#ive had a flare up this evening and i have only in the last hour been able to focus on things so please forgive me for my slowness i am not.

[genderdog]

chat is it normal to feel completely desensitized to feeling constantly sick that when you’re actually sick you feel like it’s not enough to warrant it

[sturnrm]

I’m literally sending this to everyone I need to read this fic idea

So it’s where Matt and reader are bestfriends and reader has a date but has never kissed anyone before so Matt says practice on him then it semi escalates (smut or no smut idm) and reader cancels her date for Matt ???

~ ITS JUST A KISS ~

Matt sturniolo x bsf!reader

Warnings: swearing, kissing, ass gabbing, grinding, mentions of sex

I was at the triplets house sat on matts bedroom floor on my phone, matt was playing Fortnite and Chris and Nick had gone to get food.

I was messaging this boy who I had met at top golf a few weeks back and I was going on a date tonight with him but I hadn’t told Matt yet, although matts my bestfriend he is very protective with who I see and who I don’t and apparently ‘he just doesn’t wanna see me get hurt’ which is sweet yes but it has resulted in me being a virgin and never kissed a boy.

“FUCK” Matt screamed slamming his fist into the keyboard

“You lost again?” I asked

“Yes smart ass” he rolled his eyes at me.

I mocked him by mouthing what he last said and pulling a face.

“You wanna watch a movie and get doordash” he asks me switching his monitor off.

“I can’t today” I say biting my lip already knowing his response to going on a date

“Why” he furrowed his eyebrows

“I have a date in about 2 hours so I needa get ready” i say smiling holding eye contact with him

“Who”

“The guy from top golf he’s called Jack” I reply

“Alright have fun then” he scoffed, he picked up his phone looking away from me and fixated on his TikTok for you page

I didn’t reply to him I was definitely confused on why he didn’t ask any questions but if I kept my mouth shut I could just enjoy my date.

—————————

I had gone home to get ready and my date was picking me up in about 30 but I told him to get me from the triplets house since I wanted matts opinion on the dress.

I walked up to his room he was sat on his bed on his phone.

I was wearing a short black dress which was tight at the top but semi flared out at the bottom just barely covering my ass.

“What you think” I say spinning so he could see the whole dress front and back

Matts eyes widen “wow you look good” he smiles he sits up at the edge of the bed

“Thank you” I giggle

“What are you guys doing then” he asked

“Well he’s taking me for food then I’m going back to his to watch a movie” i say straightening the bottom of my dress out looking at myself in the mirror as matts eyes didn’t leave my body

“Here” he turns around grabbing something from his draw and throwing it at me “your gonna want this if your going back to his place” he smirked

I looked at my feet to see he threw a condom “seriously matt I’m not gonna fuck him” I pick it back up throwing it at him

“Why you can tell me allll about it after” he laughs

“Because I’ve never even kissed a boy let alone fucked one and I’m not gonna loose my first virginity to a guy I barely know” i say sorta embarrassed

“WHAT” his eyes widen with a shocked look on his face “okay I understand that you may have never fucked a guy but you haven’t kissed a guy” he asked making me more embarrassed

“Well you always crash my dates” I blame him

“Because the guy your with is always a dick and I don’t wanna see you get hurt”

I roll my eyes

“Well Y/N you better hope your decent at kissing or it’s gonna make things awkward between them” he says

“I don’t know if I’m a good kisser”

“Come here I’ll tell you” he smirks standing up

“What” I say confused

“Your my bestfriend I’m helping you out here, ill help you learn how to kiss them your date will be even better it’s just a kiss” he stepped closer to me “but only if you want my help”

Matt was the one person I trusted with my life and I knew he wouldn’t judge me but was I seriously about to kiss my bestfriend???

I stood there looking up at me not a word left my mouth

“Ive kissed a lot of girls they have told me I’m a good kisser it will be fine think of it as a lesson,a kissing lesson” he said cupping on side of my face with his hand

I didn’t know what to say I just nodded in approval

“Never seen u so submissive before damn” he laughed “but use your words I need you to use your words Y/N”

“kiss me teach me” i stared up at him

He used his other hand to pull my waist closer to him resting it on the lower of my back and pulling me in for the kiss

It was slow but I quickly got the hang of it moving my lips to the rhythm of his as my arms ran up his chest and wrapped around his neck.

I pulled back with my arms still around his neck his still on my waist and cheek

“Your not bad” he said pulling my hand to the bed as he sits down, I’m stood infront of him

“I’m not” I ask

“No but I think you need more practice” he smiles pulling me onto his lap straddling him

He pulled me back in for the kiss this time one of his hand on my waist other on my ass

My hands played in his hair, the kiss was stronger this time more passionate, he lifted the bottom of my dress up and moved his hands to my hips and pushed me down bucking his up feeling his dick against my cunt making me moan lightly

He pulled away smirking, he kissed my neck which sent shivers down my spine.

I could feel his hard dick against my clothes cunt, I knew I shouldn’t have liked it as much as I was but I didn’t want it to stop I wanted more, I needed more.

Matts hand went up my dress on my bare ass squeezing lightly still sucking on my neck, I grinded my hips slowly to feel some sort of friction, “fuck” Matt groaned as he froze squeezing my hips stopping me from moving.

“Don’t do that” he said looking down at my neck “you might wanna cancel your date y/n”

“If I cancel can we continue” I ask

“If we continue it’s gonna escalate” he whispered in my ear, I could literally hear the smirk on his face as he spoke

“Well deal then, I’ll cancel and you fuck me” i smiled, I don’t know why I said that but I was sure as hell being serious

Matt looked at me shocked but with a huge smile on his face “cancel it” he said picking me up and throwing me on the bed.

“I’m pretty sure we’re gonna need this” he laughs picking up the condom that he threw at me earlier.

————

this is pretty bad but leave requests if y’all want me to write something else 😭

[spectres-n-soap]

Your Warmth is Fading - Soap x You x Ghost

Content Warnings - pregnancy complications, hospital stuff

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

It was late at night, long past visiting hours but your nightmare still haunted you. The taste of bile still lingered on your tongue and sweat still stuck to your skin. At least your breathing returned to normal. The quiet of the military hospital room was off putting but the machine showed Soap was still alive. The pattern of his heart beat, the IV bags hung up and the soft breathing of his soothed you.

You slinked over to the chair next to his bed and sat down. Soap looked better, no longer on death's doorstep even if all the tubes and wires connected to him unsettled you. His face was relaxed despite the discoloration of his right cheek. You thought back to what the doctor who had first reviewed the two of you had said. The comment was still bitter in your mouth. The doctor had called you both lucky. What a load of shite. Luck would have stopped it all from happening in the first place.

You kept an eye on Soap a little longer until sleep started to pull at you again. You stood up and before you left, your lips grazed his forehead. At least he was still alive.

"You're joking." you say, looking at the doctor with your brows pinched so tight you could feel your skin pulling tight.

"You should be in bed rest for the last month of your pregnancy." the doctor reiterated. "For your safety and the baby's." Simon looks between you and the doctor. He wants to side with the doctor and also strangle him. How could he have not caught this sooner? "Your baby being positioned like this will only cause more harm to your body the longer you move around.”

You shake your head, anger making your face turn hot. Those fucking Braxton Hicks hadn't been all Braxton Hicks but a major sign of your baby, Johnny's baby, being sideways. If it wasn't so fucking terrible you might be laughing. "How did you not catch this sooner?" you snarl.

"This is why we insist on check ups every week. So we can catch things like this.”

"But what about all the other check ups?" you huff and sit up, grasping onto Simon's arm for a little extra support. "What if you had missed it completely?”

"Ma'am please, getting aggressive will not do any of us any good.”

"A month I have to spend doing nothing." you grumble and cross your arms over your chest. You wonder, a thing you've been doing often, how Johnny would react to all of this. Wonder if he would be spitting mad and yelling at the doctor with a thick Scottish accent. You can almost hear it. Pulling from memories of him training recruits or yelling at an insubordinate recruit.

"It's for the best." Simon says, physically stopping himself from adding a 'love' to the end. He was sure you would throw your shoes at him if he let it slip. You had always been a firecracker and pregnancy seemed to amplify how quickly your anger flared up. It would be cute, he thinks, if he didn't know that you could gut him like a fish.

You glare at Simon the entire trip back to the flat, refuse his help getting out of his truck and slam the truck door shut hard. The last few weeks you've struggled up the stairs to your flat and now you're marching up them like you weren't advised to keep exercise low. “Would ya fuckin’ wait?” Simon huffs. Your glare could melt steel and you slam the flat door behind you. Simon groans and opens it to find you pacing back and forth.

“Just sit down.” Simon says and grabs you by the shoulders. You push him away a little, stumbling yourself from the force needed to do such an act.

“Don't tell me what to do.” you snap and run your fingers through your hair. You were sure you would lose your fucking mind if you had to rest all day for a month.

“You should update Mrs and Mr MacTavish on the situation.” Simon suggests, “Maybe Mrs MacTavish has gone through this before.” You glare at him but pull out your phone anyway and begin to type.

You're there when he wakes up, this time not high on pain meds. “Lass?” he groggily muttered and tried to rub at his eyes. Soap hissed when he felt the IV needle in his arm at the movement. “What ‘re ye doin’ here?”

“Waiting for you to wake up.” you stated, voice cool and Soap sunk further into blankets and hospital bed. He knew that look in your eyes, you were on the verge of an explosion. “What the hell were you thinkin’?” you snapped and flicked his forehead for good measure. “Running into that building like a man with a death wish.” you tossed your hands up in the air.

“Well I'm not dead.”

“I had to perform CPR on your MacTavish!” you snarled, “Blood loss might've fogged that part over but I remember!”

“Lass-”

“Do not ‘Lass’ me.” you stood from your chair, the spot you had nearly grown roots into if not for the different appointments you had due to the wounds on your hands. “You nearly died and I had to watch it. Do you seriously think I wouldn't be upset?”

“Lass I'm fine.” Soap tried to say and sit up. He groaned and clutched his side when the pain shocked through his system. “Bleeding Christ.”

You sat back down in your chair and wiped at your tears so he wouldn't see them. “You pull that shit on me again MacTavish and I'll let the crows eat you.”

“I'm not on bed rest yet Simon.” you huff and nudge Simon away and out of the kitchen. “I can make my own food.”

“Never said ya couldn't.” Simon mutters as he takes a step back.

“Go finish setting up the baby changing station.” you say, swallowing the snarl. You keep reminding yourself that this isn't Simon's fault. Mrs. MacTavish has texted back, telling you that she once had a friend with the same complication but not to worry. The month would pass quickly. You had to also turn off your phone to stop from messaging something hurtful. The military had always kept you moving. Running courses, training recruits or deployed into the field. Pregnancy had already shown you down and put you on light duty until you took leave.

You tap your foot as you stir the soup and your eyes drift to the front of your hands. The scars had faded well thanks to treatments but sometimes you wish they hadn't. Just as a reminder, something to run your hands over that wasn't your bulging stomach. You reach and turn on your phone, holding your breath as well as you could bring 7 months pregnant as the brands sign flashes.

You stare at your lock screen, a group picture of the 141. Back when Soap was alive. A ding as a notification pops up, a message from Mrs MacTavish from several hours ago.

“Would you like a baby shower before you have to go on bed rest?”

A baby shower? You had a small one at four months. Just Price and Gaz, Simon wasn't invited. The baby clothes you had were from those two. You really didn't want another. So much stress and surely more people. You had seen the family pictures on the wall in their house.

I owe it to them, you think as you type up the one word response, at least I owe them this much.

“Yes.”

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha Sam

Word Count: 1261

*Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter

Warnings: A/B/O, non/con elements , dub/con elements, enslavement, pandemic, non/con drug use, collaring/leashing, forced mating, forced breeding, BDSM elements, show-level violence

*Additional warnings to be added

*Square filled: @spnabobingo -Rut Suppressant @spnaubingo -Sub!Dean @anyfandomdarkbingo - Voyeurism

A/N: * UPDATED 3/24 They say the third time is the charm, this will be the last rework of the Prologue.

A/N II: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N III: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

PART I

Five weeks ago 

John had grown tired of Sam’s constant complaining about finishing his sophomore year in one place, so he found a case out west and left his sons in this backwater town. The little money he’d left was running out, and when Dean couldn’t hustle anymore, he took a job at a local garage. 

It wasn’t long after another problem arose.

Dean ran out of suppressants in one of the few states requiring a doctor's prescription. He was unsuccessful in obtaining them through less-than-legal channels. Out of options, Dean made sure his brother had everything needed for a few days before taking off to find someone to sink his knot into. He was chatting up a pretty brunette Beta in one of the low-end bars when their irate Alpha showed, and a rut-induced fight ensued. 

