#and i know i’m not eating enough or im not eating routinely enough and im diabetic i can’t go long hours between eating

[orchideius]

genuinely, when will it end??? I am so tired of being here and I am not sure how much longer I can push myself to keep going. i’m exhausted.

[voulezloux]

.

[lilgynt]

i’m sleeping at night i’m eating more regularly im reading again i dont have panic attacks before and during work - after work im usually pretty chill and i dont have a crazy stupid dependency on weed. life got better and it only cost me like. 100 to 300 bucks per paycheck. like 100 base pay but 2 to 3 bc i usually hit bonus bc im amazing and hot. now i’m amazing and hot here without all of that

[allbark-no-bite]

good boy.

art donaldson x reader (wc: 2.9k)

summary: as Art’s personal physical therapist, it’s your job to fix what Tashi has torn apart, by whatever means necessary. or in which Art just needs some TLC

warnings: 18+ smut, it could be worse tbh, mentions of disordered eating

author’s note: i’m back ig?? im out of uni for the summer and challengers has me in a chokehold. Art Donaldson the man that you are

————————————————————————

You're standing just within earshot of the doorway, passing a sanitary wipe over one of the tables in the athlete treatment room when you hear the door abruptly open. Tashi storms in with a purpose and Art trails meekly behind her. Even if you had been clueless to how the match had gone rather than on the sidelines beside Tashi not even twenty minutes ago, you could have guessed by the hard line of her mouth that Art was in for it. Not that her displeased scowl was much different from her usual scowl, but you'd been around long enough to know the difference.

She stops abruptly, and Art heels obediently as Tashi turns around to face him. "I need you to tell me when you're going to fucking get it together so that I can stop wasting my time."

Weary and sweat soaked, Art just stares at her with that pitiful look on his face and says nothing in reply. His blue eyes solemnly take in her harsh disappointment as though beyond used to it. At this point it's not all that foreign to you either.

"You may as well be fucking asleep out there," she snaps.

This time his mouth opens. "I- I'm just tired-" he begins, although there's hardly any argue to his voice at all.

"No, I'm tired, Art," Tashi interjects. "Do you have any idea how much fucking work I've put into getting you back onto the court this past year?! I've done everything! The least you could do go out there and try to act like I've done anything for you at all!"

Art swallows, the slight frown on his face deepening. "I am. I just- I don't-"

Before he can even finish his sentence. The open palm of Tashi's hand connects with his cheek as she pops the left side of his face. Art closes his mouth. You pretend to concentrate on wiping down the table. It's not the first time you've witnessed one of these conversations but it still feels private, like you shouldn't be here. You keep wiping the table.

Understanding that anything else he says is only going to make Tashi angrier, Art resigns to once again watching her in silence. His blue eyes are sad. The usually fair skin of his cheek is tinted pink where she popped him. Although it wasn't very hard, you're sure it still hurt him all the same.

"Quit wasting my time," is all she says before she finally turns and leaves, walking right past you and out the other door. You hold your breath as she passes you. Art watches her go but makes no move to follow. You release an audible sigh. It's been a frustrating day for everyone. As Art's personal trainer, physical therapist, and close friend, you felt every loss, every ache and pain, every bad play. And there seemed to be a lot of those lately.

Art is still standing there, watching the closed door that Tashi left though.

Not knowing how to break the silence, you finally pat the freshly sanitized treatment table. "C'mon," you call gently, as though beckoning to a wounded dog.

It takes a moment for him to budge, but eventually he does, his disheartened spirit apparent in the way he walks over. Used to the usual routine, he tugs his damp shirt off over his head as he takes a seat, the lean muscles of his torso flexing as he does so. You allow yourself to ogle at him, only for a brief moment before stepping in between the bracket of his knees. Gently, you cradle his chin, tipping his head back to look up at you as your thumb smooths over the redness of his cheek. His blue eyes blink up at you, sad and dog-like.

"It wasn't terrible," you reassure him. "You had surgery six months ago. You're still getting your feet back underneath you. Most people wouldn't have come back." You're right. The still-pink scars on his shoulder are still fresh on your mind. The stitches weren't even out before Tashi had him in physical therapy. Even though his medical team had released him, it was still a bit early to start doing rehab so soon after surgery, Art's comfort being your biggest concern. But when Tashi wants something, she gets it.

Wordlessly, Art sighs, the weight of his head settling into your palm as he finally lets go of the tension he'd been carrying. It was always like this. You fixing what Tashi had torn apart. You understood where Tashi was coming from. Art needed a firm voice in his training, and you had a lot of respect for the way she put her foot down and never let up, not even once. But there was only so many times you could kick a dog while he was down.

So if Art needed someone to coddle him, you would coddle him.

He trusts you. He needs you, is what Tashi had told you when she asked you to stay on as his trainer full time. The three of you had been in the same year at Stanford all those years ago, Tashi and Art on the tennis team and you helping out as a student trainer as part of a class requirement. Three peas in a pod, the trio of you were. Of course then they both graduated, leaving you to finish up your schooling, meanwhile Art set off to go pro.

A few years later, once Tashi officially took on the position as Art's coach, she began building his team, and that's where you came in. You were hesitant at first.

'I already lost to you once, Tashi. I won't come in second to you again.'

She had paused on the other end of the line. Back in your Stanford days, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were head over heels in love with the blonde tennis player. But loving Art was like accepting the participation ribbon for a game you knew you weren't going to win in the first place. It was like standing next to the podium, just lucky enough to be included in the picture while Tashi and tennis took first and second place. And so you let him go.

'I'm not asking you to. This is different.'

Your hand slips from his face, and he forces his eyes open.

“Have you eaten?" you ask, stepping away in order to put some distance between the two of you and look for the granola bars that you keep especially for him. The gels were good sources of quick fuel in between sets, but they were hardly enough to even begin to make up for the calories he burned while playing.

Slowly, Art shakes his head, but he makes no move to take the snack from your hand when you offer it to him. Ever since his injury, nutrition became all the more important. So much to the point that every single thing that he consumed was mapped out to the exact calorie. Although he would never admit it, any sort of change in this routine made him incredibly anxious. Some days it was better not to cause him the anxiety than to force him.

Today, you insistently hold out the bar until he begrudgingly takes it from your hand. You don't move until you've seen him tear open the package and take a bite.

"Were you still feeling tight?" you ask as you walk around the table, stopping at the slouch of his turned back. You reach out to grasp at the joint of his neck and shoulder, your thumb smoothing over the kinesiology tape that's peeling away at the base of his neck.

He half turns his head to glance back at you. "You watched the match. You tell me."

His response is meant to be snippy, but it comes out more defeated than anything. To be fair, you've been his trainer long enough to know that if something was bothering him physically, you would have picked up on it.

"I want to hear it from you."

"I felt fine."

Your left hand follows suit on the other side of his neck, and you use both of your thumbs to apply pressure to what you assume will be a tense spot along the upper part of his traps. Predictably, Art groans at the attention. The muscles of his back contract as he fights the urge to shake you off. Relaxing the muscle hurts as much as it feels good. Besides his obvious discomfort, the rest of his body has gone lax under your touch. His shoulders have dropped at least an inch, and his chin has fallen to rest against his chest.

"Finish your granola bar," you reprimand him, your firm fingers working across his back until you find another spot that nearly has him jerking away. He releases a whine but obediently takes another bite of the bar. This time he finishes it before you have to remind him again.

You spend a few more minutes torturing him before you're satisfied that a majority of the tension has left his shoulders.

"Okay, good boy," you murmur, leaning forward so that your chest is close enough to brush against his back. One of your hands trails up to squeeze the back of his neck reassuringly.

You're close enough to hear him swallow at the name. The skin on the nape of his neck shivers despite how hot he still is from the match.

"Was I?" he asks timidly. "Good today?"

'I can be his coach. Or I can be the person he cries to after a bad day. But I can't be both. That's why he needs you."

Without removing your hand from his neck, you walk around the table so you're standing in front of him. Art widens the spread of his legs so that you can stand between them. His chin is still pressed to his chest, blue eyes focused on the ground.

"Art," is all you say, shifting your grip on his neck to tug lightly at his golden blonde hair. At your voice, he lifts his head just enough to look up at you through the pale wisps of his eyelashes. The irises of his blue eyes shine are wet with uncertainty.

Your fingers loosen their grip to allow your nails to scratch at his scalp. "You're good, Art. You'll always be good."

Art twists his head to nuzzle his cheek along the inside of  your outstretched arm. His lips kiss the crook of your elbow. He swallows again. "Even if I don't play tennis?"

You can tell the question's been bothering him, eating at his nerves, and messing up his game. You know him well enough to know that retirement isn't what he wants, not really. At least not right now. What he wants is the reassurance that it's going to be okay if he can't swing the comeback.

"Look at me."

He lingers a moment longer with his lips pressed lovingly against your skin before he reluctantly shifts his gaze up to you. His look is anticipatory but reserved, as if to preemptively conceal his disappointment should you choose to crush his heart with your answer.

His fear is understandable. Art's relationship with Tashi has always been entirely built off of his tennis career. By being the driving force behind his success, Tashi has vicariously lived out the life she would have had had her injury never happened. Without tennis, Art has nothing left to offer her. He knows that if he gives up tennis, he loses Tashi.

Your relationship with Art was a little less conditional. Hell, you'd been in love with him since the first time you'd laid eyes on him at Stanford. You can still picture him standing there on the court, barely nineteen, scrawny, nervous smile, backwards cap over his strawberry blonde hair. Before he was the Art Donaldson. But when Tashi had stepped into the picture, you figured that was where your fairytale ended.

