is my first time writing a poly relationship, but I have faith I portrayed well. Same ol', no beta read, no nothing, I just had fun jsjs.

+ my back hurts HELP SKDJFJ i'll take a well deserved rest after this aH

“What are you doing?” the voice of Shadow startled her, as she hid her own arm behind her. He was leaning on the opened door, arms crossing, eyes boring into her figure. Turning to look at the man, she closed the tap water and cleared her throat uncomfortably. 

 “I didn’t see you there.”

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

The girl sighed. “Nothing of your business.” she grumbled, trying to walk past the black hedgehog, but it was no use. Shadow snatched her arm making her wince at the action. His eyes widened at the way the skin was ripped open, blood seeping through her arm dripping to the white floor. The rest of her arm was bruised.

“What the fuck is this, Nighty?” He asked, a commanding tone laced in his voice.

The girl pulled her arm and took it to the sink again, opening the cold water and letting it stream onto her wound. “Just a cut, it’s nothing.”

Shadow inhaled deeply. “Does Silver know?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters if you’re hurt, now don’t be a brat and answer me.”

“He doesn't, okay? And I don’t care if he does, there’s nothing he could do either way.” She said, hissing at the feeling of her wound being cleaned.

Shadow almost felt bad. Almost. But he simply huffed and turned around going into his room. 

The girl sighed and kept on cleaning herself, the silence in the kitchen making her feel lightheaded. Nighty, as Shadow and Silver liked to call her, lived with the two hedgehogs. Not in the same house though. It was such a weird situation: Silver once found Nighty dehydrated and with a grave state of anemia, passed out on the street. He took the girl to Shadow, which was the closest location to where he found her. At first, Shadow was reluctant to help Silver save her, why would he care?

But it became something difficult to ignore when the girl woke up, not remembering anything about her. They thought she had been abused or kidnapped and somehow managed to escape, but it was weird that she couldn’t even remember her own name. So they called her Nighty. 

After that, she took turns to stay in either Silver’s or Shadow’s house, and because of the proximity and chemistry, she started developing feelings for both of them, and so were they. Silver and Shadow didn’t like each other that much to start a relationship themselves, so they shared her, with no hard feelings for each other.

This week was Shadow’s turn, but she somehow managed to stay more time outdoors than with him. And the thing was, she actually started going out with the people she met at a club. This girl called Rouge was the one who introduced her to a group, and since then, everything started going down. Now she prefers going out, smoking with friends and engaging in risky scenarios. And with every day that passed, her partners got more concerned. They looked at her one day and she was so changed.

After she finished cleaning herself, she turned to the bathroom to grab the aid kit, which surprisingly, was in Shadows hand. He was kneeling, cleaning the droplets of blood that dripped from her arm earlier.

“Thank-”

“It’d leave a stain. Don’t go around making a mess here if you’re going to behave like this.” His tone laced with venom. She looked at him, hurt.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means whatever the hell you think it is.” He replied, standing up, aid kit on his hands. “You can’t keep going out, end of story.”

Nighty snickered. Shadow looked at her with anger brewing inside of him. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” She spat. “You thinking you can order me around like you’re my father.”

“I may not be your father but I am your partner, you live under my roof, you do as I say!” He raised his voice slightly.

“Who do you think you are? I didn’t ask to be saved, I didn’t ask for your shelter,” The girl huffed. “I certainly didn’t ask for your pity.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, I never said I pitied you.”

“Well it looks like it, why would you tell me all this, then?” 

“Because you’re changing! You’re not the girl I love!” 

Wrong fucking words, Shadow.

Eyes dull, she looked at him, suddenly the wound in her arm didn’t hurt as much. “Wow, you’re showing your true colors, huh?”

“The hell does that mean.” 

But she didn’t let him speak. Turning around, she started walking at the door. Shadow suddenly blocked her, his back pressing against the door.

“Please, open the door, Shadow, I’m not playing games.”

“Neither am I. Where are you going?”

“Why do you care? You’ve clearly stated you don’t love me anymore.”

Shadow felt a hollow pit in his stomach. “What-”

“Can I leave?” 

And he looked in her eyes. Angry tears running down her eyes. The man seething, pure hot through his veins. But, why did he feel so… Helpless?

“I never said-”

“‘You’re changing, you’re not the girl I love’, does that ring a fucking bell?” She asked, her tone raising.

“You know for a fact that’s not what I meant!”

“Oh, do I?” The girl asked, her voice broken with pain. “Then what did you mean? Mhm?”

Shadow stared at her. Suddenly losing the words, he stood there motionless. His brain racking with ways on how to explain that he was worried. That he was terrified for her, her body, the way it kept getting worse and worse every passing day. The way her skin was becoming a garden full of bruises and cuts. He noticed then she had a busted lip too.