When the local sheriff showed up at the ER, a doctor informed him the Alpha had died from exsanguination by canine perforation of the carotid artery. Dean, because he was now in full rut, was on IV sedatives, and the sheriff ordered him handcuffed to the hospital bed and posted a twenty-four-hour guard so he couldn’t escape. When Sam could not reach their dad, he called Bobby Singer, even though they were forbidden to contact the Beta after their Alpha fell out with the grumpy hunter. 

The young Alphas' words spilled out in a jumble of profuse apologies and explanations, making Bobby’s temper flare. He always considered the brothers to be his kids, and upon hearing Dean’s going to jail and Sam was in North Dakota’s CYF custody, he wanted another shot at the elder Winchester with something more potent than rock salt. Reassuring Sam he’d be there by nightfall, Bobby pulled out his hunter contacts and started dialing, asking everyone in the vicinity to track John down ASAP.

When hitting town, Bobby’s first stop was the CYF holding facility. He presented the fake documentation verifying he was the brother's blood uncle and allowed temporary custody of Sam. Then, to find out what was happening with Dean, they headed to the police station, where Bobby flashed his FBI credentials to the officer in charge, whose response was that information would only be released when his Alpha arrived. He wasn’t allowed visitors except the public defender assigned to the case but slipped them a paper saying that Dean was charged with voluntary manslaughter. 

Unable to do anything else and unwilling to sit around the rental while waiting for their pack Alpha, Sam went to the local library to research the state’s laws on his brother's case. At the same time, Bobby interviewed the witnesses from the bar that night, ensuring no unnatural forces seeking revenge against John had a hand in Dean's predicament. 

Several days later, John rolled into town and went directly to the police station, where they informed him of the situation and then allowed a brief visit with his eldest. His fuming turned into a boiling rage as he walked towards the interrogation room. Out of all the shit Dean had done over the years, this proved what John always considered his subordinate offspring to be, a worthless fuck-up who was only good at taking orders, and John no longer wanted to deal with him. 

Entering the interrogation room, he sees Dean seated at the table, tethered to it by his shackled ankles. The ruddy cast in John’s eyes that'd begun when Caleb found him envelopes his irises, and Dean suddenly found himself airborne, legs flailing as far as the chain aloud, kicks over the chair, then is slammed onto the table, the back of his head impacts the table with a sicking crack, trapped under the weight of his Alpha, his dad, whose hands that used to carry him as a young pup now are wrapped around his throat strangulating him.

Dean flashed back to the night his dad laid baby Sammy in his arms and ordered take your brother outside as fast as you can! And not look back! Over the next sixteen years, John’s mantra, watch out for Sammy, was burned into his psyche, but before he’d even been born, Dean already knew Sam was his in every sense of the word. He was about to lose consciousness when the door burst open, and three deputies barreled and tasered John, shocking the raging Alpha into unconsciousness.

Sam maneuvers around the chaos, drops to his knees next to Dean on the floor and rolls him onto his back, helplessly watches him gasping for air between bluish lips. Sam can sense that dark, angry thing that’s always there, slithering through his veins at the finger-shaped bruising developing around his brother’s neck makes his canines elongate and releases a bloodcurdling wrawl. 

Silence fills the air except for Dean’s rasping breath as he watches his brother slowly stand up, appearing confused as to why everything is tinted a strange color. Sam, scanning the room with his glowing, extraordinary shade of red eyes, finally landed on John, feeling the deep-seat anger that while Dean’s lower status didn’t interfere with hunting, it’d never allow him to stand up to their Alpha about to explode.

 “Son, don’t.” 

Sam finds Bobby’s voice absurdly loud and agitating but heeds the Beta’s advice as the deputies drag the eldest Winchester out of the room.

Twenty-seven days later

At Dean Winchester's arraignment, the assistant DA said that due to the extenuating circumstances, him being on the cusp of a rut, and the Beta’s signed confession of deception in retribution for their deceased Alpha purchasing a House O, their office was willing to offer a plea deal. The Public Defender asked for a brief recess to discuss the terms when John stood up and said, “Your honor, there’s no need for a recess. I accept the deal.”

 The court clerk read the agreement out loud for the record.

 “Alpha John Winchester agrees to procure an Omega for the defendant, Subordinate Alpha Dean Winchester, within ten days from this date and time, and will present them before this court with the proper documentation. If he fails, the defendant will serve the mandatory five-year imprisonment per the state law of North Dakota. At that time, Alpha Winchester must also surrender custody of his other minor Alpha son, Samuel Winchester, who will be taken to foster care and placed in a court-sanctioned home until he is of age.” 

T-Minus forty hours                     

Shouting and loud banging at the far end of the warehouse drew the attention of several patrons and suddenly stopped just as it started.

 “Dean, go wait by the entrance.” 

“What?” Dean snapped without thinking, and John grabbed his leather jacket collar, “Don’t you take that tone with me, boy,” he snarled in a low voice. “I’m having to clean up your fucking mess so your brother doesn’t end up in the system.”  Dean submissively replied, ”Yes, sir,” and walked away with Sam automatically following.

“No, Sam, you’re staying with me.” 

Dean felt terrible for getting his brother mixed up in his mistake, noticing after they’d entered the warehouse, Sam kept trying to hide his natural, recently presented Alpha reaction to the scent of the O’s under his too-short hoodie, now forced by their Alpha to stay in the thick of it, so to speak. He watched Sam reluctantly fell behind his elder. “Let's get down to brass tacks, shall we?” The dealer gestures around. “Is there a specific type your son prefers?”

“Dean's preference of type doesn’t matter, but I want one under eighteen.”

Part II

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva   @lassie-bird @nancymcl  @spnbaby-67  @leigh70

Sam/Jared:  @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen:  @thoughts-and-funnies  @stoneyggirl2  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl 

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm

[staenless]

STEDDIE LUNCHBOX FIC PART THREE

It was a week be

Sorry this took so long Ive been busy with beauty school and struggling with motivation tbh lol. Looking back at the previous two parts this needs a LOT of editing but honestly I don't think I can rn so you'll all have to suffer through unedited chapters for now, sorry! Anyway I'm very tired rn so I won't hold up with authors notes anymore, I hope you all enjoy this and please share your thoughts (they fueled this chapter tbh)

It was a week before Tommy passed his lunch on again. Eddie sat in his cubicle nose flaring at lunchtime everyday, a pavlovian response to the clunk-tick of the bento box popping open. He could smell meats, vegetables and fruits, cheesy pastas and salt-buttered rolls. Under it all he could smell that sugar sweet ginger and floral scent, Steve.

Eddie's own lunches were rare, and when he did lower himself to eat at the company café he always found it wanting. Nothing quite matched up to a meal made painstakingly by hand. He wondered if this was part of Tommy's cruel mockery, to hand him something he was unworthy of to let him taste heaven, then snatch it away and leave him stranded in a world of bland flavorless slop.

That wasn't to say the café food was bad. In actuality it was surprisingly good. The young woman who ran it had been part of a government program to teach underserved highschoolers skills, and her meals were wholesome and tasty. She had baked a cake for the company holiday party, and when she say Eddie savouring the bites she confided her secret: a third of the flour was substituted with corn flour to give it a texture. It was the best homemade cake Eddie had ever eaten, though he had very little to compare it to.

So no, the food at the café, the bar and the grocery store and - godforbid - Eddie's own kitchen wasnt bad. It was of a higher standard he was used to, and it was filling and tasty, and he ate what he liked instead of what his guardians decided he should eat. But none of it had the taste of Steve's hands on it, and so none of it could ever compare. He mindlessly shoved forkful after forkful into his mouth, chewed and chocked it all down. He missed Steve's food, after only tasting it once.

The day Tommy decided to grace Eddie's desk with the tin lunchbox again hadn't started out special. In fact as the clock slowly ticked into the luncheon hours Eddie had long resigned himself another cafe meal when Tommy's cackled echoed across the floor.

"Nah, he's going into heat soon so he's been extra bitchy... I've had to pull late night's just to get some damn peace"

Eddie's hackles rose. Omegas in preheat needed stability, reassurance. Spending hours away would just make their preheat anxiety worse, something Tommy was either too stupid to realise or too cruel to care.

"Aw c'mon man," one of the stuffy suited alphas beside him gave Tommy a heart shoulder clap, "heat is the whole point of marrying an omega, right? Man what I'd do to get to fuck one, is it true they can't think of anything other than cock?"

Tommy's low chuckling makes Eddie grit his teeth,that was basically conformation. He's out here discussing his omegas private, vulnerable moments like it's water cooler gossip. Barely containing a growl Eddie peaks over the cubicle and finally spots the group by the - oh for fucks sake - gathered around an honest to God watercooler.

"Yeah the fucking is great, he always bitches about wearing a collar but once he's in the heat of it," smattered giggles, "he forgets aaaalllll about it. Almost makes the week before worth it. Almost." The last line sounds almost spiteful, but his cronies don't seem to take note.

"How'd you even bag him? I mean sure omegas aren't that rare but I hardly see any that aren't mated, especially a nice tame one that'd pack me lunch."

Something in the air turns sour, and when Eddie peaks over again in a bizaar mimic of an old whack-a-mole game, he can see Tommys face twist and turn in on itself. He seems torn between frustration and pride, like a dog showing off its gold plated collar.

"It was a family thing," he says, the vague answer telling just enough for his buddies to drop it while still answering their question. He glances down at the lunch box in his hand and his upper lip twitches in disgust, then his eyes rove over the office cubicles before locking onto Eddie. Shit, too late to duck down, and Tommy marches over, smarmy smile stretching over his too-white too-straight teeth.

"Munson!" THWACK. Ow. "You not having lunch?" Tommy leans down, weight on Eddie's shoulder where his fingers dig in just enough to make Eddie want to bite him. But the possibility of getting his paws on that lunch box, on Steve scented food, outweighs his instinct to fight the alpha trying to impose himself.

"Shit man," his grin is all teeth, "I hadn't even noticed the time! Guess I'll have to run down to the cafe and pick something up, huh?" It's fake. It's so fake and they both know this conversation is just a formality, the conclusion already known.

"I'll save you the trouble," Tommy should have persued an acting career, the script sounds so natural as he straightens up and clacks the lunch box onto Eddie's desk, "I'm heading out to lunch with the boys, you'd be doing me a favour." The last part doesn't sound like a lie, and if Eddie wasn't so desperate for the lunch he'd wonder why Tommy was so desperate to get rid of it.

"Thanks man," he spits out to Tommys retreating form. He mutters something - likely demeaning - to his cronies who titter, then leave together like a pack of cackling hyenas.

Eddie launches from his desk and flies to the rooftop, lunchbox clutched desperately in his hands, cigarettes forgotten. Once he reaches his usual spot his pops the lid, thrumming with excitement at the sight of another note. Ignoring the food over the sweet omegas words he plucks the folded yellow paper and gingerly unfolds it.

"please come home early"

His heart plummets. Right. Steve is in preheat, he obviously wants his alpha. But Tommy said he was avoiding Steve, and now the note confirms that. Please come home early, but no "I miss you" . No "love Steve". It seemed impersonal, something like an order, or begging, but without the hope either of those entail. He recalled Tommys other statement. It was a family thing.

Eddie was familiar, though distantly, with the idea. Arranged marriages were hardly a thing anymore. The star charts, the burnt herbs and entrails spread out beneath a crones trembling hands was far too gouche for modern metropolitans. The payments in silk and bovine too backwards and simple for their forward thinking ways.

Marriages were a more democratic affair for the rich and wealthy, planned out in wood panelled offices with huffing cigar breaths, Alpha to Alpha, the prospects of mergers and inheritance trumping starsigns and blood types. Arranged marriages was for backwards, superstitious folk, agreements were for the rich to keep the money in arms reach. Steve and Tommy were an agreement.

And by the looks of if; no mating bite, avoidance during preheat and the tone Tommy musters when discussing his spouse? Not a particularly blissful agreement. Still. Please come home early, Steve must find some comfort in Tommy's general existence if he wants him around over a trusted family member or close friend. Or pup. Tommy never mentioned a pup, but whether that was because he didn't have one or didn't care much to talk about it was somewhat up in the air.

Eddie brought the note to his lips, just toughing, and breathed deep. The ginger of Steve's scent was less sweet now, his preheat brining out the spice. Something like pepper ticked the back of his nose, pulled the air from his lungs and a final floral smell brought him back in, the sweet aftertaste of a spicy treat. The flowers smelt fresh, Eddie could recall the lily's at his mother's grave smelling the same. Somewhere in his mind he knew that comparison should scare him, but the memory of her grave after the funeral had always been rose tinted by Wayne's kind smile when he took his hand and gently lead him away. Eddie pulled the note away and his lips twitched up, that floral after taste was definitely lily's.