"I don't love you because of tennis. I love you because you're kind, and thoughtful, and you're passionate about what you do." You smile a bit before adding, "And you're my good boy."

The name turns him bashful again, and he's quick to turn and hide his smiling face against your arm, only the flushed tips of his ears visible. "[Y/n]," he mumbles, likely meaning to be threatening, but it doesn't come out that way.

Art Donaldson lived to be praised.

You laugh, pulling him closer so that his face is held against your chest. The hand that you don't have threaded through his hair trails up the muscle of his defined quad. "You're my good boy. Aren't you, baby?"

Art whines, squirming when your hand reaches the apex of his thigh and hovers over the forming bugle of his shorts. He's not quite there yet, his dick only half chubbed up in interest, but given the day that he's had, you won't make him wait.

"Please?" he mumbles, his face still buried into your collarbone, as if attempting to curling into you, like a small child needing their parent to hold them for comfort.

You rake your nails lightly up the inside of his thigh. "What, baby?"

Not only did Art liked to be praised, but he was masochist even on his worst days.

"Want you to touch me," he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt. "Please."

Your hand still scratching through his hair, you press a kiss to the side of his head, unable to suppress your smile at his timid politeness and how it never seems to fail him. The only time he ever resembled anything remotely voracious was on the court.

Palm finding his tented shorts, you cup him through the fabric. Art responds immediately to your touch, his hips shifting further into your grasp. You continue to pet him through his shorts, appreciating the way you can feel him actively responding to your touch.

His nails dig into the padding of the treatment table when you give his now fully hard dick a less than sympathetic squeeze. His breath is hot as he pants against your collarbone, alternating between laving open mouthed kisses to your skin and whining when you pause fondling him just to feel his hips rut up into your palm.

Art was so in control on the tennis court, that often after a match, putting the control into someone else's hands was just what he needed.

When his hips start to stutter, you ease up but continue to stroke him through his shorts. The front of his shorts are damp with the musk of residual sweat and precum.

His breath is shallow—anticipatory.

"Gunna come?" you ask softly, speaking into the blonde mess of his hair, cradling him. He right there, you can tell by the lackluster buck of his hips, his building fatigue, and the change in his breathing.

"Can I? —Please?" Art asks breathily. He hiccups out the last part, his voice catching.

"You know you don't have to ask."

There's a brief pause, as if coming to the realization, before he meekly murmurs, "I know.

It should be sad really, his unwavering obedience, but there are two sides to Art, two polar extremes. On the court, every match, every set, every debilitating second is up to him. No one else can help him out there, and up until about a year ago, he played like it. That was the side of Art Donaldson that Tashi wanted. After the match is a different story. In private, Art needed someone to do the thinking for him, to pull him into a reality where he could believe that it didn't matter whether he won or lost. Tashi had not the sympathy nor the patience for that kind of fragility.

Art comes with a brief cry into your chest, his body arching into yours. Your hand palms at his pulsing dick until he's oversensitive and pulling away. When you relent, the front of his shorts are sticky and wet.

Finally, Art lifts his face from the safety of your chest. His blue eyes are glossed over, but it's an improvement from the detached look they held ten minutes ago. His cheeks are flushed, a mixture of his own embarrassment and satisfaction. 

You can't help the soft smile that creeps onto your face at the look of him, and immediately Art is abashedly trying to hide his face again, his own smile starting to appear. Before he can, you bring your hands back up to cradle his face, thumbs wiping away the wetness from under his eyes. This time he lets you.

His eyes study your face for a second, admiring you, appreciating the love he has for you.

“I don’t want to play tennis anymore.”

You can’t tell if it’s more of a statement or a confession. Either way, you know he’s telling you the absolute truth.

“Okay,” you reply softly, not hint of judgement in your voice. Maybe some disappointment, but that was understandable.

Retirement would be a kindness. Art would finally put back on some healthy weight, start smiling again, put on a real, actual smile. You could already see it, a nice house for the two of you to settle down in, with a picket fence and a dog in the backyard, the kind of things the two of you would have never had time for on tour.

Tennis had brought the two of you together, but it wouldn’t end you.

[komorim]

itoshi sae that takes pictures of his meals routinely after you expressed your worry of him not eating enough. his manager is beyond relieved after he sees that the footballer is now gaining some weight.

itoshi sae who doesn’t mind being affectionate with you in public- who cares if there is a teenage boy gawking at you two while taking a picture for his twitter account that would surely be on headlines tomorrow? not sae.

itoshi sae that gets a bit cranky when you don’t reply to his messages within an hour. itoshi sae that even more cranky when you call off your nightly calls one day (it ended up with all of his teammates getting insults left and right for every minuscule mistake- his manager calls you that afternoon and begs you to not do that again).

itoshi sae who takes screenshots of your messages and saves the pictures you send him. his favourites are the ones during calls: where it is perfectly candid and his screenshots notifies you.

“what? it’s not like you’re naked or taking a shit.”

itoshi sae who proudly flaunts his relationship with you while wearing your matching couple necklace during matches. he kisses it to dedicate a score to you, and his teammates can’t help but wonder who you are (and what you have done to itoshi sae).

itoshi sae who isn’t embarrassed of his obvious softness towards you. in fact, he once almost completely murdered the opponent’s goalkeeper for throwing the ball straight at his chest, breaking the necklace.

“you glorified octopus, can’t aim for your life of you huh? even a country bumpkin has the common sense to avoid an opponent’s midfielder you-“

you were informed of the commotion by his manager the day after that (he keeps in contact with you very often, knowing that you do a better job keeping sae in check than him).

you tell sae to just not wear the necklace during matches. to which sae quips back, clearly offended:

“are you on his side? he broke our necklace?? you know, like an idiot???”

itoshi sae who still frowns at the little rust at the end of the necklace, where his manager got a professional to fix for him- vowing to score a goal at the goalkeeper’s face next time. (he now brings up the university’s goalkeeping ability every moment he gets during interviews).

-🐨 (im back againnnn ^^)

i most definitely did not expect more from you, but i can’t exactly say i’m complaining (i love you for this). i hope this means you saw my post and hopefully you also liked my hcs! now…undramatic drumroll…some more from me as well!

‣ itoshi sae hcs ⋮ part one !!

cw // none this time as well

itoshi sae who, because he doesn’t care about the media, ends up in a lot of trouble with his manager regarding how he acts. his manager has a headache he whenever he thinks about how to clean up sae’s messes, and he no doubt is somewhat too intimidated by the football player to confront him about it. so instead, resorts to seeking you out for help.

when you talk to sae about the matter, he isn’t exactly happy about it as he genuinely doesn’t see why people should care about his character when they’re supposed to be focusing on his playing abilities. however, he begrudgingly promises you to act better in public the next time. only because it was you that asked (he can’t find it in himself to say no to you, albeit he regrets agreeing to some dumb shit you ask of him sometimes).

itoshi sae who never gives his interviewers an easy time, almost always failing to cooperate with the questions asked. however, when one host on a talk show asks about you, a small smile tugs on his lips instinctually and he can’t help the shine in his eyes as he talks about you, the love of his life.

itoshi sae who puts you as his top priority, being able to drop almost everything in order to come to your aid. sae is the type to always support you no matter what. the exact definition of “even if the whole world turns against you, i’ll always be by your side.”

itoshi sae who is definitely an actions over words kind of boyfriend who’ll never really give you sweet nothings. he’s probably the type to call you a dumbass for not wearing more on a cold day as he drapes his jacket over your shoulders with a concerned expression (tsundere but doesn’t know it).

itoshi sae whose facial expression is always the same, barely ever changing. however, he doesn’t know it, but the tips of his ears always turn a bit pink and gives him and his feelings away whenever you compliment him. he loves how you’re always so proud of him, especially as your opinion is one that’s greatly important to him.

itoshi sae who saves all the paparazzi photos of the two of you together. even if they get annoying sometimes, following him everywhere, he has to admit that they take really high quality photos of you both.

itoshi sae is the probably type to either pick you up and spin you around or hug you tightly by the waist as he gives you a kiss after a big game. he’s not always this fond of being affectionate in public, but after a tense game, he’s a bit high off the adrenaline and acts before thinking. not that he cares if others see how much he loves you though.

itoshi sae isn’t the type to really get butterflies near you or when the both of you are together. though he does feel warm and loved with you. the emptiness in him that leaving home at a young age caused was filled by you. the lonely feeling that was gained after he and rin broke up was replaced by happiness that was gained from being with you. you gave him a sense of belonging that he hadn’t felt in a while.

itoshi sae is the type to have a slow burn kind of love life. he is the type to develop feelings for you over time. when he finally couldn’t help but admit that he has fallen for you, he determines that you’re the one (but before that he was most likely in denial for the longest time; like come on, just admit that you’re in love, it won’t kill you). he wasn’t going to love another; you already took up so much of his heart that he couldn’t love anyone else even if he tried. not in this life, not in the next, and not in forever.

do not copy or repost my works. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated.

[aliensupastar]

i wouldn’t ask you

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You try to break your promise. Carmy won’t let you. Follow-up to “shouldn’t feel like a crime”

Part I Part II

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, depiction of an eating disorder, food issues, heart-to hearts, arguments, swearing

A/N: once again, thank y'all so much for the love on parts one and two of this fic, it brings me so much joy!! also, im terribly sorry for how long it took to write this. school happened and i think it got away from me a little bit, i did a lot of rewrites, and it's shorter than i'd like it to be but it’s something i’m finally satisfied with, and i hope you guys enjoy it! to anyone who’s sent me asks, left comments or replies telling me they connected with this fic, i hope it continues to bring you comfort as it has for me. i can’t express to you enough how much all your responses have meant to me. this will be the last part for this lil series, but im grateful to anyone who’s read n supported it. title insp by "i wouldn’t ask you" by clairo, gif by riickgrimes <3

Logically, you know that healing — if that’s what you could call what you were trying to do — isn’t linear. You’ve heard it a thousand times, and on some level, you know it’s true. Knowing it doesn’t stop the shame you feel when you start skipping the train, opting instead to walk, or on shittier days, run to work. 