The girl sighed, shaking her head. She took advantage of Shadow being in his headspace, walking close to the door and opening it wide enough for her to go through it. “You can be so cruel when you put your soul into it.” Was the last thing she said before walking out the door.

Hearing knocking on his door, Silver got up yawning in the process. It was the middle of the night, he wasn’t expecting someone. And he definitely wasn’t expecting her.

“Night-?”

“Can I sleep here?” She asked, rushing inside his home. 

Silver hadn’t had the time to ask her a thing. Rubbing his eyes, his brain started growing more conscious by the moment. “Wait, why? What happened to Shadow?” He asked, receiving a scoff from the girl.

“Can we not talk about this?” 

Silver closed the door, walking slowly until he saw the injury on her arm. His mind cleared up as he rushed to the bathroom to get some supplies and meds. “Why are you hurt? What happened, Nighty?”

“Can we not?” She avoided his questioning as well as his eyes.

“Hey-”

“Stop! Can’t you understand a fucking request? Am I the only smart one here? Leave me the fuck alone!”

She exploded. And Silver raised his hands, worried that he had a time bomb in front of him. She needed care, and he couldn’t afford for her to run away. He guessed something happened at Shadow’s, but he chose to stay curious.

“I’m not gonna ask anything else, for the moment, then.” He said decisively, but with a soft voice and a gentle smile trying to not irritate her more.

The next few minutes, he started to patch her up, gently, taking full care and attention at her expressions. A quick glance at her told him everything. She and Shadow had an argument. And he knew that because it was the only moment where she cried. 

Yes, Shadow was someone known to be a dickhead, apprehensive even, when things didn’t go his way; but he somehow always managed to get under everyone’s skin. People used to warm up to him easily because he was also a protector by nature. He cared, in his own way. Silver knew that much.

He cared for the girl when the second Silver arrived at his home, and even when Shadow denied such a thing, Silver saw something in his eyes. A glint of worry. A glint of need to protect such a soul. The way Shadow’s eyes lingered on her, or when he spoke softer to her than anybody else. Silver noticed all of that. But both of them were hard-headed. 

Putting some ointment on her bruised skin, he noticed her busted lip and inhaled sharply. The need to ask was consuming him, but he held himself. 

With one gentle hand, he took the girl’s chin and turned her head his way. Her teary eyes were so pretty, but he wouldn’t comment on that in this scenario. Maybe another day. Nighty looked at him, his golden eyes boring into hers, his naked hand caressed her cheek. She could feel his short claws gaze at her skin, but she felt cared. Safe.

Silver averted his gaze, taking a cotton ball and smearing alcohol in it.

“This might hurt.” He warned, she only nodded.

Followed by a hiss, he started to wipe her lip, the dried blood being cleaned up from her. Her skin red from the pain. The man shushed softly at her, lulling. She felt less pained, somehow. 

Her tears were coming out less and less, Silver made sure they never hit the floor. She lunged forwards, hugging him with the arm that she hadn’t injured. The man yelped, receiving warmth from her body. Then he reciprocated the hug.

“I don’t want you to leave me…” She whispered, barely audible but Silver could hear her perfectly.

He waited for her to calm down a bit, and when she pulled away from the hug, he took her hand in his. Her breathing seemed calmer now.

“Can I ask now, what happened?” He asked, his voice the softest he could manage.

The girl sighed and recalled the events at Shadow’s. Silver nodded every few seconds to let her know he was listening. When she finished telling him about it, he inhaled sharply. 

“I see,” Directing his attention to the aid box, he took the bandages and opened a hand for her to give him her wound, now that the ointment was absorbed in her skin. “now, can I talk about this situation? I have some questions.” Nighty nodded. “How did you got this?” He asked, referring to her arm.

With a sigh, she replied. “I… There were these guys at the bar,” Silver’s breath hitched. “they wanted me and my friend to leave with them, but they seemed sketchy. Rouge tried to wave them off but they were pressing the topic a lot, to the point where they got frustrated and…” She gulped. “One of them had a knife…”

Gauging Silver’s reaction, she stopped speaking for a moment. The man nodded. “Keep talking.”

Nighty inhaled. “He was going to hurt Rouge, but I took the hit.” 

Silver looked up, his eyes were no longer gold but a dirty brown. “And the lip?”

Shrinking in her seat, Silver didn’t need anything else. Sighing deeply, he tried calming his nerves. This was the first time he has encountered about her odd friends and outings, but this? This was too much.

“Nighty,” he started. “you know we care about you, right?”

She sat in silence. 

“Right?” He repeated, looking at her. 

“I’m not sure… I think i’m a nuisance, I don’t want to worry any of you but…” She trailed off. 

“There are no limits when it comes to you, princess.” He said with a gentle smile, continuing on patching her arm. “We’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

Sniffing, she nodded. “Shadow… He…” It was hard to even remember what had happened between them.