Eddie spared the food a glance, and as delicious as it look, he had something else on his mind. He looked down at the note in his hands, his hind brain sparking to attention at the scent of the omega, and the idea of him home alone in preheat. Eddie wanted to comfort him, to sooth his nerves and let him know he was safe and loved. He wanted to pace the door in front of their den, while Steve nested inside, to protect him from any intruders and serve him. To hold his hand, his waist, to pillow his head on Steve's chest and listen to his heart beat and bathe in his scent.

He couldn't. Steve was married, as much as Eddie's hind brain shouted "not mated" and Steve didn't even know Eddie, let alone allow the alpha into his nest. But Eddie couldn't help it as he pressed the note to his wrists and neck, mind whirling with ideas on how to comfort the omega. Somewhere between kissing Steves fingertips through fruit and the ginger of his scent burning Eddie's nose, the alphas heart had already pledged itself to the omega, already bared itself - pledged itself to his service. If all Eddie could offer was comfort, crossing lines of proprietary was no hurdle.

Taglist: @xxbottlecapx @goodolefashionedloverboi @stevesbipanic @monsterloverforhire @swimmingbirdrunningrock @samsoble @bookworm0690 @tinyplanet95 @idontwantmetoo @steddiehasmywholeheart @mugloversonly @persnicketysquares @morgannotlefay @lololol-1234 @greeniebean911

[court-jobi]

Screaming Color

Gif credit by @ahsokastars Divider credit by @saradika

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (no use of y/n)

Words: 3,062

Rating: Teen+

Warnings: tw: hospitals, minor descriptions of injury, descriptions of anxiety, resolved angst, worried Mando is worried, but extemely gentle. crying, feels w/a happy ending, gn reader

A/N: Back from an accidental haitus! Fortunately, I have a few fics to crank out at a hopefully quick pace, so enjoy a bit of Mando comfort! Had a piercing headache while writing most of this, so tis fitting~

Summary:

It's clear by the sounds and smells; you're in a med ward, likely still on Londor somewhere. It's drafty and deathly quiet, so you doubt even the heat is running in these rooms. As your memories seep back in from the moments leading up to the accident, there's much you don't recall at first. Last you remembered was suggesting to switch roles: bounty hunter and getaway driver swapped between your Mandalorian's expertise and yours for this job. It'd be worth it, surely, since you were in a rare position to come through with a good contact and 'you could handle it, just this once'.

Until you've wound up here: you with a round of rushed stitches and your Mandalorian resting next to you in full armor-- and he’s holding onto your hand in sleep.

The lights of the room finally come to life after you wake from your black-and-white dreams... once you will your eyes to open up to your Beskar Getaway Driver.

For my Star Wars | Mandalorian Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

There's few weirder feelings in the galaxy than coming out of a forced subsonic sleep. 

Rather than remaining blissfully suspended in a bacta chamber, worlds that couldn't afford those tanks used this: pacs of portable, bubbly liquid that quick-started healing through an IV bag, the old fashioned way. It's effective, for the most part. Only it’s thick and cold, like you could feel it enter and sift through you with every ebb of your pulse...

When you opened your eyes -only a moment, mind you- you only barely caught the blurred color— purple. But this exhaustion, it was bone deep. Your eyes fell shut as quickly as they'd opened. The very lashes of your eyes felt like they were sticking together uncomfortably by some Force: tempting you with 'five more minutes' while your will screams to 'wake up already'. 

It's clear by the sounds and smells; you're in a med ward somewhere. It's drafty and deathly quiet, so you doubt even the heat is on in these rooms. A grace that there is a blanket atop you, this you can tell only by the feel of it weighing down your arms. 

By each of your senses, you gather this is not a standard hospital. Mando swore off those quick-service med stations, because they-- no, surely--

All at once, your gut sank. A heavy thickness rose in your throat, the nausea flared within you. It's right at your mouth now, as you remembered:

You and your stupid ass ideas.

You remembered through the fog of these drugs, the ones that matched the stuffy feeling in your ears; the bits of the last few hours that echoed in your chest in synchronized, double beats. 

Thought you had a great idea, did you? Your mission pitch? Switching roles: leave your Mandalorian to sort out the getaway ride and meet you at the extraction rendezvous. 

This has been an exercise of trust already, suggesting this job. He deferred to you as the lead on this one, for the connections inside the complex were yours to begin with– which prompted the idea of trading responsibilities, too. In every way, this was as good a time as ever for you to try your hand at bounty hunting and make off with the pay grade since it was your intel. You held the cards– a winning hand with this plan.

You hazily recalled that it went well, at least up until the very, very end where you needed the fast exit and didn’t have the luxury of his muscle as backup. No, he was practically spinning his wheels at the pickup point, waiting for you to hurry it up, for once. 

You remembered holding onto your Mandalorian partner-in-crime for dear life and having to intervene as a backseat driver. You remember thanking the Maker and every celestial god out there that there was too much electromagnetic activity surging above you in this energy depot for anyone to be foolish enough to follow and shoot at you. 

But this, the last part of the plan, you remember all too well. 

The nagging itch of your nerve’s warnings and hypotheticals you'd covered over the rec table in the hull of the ship? It came to the forefront with a guilty vengeance. You remembered Mando’s initial doubts and how you turned the tables by making this about trust and reciprocity, and nearly challenging him. You can vividly see him bristling back, and your smug-as-hell words that ‘riding a cinder-fuel bike was like muscle memory that you could never forget’, and that he’d be just fine. You remember the elation of getting your way, and earning the chance to call the shots.

You remembered…

One lane change from the projected route, Mando took a reasonable detour without asking first. You might have warned him against it had you not been watching the rear mirrorcams. But where that turn took you both was just one ill-timed jump, slamming the brakes -ah, yes- just a moment too soon before you could warn him about the auto-stall function of the speeder bike that would send you both flying off the tarmac entirely…

Mando’s quick thinking is typically invaluable in the zero gravity of space. But here, making those hard rights will make you crash: and that’s why you’re usually the driver on the ground. Always. 

Accidents. Too-close calls. The kind that's gonna get you killed– or near to it.

You will never be doing that again. 

‘Stick to your lanes’, he said, likely unaware of the apt wordplay; ‘--Now’s not the time to start switching things up just because you’re bored.’

Only now you could only manage one thought–

Not 'how bad is it' or 'where the kriff am I' or 'please tell me I have all my limbs attached'. Not 'can’t they play some music in this place' or 'am I dead right now'.

Where is he. Where is he, where is he, where is he.

You need him. Your Mandalorian. Good god– if you crashed, he would have too. He would have hit the ground right after you, and his feet were set in the metal guards prior to spinning out, meaning he would have been sealed to the deathtrap, if he didn’t release in time.

Fear brought your eyes to squint open, and you found the ashy purple fluid pac in its fullness hanging in suspension above your cot. You didn’t process the shiny quality of the bag earlier, but rather, how it looked in its reflection: the sight of it on Mando’s helmet as it laid on the bed, by your side. That vibrant color shone against the curve of his chromed helm in a vague copy of the original.

Your Mandalorian rests next to you in full beskar, and he’s holding onto your hand in sleep. 

While the visor is turned to face the monitor high over your shoulder, you know he can’t be awake. His breaths are deep and long– you can watch it over the bump of those broad shoulders. Should you take a look across the expanse of him, all across where that brilliant armor shines, you take in all the colors of the room.

Emergency lights casting their gold glow, the odd dotting of red from the distorted curve of a heat lamp, the purple of your medicines, the electric teal of LEDs bringing inspection light to the space, and of course the harsh, medicinal glow of white– the bare minimum to see your steps along the floors. Why bother looking at your surroundings and moving your hurting neck, when looking at him can tell you everything you need to know?

It’s your not-so-secret way to take in the flurry of hyperspace, too. All these months, you’ve watched the streaks paint his helm and chest plates. The wonders of your galaxy -big and small- all reflect in him. 

If he’s here, you wonder with renewed worry, then he must not be hurt. But– what happened to him then? And where’s the kid?!

Your thoughts clearly rang loudly through whatever aether those stories of the Jedi referenced, because the surprised chirrup of the little green Child you’d made space in your heart for cried out in the dead silence– and subsequently popped Mando’s head up in an instant. His visor shot over his shoulder, in which you saw the Child stand up in his pod and wave at you with a big smile on his face. Without turning much, you made to wave your free hand up so he could see your response.

The mere attempt to smile shot a searing sting back to your face on one side, and brought a moan from your still-thick throat. Unseen by your wince, Mando centered back to you in that moment of shutting your eyes against the flare of pain.

He calls for you in a whisper, but it’s shaky. Wet.

The Child bounces in the pram making happy, enthused noises as he expresses his relief that you’re awake. His performance aims to try and get his Carer to come pick him up and to get a closer look. Mando says something to abate him for the meantime and instead straightens himself, rolls closer to you from the stool he’s seated on.

“Hey-” Mando welcomes you back to the land of the living, “Hey, you.”

You don’t answer. The pain starts pounding and is not letting up.

“Easy now, relax-” Mando’s instruction reaches you, “Don’t tense– we don’t want those to open.”

Those?

With a new sink in your chest, your very core muscles fluttered from creeping anxiety. They tensed and shook already, so there was no prayer in willing yourself to make a move to sit up yet. Taking a deep enough breath would cause them to sieze, certainly. The numbness, next, became apparent to all your limbs. ‘Til now, these drugs kept you asleep and impervious to the pain in your–where is it, your face? Neck? Your helmet had stayed on, but now it was off. Your worry mounted, since the data chip you’d recovered was supposedly safe in its hiding spot you’d kept along the back charging compartment. With it off, you panicked that it was gone now and all this had been for nothing. 

Maybe something broke inside and tore past the padding, and that’s why it cut up your face. Dammit, you liked that helmet. Mando made all those custom adjustments for you…

A terse exhale out, and you can feel how tight your lips are. 

You squeezed your eyes tight for a beat, then your brows. You wrenched your mouth to the side until you felt tightness. Sting. There it is, on your cheek: curving up along your hairline, to your temple where you know you've felt Mando kiss you in the dead and dark of night.

There are stitches laid there now where his affections once made their home. After the pull of pain, there was a faint tickle, meaning the artificial seams were quickly done and left finished in a rush.

Trying to speak on your confusion, a little, pitiful noise left you.

“Wayy– m’helmt…”

Mando pieces together your words, seamlessly on track with your concerns.

“I have it,” he readily assures you, “The faceshield shattered when you fell, and bashed in one side– only the outer plating of the chip cracked. The rest is fine.”

It’s a quick summary, but gives you that small peace of mind. Buckets can be replaced. Though your cheek– that’ll take a bit longer to repair, nature’s way.

“It’s okay, kid,” Mando answers the nervous gargle of the Child, “Just try to–; no, wait there.” 

His hand left yours and while the meds still left you feeling drugish, you felt the loss of that heat source and your nerves faltered. Just that subconscious warmth soothed you like nothing else in this room would, save maybe for the feel of the little munchkin curling up on your chest like he does in the cockpit.

You wish you knew his name. Something beyond ‘sweet boy’ and ‘lil bub’. 

You wish you knew his, too. Whatever language it’s in, however short or long it falls off the tongue. Just anything. Something more tender than ‘ace’ or ‘boss’ or ‘honey’.

The way he moved, quick and at the ready, the Mandalorian must not be injured at all. Perhaps there was something to being encased in armor at all times…

“--n’okay. w‘ll do bubblewrap.”

“--what?” Mando turned down to you with absent confusion.

With a funny, tired smirk, you reiterated, “N’think I need a suit of bubblewrap. Yknow– like y’do  for vases and shit? Make a living off tha’idea, if no one’s done it yet..”

Despite the circumstances, a huff of air left him- something close to a chuckle.

“How about we work on getting what’s under the bubblewrap better for now? We’ll workshop your side hustles later.”

You savored his laugh and agreed, “Fair ‘nuff.”

The Child’s coos were louder now. Mando must have brought the pod over with that little remote he kept in one of his million secret pockets. Just that tune made you feel infinitely better in this strange setting; like you were simply dozing off in the cockpit with their exchanges -back and forth- as your ambient noise. Of course you wished this attention were under better circumstances, but judging by the constant beeps overhead, you’ll clearly live. 

Though not without its scare, it seems. Mando ran his fingers up and down your forearm, 

“Outta run a test on you for brain function, too.”

He had to be mad. No matter how softly he spoke, his disappointment was palpable.

“M’sorry,” you offered sadly, just staring off at the beskar design on his chest. 