At first you thought you’d been able to escape the anxiety that came with eating anything you didn’t know the exact calorie count of, that you’d been able to eat Carmy’s spaghetti without complication. In retrospect, it had merely been delayed, the calm and warmth afforded to you by Carmy’s presence wearing off as soon as you’d gotten into bed that night; you’d laid awake for another hour, paralyzed by your own panic. 

The only solution you found fit was to force yourself into physical activity, making your travel to and from work ten times more miserable, waking up an hour and a half earlier than usual just to get to the restaurant on time and still have ten minutes to freshen up and change into your uniform. You at least managed to make the change in your routine go unnoticed, still looking presentable once it was time to open for service, or at least you thought so. 

“Did you run here?” Sydney asks one morning, spotting you right as you clocked in and rushed to your locker to pull out your uniform. 

“Uh, yeah, I did.” You’re a little too breathless to come up with an excuse, to properly deflect her concern and surprise. 

“Okay…” She watches as you shove your other belongings into the locker space haphazardly. “Does that, like, happen often, or-“

“No,” You say, too quickly, shaking your head. “Just, uh, don’t tell Carmy?” 

You look up at her, eyes pleading, hoping she accepts this one request without question, hoping she can disregard something just this one time. 

“Tell Carmy what?” Hearing your boss’s voice makes you jump in shock, as he comes around the corner and spots you, hair messy and sweat still dripping down your temple. 

Your skill for being unnoticeable is escaping you, that much is clear. You’re essentially caught red-handed, a deer in headlights, eyes bouncing between Sydney and Carmy as you struggle to come up with something, anything to respond with. But Sydney swoops in just seconds after you freeze, granting you mercy, this one time. 

“Tell you to mind your own business, chef,” She says, her tone light-hearted so that you know to force out a laugh, and Carmy takes it. He gives a half-smile and shakes his head, heading over to his prep station and as soon as he’s out of sight, you look back at Sydney. 

“Thank you,” You whisper as you head for the bathroom, uniform in hand, and she nods, still looking concerned but thankfully, dropping it. 

Carmy’s the one who won’t drop it. It stays on his mind all day, even after you’ve changed clothes and fixed your hair and erased any trace of the mess you looked that morning; every free moment he has, he spends thinking of you. 

He wants to believe that you’d simply missed your train. An innocent, easy mistake. But the way you avoid meeting his eyes during service hours, no matter how many times he tries to get your attention, or get you to just look at him and confirm that you’re okay, tells him it’s more than that. 

He rushes through closing duties that night, just to make sure he’s good to leave before you finish closing up the front with Richie. He waits, sits in his office chair pretending to be busy until he sees you heading for the lockers, ready to clock out, and then moves to lean as casually as possible against the doorway. 

“You want a ride home?” He asks, interrupting you as you pull clothes out from the locker; the clothes you were wearing this morning, he realizes, a sweatshirt and biker shorts. Like you expect to break a sweat on the way home, too. 

“Nope. Thank you, chef, I’m good.” You barely even look over at him as you say it, and Carmy has to stop himself from making a face, making his displeasure visible. 

“I really don’t mind,” He tries again, but you just close your locker door and shake your head, ready — and desperate — to change out of your uniform in the bathroom before it’s time to lock up. You put on what you hope is an easy smile, but it comes off tense.

“I’m okay, Carm, really. It’s not like it’s raining-“

“Chef,” He interrupts you, suddenly stern. “C’mon.” 

He nods his head motioning for you to follow him, and it’s clear from his tone that there will be no room to argue. 

You trail behind him while he locks up, and on the way out to his car, you can feel that frustration building up inside you again. The same resentment and irritation you felt in the hospital, when he wouldn’t take your bullshit excuses in the same way that nurse or your other coworkers would, it rises and rises till you’re gripping your backpack strap a little too tight and shutting the car door a little too hard. 

You’re grateful, at the very least, that he says nothing when tears start to spill out and down your face as he drives you home. 

You sit in silence for a minute when Carmy pulls into your building’s parking lot. You can’t bring yourself to leave at first, part of you still craving to savor his presence for as long as you can, even if the other part of you is too angry to even look at him. 

“You wanna talk?” He asks quietly. 

“Nope.” His question is enough to set you off, pushing the car door open and furiously wiping away your tears as you haul yourself out. 

Logically, Carmy knows it might be best to leave you alone for tonight. Let you calm down and attempt reconciliation tomorrow morning. Knowing it doesn’t stop the feeling that he can’t just leave you alone, and let you walk away upset. 

“Hey,” He calls out, opening his own door and moving to follow you. “C’mon-“

“Fuck you, Carmen.” You spit out. 

He’s undeterred, even if you don’t turn back to face him once, refusing to acknowledge him tailing you the entire way up to your apartment. 

You don’t tell him to leave you alone, to stop following you, to fuck off. You don’t even slam your front door in his face like he half-expects you to. Instead it hangs open as you storm into your living room, a silent invitation. An invitation Carmy doesn’t hesitate to accept, stepping through your door and carefully closing it behind him. 

He’s still wracking his brain on what to say, clueless on how to stop the tears flowing down your face as you toss your backpack down and meekly lower yourself to sit on the floor between your couch and the coffee table, knees pulled into your chest. 

“Will you just fuckin’ talk to me?” He finds himself pleading with you again after a minute, but his helplessness in the face of your distress makes his words come out callous, and you just scoff. 

“Don’t be a dickhead, Carmy.”

“I’m a dickhead? I-I’m the dickhead, for giving a fuck?” You lift your head to glare at him, and you can see that he wants to match your anger; all the tell-tale signs of an upcoming screaming match appearing in his features, scrunching up his face as he repeats your words back to you, and you know you’re not being fair. You promised him you’d let him in, allow him to help stop you from going off the deep end again, and yet you’re the one resisting him. You wish he’d let the frustration on his face overtake him, walk out your door and leave you alone with your mind. 

He doesn’t, no matter how much you will him to. His eyes meet your own, filled with misplaced ire, and all he does is lean his head back and sigh, running a hand over his face and forcing himself to curtail the urge to give in to your bait. 

“You don’t wanna talk, I’ll talk,” He starts tentatively, before saying maybe the last thing you’d expect: “I’m sorry.” 

Your narrowed eyes widen, the contempt in them turning to pure shock, but he barely notices. 

“I didn’t mean to- if I went too far, the other day, with the spaghetti. I didn’t mean to set you off like that. I’m sorry.” The absolute sincerity in his voice as he apologizes for something you know isn’t on him — it’s too much. 

You’d love to pass the blame off on somebody else. If you could find a single other person to hold accountable for causing the near-constant state of discomfort that you’ve been stuck in for weeks, the distress of living in your own body, you think you’d jump at the chance. But you can’t bring yourself to do it to the one person who’s offered to take the fault away from you, because even now, after you’ve lashed out at him, he’s deliberately gentle with you. 

You can see Carmy is ready to move towards your front door, you’ve sat here for too long without giving him a response, weeping silently. And maybe that would be the right thing to do after breaking your promise, letting him worry over you till he thinks he’s the one who owes you an apology. But selfishly, you reach up and grasp his arm before he can even turn to leave, gently tugging him down to sit with you, and he lets you. 

“I’m sorry,” You start once he’s settled next to you, your voice still thick with tears. “I know what we talked about in the hospital. I haven’t been- I fucked all that up, I know, I’m sorry.” He’s shaking his head, looking like he wants to refute you, but you continue on.

“I just… I’m so fucking scared,” You nearly choke on your words, but it’s a relief to get them out, and suddenly you can’t stop the rest from spilling from your mouth. “I’m scared of getting better. I can’t stand the thought of it, I don’t even- I don’t know what I’d be for, if I wasn’t like this all the time. And it’s fucking embarrassing. That’s all I feel, all the time, just- constant fear, and shame. I can’t fucking stop myself.” 

You take a pause, doing your best to breathe deep and avoid Carmy’s intent gaze, so you don’t lose your nerve.

“We were good, for a bit, and I wasn’t so… out of control. But then I fucked it, and I-I couldn’t just, tell you. Felt like, for once there was someone who understood, and I just wanted to keep the rest of it out of sight, I guess.” 

It’s the most you’ve expressed to anyone about this. You think maybe you’ve gone too far, that maybe now you’ll have alienated the one person you’ve been honest with in years. But when you finally look up at Carmy, he’s nodding thoughtfully, no trace of judgment or pity in his expression. 

“I don’t.” He says carefully. “I don’t really understand. I-I don’t think I could, uh-” He pauses, clasping one hand over the other tightly, like it pains him to force his words out, too. “I guess, growin’ up, food was basically a love language. It was how I bonded with Mikey, it’s why I wanted to do this job in the first place. So, to avoid food… I don’t think I can imagine what that’s like.” 

All you can do is nod. You shouldn’t have made him listen to you vent your emotions, you should’ve let him walk out your door-

“But, I’d like to try. If that’s what you want.” He says, interrupting your spiral. “I just need to know you’re safe. Shutting me out like this – it’s bullshit. I’m not gonna just- stop caring. Even if it’s ugly. Just don’t shut me out.” 

His earnestness practically shoots you in the chest, filling you with that warm, familiar feeling that usually comes with his presence. You want to push against it, you haven’t earned it back, it’s too damn much.