Silver clicked his tongue, taking a band-aid and putting it carefully on her lip. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow morning. You can stay here, and we’ll handle this tomorrow, okay?”

Nighty nodded, feeling herself become drowsy. Holding back a yawn, Silver giggled at her state. Kissing her forehead, he took her bridal style and walked towards his room. “Let’s put you to sleep, princess.”

The day after, Nighty found herself nuzzling into the pillow. It smelt nicely of Silver: like cherry shortcake. Quiet voices made her stir in her sleep. Turning to lie staring at the ceiling, she winced at the pain coursing through her injured arm. Ah, she forgot. 

Sitting up, she could tell apart the voices. Silver and Shadow. Her stomach flipped with nervousness, as she got up from the comfortable bed. Walking slowly towards the door, she opened it. The boys didn’t notice, so she slipped to the kitchen.

“You need to apologize.”

“I will! Stop repeating that, I know-”

“If you knew you would’ve kept your mouth shut, jackass.”

Shadow murmured under his breath. Both of them were sitting on opposite sides of the couch. Nighty took some coffee from the counter and got out of the kitchen. Her presence was noticed by both hedgehogs. 

Silver jumped in his seat. “My- When did you go to the kitchen?”

“I just walked by.” She answered, her voice hoarse and weak. Her head hurting. Probably for all the crying last night.

The room filled with silence. She didn’t know if she should go and sit down with them or not. But before she could decide, Shadow decided for her. 

“I…” He said, standing from his seat. He always found it difficult to apologize, but he couldn’t bear her thinking he hated her, or that he loved her less. “I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t erase the pain I put you through last night,” he cleared his throat with anxiety of not sending his point across her. “I shouldn’t have let the worst of me take over.” He added. 

Coming close to her, he took the cup of coffee from her hands, putting it down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Going back at her, he took her hands into his, focusing for a bit on her patched lip, suddenly feeling guilty for not taking care of her properly.

“What I said last night wasn’t real, it wasn’t what I really thought of you.” Deep sigh. “I love you however you are, although that doesn’t mean I won’t worry about you…”

Before he could go further, Silver cleared her throat, Shadow pressed his lips in thought. 

“What I mean is, I love you, and I’ll keep saying it until you forgive me.” He looked at her hands, kissing the back of them.

“I love you too, Shads.” It was hard not to forgive him, she loved him too much. “I’m sorry for calling you cruel, I too was hurting and… Yeah.”

Shadow shook his head. “I felt worried. Terrified even. I’ll work on that and… Explain myself better next time.”

Nighty nodded and kissed his cheek. They stared at each other for a few seconds, the girl walked back to the couch, sitting in between the two hedgehogs.

The men looked at each other and smiled, and she noticed. “Guys, may I remind you I’m still injured.” 

Both of them got close to her, Shadow placed his hand on her thigh as Silver kneeled on the couch, his snout rubbing onto the side of her head, until his lips gazed at her ear.

“Then let us do all the work, princess.”

[humansofnewyork]

“I packed on the muscle to cover it up. What our neighbor did to me; when I was a kid. It left such a darkness and shadow inside me. So much anger and sexual confusion. My high school wrestling coaches used to test me for steroids every single week; that’s how much anger and aggression was inside of me. But I didn’t beat up my body with drugs, like some people do. I beat it up in the gym. Working out made me feel embodied. Like nobody would fuck with me. At the age of 21 I decided to train for the Mr. Olympia competition. I was down to 4 percent body fat. I was getting striations like crazy. Then one day I’m riding the elevator at my office, and it froze. It hovered for one second. Then it dropped. I thought I was going to die. It fell three stories before the emergency brakes kicked in. Four herniated discs in my back. Three in my neck. I needed two shoulder operations, a knee operation. I had platinum and titanium wires put into my back. It was months and months of not being able to work out. Sitting in this dark room. No sunshine. All that pain and suffering from my childhood just rushed out. I remember sitting in my wheelchair, next to a busy street, and wanting so bad to just roll over the curb. But this is a comeback story. I’m having a little bit of a comeback right now. After my last spinal surgery, I got the sense that I could lift again. I put on a garbage bag, and walked 2.5 miles a day, in 95-degree heat, carrying weights. I lost 75 pounds. The entire time I was listening to the Rocky music. Eye of The Tiger, on repeat. Rocky is my hero. He wasn’t super smart and neither am I, especially since the brain injury. But we both know how to keep fighting. I even got a tattoo of a tiger on my chest. Its mouth is open. It’s scaring the pain away: not just the physical pain, all of the pain. Right now I’m training for my first competition. It’s a just small one in December, called Classic Physique. But I went hard today, and I’m feeling super strong. I don’t want anyone feeling sorry for me. I want people to see me on the podium. I want to engrave a sentiment. That if this man can do it, anybody can. This isn’t gonna be a sad story. It’s gonna be a Rocky story.”