But Mando surprised you once again. After a  solemn quiet, even though he had every ground to say a firm ‘I told you so’, he offered a balm to your hurt pride.

“I’ve had my share of bad ideas.” 

While not a full acceptance of forgiveness, it wasn’t cruel. You’d take it. After all, your stunt ended up with you in a medward– likely at his expense, which couldn’t have been cheap to come by in these parts. A swallow and a slight shiver reminded you just how uncomfortable that stim made you.

“At least yours was thought out..” Mando continued more gravely,”– mine is what got you almost killed.”

You perked up at that. What, the jump? “No you didn’t…”

“I should have waited. You know the roads, I should have asked you about the turnoff.”

“There was an overhang. Vis woulda been low for anyone, ev’n me-”

“You’re my partner,” Mando landed firmly, “The responsibility is mine when I’m in the seat. If something happens to you, I am at fault.”

These were testier comebacks than you typically heard from him. Emotions were clearly coming out in droves, and that, too, took you by surprise. Not the fact that he was acting caring -you knew he was, by nature- but that he would blame himself to this extent? That seemed unfair. You could go back and forth on which step of this plan’s failures could have been anticipated. In the end, none of that would help you in the present. 

You tried to ease that guilt, as succinctly as your drug haze would let you. 

“Goes both ways,” you countered gently, fatigue dragging your words down, “We both know that. Accidents happen; s’pecially in this line a’work.”

You flipped your palm over; he laid his inside. You just wanted him. 

“Please don’t beat yourself up for this. Heck, I’m beat up enough for both of us.” 

You tried at a joke, but it did little to fall on receptive ears. 

Even though you gave an empathetic look as best as you could manage, it seemed to only make him more alert. He sat up and squared up, evenly set to keep your attention. Careful of his reach -shaken by nerves- your Mando ever so gently cupped the uninjured side of your face. 

“You and this kid are holding what little heart I have left.” the Mandalorian begged of you softly, “I really can’t lose you now.”

The monitor’s beep increased– though by the look on your face melting into fondness, your protector wasn’t worried about the noise. 

Sentimental metalhead, you preened at such talk. Knowing he let loose this deeper side of him free while he was with you warmed you through.

A sensor still lays tethered on your finger for monitoring, but you brought it up anyway to hold his wrist still… to welcome his touch. All you could really manage was a small, borderline kiss to his thumb that was close enough to the corner of your mouth to try reaching with minimal movement. 

As you recentered to his visor, the staticky noise from his vocoder returned, and with it, the jostle of his shoulders. 

Your eyes stung,too.  “Are you–? You ok?”

The Mandalorian forced back a brave sniff. Steeled his voice and his nervous throat.

“This was a close one,” he warned. “I don’t like close.”

Despite clear feelings staining his throat, you didn’t have the luxury of knowing if his face matched the shakiness of his speaker… but you had a good idea. When your eyes fail, music speaks. Your music was the language of his voice– when it’s clipped and raw with emotion, happy and drawled out with laughter, slow and easy when at the edge of exhaustion. Its melody is one you’ll take over sight, even now.

“This was a close one,” you glanced to the rack of more screens and illuminated bone scans beside you: proof of your current state. For the sake of his composure (and yours), you decided to remain optimistic. “Not to be repeated.”

And to deflect the edge of crying in your voice, you deflected-

“We’ll fail differently next time.”

A little shake of that gorgeous chrome showed Mando’s good nature, “Yeah.”

Another stroke of that kind, inner heart brought him down to give your forehead a kiss- as much as he could with a barrier between. He simply mimicked the motion as one would with a gentle touch and even though the beskar’s edge stung with could, it might as well have been a hot brand that seared straight to your heartstrings. 

Detangling the hand that had subconsciously entwined with his, you offered up a sole finger to him. 

“Pinky promise I’ll stick to my lane? You stick to yours?”

A cut to you hand then back up to you in a huff, 

“Why do the weirdest things leave your sweet mouth…” Mando snarked with a shaky laugh.

“Its’a custom on other planets!”

“Yeah right.” your assurance falls on deaf ears once again. “We’re calling the doc in here.”

He evidently meant that, as he pressed a little com button that lit up the panel on the door, requesting assistance. The Child, seemingly chuffed to sense the somber air of your waking has lifted upon hearing his carer happy again, has begun to make more noise. His little arms are all but stretching in your direction, and fussing at Mando for backup to his wants.

You pointed with the waiting hand, “He gets it~”

“Yeah, he does,” your Mandalorian acquiesces, and links pinkies while looking back at the little green buddy in his pram.  “Takes after you.”

[anamelessfool]

I made a crackfic inspired by these GIFs

One Shot (AO3 Link)

Papa Emeritus IV & Reader

Mature for strong language, references

Stupid silly fic, destiny, concerts, the incredible cornette hat

This opportunity comes once in a lifetime....You only get one shot. You hope your calculations are correct this time.

1,819 Words If you like this fic please reblog!

One Shot

This was your last chance. After three rituals, there was nothing left. Fourth time’s a charm, you told yourself, arriving at the line by the venue at promptly 1AM. You were going to make rail no matter what. You run into your friend, Avery, who has doggedly followed you ever since witnessing your first attempt a few weeks ago. Since then you had kept running into them in the line, and at this point you had become fast friends. Today they look grim as you arrive and settle yourself into the long wait.

“Last chance, huh?” Avery blows a bubble with their gum. They have the weary voice of some kind of soldier getting ready for one last push over the top. You both hear the rattle of a raccoon scuttling around in a trash can nearby. The things you do for a dream.

You nod back. “Then they’re off to South America.”

“You are fucking nuts,” Avery says. “I don’t understand you but goddammit I respect you.”

“It’s been real, Avery.” You fistbump and wiggle your fingers, laughing.

It’s only a fifteen hour wait. You had waited longer in the past. As the line gets longer, more colorful characters appear, more people mingle. You chat, swapped social, and sing like delirious hungover partygoers at New Year’s. Thinking about the hours ticking makes you break out into a nervous sweat, but visualizing your mission steels you. Every so often, Avery locks eyes with you and calms your nerves with a friendly shoulder pat. “It’s gonna happen this time.”

You feel like some kind of action hero. Staring into the challenge ahead. “It had better fucking happen.”

The sun gets high overhead, roasting the asphalt, and still you remain. The shadows lengthen, the air cools. Finally, finally the venue staff come over to the line. Finally they pull out their scanners and open the gate.

Now or Never.

Arriving at the venue, you refresh yourself, then make a furious, single-minded march towards the front and center of the rail. Nothing will stop you this time. Not even the call of nature. You’ve picked out the ideal spot. After your three attempts you’ve figured out the perfect location. You’ve mapped the trajectory, the angles needed.

It’s a good thing Papa likes keeping to a script.

“I’m feeling really good about this,” Avery says from next to you. “You’re going to make it this time. I know it.”

“You’re psyching me out right now,” You mutter. “I can’t think. I got to get into the zone.” At last the blast of the music hits, that singular Yeaaaaaahhhhh! that makes your heart nearly explode. The curtain falls, and the pyrotechnics flare.

Every time you see him, you can’t believe he’s real. Papa Emeritus IV, resplendent in his beautiful costumes, reaching out to the audience, his thrusting hips powered by his voice. There’s screaming all around you. You have a weird inner peace as you wait for the opportune moment, a calm mindfulness reserved for samurai waiting to draw their weapon. Soon. Soon.

“BELIAL! BEHEMOTH! BEELZEBUB!” Ten thousand throats are shredded with screams. Avery gives you a friendly noogie. It’s time.

At last Papa IV appears on stage, framed by blasts of flames. His flowing garments take your breath away. His fierce winged hat lends an air of noble severity to his presence. The vision of that hat had consumed you since you saw it in Metal Hammer Magazine.  It has haunted you for months, and the plan you are seconds from attempting bubbled up from the core of your being. You had never felt so sure of the concept of destiny ever before.

Papa starts swanning all over the stage, coming into range. It’s fucking time.

From your pocket you pull out your ammo. You have a single shot, but something about having a single chance for victory steels your focus even more than having two or three. You unroll a pair of frilly strawberry-print panties, clutching them into your hand. You let all the breath out of your lungs. You have the focus of a stalking cat, a striking rattlesnake.

You hook the panties on your thumb, stretch the elastic waistband, and release.

“Archangelooooooo!” Papa IV croons.

There’s a moment where you don’t even feel your heart beating anymore. You see the panties suspended in the air, so slow in front of you you could count all the strawberries. For a brief second you scream in your mind It’s not going to make it! They hit the far wing of the hat, nearly slide off, then settle, hole in one.

A perfect shot. The panties land. Perfectly. Right in the bowl of that glorious hat.

“BROOOOOOOOHMYFUCKINGODBROOOO!” Avery screams in your ear. You barely register their voice, your whole soul ascending with the feeling of victory. It’s done. You’ve done it. And it’s glorious. Tears start to well in the corners of your eyes as you watch Papa IV scuttle across the stage carrying your prize.

And then you felt the arms on your shoulders.

“Hey! Get the fuck offa them!” Avery yells, but it is too late. Three security guards drag you over the rail, kicking and screaming. Finally you stop resisting, a serene deathly calm settling on you. You’ve done your duty and now it is time to go to the ashes from which you came. Your unfinished business complete, it is time to walk towards the light.

Your consciousness witnesses when they pull your arms behind your back, forcing you forward, whisking you away. To where, you have no idea. Nor do you care. What is done is done. You think they are going to kick you completely out of the venue but no, one of the guards opens a service door to the side of the stage. The florescent lights blind you, and the silence buzzes with the ghosts of the screaming crowd in your ears. The concrete and cinderblock hallway seems to go on forever and you watch your feet plod forward, your head down. The guards’ grip on your arms and shoulders tighten.

“Wait here!’ One of them shouts, whipping open a door. There’s nothing but darkness within. And within the darkness you remain, the door slamming behind you.

***

The light rakes across your eyes, and you wince like a cave animal. You have no idea how long you have sat in that dark closet, but judging by the silence around you the concert has long been over. Your eyes water and adjust to the light, witnessing the silhouette of a guard standing in the doorway. “Come with me. He would like to see you.”

He? Your heart starts to pound. At last your adrenaline bottoms out and you start shaking, but it is too late to fully react to your actions. Two guards reach in and grab you once more, ripping you back into the hallway. “Keep your head down!” One hisses under his breath. Your hands start to sweat.

You hear the creak of another heavy door opening, and a guard pushes you inside, closing the door behind him. This place is more softly lit. As you start to bring your awareness back to your body familiar colors, shapes and textures swim before your eyes. In a far corner, items are hung on a clothing rack. A sequined blue jacket. A torn leather vest. The magnificent hat greets you from a makeup table, and you catch your pale face in the lit mirror. At the bottom of the mirror you notice the back of his head.

Papa Emeritus IV is sitting before you.

You see him. You blink. You close your eyes. But he doesn’t disappear. He is right in front of you. And you are standing in his dressing room.

Alone.

His skull-like visage overwhelms you. You have no idea what his expression is, but his cursed eye glares through you. He is sitting on a couch in the center of the room, his arm on the armrest. He had since loosened his tie and you see the smallest sliver of skin peek out from the unbuttoned top of his shirt. His body is broad, his shoulders slack from the constant exertion of performing for a crowd.

You open your mouth, but it is as if a puff of dust comes out. He sits before you impossibly, but just like in your dreams. You feel that any noise, any movement would sweep the vision away. He lets out a heavy sigh, his chest swelling. You ache in the deepest parts of your body. He slowly sweeps his legs apart and locks eyes with you again.

“Come here,” he says in his reedy voice. You do nothing. You say nothing. A deer in the headlights would look on you with concern.

He blinks, then pats his leg. “Come here,” he says again. “Sit here.” There’s a quavering quality to his voice. You’re not sure if he is embarrassed or furious. A muscle tenses in his jaw, but the melting paint on his face obscures the smallest details of his expression.

He idly rakes his hand through his deliciously graying hair, and your knees nearly buckle out from beneath you. He is reacting to you. So he must be real. You will your legs forward, planting yourself in front of him, looking down at him. His brow furrows, and his eyes surprisingly shift from side to side.

Is he…nervous?

Papa pats his knee once again. “Per favore, siediti,” he growls.

You lower your body onto his strong, supple leg. He holds your weight perfectly. You feel like you’re going to fall off backwards in a faint, so you unconciously hold onto the side of his waist. His body shifts under you.

“Well, then…” he begins. You’re not sure if he is smiling or frowning. His face is so close you can see how the makeup has drifted under the sheen of sweat.

You have enough willpower in your brain to utter a faint “Um…sorry.”