“Even if I… end up in the hospital again?” You say, trying to keep your tone light, but you can’t keep the pleading out of your voice. 

“I’d drive you to the hospital a hundred times.” Carmy replies, completely genuine, and now you can’t push back against the urge to throw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. 

You don’t know how long you sit there, on the hard floors of your living room, arms tight around each other, breathing together. All you know is that you don’t want him to leave; he makes no move to go. 

a few people asked to be tagged on this part, so here you go! @rexorangecouny @moonlight-sonata99 @kpopgirlbtssvt

[sunaluv]

Ex boyfriend! ran trying to get over you but it’s like you’re everywhere since the breakup.

Things between the two of you didn’t end badly, but now that you are no longer together, he want to get over you. The issue is you’re everywhere and he keeps justifying why your here.

You’re at the club he owns? It’s always been your favorite, hell, you even met here.

He sees you passing by his work? It’s not like your stalking him. You walked straight past the building and into the cafe, not looking back.

You’re in his house? What’s his has always been yours, it might take a while two of you to fully seperate.

—

“D’ya have anything good to eat in here?” You ask nonchalantly, rummaging through his fridge.

“Nah,” he shrugs, not phased by his ex girlfriend being in his house, “im not home a lot. workin’. You know this”

“That I do,” You shut the door leaning against it. “You seein’ anyone else?”

“We’ve been broken up for a week.”

“Is that a yes or no, haitani.”

“Back to last name basis, huh?” He lazily smirks, moving to stand opposite you, leaning on the counter. “Need to get over you before I find someone new, baby.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re trying hard enough.”

“Because your not exactly the ‘getting-over’ type.”

Your brow raised, urging him to explain.

“You’re you. You’re not exactly the type someone breaks up and gets over with in a short period of time.”

You didn’t try to fight the smile that grew on your face. “Why’d ya break up with me then, hmmmm?”

Pushing yourself off the door, you stepped closer and slotted yourself into his side, his arm coming around your waist hesitantly, as if trying to fight the muscle memory.

It went silent for a while. “You’re distracting and I’ve got shit to do.”

His lilac eyes met your mischievous ones, the space between you closing ever so slightly.

“I’ll let you do your shit,” your noses were now touching. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Tempting.

“It’s not like you planned to move out anyways…” at this point, he was convincing himself only.

“So we’re in agreement?”

He didn’t answer, but the fact that you both were still in routine every other day—sleeping in the same bed, packing his lunch before you send him off to work with a kiss on the cheek— said enough.

“D’ya still want me to make your lunch tomorrow, babe?” You called out to his retreating figure.

He gave a silent conformation, to both of your questions.

[somebluemelodies]

SPIDERBIT WEEK hosted by @smallchaoscryptid !! day six: coffee | nautical IM FINALLY BACK !! i know mer au won my poll from a while back so this is kinda a double whammy? spiderbit week AND poll fic :D

For a while, Roier wonders if he’s ever gonna see the deepsea mer ever again. When he doesn’t see him the night after their initial meeting, he’s worried that the Feds may have gotten to the mer after all, and it pains him more than he cares to admit aloud.

But it’s not the last time. In fact, it happens multiple times, to the point where they have a weird schedule of sorts to meet every third day or so.

Communicating isn’t the easiest, with only Roier able to actually talk, but they make do, and he’s getting a real good hold of asking ‘yes or no’ questions or anything else that permits him to learn more about the deepsea mer.

Except for one thing. The mer’s name.

The mer can understand nearly everything Roier says, but he can’t write it. He can only write in his own strange mer-tongue, which is a series of characters that sends the pirate into a deeper confusion the more he tries to make sense of it.

For a little while, Roier contemplates giving the merman a name himself, but that feels a little unfair to the mer. He has a name, after all.

However, his mouth running faster than his mind produces a nickname, gatinho, as a result of staring at the mer for a little too long and getting lost in his eyes. Thankfully, though, the mer doesn’t seem to mind it, and Roier even swears it makes the creature blush. But that sounds like crazy talk, so he tries not to dwell on it.

Nevertheless, the nickname stays. If only because it’s… well… the truth.

(Mostly. He’s a mer, not a cat. Scales and no legs, not fur and four legs.)

(But God, if he isn’t the prettiest being Roier has ever seen.)

A couple weeks or so after their first initial meeting, Roier is sitting on the flattest rock closest to the water, the mer half out of the water in front of him with his arms resting on the rock. A routine, of sorts. Either here, or the cave.

“So, gatinho,” the pirate starts. “I need to figure out your name. We have to find some way. Because I can’t keep calling you gatinho forever.”

(But he’d certainly like to.)

The deepsea mer tilts his head slightly and shrugs, as if to say, “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“What? You like the name, huh?”

A pause, followed by a slow nod. Roier grins. “No mames, wey, this guy likes being called pretty. Like a cat. Are you sure you’re not a cat? I think you’re a cat in disguise.”

The mer looks borderline offended, trying to reach over and slap him. But the pirate pushes back, out of reach, smile growing with a laugh. “You’re swatting like a cat! Holy shit, man, I was right. I’m friends with a fucking cat. A catfish. No mames.”

There’s a growl of sorts from the merman, who definitely looks like he’s blushing now - focus, focus, focus, stop looking at him like that - and shoots up out of the water before Roier has a chance to properly react.

Next thing he knows, he’s flat on his back against the rock, and there’s a solid weight on top of him, two almost-glowing blue eyes staring him down.

(A small part of Roier wonders if he should be afraid right now. He’s seen the sharp teeth and fingers. This mer could theoretically kill him in a heartbeat. Right here, right now.)

(But he’s not afraid, God only knows why. No, he’s… no, no. Enough.)

Roier tries to mask the way his cheeks are rapidly warming up with an accomplished, shit-eating laugh. “Calma, gatinho, calma.”

The deepsea mer huffs, shaking his head before a small smile crosses his face despite himself. He leans down to really shove Roier’s shoulder, but makes no effort yet to get off.

(Not that Roier minds.)

More laughter, and then a lull, and their eyes meet again. Roier becomes acutely aware of just how close they actually are. The mer is staring at him in a way he can’t quite decipher, and it makes him increasingly nervous.

(A look of wonder. Awe.)

(The mer sees the same exact look in those dark eyes.)

The pirate tries to play it off, like his heart isn’t about to beat out of his chest and like his thoughts aren’t circling around the fact that if he sits up enough, their lips could brush. Connect. “See something you like, gatinho?”

The mer also seems to finally realize their current position, and with wide eyes, pushes himself off and all but dives back into the water. Roier kicks himself in the ass for mourning the loss of contact.

For a few moments, as the merman doesn’t surface, he wonders if he’s fled for the night, and starts to feel a little guilty for his teasing.

But then there’s movement, and he watches the deepsea mer breach the surface again, blowing out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, sorry. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything.”

The mer shakes his head. It’s okay.

(He did see something he liked.)

"Roier!"

The pirate's head whips around, seeing a silhouette in the far distance.

"Oh, shit-- that's Jaiden. I gotta go." He turns back to the mer. "Three days? And I will learn your name, gatinho."

The deepsea mer nods, and three things happen in succession.

One. The mer leaves him a piece of sea glass, a red one.

Two. He hesitates, then hoists himself onto the rock to press a kiss to Roier's cheek.

Three. He dives back into the water without looking back, disappearing in a fleeting glint of deep emerald and leaving Roier to touch his cheek in surprise.

"Roier!" Jaiden calls again, running over to him. "There you are! What're you doing out here?"

Roier clears his throat, willing his cheeks to cool down despite the darkness surrounding them. His best friend was eerily observant sometimes. "I was just... collecting sea glass. See? Look at this piece I found!" He picks up the piece, standing up to show her.

Jaiden looks at it before back to him, her brow quirking ever-so-slightly. "O...kay? Since when do you do that?"

"It's given me something to do recently."

She studies him another moment, trying to decipher the truth. If she doesn't believe him, she doesn't say it. Instead, she says, "fair. But I came to bring you back to the ship, c'mon."

They walk in a comfortable silence for a bit, until she speaks up again. "Y'know, I haven't seen much sea glass around here. You must have some awfully good luck; I see the little pile on the box beside your hammock."

Roier opens his hand, looking at the translucent red treasure as icy eyes infiltrate his mind, the ghost of lips warming his cheek. "Sí. Something like that."

[astrhoeluvr]

Astrhoe Observations Pt.6🫂🥰🫶🏻

(I’m back with another one😘)

Back to 👉🏻 my materialist 👁️🫦👁️.

a lil disclaimer : these are just my personal observations, so don’t take any of them to heart🥳.Some could be applicable to you and some would differ, so take all of them with a grain of salt OKIE! enough of me blabbing let’s get on with it🫶🏻🥰

👕🖤: Venus in the 8th house 🤝🏻 wearing baggy clothes!

🛒🛍️: Moon in the 2nd house, bestie how many items do you have in your shopping cart?👀😘

🛁🫧🔥: Scorpio/ Aries placements would prefer taking an extremely hot shower 🥵🥵🥵. They’re the ones who’d literally take a shower in blazing hot water😭😭🙏🏻 like?? Must be all that Martian energy phew 😮‍💨

🧿♏️🍀♓️: A lot of water placements, especially Pisces and Scorpios are into astrology. Most of the people who are into astrology could have at least one of these placements 🥰🤔 how many water placements do y’all have??? Lmk in the comments 😘

🎨🤫: Venus in the 8th house could also indicate hiding your beauty, talent or artwork🫣👩🏻‍💻🖼️🎭. People with this placement could have social media accounts dedicated to their art work/ fan edits or blogs but would never use their actual name or in general not put out any of their personal information!!🕵🏻🤫🤐 But nonetheless the work the put out is nothing less than phenomenal. Will definitely catch your eye and you will naturally want to know more about this individuals work🤩.

🧠🧐: I’ve noticed people with earth signs in the 3rd house could have such good memory 😳.

🗣️😳😮: Uranus in the 3rd house could mean the native is down to talk about anything and everything🧐😭. Aliens, conspiracy theories, fantasise, kinks, any absurd or mind boggling questions, YOU NAME IT👽👾💭🤨😭such amusing people istggg.

But if Uranus is aspecting Saturn/ Mars or Pluto, the native could become highly defensive and rigid with their thoughts,beliefs and morals and outcomes could highly differ 🥲😦

🧐😋💞: Wherever your 3rd house ruler is placed could indicate what you like talking about the most.🗣️

Eg. having your 3rd house ruler in the 6th house could indicate talking a lot about your pets, or your daily routine (makeup/skincare/ after school etc) 🐶🐱💄🧼🫧or having your 3rd house ruler in the 8th house could mean you could genuinely enjoy talking about taboo,mystical and occult related stuff😳🧙🏻‍♀️🧚🏻‍♀️ and could also mean that you wouldn’t shy away from topics related to any seggsual stuff🤩😈.

👺🥴: Mars/Venus in the 8th house 🤝🏻 people constantly staring at you😀😀. my god it must be so annoying👎🏻 like you could just be eating something and people would be eyeing you like “👁️👁️”.

🎶👨🏻‍🎤🎧👩🏻‍🎤: Pisces placements like to listen to specific playlists depending on their moods 🥲😍🤬.

For egs. If they’re feeling sad, they’d search up “sad songs/ heartbroken songs” 😭😭 or if they’re crushing on someone they’d look up “I think im in love or pov : you have a hopeless crush” and end up fantasising their asses away😭😭📸📸.

Okay that’s all for today luvs🫶🏻🥰

(Please do not copy or plagiarise any of my work <33)

- san✨🍵🪴📖🧘🏻‍♀️

[love-toxin]

ok hear me out - fruity four but with a ‘good friend’ reader who knows they’re poly (aka we all have a crush on you hngghhg pls let us love u pls)

ok so, maybe someday, readers feeling a little more emotionally vulnerable, and while on the topic of nighttime routines, when it comes to ur turn, ur like “oh yea i get ready in like, complete silence, lol im so in my own head, I’ll go through the motions of braiding my hair so it doesn’t get in my face, filling my hot water bottle up bc im icicle cold, filling my drinking bottle up cus i wake up randomly super thirsty, making sure i do alllll of my skincare and maybe get a little snacky snack” and they’re all like 😍😍 yeah? until you end the little explanation with “a lot of the time, i pretend someone else is just doing all of that for me, yknow, like taking care of me and being all soft and not forgetting a step, like I pretend that my heads just empty and I don’t have to think, but then when it comes to sleep-bed-time, it makes me a little sad when I realise that no one’s actually there to cuddle me to sleep, so I try not to do that anymore! :)”

and they’re all like??? mortified. horrified. their sweet, sweet ‘friend’ (dear god pls like us pls) is all alone??“ur lonely? :(“ but reader so immediately denies it like nope. me? no ofc not im just extra soft and sensitive sometimes so it helps to pretend it’s someone else - pretend silly!!

and then it begins. Eddie hands you a water bottle. Normal, until he insists, quite silently, to be the one holding it while u drink from it, tilting his head down to ask a little “enough?” when he senses ur done

and then there’s that one time when nancys going through ur wardrobe after turning up at the ass crack of dawn and ur still half asleep in ur pjs, “looking” for a sweater she coulda sworn she left here that one time, just for her to slyly build your outfit for the day, all casual like “hey, here u go, and I’m gonna do ur hair this way too, could help u put it on if ur still sleepy? :)”

steve knowing ur indecisive - he use to not wanna make u uncomfy and overstep by being a bit dominant and assuming how you’d want things, but now has no qualms abt take out. the usual back and forth over “what do u wanna eat” “idk steve, u decide” “well idk what I fancy, what do u fancy” “I’ll have whatever Steve i promise” and when u do decide on a place, the whole other back and forth over what to actually order.

So now he just lets you know with a soft smile like “just ordered a chicken korma in, made sure to get u that nice mango chutney and a couple poppadoms, we’re watching greese too in a sec :)” and u feel.. weirdly safe. comforted? u can’t put ur finger on it so u try not to dwell on the feeling.

robin gets so touchy. they all like to be touchy with eachother, and at this point ofc are as touchy as they dare with you, but my god robin kicks it up so many notches. thinks nothing of biting u. which the first time she does it ur all like “ 0-0 huh?” until she explains that she cant sit still and ur literally right there so she’s naturally gonna get all chompy, and ur nice enough to be like “ohhhh alright” cus it’s not like she’s doing anything heinous, it’s just one of her quirks, right? always putting her legs over urs until she can find a way to get urs on her own, leaning into ur side until she can casually figure out how to make u do the same.

oh god. a sleepover. the thing they’ve been building up for. All of this? layered on THICK. you know they’ve been meticulously planning every single step of the night and planning everyone’s roles

(so so so many disagreements cus Eddie and Robin both wanna braid ur hair, but nancys the only one who actually knows how to braid. or Steve and Eddie fighting tooth and nail over who gets to do ur skincare until they decide that Steve can do all the washing and Eddie gets to do the nice soft pat pat pat towel drying)

They try and be smooth abt it but ofc it’s so different to other sleepovers. and u sorta just let them do it. u feel so selfish but it’s like.. the second Steve and Eddie pull u into the bathroom and Eddie picks up ur toothbrush to do ur teeth before ur facewash, u tear up a little. u feel selfish for indulging in their kindness but don’t wanna stop them. u wanna be cuddled by them all to sleep so badly but also not overstep relationship boundaries

WOOOOOF!!!! WROW!!!! IM......MELTING......no,, I'm too soft for this, im......sobs.....

being so vulnerable with them and getting rewarded for it.....it's like laying a present in their laps--they've loved you so much for so long, they've always wondered what they could do to show that, and now you've just dropped the answer right in front of them without even realizing it. them hoping you realize what they're doing when they fulfill all those dreams of yours, when they care for you down to the littlest detail, but in some ways they almost hope you don't, because it's almost better to watch you be so shy around them when they're doing things for you and be moved nearly to tears when they insist on taking away any stress you might be subject to. and then you feel selfish, you worry you're getting in the way of their relationship, and all four of them know they have to make it clear to you that you're one of them. they've just gotten what they wanted--to dote on you and be the ones you rely on completely--and they're not letting that go because of some silly worry you have of taking advantage of them. you could never do that, ever, they can promise you that.

[reztoru]

    ───── Music of the Forest

彡 Satoru is on a journey of coming to terms with his feelings for you, and he's come to find that the music his soul yearns for dwells within you, wherever you may be. 

tw / cw : fluff and a tiny bit of angst? there's a happy ending ,, tobacco is briefly mentioned but not used for smoking lol, slight jjk 0 spoilers ,, i think that's all but lmk if i missed anything

pairing : gojo x reader 

gender neutral, no physical descriptions of reader

a/n : born out of my love of the forests and inspired by a stsg painting I did. im so happy with how this turned out.

kinda me coded with a tiny tiny sprinkle of my own culture, but I think I kept it vague enough for everyone to enjoy.🫶🏾

w/c : 3.1k

Satoru has a knack for being a pest, at the best and worst of times. He needs to nourish his brain with information, desperate to know what causes people to tick. And as he’s grown older, he’s found himself observing the crowds around him a lot more.

He takes note of the way their energy engulfs them with the different emotions they endure. He sees how their anger is jagged and rude, or how their happiness appears in serene waves. Annoyance comes in spikes and sadness drizzles down.

And today is just another day for Satoru. Sat in his office, playing with a pen, avoiding work. Choosing to observe silently at the surrounding people. Seeing as they moved room to room, it was rather dull.

He became intrigued when he saw you wandering into the spooky forests. Mostly because you're someone he’s never gotten the opportunity to know. Thus, he couldn’t help but follow along — anything to get out of this boring paperwork.

He makes the hasty decision to teleport himself right next to you. Which caused him to startle you, popping up out of thin air like the menace he is. You tried giving him a smack, but his infinity stopped you, foiling your plan. Instead, you opted for scolding him. Warning him that if he was going to come with you, he best keep his mouth shut.

It was hard for him to abide by the single rule. Satoru being the never quiet man, always with something to say, and now with so many questions swirling within him.

“So, you wanna tell me why we’re sitting in the middle of the forest?” He said.

You shot him a look and shook your head, “I come here to heal, to think, whatever I need.”

He nodded slowly, pondering on your words, “and the forest helps to do that how? You eat berries and feel better?”

Rolling your eyes, you pat the spot beside you, telling him to listen. And he did, though he hadn’t really understood at first. He’ll admit the wind was gentle, it was calm. You could hear the leaves moving and the wildlife scurrying about, but nothing felt healing about it — well, he certainly didn’t feel healed.

However before he could prod at you further, you reached over to pull something out of your bag. It was a small sack of brown flakes — tobacco, loosely wrapped in a red cloth, with little beads tucked into a design on the chunk of it. And he was left feeling even more confused, especially after you stood up to scatter some about.

“It’s an offering. I’m giving back what I’ve taken.” You said as you turned to face him. Almost as if you could read his mind.

Yes, you were a mysterious person to Satoru. Sitting in the middle of nowhere to heal your soul. Sprinkling brown flakes on the ground like you were seasoning the earth. It just made no sense to him, but you did seem content every time you emerged from the trees; looking more at ease.