Papa utters a casual grunt. Through your hand you feel the noise vibrate his whole body. He leans forward and by consequence his chest presses into yours. The heat and dampness of his tired body envelops you, the musky smell of his sweat overwhelming your senses.  Your whole soul is aflame in this single moment in which he reaches to pull something out from beside the couch.

“Here,” he says. His breath caresses your face. You look down.

In his hands is a small stuffed bear, like the kind found at carnivals. He holds it out to you. You do nothing. He makes a little frustrated “Myeh” in his throat and places it in your hands. His own gloved hands wrap around yours, patting them. He releases the prize into your possession, leaning back, satisfied.

“Here,” he repeats. You see the smallest of smiles drift across his face. “Complimenti.”

My Master Fic List

Taglist: @riptide-kid @kabukiaku @historian-crown@monkberryghouldelight @in-cardi-c-we-thrust @iichorot

[ninjastar107]

Decisions - a megaman AU oneshot Ft. Blues, Tempo, and Vesperwoman

"Talk about dated..." Vesperwoman whispered to her sister, who returned a frustrated sigh. The wasp bot cleared her throat and hovered over to Blues with a cheery smile, "So you're the boy bot she's so obsessed with~!"

Blues gave a shocked expression, "Obsessed?"

"Vesp, come on," Tempo rolled her eyes, "Sorry for her, Mom built her to purposefully get on my nerves."

"Teehee!" She buzzed around and landed, "So, you're one of Light's boys hm? I never knew he was into retrofitting! Hm, the aesthetic is a little too clunky looking for my tastes," She shrugged.

Blues straightened his lips. "I wasn't built recently."

Tempo went to stop her when she realized where the conversation was going, but it was too late, "Really? How come I've never heard of you before?"

"I was dead."

An uncomfortably long dead air hung between the three, only combated by a subtle ticking of Lalinde's living room wall clock.

Vesp made a nail picking action despite not having any, "uh huh?"

Blues folded his arms, "Seems like she was built to get on everyone's nerves."

Tempo shifted on her feet, "Don't take it too personally, Blues. She's helped me a lot through my emotional endeavors. Did you warp in just to hang out? I have a few hours to spare before my shift starts."

"You mean before our shift starts~! We're going to be looking at carpenter bees! You can join if you'd like~" Vesperwoman corrected with a finger waggle.

He decided to take a seat on arm arm of the sofa, pulling the tails of his scarf around to the front, "No thanks. I'm here to," Blues hesitated, "I want to run something by Lalinde before I run it by Thomas. It's about my memory. I figured that she would have experience in that..."

Tempo nodded, "I understand, but she's not in right now. Is it urgent?"

"Um..." Blues looked down, "I guess not."

"I have experience with that!" Vesper chirped, "Are you recalling things you didn't previously?"

"No," he chuckled dryly, "I'm losing them."

Tempo froze. "How fast? Do you know your name?"

"N-not like that," He tried to soften the metaphorical blow with a hand wave, "More like, I dunno. Even before I died I think I ran into this problem. I keep some memories but lose the details, days blend together, some lost completely, sometimes I forget how to talk..." Maybe that last one was a bit too severe, judging by the look both of them gave him. "At first I thought it was because my core was faulty, but now... I'm wondering if it's my memory banks being full. When.. when I ran away, it was because Thomas wanted to switch out my 'core components'. He worried that I would 'run out of space' eventually, but he also worried that doing so would 'reset' me. I didn't want that."

"I see..." Tempo played with her hair, "She'll be back by tomorrow, she had a conference. Would you be okay until then?"

"Wait, he actually died? I thought he was just being dramatic!... what was that like?" Vesper asked.

"Vesp!" Tempo snapped, "You think someone wearing a scarf and sunglasses means that they're dramatic??"

"Duh! It's badboy 101." She playfully poked Tempo's flared nose.

Blues couldn't help but chuckle, thinking of his own sibling banter he's sat in on. He decided to play into her reading, leaning in and flipping the scarf back around, "You really want to know?"

"Yes! I've heard that it's no different than sleeping, at least from Woodman's account!" She sat down next to him, enthralled.

Tempo on the other hand held her elbows uncomfortably, caught between manners and curiosity, "You don't have to if you don't want to..."

"Ive thought about it a lot these past few weeks, and came to better terms with it." Blues assured with a nod before beginning. He looked to the far wall, recalling the time in the process.

"It was fall when it began to affect me in the daytime. There was a period of time where I could no longer function until the sun rose, usually around noon on a cloudy day I would 'wake up'." There was a pause, the words rolling in his head. His speakers emitted a slight hum before starting again, less enthusiastically, "The fault in the core effected the latency of motor functions, as well as software functions. About a few steps were made between leaning for balance against whatever object was around. Time becomes distorted- fast, too fast. At the very end, There was little response from the motor functions.... I.. watched many days pass while being unable to move. Eventually even those days became a repeating sunset. I saw snow, and that was it."

Vesperwoman tried to put herself in the situation, being unable to move or unable to function properly. She squeezed her eyes shut and shivered, "Sounds bad..."

"Did it hurt?" Tempo had kneeled beside him on the floor, staring at the same wall.

"no." Blues put plainly.

"You want your memory units updated." Vesper concluded.

"I don't know yet." Blues was quick to correct, "I don't know if I'm ready. I think I am, but...I want a second opinion. I want to know my options. I don't want to lose any more than I have already..." Though it seemed highly likely. Transferring data from one chip of the same make is one thing, but transferring data from an old set of failing banks to a new one was another. Who knows how much defragging and restoring was truly needed, and the dwelling thought of it all laid heavy in his chest.

Tempo wanted to promise him it would be fine, but she too wasn't certain. Not even all of her old memories were restored, just the majority of them- which happened to be the best and one of the most unlikely outcomes of the restoration.

"There's nothing to worry about!" Vesper stood up, cutting through the dread-filled air. She spun around to face Blues directly with a big grin to boot, "Even if you lose everything, you'll still have us to help you learn!"

"Y-yeah!" Tempo followed suit, "When you were around before my memory was put back in, it helped me a lot with relearning the world. I would do the same for you any day!"

"heh," He straightened up, "Thanks, but lets hope it won't come to that."

[evenfall-au]

Between The Ones I Love

Rating: T TWs: Wholesomeness Prompt for Frans Monthly November: [Cuddles] Word Count: 1,422

Cross posted to Ao3 here!

@frans-monthly

Frisk’s feet ached, and her back felt as tight as a violin string. 

Night had fallen, but Frisk found herself content to stay in bed or rather compelled to. Golden cast irises darted up to the blood bag currently suspended above the edge of the bed and trailed down along its length as they finally followed a thin tube down to her wrist where Alphys had so delicately taped it to her skin.

Frisk was in the second trimester of her second pregnancy, however it was no better than the last. Sans had said as much—had warned her that it would be another risk just as Elys’ had been, but she’d not listened. They’d spent hours, weeks going back and forth on the issue.

She’d never seen him lose his temper before…

The way his eyelights had terrifyingly flared, the viciously crooked downturning of his grin as he’d shattered what had been considered a valued treasure in his bare hand.

Frisk had trembled, scared.

But then he’d taken a moment to close his sockets, to breathe, before smiling again as he always did. Only, she’d then seen the sadness in his expression, his concern as he’d finally agreed and pulled her close to hold her while listing off all the precautions they’d need to take—fully supportive. 

That small, monumental, interaction was what made her certain that she’d been making the right choice. Because the more they’d talked about how to handle it, the more he’d softened, and even arrived to the point where he’d cracked a good joke or two about future plans together as a family.

Sans had been so worried…

Frisk stared at the IV rather grumpily and the crimson liquid inside it.

He still was.

Despite that, she still so desperately wanted this child. 

Not just for her to dote on, but for the look on Sans’ face…he so enjoyed being a father. She never would have believed it from how everything had gone before Elys had come along, but she ended up loving the effect their little girl had on him almost as much as she loved the skeleton herself. She knew this would be worth it, and they’d love this one just as much as Elys, and Elys would have a friend, someone she could hopefully play and grow with through the years.

Frisk had so many hopes and dreams for this.

Ultimately the aches and pains she currently felt were nothing in the grander scheme of things. She didn’t regret all the hard work they’d had to invest into making this happen, especially so soon after their first when compared to other vampires who’d take centuries at a time if that at all to produce offspring. 

She just wished she could’ve been spared the complications that came with it.

Knock

Knock

Slowly she lifted her head, curious and a bit excited at the prospect of company. Whereas normally she would’ve asked who it was as a preemptive measure of setting up a joke, she was too eager to see who had come to pay her attention, and so gave a happy, “Come in!”

The creaking of the door as it opened echoed around the room as a sliver of darkness exposed the shadowed hall beyond in a thin slit barely large enough for a mouse to prod through.

Frisk blinked, confused.

And suddenly the crack opened wide and a snowy white head of hair popped in.

“Mom?”

Instantly Frisk grinned as she met the cool blues of her daughter’s eyes. Gently she eased herself up to lean against the headboard of her bed, trying her best to ignore how dizzy the action slightly made her, and waved Elys on in with a small pat to a spot on the bed beside her.

That was all that was needed as the little girl’s own smile widened—so similar to her father’s—and she padded in with happy steps until she was swinging herself over the edge of the mattress and tucking in beside her mother. Frisk made a joyful sound as Ely’s arms came around her and returned the embrace.

“Dad said you couldn’t come down to eat.” Elys huffed.

Frisk felt a drop of sweat on her brow. “Yes, I was a bit light headed this evening and out of concern your father fetched Alphys. I’ve been ordered to spend the next two days in bed to make sure I have enough blood for the baby.”

At that Elys glanced down at the slight protrusion of her stomach and hummed. 

“Brother eats like Uncle Pap.” 

Frisk raised a brow as she chuckled. 

“Brother? Why do you say that? For all we know it could be a sister.” 

Elys shook her head as she nuzzled closer, content in her mother’s arms. “No, brother.”

Frisk decided to not speak further on the assumption. She never understood how children could sound so confident in what they thought or felt, she could barely remember how she was at such an age. The idea that Elys wanted a brother of all things rather than a sister to sow or learn to cook with actually sparked warmth in Frisk’s soul. It wasn’t common to see a child wanting a sibling of the opposite sex. 

But then again…

Children did have an uncanny ability when it came to making predictions…

“A brother then,” Frisk giggled. “And yes, he has quite the appetite.”

Another knock, and this time Frisk looked up to spot her husband standing in the doorway with a cheeky smirk across his teeth. Elys beamed as she stuck her tongue out at him before making a show of wiggling impossibly closer into her side.

“i’ve been beaten to my own room, the shame.” His baritone rolled as he entered and walked up to the side of the bed.

“You were racing?” Frisk asked as Elys snickered. 

“no, i was finishing an important discussion. elys was racing, by herself, after declaring there was a race to begin with.” Without preamble Sans slid onto the mattress at Frisk’s opposite side and wrapped an arm around her waist, tucking her close against his chest. Even now the contact still sent a flush to her cheeks.

“Hey!” Elys cried. “I won! I get the cuddles!”

Frisk bit her lip as she did her best not to laugh at the girl’s outrage. Sans on the other hand openly chuckled as his brow creased in an uptick and his eyelights flashed briefly with amusement as he purposefully nuzzled Frisk’s cheek, turning her primrose blush a deeper shade of scarlet.

“you forget, there’s such a thing as a consolation prize.” Sans winked. “and that prize is that i get to cuddle both your mother and the winner.” 

Elys’ expression dropped into a deadpan as Sans’ other arm came around and encircled her as well, completing the collection of their immediate family as he placed a light press of his teeth to the top of her head.

“That sounds more like a first prize.” 

“maybe~” He drawled. “but surely you don’t want to run over my feelings by denying me the cuddle pile, do you?”

There was no hesitation as Elys shouted, “Yes!”

“the betrayal.” Sans huffed. 

Frisk sat happy and silent as they both went back and forth; Sans with his teasing and Elys with her indignation. This went on for sometime before the three of them had migrated to fully laying down beneath the covers and Elys fell asleep against her mother’s side. 

Smiling gently she ran a tender hand through her daughter’s hair. 

At the same time a warm hand glided up and down her arm, slow, unrushed as it came to a stop and a thumb brushed over her shoulder. 

Sans’ voice was a whisper against her ear. “how are you feeling?” 

Frisk took a second more to stare at Elys' sleeping expression, content and warm between the two greatest things of her life. She couldn’t help smiling as she pressed further into him and pulled Elys closer.

“Better than ever.”

And it was true.

These were the moments Frisk lived for, and what she so desperately hoped to have so much more of when their family grew. Sans didn’t say anything, merely moved his hand to her stomach and gave it a gentle stroke with a low hum on his teeth, just as he’d been doing from the start, and let his gloved phalanges rest there as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her temple.