And he couldn’t help but tag along with you whenever he could. Wanting to know what this was all about, what you were all about. He’d poke at you, bombarding you with questions on the occasions that you’d begrudgingly allow him to.

Slowly, you became a part of his routine, ingraining yourself in his already busy schedule. And these trips into the forest turned into getting lunch rather late in the day, or coffee a little too late at night. And your woodlands started to become too familiar to him.

It began with you asking him to come along and get a drink and then it was a picnic. After a while, these things were almost routine and if he wasn’t able to stay and chat; he made it a point to at least stand in line with you before he had to go.

During that time, he began to know you on a more human level, getting to understand how your gears turned. And during these fleeting moments he learned how you like your coffee, your favourite food and color. He also learned of the way you heal; the way you replenish your mind. It’s so vastly different from the way he literally refreshes his brain — it’s so mundane in comparison.

“I just don’t get it.” Satoru said, sipping his overly sweet drink.

You sat across from him, swirling your own beverage with a straw. Your leg bounced as your eyes met your own in the reflection of his imposter sunglasses.

“Well, maybe you haven’t found your music yet.”

“I have music,” he gasped, “like that one song by Avicii- “

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Your theme song,” you snickered, “this music is different, though. It heals your soul.”

You’d always tell him that his sound will find him, as it does with everyone. When the time is right, you’d say. He wasn’t able to wrap his head around your words, and he’d preach to you time and time again about how he didn’t get it. But you’d only ever roll your eyes and shake your head at him, “be patient.”

This was something that his eyes couldn’t give him answers to. Because even someone as godly as him was unable to fully comprehend it through sight alone. It wasn’t cursed energy, or some grand battle tactic. This was a reminder to him that there are boundaries and limits to what even the most powerful beings can understand. And this is something he had to experience on a deeper level, beyond the realm of vision.

When time rolls on, he starts to hear it. The sound of a distant melody. It was the brassy thrum of his heart when you’re near and the dewy pitch of your voice. And your rippling cackles that crashed through him. Though, it’s a little scary at first, this feeling isn’t new — and it’s certainly one he wasn’t hoping for a sequel of.

Because when Satoru falls, he falls hard. And it’s not a soft pillowy fall by any means. It’s in a way where he crashes and burns. His love scorches him and claws at his heart. Taunting him with what’s barely in his grasp — and that of which has long since left.

His feelings linger in his brain and dance deep within his core. They seem to flow through him in a more complex way, taking twists and turns that are difficult to predict. It’s all a little unnerving to him — you’re a little unnerving to him.

As he drifts away into his thoughts, he thinks to himself how you bring nothing but uncertainty. You’re a storm rippling its way through his steady breeze, bringing chaos in your pursuit. Though he supposes your rain is a kind of refreshing that his abilities can’t provide. And you leave behind a beautiful burst of colours when you go.

“You okay? You look kinda stupid with that lost look on your face.” You asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m a little busy right now.”

You give him a look, one that makes him feel a little too small. It feels a little too personal, and it’s a bit too knowing, as if you were the one who wielded the six eyes.

“Mhm right. When you’re done sulking, there’s this new bakery that I wanna check out.”

Admittedly, he feels a little giddy with the knowledge of you wanting to go out with him. Maybe his heart skips a beat right after the words leave your mouth, but he tries his hardest to brush it off and ignore it because this feeling doesn’t have a home in this wretched place of his.

It’s because he knows love is truly the most twisted curse of them all. It’s a swirl of every emotion under the sun and it can swallow you whole. One wrong move and everything could fall apart. There’s no manual for how to navigate through this sticky feeling, and there’s no right way to do it either. It’s as beautiful as it is cruel.

You add the fact that there’s a constant target on his back. People want him dead, curses do too. Logically, he knows that having you is selfish, it puts you at risk. Because allowing himself the pleasure of loving you is a losing game. And for that reason, he chose not to play; to be somebody who only watches as the show unfolds.

Thus, he tries to keep his distance, never letting his sickly emotions take the reins. But it seems the harder he tries to pull away, your soul holds him a little tighter; enticing him back in.

“Look, ‘toru!” You point to a group of funny looking mushrooms, with eyes shining so brightly they could put the sun to shame.

Your smile reaches out to grasp at his heart, holding it tightly, not wanting to let go. That’s when he swears the world stops; or something cheesy like that. The pieces of his heart crash around in his chest and he forgets how to breathe — how to move, how to function.

He sputters out, “Can we eat them?”

“Yes, or we could pick them and sell em for a fortune.” You let out a mischievous chuckle, “I’m only giving you a percent of the profits though, you already have too much money.”

He doesn’t know why he asks what kind of mushrooms they are, because he already knows. In fact, most of the things he listens to you ramble about he’s already quite knowledgeable on. But he gets to listen to your damn voice, and your attention isn’t on anybody but him as you explain these little interests of yours.

And he thrives in your rays of light. He almost seems to forget what emotion this is and what it entails. But maybe, he thinks, just for a moment, he can be Satoru, the annoying guy who gets under your skin, rather than Satoru Gojo, the strongest with the all-seeing eyes.

And it’s not until some faculty meeting that he realizes he’s down bad. Every time he tries to listen to what Yaga is saying, his orbs wander to you. He wonders if you’d want to get dessert later, or if you’ll invite him on a little picnic again.

It seems Satoru just gets lost in you. It’s become so blatantly obvious to everyone around him. Shoko nags at him and tells him to just go for it. Saying things like, “You’ll regret it more if you don’t.” And he hates that she’s probably right, he hates that he has these stupid feelings even more.

“You’re acting like an angsty teen.”

He huffs, crossing his arms, “am not. I just don’t have time for that relationship stuff.”

Shoko pauses what she's doing, placing a hand on the table in front of her as she turns to look at Satoru with a deadpan expression, “but you have time for dates.”

“They’re not dates.” He mumbles.

He wants to argue. He really does, but he knows he can’t. He especially knows because he’s stumbled down into Shoko’s grim abode more than enough times, asking her what the hell should I wear.

And maybe these feelings get a little too real when he finds himself focusing on you, when he should really be paying attention to his students. Observing in a daze as you walk across the field. Your arm shoots up to give him a wave, or maybe it was a wave to everyone, but he likes to think it was reserved for him.

Or maybe it’s when he’s making a cup of coffee, and you brush against him. And he just pauses what he’s doing because he finds you so captivating. He can’t help the way his hands yearn to trace every curve. To sculpt you into the space of his mind, and create a masterpiece that is you.

But whenever you’re near, his body is always left feeling a little confused as this calm and unease both settle as lovers within him. The unrest that stems from the lack of control, that unpredictability leaves him nervous. And he knows vulnerability comes with weakness, and to be weak is to be slashed down.

When he stumbles back into his office, he realizes he forgot cream and sugar. And it’s the little things like this that make his thoughts race. His brain wants him to run far away from you. It’s telling him to leave you behind before this can go any further. He tugs at his hair, clawing at his scalp. His eyes scan for something they can’t see. He desperately scours his mind to figure out what to do.

Knock knock

And his head shoots up. He feels like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. That is, until he realizes it’s you, and then things feel a little okay. Almost as if you bring along the unspoken words he’s searching for. You don’t pry, and you don’t ask questions he doesn’t wanna answer.

Maybe that’s why he’s grown to feel this way for you. You don’t push too hard, and when you do, it’s always at the right times. Oh, and you’re always sure to bring him some proper food when you pop in to say hi. You do all these things and expect nothing in return.

You dig deeper than the flimsy mask he wears and you’re patient with these circles he finds himself running in. You don’t chase him, instead you stroll behind, cherishing the journey that you’ve found yourself on. In the end, he feels human with you.

“Did you eat something today? You look ghostly.” You giggle, holding up a bag, “I brought lunch, let’s eat.”

And it’s now, he thinks, it starts to fall into place, when he feels it the most. It’s almost as if when you’re around, a sense of peace washes over him, a feeling of calm that he can’t find anywhere else. It gives his soul a phantom sensation of being so tenderly held; of loving arms around him. It’s not just a physical sensation, but something deeper, something that touches his core.

It’s like he can feel his essence expanding, reaching out towards something unknown, as if they were two halves of the same whole. It’s a feeling of completeness, of being exactly where he’s meant to be. And when he breathes, it’s as if he’s inhaling remnants of himself; or rather, somebody foreign, yet so very familiar to him. 

And it’s days like today where he craves this sound the most. Days where the world feels a little empty and dull. No amount of reverse techniques can mend the passing of a friend you once cherished so much. He doesn’t wanna listen to the talk of the surrounding people. He doesn’t want to boil in anger and sadness. And he especially doesn’t want to be left alone thinking about all the what ifs.

Like clockwork, you poke your head into this wintery office of his. You take a seat and push a bottle of water towards him, followed by a little sandwich that you probably made at home. You don’t say anything, allowing him to wither in the noise you bring. And little by little he nibbles quietly on the food you offer, sipping the water as he goes.

Your eyes find his when you break the silence, “Seriously, Satoru, are you okay?”

“Always.” He gave you a toothy grin, but his facade has grown to become useless against you.

In return, you give him a soft smile; a knowing one, “Whenever you’re ready, you know where to find me.”

Off you go again, into those trees to listen for something he can’t seem to find. His heart yearns for this sound that you speak of. It’s dire for him to know. He craves the calm you have and the peace you carry. And he wonders if you’ll ever give him a taste of it.

He lets himself linger in the essence you’ve left behind. Pondering on the events that have taken place over the months. You’ve so diligently taken care of everyone affected by the tragedy, and yet you still find the time to come to him and comfort him in a way he doesn’t know he needs.