“pleased to hear it love.”

[thedisablednaturalist]

My parents found out about the present I bought myself for my birthday. I worked my max hours to afford it. I had it shipped to my bfs house so they wouldn't see it. Apparently I missed a receipt that was hidden in the box. Idk how they got it anyway cause I put the box out with the trash/recycling. My mom was being so cruel about it and how I keep buying myself "lavish" gifts (most stuff I buy for fun is like $10-$50 max). I always plan my purchases and have never missed a credit card payment. Most of my money goes towards doctors visits, medication, car maintenance and gas, accessibility items/ergonomic stuff, cat food and litter, and hygiene. Recently I stopped most of my subscriptions save for a cheap minecraft server. The bulk of my pay goes into savings which have really grown since I got my raise. I also give my parents $400 in rent each month. I'm trying to save up for a recliner to replace my bed but I don't want to use the money I've already put away.

Like ok, maybe I'm not mr.frugal. maybe i sometimes buy more expensive things because they're more convenient (like already cut vegetables/fruit or preprepared meals) but like my hands fucking hurt and sometimes I don't have the spoons to feed myself. Maybe I fall prey to impulse purchases once in a while. Im learning and I'm trying to learn how to budget bc now I have to also pay for insurance until I can get on medicaid.

My mom acts like I don't care. She sees amazon packages come for me and think theyre all toys or expensive skincare or junk when its actually body wipes for when I cant shower/so i dont come back from the field to the office all stinky. Its a trash can I can keep on my bedshelf so I dont throw trash onto the floor instead. Its knee braces because my knees fucking suck. Once in a while Ill see something on sale that ive been wanting for a while and will grab it. And the most expensive skincare I use is $20 for a jar that lasts me 3 months. I have to keep my skin clear or ill pick and have scabs and blood all over my face again. I spend money on drag because it MAKES me money. Last time I got paid $100 from the venue and $50 in tips. One time I got paid $300 from the venue (i dont remember how much in tips).

Im trying my best. Im working with 3 government agencies rn to get a job and get health coverage. Im working my ass off at my job when i probably shouldnt be working (my mom laughed when I mentioned this). I'm constantly doing things to earn me money or to make life a bit less painful. Even streaming is a desperate attempt to make a career/side gig out of something I enjoy and doesn't make me flare up. I only watch shows when im with my bf or when im doing chores or working. I rarely play video games. When I flare I lay in bed and scroll Tumblr or play a mindless dress up game where I only have to move my thumb. I cry almost everyday. I cry on the way to work. I cry holding my cat in so much pain i cant move.

The only big frivilous purchases I've made is the present and a new graphics card (I haven't replaced my old one in a decade). The present cost $230 and the graphics card cost $800. Both of these I saved for. I might buy a nice skirt once in a while but thats pretty much it. I also spread out big purchases over time when I can.

Am I spoiled? Maybe. Maybe my parents are right and I'm a lazy spoiled kid who just makes excuses. But my pain is real, constant, and severe.

I have friends who's birthday presents consist of trips to fucking italy or the bahamas. Who complain when their parents drag them on yet another international vacation. Some are amazing people who are grateful and work their asses off. And some of them are a bit entitled. My mom said most 26 year olds are living on their own with jobs and I fucking laughed. The only 26 year olds with their own apartments especially in my area either have 5 roommates in a 2 bedroom shithole, got lucky and have a high paying tech job, their parents pulled strings to get them hired, or their parents are paying partly or fully for their apartment.

And when i tried to find an apartment? She discouraged me and told me id never be able to afford one (correct) but now im suddenly able to when it suits her argument? Ive been heavily job hunting for over a year and got ONE interview who ghosted me after two interviews. I make $2k MAX. Rent in my area is $1700-2500 for a freaking studio. The $1700 one doesn't let you see the apartment and gets snapped up immediately. And these are all apartments within a 2 hour radius. All the "affordable housing" is for people 55 and older.

Like I literally have no options. I can't move until I get a job in that area. I can't leave the country cause Im disabled and also thats fucking expensive. My bf makes less than me and even combined we couldn't afford a place.

Literally, I've never been suicidal before. Ive never struggled with that due to my fear of death. But all of this? Ive recently had suicidal thoughts and its fucking scary. Thoughts that killing myself would make it easier for everyone else. That it would be easier to just end it, that life will always be a living hell and i should just give up. And thats fucking scary! I shouldn't have those thoughts! But that's how bad it is.

I try to do what my therapist told me. I try to set boundaries. But setting a boundary means not eating dinner bc I leave when my parents yell at me. I try to think positively and ignore the pain. I probably walk an average of 1-2 miles a day. I try and try and try and it hurts so much. They can't be proud of me? For even big victories? Guilting me about graduation cause I took too long. Keeping a job for more than a year (its not a REAL job cause its hourly and doesnt have benefits).

Like what's the point? I've been fighting and fighting and most of the world wants to see me dead and gone anyway. I'm trying to work in a field that doesn't even consider people like me. If I cant work Ill just bring my boyfriend and my family down. Every step forward I manage to take I get dragged back 10.

Im so tired and ashamed and stressed and my fucking body hurts worse now because of the stress and i just dont want to wake up tomorrow.

[polyamorouspunk]

Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Was out with mountain boy last night and 1. I learned how to say ‘i love you’ in latin (te amo) and 2. Very much questioning the whole arospec thing because of this boy. Cause for the first time in my *life* the feelings have lasted more than 2 weeks. Its been 2 months. HOLY SHIT IVE BEEN DATING MOUNTAIN BOY FOR 2 MONTHS

But yeah. And also like. As of last night its like *new feeling unlocked* like I’ve had butterflies but I’ve never had butterflies to the degree that Im *still* having butterflies over something 24 HOURS later. And like. That could also just be from being in the middle of a flare that my emotions just are not regulating correctly but like. I feel like I just unlocked emotions 2.0. So maybe I am the actual rare case of ‘you just haven’t been with the right guy yet’ which is infuriating but also I *like* these feelings

But also on the whole chronic illness front - WE FUCKING HATE IT HERE and Im downing ibuprofen like its candy (that is a joke for those that need told). So if my brain could just stop having the 404 error causing both thinking and motor skill problems atm that would be great

Uuhhhhh OH! And therapy is now once a month instead of every other week so I guess thats a plus

Those are my life updates bro how are you?? I miss chatting with you I feel like I never have time to be on here anymore

*answers like a week later* whaaaat I always have time to chat haha 😅😅

Well I’m glad you feel that way! I know personally I can only feel that way with people I’ve met irl even if it’s just meeting them once. I love that feeling though, I’m always chasing that high.

It’s been two months 😭 where has the time gone

I love my best friend to pieces but hanging out with her and her husband was soooo. For someone who’s “autistic and touch-adverse” homegirl SURE did a 180 on that. Third wheel for a week straight 😐 I support her not conforming to social norms even when it’s embarrassed me in the past but like. Boundaries. When you are with someone else. I always made sure that I was never super PDA or hung up on my ex when we were dating because I never wanted to make someone feel like a third wheel and uh. Yeah that’s why.

I just started my meds back up, I’m back on Prozac after my hiatus from taking meds. It reached the point where I’m like “okay yeah maybe my meds were doing SOMETHING even if they weren’t WORKING exactly so MAYBE I should go back on them and be a LITTLE less crazy”. I intend on starting therapy back up. I have free therapy through work, probably Better Help, but it’s probably better than nothing. I already know my data’s on the dark web from all the times my bank account has been hacked so I don’t need to worry about them selling my personal info 😅

I was planning on graduating this semester but that’s not happening :) so next semester it is.

My mom wants to come back up next summer and my best friend and I have been trying to plan matching tattoos and we talked about getting them up there where I got them last time so maybe I’ll see you then! Sick New World already sold out so I guess that plan is a bust 😅

[faranae]

Rant incoming: Hands (CW: health stuff)

Pardon the ramble. I'm just trying to rubber duck a bit, maybe get some of this fear under control. It helps sometimes, I think.

The EMG didn't find any damage, but it's getting worse.

Sometimes my hand will shake, but only when I go to do something that involves finer control or if my arm is extended; Holding a sandwich? No shakes. Reach to pick up my water bottle? Wobble. Hold a pen? No shakes. Go to *write* with the pen? It's not like shivering; It feels like trying to fight the force of holding the wrong sides of two magnets together.

Thankfully that only happens during really bad flare-ups.

On very bad days I can't flex my hand or rotate my wrist without setting off these tiny shocks of pain. My knuckles on both hands will feel tender like they've been over-used, though far milder on the left side.

When it's bad, I can actually poke (gently!) along part of my upper arm and send shocks through it. If I lift my arm at the right angle and tension, I can set it off all the way from my armpit down past my elbow depending on the day.

A portion of the underside of my arm a bit bigger than my palm gets touch-sensitive sometimes too. It's a similar cold tingle to that one time the nurse mucked up putting in my IV a few years back: I was cold and tingly in that spot on and off for weeks. This is a different spot though, and only lasts a few hours at a time.

I don't understand. I'm doing the nerve flossing and stretches. I changed my workspace setup. I sleep with my arms straight as much as possible. Even my weight is finally stabilizing a bit, after so many years! They said those should help, not make it worse. If it's even related, and not just coincidental timing?

Between this escalating and the ear issue now actively impairing my hearing, I'm terrified. Every time one thing starts getting better my body finds a new way to betray me. All these visits to my GP across town and following their recommendations on what to take or buy or change have drained what little savings I had.

I have to keep my head on straight, goddammit.

I'm so fucking scared.

[i-fondued]

Kinktober 2022 | Ghost - Backstage Pass

Papa Emeritus IV’s favorite Sister of Sin ends up at a Ghost Project hometown concert, surely they can’t get up to too much trouble in ten minutes?

Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV x Reader/Sister of Sin Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut (duh), quickie smut, squint and there is fluff I guess, PWP A/N: I actually threw this together in like 3 hours which is a record for me, its short and sweet and I had full empty brain time today so this is just a little fun Drabble. I hope you like it!

LINK HERE FOR THOSE WHO PREFER AO3

The base of the speakers radiated in my chest, heartbeat stuttering along with it. Various lights and pyrotechnics flashing along with the rumbling beat of the song that was playing.

Today had been a rare treat for some of us Siblings of Sin; we had been allowed to dress in plain clothes and come to our local Ritual with Papa and his band of ghouls. Papa had called the abbey himself, as they were still out of town on tour, insisting he tell me himself. This was the last stop before he would spend the next six months at home for the fall and winter holidays. I was glad he’d finally be back where he belonged.

“Promise me that you will come, Sorella?” He mumbled into the phone, my cheeks blushing and looking to see if the Sister in the office could hear him. “I have a surprise planned for you.”

How could I refuse when I missed him so much? Especially since he had a surprise planned for me.

Now I had never been to a ritual before, at least not since long before Copia had become Papa, and I had forgotten the intoxicating feeling of being in the crowd. I had managed to be situated right in front of the stage, almost dead center. One of the ghoulettes had caught my attention when we had arrived and told me Papa had saved me a spot in the front. I was a little embarrassed that they had set aside a spot for me, but once most of the siblings had dispersed in the pit of the floor most people had been distracted by the lone woman who stood directly in front of the main stage. 

I watched Papa in his element, he was dressed in his formal black mass robes along with his Mitre. My eyes glassed over as I watched him dancing, toying with the crowd as he sang, teasing the ghouls as they played. I felt my face flush scarlet as he aggressively thrusted along, women in the crowd around me screaming wildly. 

Part of me flared up with jealousy, how dare they think they had a chance to win over Papa’s affections. Quickly though, and especially when he caught my eye and gave me a smirk and a wink, the feeling left me. I knew deep down, even now after all we had done together, Papa was in there and he only had eyes for me. No amount of face paints and extensive wardrobe changes would change that. The lights went dim for a moment, the crowd going wild, before a familiar thrum of the guitar and ring of the cymbal. This song was my absolute favorite, even though it had originally been Terzo’s song. 

I can feel your presence amongst us You cannot hide in the darkness Can you hear the rumble? Can you hear the rumble that’s calling?

The lights flared back on, Papa now on stage in a whole other outfit this time, and the crowd around me went wild. My jaw hung open slightly, breathing becoming shallow, as his eyes locked on mine. I felt mesmerized by him, his whole demeanor shifted. It felt like he was pulling me under the water like a siren. He prowled forward towards the edge of the crowd, crooning at them but I felt like he was only speaking to me.

I know your soul is not tainted Even though you’ve been told so Can you hear the rumble? Can you hear the rumble that’s calling? I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you

I leaned forward on the shallow barrier in front of me, the crowd surging slightly forward to try and get closer to Papa. I couldn’t help but smile up at him, dazed and lovesick as he sang.