Satoru sighs loudly, running a hand through his snowy hair. He asks himself if he could handle your death, if he could let you go. He also wonders if he’s looking too deep into this.

His heart reaches out to find your remnants, begging for your peace. It pleads for your calm and yearns for your ease. And this is when he almost subconsciously gets up to follow you along into your pillowy green song. His legs started to move before his mind could protest. It feels natural; it feels normal. Your vibrations linger on the path he follows and his roots guide him to his haven.

It’s in these woods Satoru has found his heart lies with you. It dances with you as you pull him in to move along to the sounds of your music. His heart sings a little out of tune with you in the mornings and it sways along to your memory. And as he delves deeper into these trees, the sound is clear to him more than ever.

He can hear the echoing hums that follow the wind, guiding it into the ears that are willing to listen. The leaves that dance and sing, and the life within them that stomps their feet. The wild flowers that do their best to keep up, giving to the little bees that decide to follow. And he sees how the sun shines brightly down on the whispers of the world, carrying its warmth to those who may need it.

This is where peace is found. And this is where the heart goes to heal, taking the sacred medicine and using it to prepare the soul for its next battle — whatever it may be. And this is exactly what Satoru needs; a cleanse of his broken heart. Far away from the bustling city life. It’s a place where time stands still and chooses to tenderly embrace the wandering spirits that pay it a visit.

Deep within is where he finds you, basking quietly in the light rays. Allowing your body to nourish itself with what’s offered to you. And during these scarce moments, Satoru has come to find that the music of the forest dwells within you, wherever you may be.

[deity-prompts]

hi! happy new year idk if you have any neighbours to lovers kind of prompts and maybe boss and employee too? i hope it isn’t much to ask but i really love your prompts

I’m so sorry that this has been in my inbox for so long, but I gotta say I’m very very excited for these prompts. Im going to do neighbours to lovers so let me know if you still want boss and employee.

Neighbours to Lovers OTP Prompts

Prompts

A’s shower breaks so B let’s A use theirs until it gets fixed. B didn’t anticipate running into A, fresh out of the shower with wet hair ans a towel, and they are very okay with it.

Upon discovering that A hasn’t seen movies that B considers “absolute classics”, they start a routine of A coming over every week to watch one.

A drops by B’s house for a few minutes when a storm hits, trapping them both inside for as long as the storm lasts.

A takes pride in their garden, filling it with flowers and bushes. B, who is useless at gardening, asks A to teach them how to garden (mostly as an excuse to see A hot and sweaty in the sun).

A has taken up a new instrument and B can hear them practising. B is an expert at said instrument and texts A advice and feedback.

A’s appliances keep breaking so they keep asking B to fix them since “it’s cheaper than a handyman.”

A is a real estate agent who’s been trying to sell the house next to B’s for years.

One of the windows in A’s house faces into B’s house, so they use it as an excuse to eat meals together (if it faces into the kitchen) / watch TV together (if it faces into the living room).

Oneliners

“It’s not fair that your house has power and mine doesn’t.”

“The walls are thinner than you think.”

“Call it a belated house-warming present.”

“I’m sorry to call you so late but I’m in a bit of a . . . situation and you’re close enough to help me immediately.”

“I’m having an impromptu barbecue— wanna join?”

“The postman keeps sending your packages to my house.”

“My house isn’t on fire, I’m just bad at cooking.”

“Do you come here often?” “. . . I live here?”

“My downstairs neighbour has been blasting music all night, can I hang out here until they stop?”

“Your place is gorgeous. You have to help me decorate mine.”

Also see:

Reasons for your characters to be in close proximity

Person x Person prompts masterlist

Prompts masterlist

[jka11072]

Tw:3d block don’t report!

3dtwt > jka1107

⋆˚࿔ 30 days 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

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D1

28/3/24

H: 150cm Cw: 48 Ugw: 35

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D2

150cm… it’s not really it makes me look so wide

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D3

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D4

Hair loss and lack of attention :(

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D5

I can’t stand the feeling of f@t on me

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D6

Nope… I eat over my planed cals but not enough to call it a binge I think?

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D7

My mom is suspicious and keeps telling me that I’m skinny?? I’m literally almost overweight lol

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D8

I don’t have a set workout routine but I have a workout playlist and I just choose one most of them are like 10-20 mins haha… im trying to workout more tho :)

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D9

Honestly only my mom used to call me fat :)

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D10

Snacking haha…

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D11

My old blog :)

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D12

A lot lol… but usually whatever I have to eat in front of my family :( living with my family makes it so hard to st@rv3 for long

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D13

I mean this is pr0@n@ so… but seriously I have no idea how to lose weight in a healthy way I just st@rv3 and wish for the best haha

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D14

35kg and I hope to reach it by July!

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D15

I stopped eating meat for a while but it really doesn’t help if you’re still eating the same cals plus I need the protein :)

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D16

When I was 12 due to being fat shamed so much

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D17

Cant say I feel like a w@nn@rexlc and I don’t binge or starve that hard?? I feel like I’m faking it honestly

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D18

Carbs :)

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D19

last week 🥲 I only had a slice of pizza but that was like 300cals😭

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D20

⭐️ving 😃 but seriously low cal high volume is the best way to lose weight and not my sanity

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D21

xs-s but I feel like sizes are getting bigger honestly

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D22

If we’re counting from when I started then I’m technically at my lowest 🥲 but i remember being 45kg when I was 10 I gained mostly during puberty I’m trying to get back to it now only 3kg left :)

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D23

I mean it’s a huge factor especially since im into K-pop and yknow how there standards are :) and it kinda triggers me in a good way? Like I feel that most of them are disordered and some of them actually admitted to it

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D24

I don’t know honestly about calling it “pro”

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D25

I’ve tried a couple of times and succeeded a few times but it’s so hard and sometimes I barely thr0w up half the food so it’s so not worth it

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D26

Being skinnier than girls I’m jealous of :) and also wearing tiny clothes and looking cute

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D27

honestly depends on my mood sometimes there could be tons of food but I won’t feel like eating and sometimes where the fridge is empty I get intense cravings 😭

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D28

yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes

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D29

I guess thin, clear skin, tall ish, long healthy hair, good style, and of course personality matters

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D30

I’m 18 i take programming engineering

same exact stats 🤩 I’m gonna km$ thanks

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(done!)

[rickyschicky]

🌌Void🌌

A Ricky x Fem!Reader (Angst/Fluff)

Summary: You have been having an extremely hard time for a few weeks, but today was just the one day that topped them all... So Ricky had to step in before he lost you to yourself.

Warnings/Mentions: Depression, Drug usage (prescribed medications), self-deprecation, LOTS OF CRYING, Pet names (Squirt, Honey, Sweetie, Maomao, and Darling), very small amount of violence? 

Hello everyone! I finally have completed my very first ZB1 fanfic and have truly become an official writer of Zumblr! This work has a lot of my emotions or feelings into it and was very self-indulgent when thought of. As many of my previous followers may have noticed, I’ve changed my user to “rickyschicky.” Yes, I’m going to mainly be writing about ZB1 from now on, but no I’ll still write for other groups/idols. But they most likely will be my ult biases or Idols that have a special place in my heart. This fic is coming out a lot later than I originally wanted it to due to a lot of personal things happening in my life. Now that this is released, I’ll be working on a proper pin that has a proper about me, rules for the blog, rules for asks and even an anon list for those who wish to SECRETLY stick around! Im very excited to have my fresh start, so perceive me well, pretty please! Feedback is always appreciated, and if you see mistakes don’t be afraid to send me a DM!

Cup. Pop. Gulp.

     This routine was normal for you, a dreaded ritual if anything. If you didn’t do this every morning and night, you know your life would be in shambles and unlivable. Curling into your favorite (F/C) blanket, you let out a sigh of emptiness as your feet mindlessly kick around in it. 

Managing depression, sucks.

     Mindlessly watching whatever was playing on the tv, the heart inside of your chest sunk deeper and deeper. Yet anything you put on couldn’t entertain you, not even rewatching your favorite shows. You can’t decide what’s worse; not remembering how many days it’s been since this started, not eating or hydrating enough, or the fact that you have shut all your friends out with your boyfriend being the very next one. You hear your best friend’s custom ringtone blare though your phone speakers at least twice a day, but you couldn’t help but sigh and say, “not today, (F/N)”. Everything from blaring sounds to the soft fabric currently on your fingertips felt like it was hardly there. Your body feels like over-used putty, numb and worn out from so much usage. It’s impossible though, it has felt like you haven’t moved from this spot in months. Who knows the actual time you even were here on the couch of you and your lover’s shared house.

     It’s pitiful how you couldn’t even jump from surprise when Ricky touches your head softly, “I’m home, squirt. I’m sorry I was out late, I wanted to finish getting a certain verse right.’ Only humming in response, you sit up and turn the tv down in an attempt to listen to him. By all means it wasn’t because you weren’t interested, it's far from that. It’s just hard to control your fuzzy mind and have it focus on something emotional at this moment in time. He didn’t like the lack-of response he received, gracefully walking over and sitting next to your cocooned form.

     “(Y/N), honey. Please look at me.” You tear your gaze from the random spot you decided to zone out on and look into his gentle, cat shaped eyes. They were full of concern and distress. You almost hated how he could easily read you like an open book just by the way you act or look. 

     “Sweetie don’t start crying, I am far from mad at you. I just want you to talk to me, tell me what you feel.” Ricky takes no time in using his large thumb to brush away the tears that unknowingly fell from your lash line. He lets his long arms wrap around your figure, pulling you into his comforting lap. 