A candle casting a faint glow You and I see eye to eye Can you hear the thunder? How can you hear the thunder that’s breaking? Now there is nothing between us From now our merge is eternal Can you see that you’re lost? Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?

Papa’s eyes locked on mine, he wouldn’t dare…not tonight with our siblings of sin here too would he? He stepped to the edge of the stage and kneeled down as he extended his hand towards mine, a wicked smirk on his face. I reached out to him, standing on the tips of my toes, and he took my hand. I could feel the warm feeling of his hand through his leather glove. His mismatched gaise was locked on mine, his white eye seeming to faintly glow in the lights of the show. The women around me were screaming, phones recording this moment in the ritual. 

I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you

He crooned to me, eyes never leaving my face, and I blushed furiously. Papa’s fingers brushed against the inside of my wrist as he placed my hand flat on his chest, his heart beating wildly under his ribcage. The concert seemed to slow down, the lyrics being the only thing I could hear along with the sound of my own heartbeat. I couldn’t look away and I didn’t want to as my Papa’s adoring eyes flashed with something deep and heated. I felt a thrill slide down my spine at the thought of what that meant for me later, knowing full well how he was when he came back to the abbey after a successful ritual.

As quickly as the moment came, it was gone. I felt his hand begin to slip from mine, my head feeling full of cotton balls as the frenzy of the moment faded, and I watched him press a kiss to the top of my hand. I felt him murmur mio amato into my hand before slipping away to continue the show for the crowd.

Can't you see that you're lost without me? I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you

I felt the crowd pulse around me but my head felt fuzzy as I watched Papa work his magic. If anyone had asked me before all this if the rituals were actual magic, I would have laughed. Now however…I wasn’t so convinced. I felt like a spell had been casted on me and not the harmless ones Primo had used in the abbey gardens. No, I felt flushed and oversensive; like someone had set fire to every nerve ending I had. Almost embarrassingly I noted that I felt like I was more turned on than I had been in my entire life. I squirmed, thighs rubbing slightly, as I watched the show go on. Like I had always known, Papa put everything he had into the shows and this was no exception. I sang with him, I danced with the crowd, and I felt my desire for the man beneath the sequined coat and papal paints grow stronger and stronger in my belly. Before I knew it the show had come to a close, barely registering the final bow of the night as the crowd began to disperse. 

Hazily, I began to follow the other siblings of sin toward where the abbey buses would be waiting to bring us back. A hand wrapped around my wrist and tugged gently, my head whipping around to see who it was. It was one of Papa’s band ghouls, Swiss if I remembered correctly. I had spent some time with them at rehearsals and various black masses since Papa and I were practically glued to the hip when he was home from tour.

“Papa is asking for you, Sister.” He smiled mischievously at me as he tugged me again, his canine teeth inhumanly sharp between his lips. “Follow me.”

“Oh, well I don’t want Sister Imperator to think I’ve gone missing…” I started to say, still following Swiss along as we moved against the crowd towards the backstage access. 

“Don’t worry, the ghoulettes already went to let her know you’ll be riding back with us.”

Somehow that didn’t make me feel better but I knew better than to argue. I followed Swiss as we made our way backstage, he slipped a lanyard around my neck, before flashing his own to security. “She’s with Papa.” He teased while I flushed scarlet.

We walked up to a door with Papa’s name written on a whiteboard, Swiss knocked twice before walking away. 

“Have fun, kitten.” He called over his shoulder, waving slightly as he slipped behind another door further down the hall.

The door opened slightly before I was pulled in quickly. Before I could even get a peep out of my mouth I was thrust back against the door, hands gripping my hips roughly as lips crashed against mine, teeth practically clashing together. My eyes locked with Papa’s and I smiled softly into the kiss, whimpering as he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth and bit down roughly. I pulled away slightly, tilting my head away from his, and he kissed down the column of my neck. 

“Papa…” I sighed, my hands coming to wrap around his neck and fingers tangling in the ends of his hair. “You wer-ah!- you were incredible…”

He had begun to suck small love bites on my pulse point, a shudder running down my spine as I rolled my hips against him. He was pressed against me firmly, preventing me from moving away from the door. He pinned me with his hips against mine, his knee roughly shoving my denim clad legs aside to be able to rub his thigh against my center. I let out a soft cry at the friction, my head thrown back against the door. 

“Sorella.” He groaned as he pressed his growing erection, trapped behind his stage trousers, against my waist. “We have ten minutes before someone will come looking.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice.

I kissed him roughly, tongues coaxing each other as I moaned into his mouth. Neither of us were used to me wearing street clothes and the novelty of Papa being able to slip his fingers under the hem of my t-shirt and run his bare fingers against the soft planes of my stomach, muscles clenching as pleasure pooled in my core. I shuddered as his hands slid from my waist, across my hips to reach behind to grab at my ass. I felt his sneaky fingers unbutton my jeans, pushing them down my hips, and he helped me kick off my sneakers before ripping the jeans off my legs. With what felt like inhuman strength, Papa lifted me and I automatically wrapped my legs around his narrow waist. He pressed his weight into mine and helped pin me to the door while his hands wrapped around my thighs. He groaned deeply as he ground himself against my center, the texture of the laces of his trousers rubbing sinfully against my clit. I cried out into his mouth before rolling my hips again, desperate and needy for more. 

“Papa…please.” I whimpered as my hands reached between us and I started to try and undo the laces of his trousers. “I need you.” 

He reached into his sequin coat pocket and pulled out a small knife, slicing the laces with little pause. I had to hold back a bark of laughter when he looked at my face, his cheeks flushed beneath his papal paints. 

“Sometimes you have an emergency and do not have time for laces…” He replied sheepishly before his hands came to cup my ass again. 

We rocked against each other, gaining little breathy moans and groans as we did. Papa’s fingers pulled my panties to the side, running his fingertip up and down my dripping slit. I shuddered in his arms, head thrown back against the door with a thump. “You are so ready for me, Bellissima.”

“Papa…” I groaned, nails digging into his scalp as my fingers gripped his hair.

Suddenly without warning I felt him ease into me, a hiss slipping past my lips as I felt him stretch my cunt wide at this angle as he slid deep inside me. He peppered my face with soft kisses as rolled his hips, slowly at first before both of us became impatient. 

“Fuck me.” I hissed, burying my face in the crux of his neck as my arms wrapped firmly around him as Papa began to thrust more aggressively into me. 

“Such naughty words from my Sister of Sin.” He teased, his breath becoming pants as he worked us towards our own pleasures. I felt his fingers snake forwards and brush against my clit as he drove into me. I cried out, cunt clenching his cock tightly as pleasure shot down every nerve in my body. “Satanas, Sorella. You will be the death of me.”

“Stop talking. More kissing.” I grunted, rolling my hips against him to get more friction on my clit as my orgasam began to pull tight in my belly. 

Papa let out a laugh before kissing me firmly, breathy moans mixed between us as we frantically chased after our individual releases. Papa’s thrusts became more erratic, hips circling slightly each time to brush against the super sensitive spot inside me, and after a few more brushes of his fingers against my clit I felt the rope holding me over the edge snap. I buried my face in his neck, muffling my cries of his name as best I could in his shoulder. 

I wasn’t sure if it was the haze of the concert or if it had been just too long since he had been on tour and away from me but I felt my entire body shutter against him, clutching him so tightly to me lest he disappear, and I couldn’t help the words of love that came spilling from my mouth. 

Another few erratic thrusts, all rough and slamming me back against the door, and Papa came with a groan. I felt his cock twitch as he lazily thrusted through our afterglow together before he stilled completely inside me. I sighed, content in the moment, as I kissed him gently. He practically purred as my hands brushed his hair from his face.

“I have missed you very much, Tesoro.” He sighed, his head nuzzling into my chest. 

“I’ve missed you too, Papa.” I smiled as he took my hand with one of his own, kissing my knuckles. “Let’s go home.”

[lucysweatslove]

12.2.23 // Oreo’s First Teeth Cleaning and other thoughts

Oreo has his first teeth cleaning on Friday. He’s five, and this is the first year it was recommended by his vet (we asked about it a few years ago, set up an appointment, was told his teeth were so clean and healthy the risk of anesthesia was not worth the cleaning). I was a nervous Nelly all day. My husband called me at 1, just when class was starting, because they had called him. Oreo is apparently really sensitive to anesthesia, which is weird to me because he’s been under twice before (neuter and anal gland removal) and did okay- but I wonder if anesthesia is dosed by weight class? He was ~19 lbs during his neuter and gland removal and is now ~23 lbs.

He struggled when he got home. I was in class and couldn’t leave, so I didn’t get to see the worst of it, but apparently his back legs didn’t work super well, and he just wanted to be swaddled and held like an infant. Husband said he held him and rocked/walked with him for an hour and then held him on the couch until I got home.

He was very clearly hungry and wanted to eat, but since he was intubated and had his teeth scraped at, chewing was hard- and I was worried that dry kibble would scratch up his throat. So I made rice and chicken- which obviously he loved. The problem? The chicken breasts were frozen and HUMONGOUS and took over an hour to cook. After 40 min at 375 my husband took over, and when I saw the chicken my husband deemed “well cooked” it still looked pink to me… we bickered, and ofc nobody could win that argument because we no longer have a meat thermometer (ours was left outside and rusted).

This morning husband informed me that Oreo ate all of his kibble but needed coaxing- I had wanted to keep him in C&R today to support his throat and because he had diarrhea last night and this morning, but apparently husband decided noooo he wanted the chicken for himself… he actually made himself chicken fried rice for dinner. And poor Oreo could smell the chicken and rice and seemed really excited by the smell… so I made the executive decision to give him C&R again.

Well…. Everybody in the family has had multiple bouts of diarrhea since then. 🙃🙃🙃 Ive had it the easiest. I didn’t eat any of the chicken but realized that I failed to wash my hands after feeding Oreo before I ate something myself. It was all a little early for the time frame for the typical chicken bacteria (salmonella, campy, c perfringens) but it’s the only thing we all had contact with… Thankfully both boys are snoring now, but yeah, not a pleasant day. And now I’m having intermittent stabby spleen pain 🙃🙃

On top of all that my skin is flaring again. My legs have some folliculitis that is… quite bad to the point where if it wasn’t focal in the hair follicles I’d be worried for some kind of insect bites. I’m annoyed by all of the recurrent infections.

Anyway, all of that aside, I’m doing okay all things considered. I’ve been playing Disney Dreamlight Valley (fun) and really not studying the way I should be for school… it’s just hard to motivate. I’ve done some reviewing and don’t suspect I’ll fail but definitely checked out for winter break. I’m also torn atm with body stuff. I feel better having put words to the body and gender disconnect, but when it comes to day to day, it’s hard to DO anything about it other than just internally vibe. Idk, maybe I’d feel better if I was more “out,” but I fear others’ reactions might not be neutral to positive. I’m sure most people wouldn’t care at all if they even noticed a pronoun shift, but it’s the not KNOWING how people will react- the ambiguity… like, assuming they’ll all react positively or neutrally is just as egregious in my mind as assuming anybody would react negatively or use it to other me furthers. Especially professionally. I’m like 99% positive nobody in my class would give it a second thought if they even noticed. But I expect negativity as much as I expect positivity from them, and in the greater professional world there is a lot of negativity. Especially about identities like mine- the ones that are borderline, where I’ve somehow simultaneously been othered by both groups of people with normative and groups with divergent experiences.

Tbh I really don’t know what would help me feel more like me and not eat home in my own body. Old ED brain keeps whispering, oh, people will accept you more if you were thin- and then you can express yourself however you want and look okay enough instead of like a Michelin man. Of course I know that if I fed into that, I still probably would never be happy or content.

I’m doing a good job not falling back into disordered eating patterns, but I can’t take full credit for that because tbh I kinda want to, but it always involved more work and time for me (exercise purging, meal planning and prepping, etc). I don’t have the time or executive functioning to make normal easy meals or go to the gym a regular human amount- I def don’t have 3+ hours to go do split sessions at the gym and 3+ hours to craft the “perfect” meal that I can enjoy but not too much and has protein so I can spare muscle and not totally screw myself over…

And that brings up a lot of other feels too, because Like one part of my feels guilty for thinking about heavy restriction and exercise purging at all. But another part feels entirely invalidated because I’m fat now and unable to “willpower” my way into thinness again (like “if I were ever really sick I’d be able to fall back into this without any problems and be totally fine until I got thin again” which has so many layers to dissect…). And another part is just curious, is it possible to become thin and not hate my appearance without falling into ED world? And aaaannoootthhherr part is curious what others would notice- if anything at all- if I did slip back into ED brain considering how it took YEARS to get anybody to see it was a problem the first time around.

Also can we talk about the time patterns? Because I always get worse in the winter, which screams of SAD, but actually I see two other factors for winter pattern. One, memories (SA, friend’s suicide). Two, I hate how my body looks in winter clothes (Michelin man effect every time I try to wear a sweater lol). There is always the underlying belief that people will like me more if I’m thinner/I’ll be better able to make friends/etc. But during the winter, it’s compounded with memories of the assault, remembering how alone I was, the loss of the one person who was nice… and then all wrapped up in a bow of feeling like I absolutely cannot in any way express myself because winter clothes never feel like me.

But… yeah, all of that aside I’m actually doing okay. I’m holding up. Still eating. I think in my head as long as I’m still eating salad kits with the full fat dressing I’m fine 😅 I’ve had periods of time where I’m like “oh but I could cut so many calories if I swap to Walden farms” and then I’m like “yeah and lose out on 95% of the joy of a salad… “ I’m eating vegetables now when historically they’ve been a punishment, I’ll take the win.

[nabnab-official]

my initial thoughts/observations on chapter 3/deep sleep

this is gonna be a long post. and i mean really long. !!SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!

opening thoughts

so, after a long and deserved wait, chapter 3 has finally released. i was very excited, and i wasn't disappointed. this one still follows the formula of gameplay chaper 2 established, but is far longer and far more scary.

as much as i enjoyed chapter 2, it was not scary at all. the only tense moments were during the games, and even then its not scary scary. they failed to build up that atmosphere of dread that a lot of horror games strive to have. chapter 3 delivered. home sweet home in particular, and the red gas hallucination scenes were scary. i still have a quarrel with poppy over their scripted scares, but this chapter was much better about that than chapter 2.

this chapter has a much different, darker vibe than chapter 2, and im glad. i hope they keep going in this direction, and i suspect they will, especially with the morbid story they want to tell with this game.

i was glad we also got to see the majority of the playcare, even if im a bit bummed out that we didn't get to go in the toystore. the playcare itself is a really good environment, it looks cozy but its also so obviously fake, reminding me of those little miniature towns in trainsets. I did not expect it to be inside a dome. my favourite area in the whole chapter had to be the playhouse.

the new hands were also a great addition, and made the puzzles much more fun and varied. changing up the mechanics like that was a great idea to keep people from getting bored of the same puzzle and gameplay every single time.

the school section was fun. miss delight was kept a secret and that was the best choice, because she was a good surprise. the weeping angel chase sequence is great, if a bit complicated. still, its nice to have an actual active threat.

we got a lot of answers in this chapter, including specifics on what the hour of joy was. it seems that the game is being much more open about its dark lore, and im happy about that. im tired of games being theory bait in the sense they make the story next to impossible to figure out to bait theorists. i just want to understand whats going on.

criticisms.

one thing ive always had an issue with about poppy is the scripted scares. in some places its ok, like the huggy tv scene. but i wish there was more of an active, ambient threat. like in the playhouse for example, having to use the flare gun to keep them away. part of the scare is knowing something is out to get you. it helps build up tension and fear.

on that topic, catnap is definitely underutilized, as are the other smiling critters. catnap is good when he shows up, hes got a great design and im really glad they kept him mostly silent. but i wish he showed up more. tying this point to the above one, it would've been cool if he was lurking around in home sweet home. it would be the same way he does in the office towards the end of the game, and you have to fend him off in a similar manner.

the smiling critters in general are underutilized. dogday only appears for a short amount of time, and while his appearance is very good, i wish we got more. we didn't even get to see what the other bigger body critters looked like, or even have them mentioned other than once or twice.

they could have been a sort of resistance group against catnap, or even have been additional threats. picky piggy is a cannibal and craftycorn wants to paint with your blood. something could've been done with that. they couldve even taken the role that ollie filled. though i think ollie is probably important so probably not.

i didnt like the catnap boss fight. i dont know, it just felt weird. i also didn't like the weird nightmare form he transformed into. i much prefer him in his normal state, hes creepy enough as is.

last critique. kissy died. thats it, thats the complaint. look we've done this before in batim when they killed boris. we're gonna have to wait until chapter 4 comes to see if shes alive or not and shes likely gonna be dead in some horrific violent way. this is more of a petty thing than anything but im still sad about it.

deep sleep

so, the ost for the game isn't out yet [once it is i might post about it if i notice anything interesting]

but one thing i did notice is the main [possibly] leitmotif is actually a song from all the way back in chapter 1, titled deep sleep, which likely not a coincidence. i dont know if they had this planned all along, or decided later, but its cool either way.

you can hear it here when you enter the playcare for the first time, and in the menu theme [at the very end before it cuts off]. im unsure when else it plays but it probably does play elsewhere, similar to how the thousand year melody is also a common leitmotif

lots of death [and huggys death]

so, huggy is confirmed dead, by poppys word. im kind of sad about that. i think it wouldve been cool if he had come back, covered in blood and all messed up from his fall, hungry for revenge. at first he just wanted to eat you but now its personal.

but alas we can't always have what we want. PJ is also possibly dead, but im not sure. its confirmed that he doesnt die in chapter 2, as mommy doesn't kill him like she does bunzo and the wuggies. but in chapter 3, it looks like PJ is on catnaps shrine. but until hes confirmed dead im holding out on saying he is. it also seems like huggy is haunting the player, in a way. he appears in their nightmare hallucination, and then again as a cutout later almost tauntingly.

poppy is right, we have killed a LOT of people. we killed huggy, mommy, miss delight, and helped kill catnap. we indirectly caused bunzo and the wuggies to die [mommy killed them, but if we hadn't won the game she would not have done that, so we are involved regardless]. and now, we have to kill the prototype. i did not expect this much death in this chapter, but i enjoyed it.

catnap

out of all the main antagonists, catnap is by far my favorite. in the long wait leading up to chapter 3, the anticipation to his reveal was a lot of fun. theorizing with other fans, making fan interpretations of what he would look like. originally i thought he would be a bat

his actual design is fantastic. i didnt expect him to be so skinny, but it really works in his favor. him being on all fours also sets him apart from the other antagonists. i wont go into detail about his design here

his actual character is really good and is what makes him my favorite. those who followed the arg that led up to chapter 3 know catnaps full story, about how the prototype saved his life. im not gonna talk about that here because im gonna talk about that and his death in a different post. but catnaps religious devotion to the prototype makes him really interesting. hes so obsessed with him he builds shrines, and is even willing to kill all the other smiling critters for being heretics the choice to keep him mostly silent also really elevates his character. i think it wouldve been much different were he talkative like mommy long legs.

i do think he was underutilized though, especially with how much he was teased

prototype

i was kind of hoping to see at least a little bit more of the prototype's body, but we got a voice reveal so thats good enough. the prototype is a very interesting character, and im really excited to see what he looks like in the future. he must be huge, if he took catnaps body to presumably use on himself. the prototype interests me, because im trying to figure out what his deal is. poppy seems to think hes pure evil, but we never actually see him being evil. the only truly evil thing we know he has done is enact the hour of joy. does he kill other toys all the time? what else does he do thats so evil? we dont really know yet i guess he saved theodores life and sacrificed his freedom for it. right now he is morally grey. he also killed catnap, but im not sure why he did that. was it a mercy kill? did he simply not tolerate that failure? its hard to tell with a silent scene.

either way, the prototype intrigues me. some people think he is elliot ludwig, but i dont think so. i think he will just be nobody in particular, ideally. hes good enough on his own as a character

elliot ludwig and ollie

during the hallucination sequence in the home sweet home, its said that they found the body of a young boy in an upstairs room in elliot ludwig's house, a body which was missing organs and bones. this was after ludwig had died, and playtime co seems to want to fight the allegations. so either ludwig killed that kid or someone was framing him. either way, its not looking good for him. its been speculated for a long time whether or not elliot ludwig knew about the sinister happenings at playtime co, or if it happened after his death and leith pierre took over. this might be our answer. now whos body was that? so, i have a weird hypothesis. its said in his backstory that elliot had someone die in his family, which caused him and his wife to split. people first speculated this was his daughter, who became poppy. i think maybe, with this revelation, it was a son. and maybe, like the poppy theory, that son became something else. maybe hes ollie. maybe hes the prototype. who knows. it would explain why the body was there, and parts were missing. maybe those parts were used to make a bigger body. it has a lot of holes, but thats why its a hypothesis

on the topic of ollie, who are they? i definitely think they're a toy, possibly a bigger body, which is why they're hiding their appearance from us. theres also no way its been 10 years and theres still kids here. they either would have died or grown up by now. i dont completely trust them, or poppy for that matter. people have theorized ollie might be the prototype, since the prototype can change his voice to sound like a variety of things. heres my crack theory, which i know is not true but it would be funny: ollie is boxy boo. listen. ok. the phone is first seen in project playtime, which is boxy boo's debut game, and reveals all his lore, like how he was the first bigger body created. the phone also resembles him in appearance. obviously this probably isnt true but its funny to consider.

speaking of him, im really glad boxy boo was in this chapter. i hope he appears physically in the next one, because i like him a lot. make fun of the name all you want but hes my special guy.

kissy and poppy

kissy is my favorite character so im very glad she was here. though i wish she was there a bit more, beggars cant be choosers. im also glad poppy got more spotlight. when she first appeared in chapter 2, she just felt like circus baby 2.0. but chapter 3 expands on her character a lot more and makes her feel more unique and alive, and like an actual character. which im glad for because shes the namesake of the game and is obviously very important she hates the prototype because he locked her in that case, and killed all those people. but obviously she cant kill him herself, shes so small. so we have to do it. ill be honest, i still dont completely trust her. like the prototype doesnt seem THAT evil to me. we havent seen him do a lot of things. imagine if theres a huge plottwist at the end where poppy is actually evil and the prototype is good. no way thats gonna happen but whatever.

the players identity

before chapter 3 released i thought the player was maybe a past orphan who worked at the factory later in life only to return years later to end things. people theorize that they're the head of innovation. now it just seems to make sense that they're rich. i mean why would we be constantly hearing about this guy who seemingly is just another employee. the player also seems to have done bad things, or at least known about them, because the game constantly references their guilty conscience.

chapter 4

its quite possible chapter 4 will be the last chapter. poppy said that catnap was the final obstacle the prototype had set out before us. and now we have the clear goal of killing the prototype.

in the next chapter, we will probably go down to the labs mentioned time and time again, and uncover the final secrets. as we go deeper down and progress through each chapter, things become more grim and dark. this will probably be the darkest chapter yet. if we go down to the lab, with the goal to finally kill the prototype, we are going to be in his domain, his kingdom. we will probably see new monsters, maybe even scrapped toys like daisy.

anyways i will make smaller posts for other stuff like catnaps death, and other things i find deserve their own posts. thanks for reading if you have made it this far

[haunted-house-heart]

vent incoming and its tmi about medical stuff

so. i talk a lot about my chronic pain from fibro and ehler's danlos and shit but truly the last two months have been the worst pain-wise of my life.

august was just. bad. the nerve and joint pain, my back specifially, were just so awful that i cancelled most of my appts bc i couldnt make it out of the house most days.

when september started i thought the bad flare up was easing, right? then BAM. september 9th hits and i start bleeding. keep in mind that my aug period was aug 20-25. and my periods have never been anything close to regular, but they dont start within two weeks of each other. in fact, for the last couple months, theyve been coming later and later each month. aug was over a week late compared to july.

but i started bleeding the 9th. mostly light but w clots and as always, severe cramping. this goes on til the 20th, when i start bleeding excessively heavy and the cramps become debilitating.

i'm already a little bit anemic on a good day.

for the whole month i've been so fatigued that i've barely gotten out of bed. i havent been out of bed for more than 3 to 4 hours at a time. just in so much pain and exhaustion that i literally only left my bed for food and bathroom.

i had to cancel the labs that are testing me for *cancer* because i physically could not get out of bed.

i'm so depressed. im awake most of the night bc between insomnia and me sleeping all day, i just cant sleep during the night. so the only time im awake is when everyone else is asleep. not that id be up for talking bc im still exhausted, but still. its so isolating.

i finally stopped bleeding today but the cramping has gotten even worse. i managed to stay up a little longer today before legit passing out.

on top of all this, i havent had dnd in a month. granted, i prolly wouldve ended up canceling most of them with how im feeling, but still. my one single social activity has been gone compeltely.

also. i'm going to be talking to my dr about getting me fitted for a wheelchair. walking is getting harder and harder for me and its just time. esp with everything thats been going on lately.

anyway. if it seems like ive been distant or weird or anything its uhhhh. i'm literally trapped in a hell of my body's own making.