     The first thought you could even think of through the numerous tears was ‘why am I like this?’. Feeling disgusted with yourself, you choke out a sob harder and limply lay your head on his shoulder. You take your medicine day and night as prescribed, so why are you still feeling like a hollow doll that’s incapable of nothing? Even in the love of your life’s arms, you couldn’t feel an ounce of happiness.

     Ricky sensed this, pulling your chin up and bringing you into a sweet and gentle kiss as he whispers soft praises of how strong you are. “Hey hey hey, don’t work yourself up too much (Y/N). We both know we will feel like shit, and I’ll call Hanbin to let him know I can’t come in to practice because you are just sooo sad.” He gives a cute pout, tickling your sides in mockery. Through your tears, you let out a huff that quickly turns into a squeal. You quickly throw your fists up and start lightly punching him in his wide shoulders and chest in an attempt to get his fingers away from your sensitive sides.

     “The last thing I need is for you yelled at by mother, Shen Ricky.” You scold, feeling a breath of life flow through your veins. It was hard to be upset when he acts silly or in this case: say something utterly stupid and cute. He chuckles, noticing how you were starting to change right before his eyes. He knew he had to continue before you slip back. 

     “Well, I can always bring you to practice?” 

     “Ricky, WakeOne literally won’t let me, even if you beg.”

     You sit in silence before just snorting at his antics. You shimmy out of the blanket and take care to put it around you and him, straddling his lap so you can lay your head on his collarbone right under his chin. Soon your body melts as you go limp once more. Ricky quickly accepted this new position by wrapping his arms around your lower back snugly, giving many annoying kisses to your temples and forehead. He felt you changing again and wanted to halt the process. Deciding this was too annoying right now, you attempt to pull the blanket above your head. Not liking this, your boyfriend quickly grabs the blanket with his teeth and starts tugging on it playfully, tickling your sides ferociously.  

     “What are you, a dog?” 

     “Actually, I’m a cat.”

     You don’t waste a second to jab your hand in his side, hearing him whimper for you to let up and be gentle. He sighs, giving up and letting you hide under the soft fabric, rocking your curled up form that was on his lap. After being together for a while, he knew your limits and when to stop. You just wanted someone to physically be there for you today, so that’s what he will do. Slowly moving the blanket off the top of your head, he gently clears his throat to sing for you in his mother tongue. You voiced to him before you loved hearing him sing so comfortably in his first language and even encouraged him to teach you a few songs in Chinese. 

     Not soon after you were about to pull the blanket over your head, you heard his deep, breathy voice fill your ears. Stopping your current action, you tuck your hair behind your ears so you could hear him clearly (even if you couldn’t understand a single thing coming from his lips), and let your head lay heavy on his shoulder. Sure, Ricky could be a total annoying brat when he wanted to be, but times like this are when you are the most thankful for him. You felt at one of your lowest points and instead of running or simply saying, ‘suck it up’, he stuck around and tried to learn how to take care of you and cheer you up. He took his time learning your needs, favorite activities and foods, and even points of his personality you enjoyed the most. You were his rose, freshly bloomed and bright red with an addicting scent. His romance, the one that made his heart fall in his stomach and bounce of his rib cage with a simple stare and gentle laugh. If he could, you would be carried everywhere in his pocket wherever he traveled. Ricky truly loved you, just for who you are.

     Not a second after he finished the song, you were wiping tears. You didn’t know what tears they really were at this point. You felt numb, but you at least felt something now compared to earlier. Sitting up carefully, you rub your raw puffy eyes to attempt to see him. Blinking rapidly, you saw he had a gentle smile on, your second favorite smile. Nothing could beat his largest, brightest smile he gives when he is bursting with happiness. Leaning over, you connect your sore lips with his thick, plush ones. Ricky’s chest rumbled smoothly under your hands that were propping you up, humming with the small show of affection. 

     “That’s my girl, so pretty even when she is the saddest soul on the planet.” He coos, large hands once again cupping your jaw tenderly. His eyes were sparkling, looking like the softest pieces of boba you have laid your own eyes on. Everything that exuded him at this moment spoke of love and truth. You lay your smaller hands ontop of his, enjoying the warmth of them. 

     “Maomao, let’s go to bed...I’m just really tired after today.” You confess, guilt laced in your voice. His thumb brushed your lip to hush you, smiling sweetly. 

     “There is nothing wrong with that, my darling. Let’s get some good rest and wake up to a new day. Together.” Your boyfriend promises, gently moving his hands to securely hold your thighs as he stands up and starts walking to your shared bedroom. He lays you down like royalty on the bed, swinging you in properly and tucks you in. By the time you were able to focus your eyes, he vanished from the room. 

     After a few minutes, you hear a familiar rattle come down the hallway as he slips in the room once again. He kneels by the bed a water in hand, and a yellow tinted bottle with a white cap on top. Sleepily, you grab the bottle and twist it open, smiling when you see the water bottle already opened and offered towards you.

Cup. Pop. Gulp.

         Managing depression, sucks.

                               But Ricky makes it suck a lot less. 

[celebrityfootlicker]

Ben Jordan - Foot story

Ben had been my roommate for 3 months now ever since he moved in he’s been different from the friend I used to have he’s turned into a jerk maybe it was his true colors or he was just putting up a face as my roommate now either way he always demanded things from doing the dishes for him to cleaning his clothes. I had finished up washing my dishes when Ben came into the kitchen “Hey man I got something to talk to you about” nodding you both walk into the living room and sit down “your past roommate talked to me a while ago and told me about some things you used to do like smelling his socks” my face flushed red I hoped this wouldn’t happen having a foot fetish was bad enough but now he’s going to think I’m a creep I try to get a word out but Ben pauses me “I want to make you an offer” I nod confused “from now on your going to do all the chores in the house along with cooking for me and other things I tell you to do”. Thats how it’s been anyway but this seems interesting I agree “Cool along with that im taking ownership of you, seeing how you sneaked every time you sniffed his clothes you probably felt embarrassed well now you don’t have to worry as my pet your going to have my scent on you everyday whenever you walk outside people will know just from a whiff of you that you’re a Bitch”. My cock was throbbing the thought of being a slave to Ben gave me so much pleasure my conscious was screaming at me to say no but every other part of me said yes not able to control myself I nodded again.

“Good then as your first task Faggot go get me a fucking beer” I rush to the fridge and grab a beer bringing it to Ben he chuckles “Good boy, your gonna be a good boy forever for me right?” I nod and Ben looks away smiling he must feel so powerful and all i can do is stand here and observe waiting for my next order. Ben puts his feet on the coffee table wiggling his toes he catches me staring “You wanna lick my feet?” I nod “then beg me” I blink and get on my knees putting my head to the ground I plead for a chance to worship his feet the soft and sweaty feet are the only things I need and want as I pick my head off the ground Ben just looks at me “Fine go ahead make sure I feel amazing while you worship them and thank me for this opportunity” I scoot to the end of the table right in front of Ben’s feet the smell was intoxicating I reached out and touched them the soft yet wet skin was perfect I grasped his foot and began massaging.

“Fuck yeah faggot, lets make this a daily routine for you everyday you spend hm 2 hours at my feet” I quickly agree and continue massaging. After a bit longer I stick my tongue out and lick from the bottom of his heel to the top of his toes, after a few of these licks Ben sticks his big toe into my mouth swirling it around “so warm, suck on it” he demands and I oblige licking all over he moans more and pops his toe from in my mouth “that’s enough for today, sit there and think of a good meal to cook for me tonight” I ask what im supposed to eat “the dirt from my feet wasn’t enough?” I shake my head telling him it was and thank him for the food “whatever faggot that’s all you get anyway now go make me my food”

This new life as Ben’s slave was brutal and constantly tiring but still I wouldn’t change it.

[thegirlguide]

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glow up, ep: 3 physical ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

hey loves! Im back with the final episode of my glow up series! This post I’ll be talking about how to glow up physically, before this I just want to preface that everyone (including you) is beautiful in their own way and you don’t need to change anything about yourself to know that but a glow up can just help the beauty that’s already there shine through more! So here I will share four of my tips to get yourself a glow up!

୨୧ be hygienic ୨୧ i cannot stress enough how important hygiene is, you could be the prettiest girl alive and if you were unhygienic and dirty people wouldn’t want to be around you! so make sure to take care of yourself! here are some tips on how to: body wash: everyday, hair wash: every 1-3 days, always wear deodorant, brush teeth and hair 2x a day and always smell a body mist or perfume to smell as sweet as you are!

୨୧ slim down your face ୨୧ the desire for a slimmer faces and defined jawlines are extremely common, as they are seen as conventionally attractive features. although this isn’t essential having a more toned and lifted face can help with a change in your looks. for best results drink a lot of water, cut down on salt and eat more potassium. what really helps to achieve a slimmer face though, is facial yoga. these are exercises that I recommend as they are working quite well for me already!

୨୧ find a good skincare routine ୨୧ skincare is a key way to having and maintaining clear skin. building a skincare routine is a must, and no you don’t need a 10 step one. all you really need is a cleanser, a serum, a moisturiser and a sunscreen. to build a skincare routine you can’t just buy whatever products you see on social media you need to determine what kind of skin you have and buy products based off of that. here is a helpful chart to find out your skin type, creds: healthyswami on pinterest <3

୨୧ get your hair done ୨୧ i’m not telling you to go to some fancy salon to get your hair done, but simply getting a trim at home can lead to a simple glow up! look for inspo on Pinterest of girls with a similar face shape to you and get your hair like theirs, i feel face framing layers and cutting off dead ends will look great on anyone!

that’s all for this series loves and i hope this helped! my questions are always open and i’m happy to help if you need it! i’m thinking of starting a new series but idk what yet so maybe leave me some recommendations in the question box!

XOXO, A